Guess what? If you don’t live in a big and sometimes gross city, you can have things like porches, stars, air, room, and dinner parties.
Last night, I was pleased to attend a country dinner party at the home of fellow UNC alumn, Jeff Meanza, featuring Roasted Beer Chicken, where you stick a can of beer up a chicken’s butt, stick it on the grill, and watch it salute you / hang out as it cooks. It’s fairly strange and human-like. As it cooks, the beer sort of explodes inside of it. Sorry, the chicken, and Elizabeth Castoria.
Even more importantly, the party concluded with a pie that a boy made, which is never a bad thing. BOYPIE!
COSMIC CANTINA BURRITO WHICH I LIVED OFF OF IN COLLEGE WHICH I THEN LAST NIGHT NOSTALGICALLY STUFFED MYSELF WITH IN ADDITION TO 900 CHIPS AFTER WHICH POINT I GAVE BIRTH TO A CARB BABY.
Today was really special and NOT just because I wore Mom shorts. Today, my friend since high school Michael Harwood made me a Mocha. Years ago, when I was working (badly) as a barista, I got Mike a job at the Wide Eye Cafe (a coffee bar inside of a gym? Why? I don’t know.) Wide Eye is owned by Scott and Beth, who also own Open Eye and Driade, the two best coffee places pretty much in the world, but also in Chapel Hill and Carborro. Mike went on to move up the barista ranks, and he is now officially the best barista in the Southeast United States, and is about to compete nationally. I’m really really proud of him, and so I drank my mocha All, remembering the 413 I had in college.
In case you were curious, today was perfect, and now I’m going to tell you about it regardless of your level of curiosity. TODAY! Began with a nice run through North Campus, followed by a stroll up Franklin street to Walgreens to pick up the STEROIDS?! that I have to put in my eyeballs every day for a month, followed by a lunch of wine, giant salads and bread that can only be described as Crack with sister Blaine, then irrational shopping (including the purchasing of those important pink shorts) then a pedicure, then Hunger Games, and now some Hoarders, garlic broccoli, Junot Diaz and netflix. SHUT UP, DAY! I feel lucky. Tomorrow, back to work.
A bit about my eyes: I’ve had contacts since I was 12 years old. I don’t know who would give contacts to a twelve year old, but somebody did. Carelessly and for years, I was too lazy to take my contacts out when I went to sleep. I started to get these bumps under my eyelids but for years, was too ashamed to tell any eye doctor about it. So you’d think I’d wear my glasses, but I’m so blind that my lenses have to be REAL thick and I have basically no peripheral vision. And then my eyes got worse. And then I had no health insurance and just dealt with expired glasses. And then spring and pollen came extra early and hard this year and I had more eyegasms* than usual. And so today, in one of the first adult moves of my life, I finally and ashamed-ly fessed up to an eye doctor, who examined me and told me I had some disease thing that I can only describe as eye herpes. So, I have that. I also have to wear my glasses for a month, walk into things, and have no depth perception. I’m not quite sure what the moral of this story is, but it has something to do with not ignoring things and not giving contact lens to twelve year olds.
* Eyegasm: n. when you rub and rub and rub at your eyes like you want them to die. By the time it’s done, you have eye make up all over your face, and it’s questionable whether or not you should be entrusted with taking care of yourself.
It only took me a week to accidentally lock myself out of my room. Thanks to a pretty stellar emergency housing system, I made one call, and within ten minutes, a very dapper undergrad, who 8 years ago I would have leered at on campus, charmingly and politely let me back into my room. As the electronic wheelchair door slowly opened with an errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, I nearly asked him to marry me.
The Brunstetters trekked to Sears Portrait Studio today for yet another successul family photoshoot, complete with awkward touching and coordinating colors. While we won’t have the prints to share for a few weeks, I can give you a few hints: one being some serious floor action, and second being this:
A few years ago, the UNC Theater Department lost the incredible Ken Strong to cancer. Today a gallery of student theater pictures / articles / programs was dedicated to him – including THIS PROGRAM FROM MY SECOND PLAY EVER. I’d like to most importantly call attention to the fact that I ask the audience to ‘please, approach this play as you would a painting.’ BEKAH. You don’t know anything about paintings, and isn’t this kind of a cop-out? Take from it what you will, as in, I have no idea what I’m writing? Please note that also, I directed.