Mario Kart N64th of July

My job is great. I keep telling myself that even as my family leaves a week early for my grandmothers house on the beach to celebrate the Fourth of July. Even as my sister posts facebook updates about how the entire family is enjoying a lobster dinner while I search for the leftover london broil in the (broken) fridge (It wasn't there. They brought that to the beach as well). Even as my mom posts pictures of sunsets along the beach proclaiming it "heaven". Through all that I push on, knowing that while I may only make it up for 48 hours, at the end of the week I will be in Massachusetts sitting on the beach enjoying my favorite holiday of the year.

Every year my family heads up to my grandmothers house on the south shore of Massachusetts to celebrate the 3rd and 4th of July. My job often requires me to work holidays and weekends and so every year I have openly lied to my boss and said I had to leave to celebrate my grandmother's 90th birthday. This worked for the first year. It even worked for the second year. Unfortunately I proceeded to come back to the office for three more summers and my boss caught on. Fortunately...I somehow still manage to get away with it. On the third of July we go down to the beach where people build giant bonfires and shoot off thousands of dollars worth of illegal fireworks. The family has deemed it "Fallujah" because of it's absolutely chaotic atmosphere.



On the Fourth we head down to my cousins house for a party. There we traditionally celebrate my Uncle Mark's birthday, this year it was his 95th. Upon hearing this my boss asked why I felt the need to lie every year and say it was my grandmothers birthday when I had a legitimate birthday to celebrate every year. I couldn't think of an answer, I think I just really like lying (these are things I can say out loud now that I have a job).

While it may not sound like much, I will go through hell and high water to be up there for the 3rd and 4th, even when it means driving on one of the busiest weekends of the year.

Now that I'm a fulltimer at work I felt guilty about cutting out early. Back when I was hourly, I could rationalize that I just wouldn't be paid for the time I was at work. Considering I was already cutting out on an event that we had going on that weekend, I knew I had to put in a full day, leaving not a minute too soon.

As the day wound down I went through my driving options. All of them are painful during the summer to begin with...throw in the fact that it's a holiday weekend and I would be lucky to reach Massachusetts before 3am. Nevertheless at 4:50 I bought myself a sandwich from Wawa (ok, so I did leave a little early) and hit the road.

The trip from New Jersey to Massachusetts is like a video game, broken down into various stages, each more complicated than the next. The first level is Route 1. Fairly harmless, tests your patience more than anything as you try to beat traffic lights but inevitably end up stuck at them. A few tricky maneuvers, a few speed zones, but otherwise straight forward driving and you almost always make it to the next level.

The second level is the NJ Turnpike. This is pure speed. Your first test is picking your lane, cars only or truck lane? I went with cars only, this was an excellent decision on my part. From there your goals are to go fast enough to keep up with traffic, but not fast enough as to get a speeding ticket, and to not die in a fiery crash. Harder than the first level, but if you keep your head in the game you're going to make it through.

The third level is the George Washington Bridge. This level actually begins well before the actual bridge. A series of exits from the NJ Turnpike leads you to the bridge, you must decide whether the upper or lower deck is right. One wrong move and you're stuck in traffic hell.

I failed this level. Everything was going great. I was a half mile from the bridge when I had to make my final decision and so I settled on Upper Level. Terrible idea, ALWAYS go Lower Level. I don't know why I decided today would be a good day to go Upper, but within 2 minutes of my decision traffic stopped. Out of no where. Stopped. So I sat there, inching my way across the bridge. Eating my sandwich. Enjoying the views of New York. This was a slight set back, but otherwise I had to be happy with my trip thus far.

The GWB level ends with a choose your own adventure for the next level, I-95 or Henry Hudson Parkway? I went with Henry Hudson.

The Henry Hudson level is pure skill. The road narrows down as it snakes through the Bronx, all the while keeping the speed level up. This is where people let their guard down, happy to be off of the bridge they put the pedal to the metal and speed off as fast as possible. I kept my game face on and trudged ahead. A new obstacle in my battle came in ignoring the GPS. My GPS appears to have a factory setting of getting me to I-95 whenever possible. By failing to go to I-95 I had thrown the GPS into a tailspin and it was desperate to correct my faults.

As a result I had to do a few turn arounds when I followed the GPS rather than my instincts. At one point the GPS seemed less concerned with getting me to my destination and more concerned with teaching me a lesson for trying to defy it. Eventually I got back on the road and turned it off. I've done this drive (albeit riding) for the past 23 years, I can make it on my own.

