Its a trilamb party!

Mon cheri,

Holy vache! I've just heard the most spectacular news! We're having a slumber party tomorrow night?! Thank goodness I found out at this early hour, as there are considerable preparations to be made. TO DO:

MEGAN:
Get materials for friendship bracelets
Buy the game Girl Talk
Figure out how we can make s'mores in our apartment and procure the makings

ME:
Rent Jacob's ladder
Compile mixed CD with Regina and Rent and that song "I don't want, anybody else, when I think about you, etc, etc."

Oh, Den, I went through this magic phase in Morocco, in which I really wanted to be proficient in the craft or art or whatever it is, or at least learn a few party tricks. Well, on this Thursday, the eve of your coming, I feel re-inspired to perform, bewilder and dazzle the senses of my awe-struck audience (Meggie and Denny, that's you). So, be prepared, young children, for an evening of intrigue, marshmallows and singing our hearts out. It shall be!


Waiting with baited breath,
TUTU Fantasia, enchantress extraordinaire

Social butterflies

Dear Den,

I’m so sorry to hear of your troubles en Allemagne and please let me know if I can do anything to lift your spirits. Commiserate with your pain, I can do. When I was in the 7th grade, I too, was socially ostracized and my mother was forced to sing my sobbing-self to sleep every night for a year. J'exagere pas. Fortunately, I became homecoming queen a few years later – the peak of my popularity thus far – and now, I suppose I fall somewhere just below average in terms of the social spectrum. Some might say I “peaked” in high school and I’d morosely agree. Anyway, chin up, you…If you follow my trajectory, in a few years you just might be riding around in a horse drawn carriage surrounded by scores of praising minions at the Yale-Harvard homecoming match. Game. Whatever the football one is.

Speaking of social behavior, this summer has been an interesting experiment in mixing social circles. I’ve been introduced to Megan’s Wesleyan crowd and she’s taken a dip into the Trinity pool. Just last week, she willingly made the rounds at the ultimate Trinity bar, which shall remain unnamed but rhymes with Bart and Eddies. She was a real hit (preppy dudes are totally bewildered my Mimi and her “alternative” style - who IS this girl with SHORT and BROWN hair they wonder).

A few days later, Megs mentioned that her friends were making a music video down the block from our apartment and needed a few extra girls to participate. Well, I thought, I love attention and I love dance parties, so why the heck not. Call time was 7am, Denny, and I showed up to location – a public park - bright eyed and bushy tailed. Whistling to myself, I entered into a tent full of naked girls who were in the process of being smothered with bright pink body paint. My whistling ceased and I tried my best to backtrack slooooowly out of the tent without anyone noticing but was immediately caught by Megan’s friend, who was a body painter for the day. “Julia! I can’t believe you came! Thank you,” she exclaimed.

“Wow, I can’t believe I came either…So, this is what’s happening?” I inquired, hoping that perhaps my role in the video was of a different, more clothed and less ho-ish nature, then the flock of girls around me. No such luck. I proceeded to strip buck naked, allow two girls to slop pink paint all over my body (yes, I mean all over), put on a fur bikini and feathered head piece and carry around a cage of hipster boys singing electro-pop for 6 hours. I left feeling very sunburned and itchy (body paint is so scratchy, Denny!) but with a slight feeling of accomplishment that I had left my comfort zone and perhaps became popular among a new group. Well, truth be told, none of the girls really liked me, but hey, c’est la vie, mon cherie.

What doesn’t kill you…

TUTU

The Up and Up

Having begun my career as a temp yesterday, I am really convinced my life is taking a turn for the better. I was certain going in that the Free Masons were a secret society/ cult, and was sorely disappointed when I found no evidence of this. My mission tomorrow is to figure out exactly what it is they do, but this is what I did today:
Drank a cup of coffee
Drank a Diet Coke
Chewed half a pack of gum
Wrote an extensive to do list
Crossed off the things that I had already done
Read four newspapers
Wrote down highlights of each one
listened to Rose tell me about her last ten cats (all of them strays that just showed up at her door!), including names and characteristics. One was named Psycho.
Played who would I date in the office. Decided on the guy who changed the water cooler around four.
Wore heels.
Listened to Rose's commute. It is really long and complicated and about to get worse when her 2nd train changes from express to local.
Did four crossword puzzles. Completed zero crossword puzzles.
Ate in the park. Tanned. Nobody in the office noticed I was more bronzed in the PM than in the AM.
Picked a random person off of the phone list. Sent all calls that I didn't know what to do with to him.
Greg- who goes by the name Grand Master to everyone in the office- told me the scientific reason why girls are always cold and men are not. Until menopause, which his wife is currently suffering from BIG TIME.
Listened to Rose gossip about everyone in the office. Everyone in the office is over 60. I tried to play if each person were a character on Gossip Girl but I got sleepy.
Made note to follow Antonio Cromartie on Twitter to witness first hand his interchange of the letter "c" with the letter "k." Came home and twittered him. Crossed it off my to do list.

