That's what I call a productive weekend

Friday night: Shopping at the new Vintage store down the street, drinking wine on an outdoor patio with a friend, making friends with the Canadians at the next table, and getting invited to next week's party at the Canadian embassy.

Saturday: Helping the Fortress move into his new apartment, rolling my eyes at the way boys throw things into boxes and want to bring leaking beanbags in the truck (I put the kabash on that), drinking beer and eating nachos at a Gang of 100 birthday bash, sneaking liquor into a Nationals game, drinking too much of the liquor at the Nationals game, commuting 10 minutes home so I could catch up with a good friend on the phone before crashing into bed half-dressed and fully drunk.

Sunday: using my fabulous Black and Decker Firestorm drill to hang up pictures, lanterns, pot racks, spice racks, and letter holders, balancing precariously on the step ladder atop two kitchen chairs in order to hang up the living room curtains, finally unpacking all the kitchen boxes, drinking wine with my roommate whose been out of town all weekend.

If only I had remembered to put in my eBay bid for the to-die-for Steve Madden zebra print peephole heels, my weekend would have been heaven on earth ....

Possibly one of the best Craiglist ads ever written

I'm hosting a July 4th BBQ at the new house, but don't have a BBQ grill yet. So, I went cruising through Craigstlist and came across this fabulous ad:

Behold! A chip-and-dip bowl of life-altering proportions! - $5

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Reply to: sale-353466039@craigslist.org
Date: 2007-06-16, 12:11PM EDT


BBQ season is here.

It's a lovely day, and you're probably thinking to yourself,

"I'm going to another BBQ today. Let's make it count. Today is the first day of the rest of my chip-and-dip bringing life. Today, while the hot dogs and hamburgers smolder away on a dollar store hibachi, while the beer goes flat and the guests lose their mingling mojo, while the desserts melt in the afternoon sun, this is the time that I will arrive--not with a 6-pack of domestic swill or 2-liter of high-fructose diabetes, NO! I shall strike awe in others with a gleaming bowl of fresh, mouth-watering spinach dip, lightly accented with dill and cumin, nestled gently within a mountain range of crisp, salted, corn tortilla goodness. Every petal of this crispy blossom yearns to be smothered in this tasty salve, uniting at last in a culinary delicacy that not only tides one over before the meat is off the grill, but reminds us all what we can achieve... together."

Still on box. $5

The Ugly Rug: Part I

Once upon a time, there were two single women who lived together in Washington D.C. One was Asian. The other was not. Together, they tastefully decorated a cute rowhouse and furnished it with lovely accessories from all over the world. They had scrolls from Asia, papyrus paintings from Egypt, sofas from Virginia, drapes from Sweden (ok, Ikea), artifacts from Chinatown in Boston. The home was beautiful. All they needed was another area rug for the common room.

Then one day, the non-Asian girl's father brought over a rug. He restores Oriental rugs as a hobby and agreed to lend a rug to the two ladies. But ... it was an ugly rug. A really ugly rug. Threadbare, old and ugly. The Asian was horrified, but, alas, what could she do? It was on loan. And it belonged to her roommate's father.

And so the Asian began to hatch a plot ....

Stay tuned for the next exciting installment of "The Ugly Rug."

Bye Bye Birdie

A friend of mine has been filming the progress of a nest of baby finches in his backyard. Not sure why, but I LOVED the clips. They are kind of addicting. Baby birds are so cute. Check out the whole family, feeding times, and watch each of the four babies learn to fly!

Paris meets God

Paris Hilton has found God in jail. The best part? She says she's ditching the ditzy persona:

"I used to act dumb. It was an act. I am 26 years old, and that act is no longer cute. It is not who I am, nor do I want to be that person for the young girls who looked up to me.

Unfortunately, it seems that perhaps the dumb part wasn't so much an act. Later in this New York Post article, she talks about her first few days in prison:

"I was not eating or sleeping," she said of her first few days. "I was severely depressed and felt as if I was in a cage."

Huh. Prison makes you feel like you're in a cage? Who knew??