The next stage was Connecticut. Here is another speed level. Connecticut cops are notorious for clamping down on out of state drivers speeding through the state. The roads were suspiciously deserted and I was making great time, yet I had to be extra careful about my speed. As I flew down the Merritt Parkway at a conservative yet brisk pace the sun began to set through the trees that lined the road. The Zac Brown Band's Toes played on my iPod and with the trees glimmering in the summer evening sunlight the lyrics matched my mood "Life is good today...life is good today..."

In no time I was through Connecticut, ticket and accident free. The sun had almost completely set and I pulled off at the first rest area to take a break and call my parents with a status report. My mom seemed stunned and slightly concerned with how fast I had made it up to Massachusetts. I took a breath and hopped back in the car for the final push. The final stages were deceiving, so close yet there was still an hour and a half left for failure.

I made it down the Mass Pike with no problem before turning onto 128. There within 2 seconds of me going through the toll booth a truck nearly slammed into me as he tried to merge. Here we go, the final three stages. I took off down 128, fighting speeders desperately trying to make it down the cape, or to their friend Sully's house before the case of Sam Adams ran out. Despite going above the speed limit I was destined to be tailgated no matter what lane I chose.

As I pulled off onto the second to last stage, Route 3A, things got worse. The tailgaters now had their high beams on. I half expected the cars to be surrounded by spinning tortoise shells that they would shoot at me in order to clear a better path for their car. Even worse were the occasional cars going 10 miles below the speed limit so as you were rocketing down the road, hanging on for dear life you would have to suddenly merge into the other lane and pray to god the person who was tailgating you slowed down in time.

At last I saw my exit. Marshfield. Before I could breathe, however, I knew this would be the hardest stage. The boss level, if I may continue to use video game terminology. Marshfield, MA practically invented drunk driving. It's a small little beach town with lots of high schoolers and not a lot to do. The roads are twisty and not well lit. Many aren't lit period. Last year I was on the train into Boston for New Years and the girl sitting behind me was openly talking about how many times she had driven drunk, including the time she stranded herself on a median in the middle of a road and the time she realized she had been driving in a circle in the middle of a parking lot for a half hour. She ended her stories with "What are you going to do, it's Marshfield, everyone does it". I knew that this final 5 minutes could easily kill me. It's on.

I made my way through town and down into the residential area. The streetlights disappeared and I began driving by instinct. As I made my way down the first hill the world suddenly exploded in front of me. A flash of blue light lit up the road accompanied by a loud BANG. I screamed and slammed on the breaks. After realizing I was still alive I looked to my left to find a sheepish looking group of teenagers and middle aged men sitting on a front lawn. Those fuckers shot a firework at me. I scowled at them and continued on.

I twisted around the cemetary, past the mechanic and was just making my way down the final hill when a car peeled off in front of me. As I glanced at him I noticed another car tearing up the hill behind him, heading straight at me. I baled out to the side of the road and thankfully the driver swerved off to his rightful side at the same time. I watched in my rearview mirror as he made his way back to the left side of the road once he got past me, then zig zagged his way up the hill. What else are you going to do? It's Marshfield, everyone does it.

I made it down the final hill and was just about to turn onto my grandmothers street, excited that I had made it to Marshfield in six hours, excited I was still alive when something scurried across the street. I saw the raccoon and slowed down, I assumed it would be smart enough to stay on the other side of the road as I passed. Nope, at the last moment, WHAM, no time to stop, dead raccoon, level fail, try again.

6 hours, one narrow miss with a firework, one narrow miss with a drunk driver and I couldn't avoid the raccoon. I pulled into my grandmothers house happy to be alive, but completely bummed that I didn't get the perfect trip.

For the rest of the weekend my mom told everyone how I narrowly missed getting killed by a drunk driver. She was completely shaken by the thought that I had nearly been a statistic and made sure everyone knew. While I agree it was scary....I wish she had told the firework story instead. That one was far more exciting.

Waiting for (PSE&G)odot

I am truly an adult. At 3:45 I flew out of the office after remembering that the gas and electric guy is supposed to come "sometime between 4 and 8" to fix our refrigerator. I will now wait for 3.99 hours until he inevitably comes at 7:59. At the end of this four hour abyss are fireworks. Will he come in time? Or will I miss the fireworks and instead be stuck at home making awkward conversation with the gas and electric man? Come, sit with me as I wait for PSE&G man, liveblogging every minute of it.