Another one bites the dust

Dear Diary,

You know the saying "Fool me once, shame on you! Fool me twice, shame on me!" Well, I was sort of wondering what happens after the twice thing, when the THIRD boy has lied to me about what state (is that capitalized to indicate neither the physical nor the mental?) he was in.

Case #1: Me, played by my sister, the actress. Boyfriend played by Jesus look alike. Except with many tattoos.
"Hey boyfriend, where are you going"
"To visit my dad, Megan. Stop talking so much."
Next day. "Hey boyfriend's dad. Sorry to bother you! Just wondering if bf made it up, as his phone is off. No? He is not there? Check downstairs, I know he is! No? Ok weird." Six hours of utter panic later, BF #1 is located. In upstate California with his ex.........

Case #2: Me, played again by my sister. Boyfriend TBD
"Hey ----, thank you so much for flying allllll this way to meet my family and friends in MN. It really is nice to have you THE FIRST BOY TO EVER COME TO MN, and I will do everything to make you happy here."
"I'm not. I want to go back to the unnamed N. African country where I came from. I haven't had a cigarette in three days and that, combined with all of the freakishly friendly Minnesotans, is seriously making me want to die."
MEGAN: "Ok, go back to Morocco but my life totally sucks and this is super embarrassing."
BF 2: "Right? I would be super humiliated too. But my going back to Morocco (oops) is the only thing that will save our relationship."
Oh, by Morocco, you also meant Northern California, and by our relationship, you meant you wanted to save your relationship with your other American Girlfriend. Got it. I guess those are just the cultural differences in dating a french guy!

and finally, the most recent:
Case #3: Me, played by my sister. Friend, played by little Jenny. New Boy, played by Zach or Cody.
TEXT from boy that I have been dating for a few weeks: "Hey can't see you. Shit to do. Leaving town to go to my ridiculously fucking WASP douche filled CT town where all my friends have so much money they don't need to work or do anything but talk about money and tits."
Me, in a text: "Cool, have fun. TTYL."
but that's the weird thing.. I never TTYL'ed again with him!
Me: Call, text, text, call "where are you?"
Him:
Friend, who set us up but is excused from all responsibility as I should have known better when he blacked out on the first date: "Hey I thought you were in CT."
Him: Oh, I am.
Friend: But that's totally not possible, you were just with my boyfriend in the city ten minutes ago getting wasted."


And so, my few faithful readers, is the three scene story of how boys that I date seem to think that the little lies are not enough. Why lie about just being tired and wanting to go home, when you could say you urgently need to go to another State.

Three times is a charm,
Love,
Megan Marion

I am starting a new section

I am starting a new section on the blog. It is called "today in unemployment."

Yesterday, in unemployment, I decided to color coordinate my jewelry with my hot pink nail polish by painting it hot pink.

Today, in unemployment, Kelley dressed me up and I styled my hair to make me look like Robert Pattinson.


Love,
Megan Marion

Don't even read this appaling entry

DENIS,

There has been an unfathomable outbreak of bugs in my room that is colossal in number. Just thinking about this situation makes my stomach turn and vomit begin to tickle my throat. Here are the facts:

1. Two weeks ago, I saw a few little black bugs flitting here and there about my room, though I barely took notice as we had just moved in and were dealing with much larger issues.

2. A week and half ago, I woke up and noticed that these little shithead critters were actually scattered throughout my floor. And, oh look! There was one on my bed!
And on my book shelf! I slowly inspected the room and was eventually led to my large windowsill. At this moment, my life changed forever. I see that there are about 100 bugs scattered throughout the large windowsill. Some are ugly baby bugs that are running around like chickens without heads, some are repulsive teenage bugs that are stupidly flirting with other disgusting promiscuous teenage bugs (and believe me when I say these girls are FAR FROM CHASTE), some are adult bugs that are just basking in the sunlight and some are bug corpses that have evidently met their death on one of my favorite books or with heads bowed silently against my new perfume. SICK.

3. Exterminator comes and says that there is no way any insect will survive after the number he did on our place. Phewfta. NOT.

4. Four days ago, after I washed everything I own, moved all of my things back into the room, and vomited one million times, I noticed that a few bugs were back.
Exterminator tells me not to be a baby and that those were just the last survivors and "everything is fine."

5. Yesterday, I find dozens more chilling on what once was my windowsill and is now just a vast terrain of smushed bugs and live ones rolling around. SICK SICK SICK.

6. My landlord came today after I called 10 times to inspect the situation. He brings his own extermination kit. Together, we find about 100 other buggies living in the creaks of my windows. He tells me "everything is fine" and I begin to cry hysterically. You know how a baby can go from being totally fine to, like, wailing crying in 10 seconds flat? That is exactly what I did.

7. Landlord becomes extremely uncomfortable and says "ahh, you are pretty...bye," and runs out of our apartment faster then a teenage bug procreates with another one in the vile, vomitous, revolting space formally known as my bedroom.