Meanwhile, Daddy Hilton is pimping out his daughter for a "Get of Jail" party in Vegas. He's demanding at least a $50,000 fee for her appearance. Poor girl. The new Paris doesn't have a chance.

That's SO 19th century

My roommate has a hope chest.

No joke.

A hope chest.

For those of you who were born after 1849, a hope chest is a box kept by unmarried women in anticipation of getting married. You put in the family heirlooms, grandma's pearls that you want to wear on your wedding day, the quilt that's been passed down from bride to bride for 18 generations, the table linens that were made by your great-grandmother, etc etc.

Now, don't get me wrong. I really really like this girl. She's got some spunk to her and we get along really well. But I kinda want to break into the hope chest and see what she has in there. It's KILLING me to know what's inside. I mean, what does a girl in her mid-20s in the 21st century actually keep in there? I'm intrigued. A printout of her very first love letter email? A list of top wedding Web sites? A SIM card? A DVD of Father of the Bride?

I brought this up to people at work the other day and one of the guys actually thought it was kind of a neat idea. And I got to thinking. Have we lost something in losing traditions like a hope chest? I don't even know many women who did the whole "something borrowed, something blue" thing for their weddings. Are weddings less thrilling now that the sense of anticipation from the age of 7 is gone? Now we dread having to buy and wear wretchedly unbearable bridesmaids dresses and fulfilling the grueling chores of being maid of honor. We put up with the chatter of flowers and tuxedos gone wrong, bad outfit choices by the mother-in-law, and the unending seating assignment woes -- all because this day is for the bride, she can do what she wants. Don't get me wrong, we're thrilled for the dear friend as she walks down the aisle, but admit it, we're relieved when it's finally over.

Maybe we've lost something along the way. But weddings are still fabulous events in so many other ways. This weekend, I'm heading back to Boston for some pre-wedding festivities and am really looking forward to it. Gonna get me some quality girl time - and it all just reminds me that weddings are so much more than hope chests, dresses, and bachelorette parties. Whew. I'm too young to be this jaded!

Summer lovin'

I'm officially a DC resident! And what a great neighborhood I've landed in, too. Eastern Market, in my humble opinion, is one of the best areas of DC. I adore the grittiness of U Street and the funky chic of Dupont but Eastern Market is quaint, urban, diverse, eclectic and yuppie all at the same time. On our first night here, my roommate and I walked down to the main drag for food and beer. By the time we got back home, we had been introduced to Bernie, the guy who owns the liquor store; Carl, the unofficial "mayor" of this area, bartender and aspiring filmmaker; Kevin, local bartender; and Tom, just a random guy from the neighborhood who was behind us in line. Carl and Kevin told us that Bernie is a whiz at pairing food with wine and gave us a "shot for the road." I LOVE it. My roommate made fun of me for talking to everyone too but I just love being in a place where people answer back (nicely, of course).

While our new house is simply wonderful on so many levels, we've also discovered a leak in the basement, no hot water, and a third roommate in the shape of a small grey mouse. Welcome to city living. But I'm a 7 minute walk from the metro station and only 10 minute drive to work. Which will turn into a 15 minute commute when I (gasp!) sell my car. I'm taking the ultimate city living plunge. Not gonna lie -- it's scary.

This move has also coincided with other fortuitous circumstances -- new job, new salary, new account with Verizon Wireless, and new crush! FINALLY. I have a crush in DC. This is so great and a whole lot easier and cheaper than Chemistry.com. What's even better is that he has a crush on me too. Ah, summer crushes ... they make life so enjoyable. It's just enough drama to keep me satisfied but without the craziness that often comes with new relationships. I'm still convinced I've missed the window of marriage-in-my-20s opportunity and that I'll be single until at least 35, at which point I'll marry a divorcee and we'll have to adopt a gaggle of small children from an array of developing countries. Angelina actually stole that idea from me.

But until then, I fully plan on enjoying the single life and having crushes on hot boys who order pizza and beer and a movie with me on Friday nights, hitchhike to see Shakespeare in the Park, and wink at me just because.