4:01-Pull into driveway. No truck to be seen. There was a slim hope in the back of my mind that i would be first in the time window. Someone has to be first, right? Why can't it be me?

4:05-Frantically send emails to my clients apologizing for disappearing off the face of the earth (or the face of campus) without warning. Hopefully they won't need anything.

4:10-Sit down. I feel guilty watching TV when I should be at work. I open up my email and scan it for things that I can do from home, nothing jumps out.

4:20-My Netflix arrived, one of the disks is "Resolved" a documentary about high school debaters....one of my groups is a summer camp of high school debaters. Perfect, this is research. My guilt didn't last very long, did it.

4:32- I have absolutely no idea how to work a DVD player

4:33-I think someone made this DVD on an iMac. No opening menu, shaky camera.

4:34-Looks like we're going to have ourselves an old fashioned documentary night while we wait for the gas man.

4:35-things that are not supposed to be in documentaries...paper cut out animation.

4:36- Apparently the point of high school debate is not to be eloquent, but to present the most amount of information in the fastest amount of time.

4:37-OH SNAP, this girl is sassy. I can tell no one in the room likes her, not even her teammates.

4:38- Matt is "the bitch" of the group...he also appears to be the most likable. He refers to older mentor Sam as "someone who helps me kick back and relax". The camera then cuts to Sam smoking a cigarette...at least I'll give him the benefit of the doubt that it's a cigarette.

4:39-"Sam is much better at debate than he is at life" HA!

4:40-Sam is the type of kid that everyone loves because he's different. I want to punch him in the face.

4:41-This style of the debate really makes it look like the debator is trying to force themselves to throw up.

4:43-OMG This guy's finger has become physically deformed because of how hard he holds a pencil while transcribing debates!

4:46-Sam is growing on me as he drives his debate partner insane.

4:51-New school, the rough underprivileged one. I wonder what other high school stereotypes we'll hit during this movie.

4:55-They're really struggling to make these kids interesting.

4:57-For the record....still no word from PSE&G.

5:01-When going through the mail I found a card from PSE&G chastising my parents for not rescheduling their appointment for their fridge. Wait, what??!? What am I waiting around for? Who did I get in the fight with on the phone the other day? I pick up the phone and call the PSE&G help line. The PSE&G help line refuses to let you talk to a representative or use a touchtone system and instead relies on voice recognition. I managed to get through it, however I must say that's a risky move for a company who is already known for leading to complete frustration amongst their clients. At the end of all of that my appointment is confirmed.

5:02-One hour down. Three to go.

5:04-Back to the movie, I'm having trouble understanding the set up of the world of debate. From what i can tell it all starts with a 50203 team bracket that eventually gets narrowed down to one....

5:06-I always thought debaters dressed for their tournaments. These kids are one step away from pajamas.

5:10-Oh snap Sam will not be going to the finals.

5:15-I have an incredible urge to shower. I'm pretty sure the minute i turn on the water the guy will come...win/win?

5:18-Some random kid is explaining debate to us. I wonder how much he got paid for that gig....

5:19-Follow up question, do you get paid to be a documentary subject?

5:21-"That was one of the cooooolest debates we've done, hands down" girl who said you you are far too pretty to be in this movie.

5:24-Matt didn't think his school was focusing enough on debate, so he transfered to a private school...that has a room labelled "debate". It also has a subscription to Lexus Nexis. This was the main reason he decided to transfer

5:31-The documentary crew just got us pumped up for 10 straight hours of debate before suddenly stopped and informing us that the crew we were following got second place in the country.

5:32-Sam can't get hired at debate camps because his "reputation precedes me". So he just plays a lot of internet poker.

5:34-The girls are Matt's new school are all in love with Matt. He looks like a (even dorkier) version of Finn from Glee.

5:37-Knock at the door! Could it be!?!?!?!

5:37.30-It was my 13 year old neighbor looking for his mail. Dammit.

5:41-There is a fine line between debaters and those who suffer from obsessive compulsive disorder.

5:43-The movies discussion of using the race card in debate could use work. For people who love to debate, they really hate to pick a side on racial issues. Interesting.

5:45-The coach just gave this ultimatum to his team. If they make it to the finals, then they get to fly home. Otherwise they have to take the bus. That's bold! I usually just need the promise of ice cream.

5:47-I'm not exactly sure what the question was, but this one kid just started talking about how he owns a boat and how he goes boating on the San Francisco Bay all the time. By the looks of everyone else in the room I can assume that wasn't a relevant answer to the question.

5:50-I can't seem to find the right temperature for the house.