I am moving back to Minnesota.

Julia

Make new friends, but keep the old, some are silver and the others are amazing extermanators.

Well Denny, I am sorry again for not making my day visit to the Haven this weekend. If I had known then what I know now (ie that I wouldn't find a boyfriend and there would be a infestation of carpet beetles in my apartment), I would have been on the fast Metro-North to ghetto-ville.

Yes, there has been a bug infestation in our apartment. And the exterminator is here. And he is a talker. In fact, he is talking our faces off as I pretend to be involved in very important iBookG4 matters..

"I am more than an exterminator, I am a friend. I am your friend, you are my friend, we are friends."

"I wake up every morning and I can't wait to go to work. I love it, I just love it."

"I get to see new assholes every day, not the same."

"There are hundreds of different kinds of ants. Fire ants, harvest ants, red ants, stinging ants, hot ants, Florida ants, carpet ants, army ants. I can name a lot more."

"I am not looking to make a million dollars a month or a million dollars a year. I am not lookin for nothing in life."

He just left. Then came back in to tell us that he is always the most popular guy at a BBQ (I love BBQs and I love popular friends, I just knew this would work out!) because people always want to hear his stories. He left us with this:

"People always give me bugs to look at. Once, this woman brings me a bug and asks me what it is and I look at it and I tell her 'Woman, this is a booger. A booger.' I got lots of stories like that."

God Bless,
Megan Marion

I feel majorly excluded

Hey Dennnnn,

The icky nightmare has finally ended and we’ve moved into our new apartment, aka, The Lexington Council. Doesn’t that sound totally fancy-pancy?? Honestly, we originally wanted to move into this purple shiny building that is called The Princess Manor, but I’m really starting to like the LC. The place is cute as pie. My room has these crazy, HUGE church-like windows and is almost blindingly bright and Megs has a smaller little room that is reminiscent of a tree house, which is obviously a good thing for the little one.

So, I know two things about our neighborhood in Brookyln. One, there are tons of Polish people around here and I really might have to become part of that social group given my predicament with #2. Which is, I am positively, categorically, without question, not cool enough to live here amongst the cool kids. I feel like I am in 7th grade again... That year I went to this new school and none of the girls liked me and I cried every night for one year and used the words "clique" and "exclusive" in almost every sentence. It is happening all over again!! I don’t know the bands, I don’t know the dress, and I don’t know the language. The other day I wore my white running shoes and Megan would not walk next to me. My own sister is excluding me. My friend Erica, who is pretty cool, keeps saying things are “epic,” so I dropped that word into a convo this morning when ordering a coffee and of course it was the absolute wrong use of the word and I sounded dorkier then ever. Also, I ordered a diet coke in a restaurant the other day and the waitress looked at me like I was a disgusting child molester. "WE ONLY HAVE NATURAL SODA," she barked back at me. And, this might be common knowledge but don't ask anybody if they carry Splenda. That seemingly harmless request is not received well. The kids just don't seem to like me here.

What to do?
Julia

The total pits

Dear Dennis,

As you might have guessed, Megos and I made it back to the US of A in one piece, only to be broken apart into millions of dejected and bitter little pieces, which are rapidly multiplying into zillions and shmillions of smaller, spiritless and weary pieces. We are on day 12 of our apartment search in NYC and it is truly one of the most grueling experiences.

Yo brokers, can you please stop lying to me??? I’m in touch with about 15 different brokers and each day, one will call me and say, “Julia, I found your apartment. It is perfect for you!” For a second I wonder about his real estate promises and remember I've been burned before, but then I quickly shelve those hesitations and let myself be hopeful and excited and relieved that today is the last day of this nightmarish search. He proceeds to show me a place where you have to walk through the bathroom to get to the kitchen that is barely a kitchen and mostly just a sink, and the bedrooms have no windows or closets and, the place smells like baby diaper filled with vomit, and now that he thinks of it, there is a slight mouse problem, and woops, he totes forgot to tell me that even though he’s listed as a non-fee broker, he’s actually a fee broker for the day.

So, please, please, Mister Brokers, stop your incessant and egregious lies. Here’s the thing: I’m eventually going to SEE that the apartment is not spacious and has no view of anything, and I'll soon be able to smell the revolting odor in the place because, well, I have a nose, and I’m not going to suddenly have the money to pay you a brokers fee, you sneaky slimy sneako, so just stop your fibbing and wasting everyone’s time. We have 5 days to find a place. Holy cow.
I miss Marrakech.

Love,
Julia

To Erica, with love, on cinco de mayo

October 19, 1993
Me and my sister and my brother have a club caled the Kids Club. Are (our) family basement is really gross. Me and my brother and my sister are planning to claim the space and sweep and put in carpeting a couch a tv and a bed my brother is very good at art and he is going to paint a portrat on the wall.
I can't think of anything to rite 1000,000,000,00 times + 14 = 100,000,000,014