5:51- Judge: I think you all drastically mishandled this argument.....

5:54-Looks like it's the bus....

5:59-Heyo! Matt eventually won the 5849203 round debate tournament!

6:01-final thoughts? Good not great.

6:02- Two hours down. I think I'll go pay this months student loan.

6:03-Time out, what's this Hallmark Channel? A 1995 Western Movie starring Sharon Stone, Leo DiCaprio, Russel Crowe, Gary Sinise and Gene Hackman? Nice!

6:05- BAM! PSE&G is here!

6:07-"Can you clean out your freezer for me?" sure!

6:08-"Can you also fill the sink up with hot water?" This one is going to be more difficult. Our sink is full of pots, pans, plates and other signs of the fact that I've been living alone and irresponsibly for a week (there was also a beer bottle in the sink...I only had one beer that night but apparently I convinced myself that i could wash the bottle out and use it again).

6:12-Slink downstairs to avoid awkward conversation with the PSE&G guy

6:13-Is that a 21 year old Leo DiCaprio?!?!?!? yessssssssss, I'm in love

6:17 Russell Crowe has apparently renounced violence.

6:21-How long does it take to fix a fridge? I'm going to call it a day on the liveblog of waiting for the PSE&G guy. Now if only I can convince him to fix the hot water heater while he's at it....

Wednesday Karaoke Set List

Get pumped for this weekly feature.

Lady Marmalade
Red High Heels
Oh, Darling
The Way You Make Me Feel
Hit Me baby One More Time
Crazy in Love




We're always open to suggestions.

Doggie Soccer Mom

My parents are out of town this week. They, like most American families, are able to take summer vacations. I, for some reason, am of the idea that summer is the best time of the year to work 7 days a week for endless hours. As a result, I'm stuck at home until Friday babysitting the dogs while they, along with my sister, are at my grandmothers house on the beach eating lobster.

My dogs and I are close, but other than assigning some human emotions to them have managed to always view them as they are, pets. I don't mind locking them in their blanket and toy filled crates if I have to go out of the house, feeding them a broken biscuit because that's all that left doesn't faze me, they're dogs, they don't care.

This all changes when I'm left as the dogs sole caretaker. I find myself worrying about them 24/7. I usually close the door to my room to keep them out, now I've moved their beds into my room and strewn some laundry around so that they have a comfortable place to sleep. While I'm angry that they wake me up at 6am, I have to admit waking up to Finnian's long nose resting on my bed and his big black eyes pleading for food is kind of adorable. I frantically pace the house before I leave for work looking for anything that they could get into trouble with, left over food, socks, priceless family heirlooms, etc. After I'm satisfied that the house is dog proof I figit with the thermostat, is the house too cold? Too hot? When I'm finally satisfied I pull out of my driveway with a pit in my stomach. What sort of trouble will they get into over the next 8 hours? Will the neighborhood teen remember to come over and feed them and let them out? What if one gets hurt during the middle of the day, should i come home and check on them?

Like any mom the minute I come home to "my babies" they start driving me up a wall. They bark and run around the house like madmen. I try and lie down to take a nap but they stand by my bedside and whimper until I pay attention to them. Eventually I give in and pack them up for a trip to the park. Leashes? check. Water? check. Clean up bags? check. Together we all load into the Volvo and head off to the generic suburban park created for the sole purpose of exercise.

At the park I meet my counterparts. First, the lesbian couple with their mutt, Joy. They exchange a look of displeasure as we walk of the path and one of them blocks the gate. "Do your dogs play nicely?" she asks, staring them down. "Of course" I say, offended that she would even question my saintly boys. She let me in and I quickly unhooked Finny from his leash. I held on to Brodie....Brodie doesn't exactly play nice with some dogs and this wasn't one that I was willing to experiment on. As Finny and Joy chase each other around the park I talk with Joy's parents. One of them mentions that Joy has a standing playdate with another dog every morning. Should I get my boys play dates? Are they not socialized enough?

Brodie sits nicely at my side and doesn't move when Joy comes to give him a sniff so I decide to let him go. Joy's parents are alarmed, apparently they think Brodie is the devil. The devil immediately skips off into a corner to spend his socializing time eating grass. Brodie definitely needs a playdate.

Another couple joins us, this time a young heterosexual pair and their perfect little cockapoo, Sadie. Sadie is pretty and she knows it. Finny and Brodie are immediately interested and both run to meet her. They chase her around as she flirts and hides behind her owner. That little harlot, she's playing the two against each other. This will not end well. Her owner laughs and says that Sadie enjoys sniffing other dogs, but doesn't enjoy other dogs sniffing her. Ah, she's Brodie. I call Brodie over as this will not end well and surprisingly he comes and sits next to me. Good boy, make me look good in front of the other parents.

Sadie and Joy begin to chase a ball together while my boys pair up and head for the dark corner under the tree to sniff and generally be anti social. I chase them down and try to get them involved with the other dogs but they want none of it. Meanwhile the other couples are engaging in quiet conversation with each other. I feel like the ostracized single mother at a PTA meeting. Clearly they've heard the latest about my ex-husbands affair and are gossiping about it. I throw every ball in the park towards the group, hoping to either A) get my dogs interested in playing with the other dogs, or B) hit the couples who are gossiping about me and my made up life as a 45 year old divorcee.

No luck, like the Katsopolis twins on Full House, my dogs only have interest in playing with each other.

Joy and her mothers leave and my dogs immediately try and make one last move on Sadie. Finnian tries to win her over by stealing the tennis ball she was playing with. He needs some lessons on his game. I grab the tennis ball and throw it to the two, Sadie's owner grabs the tennis ball on the rebound then throws it to Sadie as soon as Finnian looks away. Finnian and Brodie will NOT be playing with Sadie again, not with that attitude.

After one last failed attempt Brodie comes over to me and sits down, he has decided it's time to go. I pack up my boys, take them for a quick stroll and we head home. Once home i do what any good mom does, throw them in the back yard with the sprinkler on and forget about them until two wet dogs cry at the backdoor. Maybe I don't have that motherly instinct just yet...

"Real Life" Begins

The old blog took exactly one year to become obsolete. After a little more than one year I was officially hired somewhere and now have a job, benefits, and an excuse to buy lots of cute dresses and shoes. The job is fantastic, great pay, amazing people and is something I really enjoy doing. One might even say that after one week I feel like I've already been there for years.

That's probably because it's in the same office I've worked at since I was 19.

The fact that I'm working at the place I've called "the office" (and sometimes home) for years is fantastic, but it does have it's drawbacks. First, that "Welcome to Adulthood" moment hasn't exactly come. I'm sure it will come the first time one of our projects goes to hell in a handbasket and I have no one to blame other than myself. I'm sure that will feel great. Second, my dreams of moving to the city, getting my own place and becoming a chic city girl have been put on hold for the next 2-25 years (the estimated time of my stint in the office). My house is eight miles from work. I do not have to pay rent. I do not have to buy food. I get to bank every dollar I make. I have two hilarious housemates in my parents. I'm not moving out anytime soon.

Even if I do move out, I'll still be in the suburbs. This definitely played a role in almost keeping me from applying for the job. I majored in freaking cities. My major is literally called "cities" (fine, it's literally called Growth and Structure of Cities, but you get the idea). Who the hell gets a degree that random then immediately moves home to suburbia?

I do. And I'm ok with that.

Two months ago I was lying in my hammock on the first warm day of the year. The trees were in full bloom, the neighbor had his fantastic playlist blasting and I lay there, smiling. I knew that in that moment I had everything I needed and I was truly happy. The only thing bringing me down was a nagging thought in the back of my head that all of this was going to change fairly soon. I knew that I could only be unemployed for so long and eventually I was going to have to move on, try something new, someplace new. I knew that i would probably be happy doing whatever that was....but I was bummed realizing that I had something great going and it was going to have to change.

Nothing has to change. I think I'm the first person to be excited that they don't get to start a new life with their first job. This blog will chronicle my new-old life. Despite the title the parents appearance in the blog will be minimal. Remember, they are like roommates. Anything I say about them will eventually lead to an awkward passive aggressive confrontation. Instead it will focus on my journey of trying to enjoy the waning years of youth in a land built for families and responsible people. It will focus on my forays to dog parks, shopping centers, root beer stands and libraries. There will be some work references although I like to keep those to a minimum. Now that I have a job I need to work super hard to keep it.

My biggest fear in taking my new job was that I would get stuck. I would get comfortable. This blog will hopefully keep me on my toes. My favorite thing about blogging is that I'm always looking for new things to blog about. By keeping this record I'll be on the look out for ridiculous things to write about, which I hope will keep me out of the monotonous pace of suburban life.

Today is literally the first day of the rest of my life. Ok fine, last Monday was my first day and literally the first day of the rest of my life. Rest of Life Goal Number 1: Stop using the word literal so much.