Monday Bleh

Hey all,

Bleh, Monday. Don't you just HATE Mondays? This weekend was pretty good, though. Saturday I went to the movies to see "The Matador" with Pierce Brosnan. It was okay - nothing stellar. Then we went to Masa, this trendy southwestern style bar in the South End. (Yes, I know, trendy bar and South End are redundant.) About 14 people showed up, so it was quite the night out. We tried a nice bottle of Don Miguel Gascon, an Argentinean Viognier. (And Activity Director actually got away from her staple of New Zealand Sauv Blanc to try something new.) Anyway - fun time had by all.

In writing news, if you get a chance, check out my friend Alesia Holliday's new promotional cartoon for her Berkley book "Blondes Have More Felons". It's adorable! I love the alligator. It'd be fun to do something like that for my books, but alas, I have no money. Everyone's always like, "When can you quit your day job?" Uh, never? Actually though, the thing is I don't WANT to quit my day job. I love being a tv producer as well as an author. It's fun and interesting and challenging and there's people to talk to. I think I might go a little crazy sitting home alone all day. While I enjoy writing and definitely want to keep at it, I'm also looking to move ahead with my chosen profession as well. After all, I'm not digging ditches for a living. (No offense to anyone who finds ditch digging a rewarding career - I'm all for following whatever path you want in life - just not so much for me - who hates dirt and physical labor.) My job is creative and I learn something new everyday. The segments I do can change peoples' lives for the better. How rewarding is that? Sure, you've got your not-so-important stories like, "Can Your Couch Kill You?" but overall, we put out some quality programming.

ANYWAY - Sorry for the tangent. I know, I know. Some people write interesting stuff in their blogs or they teach people to become better writers or debate controversial issues. About all I've got left is the news of my very awesome GAP jeans purchase! WOOT! New jeans that actually look and feel good - priceless!!!

And uh, now that I've fulfilled my bloggerly duties (badly, I know) I'll bid you farewell and let you surf far more interesting blogs where you might actually learn something. :)

Marianne

Activity Director's Bday Recap

So Activity Director's bday party was a mixed bag.

It started wayyy early - like at 6pm - because none of the guys said they'd show up unless they could watch the Patriots playoff game. It was being held at Jillians, this bar on Lansdown Street. They have pool tables and bowling and stuff. They used to have a full floor of videogames - which was very cool, but for some reason they took those out. :(

So first off, it takes a full 15 minutes for the waitress to bring that first drink order around. Then we order food and it takes about 45 minutes to come. By the time it comes, half the items are ICE cold. I'm not talking luke warm, but COLD. So we ask the waitress to talk to the manager who tells us he "doesn't care." We ask him if we can get the cold food replaced and he says, "No, my kitchen is backed up." He does agree to take the cold food off the bill, but that doesn't do much for us being hungry. Finally we convince them to let us order a bunch of pizzas. The waitress "special ordered" them hot, so I can only imagine what kind of things the cooks did to them.

Anyway - it drags on. The football game is NEVER ENDING and the girls are all bored. The drinks are so slow to come that I can't even get a buzz. The guys aren't happy either, cause the Pats are getting killed. And there will be no dancing at the club downstairs (Tequila Rain) until the game is over and they clear away the tables. I consider leaving, but Mary begs me to stay, really wanting to dance. So since it's her bday, I do. Four of us girls go and play pool which turns out to be pretty funny cause none of us can play. I mean I'm talking cue ball flying across the bar bad. :) So that was amusing.

FINALLY after being at the bar about 5-6 hours, the game mercifully ends. We go downstairs to dance. I'm still not buzzed enough to appreciate the scene. It's a college area bar so everyone's young and hoochie looking. There's a long bar area where girls are dirty dancing with eachother. And they're serving slush drinks in long plastic glasses. It's like some weird spring break and we're half expecting the room to suddenly be flooded with foam.

We start dancing, but are interrupted by like 3 bar fights in 5 minutes. The bouncers are very agressive and one of the fights is right in front of us. I'm half afraid I'm going to get shot or stabbed. I realize I'm too old for this scene. I miss the club we used to go to - this goth club called Manray that was shut down this past summer. Everyone is so well behaved there and the music is 80s alternative. (As opposed to really bad hip hop.) Sigh.

So that's my night. Overall, there were fun moments, but I doubt we'll ever go back to Jillians again. There's no excuse for such bad service. But on the plus side, at least Mary didn't break anything this year...

Here's a couple pics. Click for a larger image. And please note the silly spring break drinks. We just HAD to try them.

Blogflogged and Birthdays

Cindy Holby "blog-flogged" me on the teen chicklit loop for not updating this thing in so long. I admit it. I've been so wrapped up in life, I've let it slide. I'll try to be more faithful. :)

Tonight is Activity Director's birthday party. The one weekend of the year she does not get to pick what we do. Instead, Mr. Activity Director (aka Andy) throws a surprise party. Because he does it every year, it's not a complete surprise, to say the least. And the big joke is he always waits til the very last minute to plan it. He did well this year - he made initial calls on Tuesday. There have been years where he didn't start planning til Thursday night. He's learning. And everyone else has learned to just set aside the Sat night before Mary's birthday, knowing at least SOMETHING will be planned.

My other theory is that maybe Andy knows WAY in advance what he's going to do and just doesn't inform me as he knows Mary will badger me for weeks for scoop on what he's planning and what she should wear if she thinks I know something. And as an Investigative TV News Producer, she can be a scary interrogator. I admit I've been known to cave under the pressure.

Anyway - since I can't talk about what we're doing tonight (Don't think she wouldn't check the blog!!) I'll tell you about last year's party. It was at Jake Ivory's, which is this dueling piano bar on Landsdown Street. A cool spot, except it turned out they didn't serve food. So none of the 30 or so guests had anything to eat. They did, however, have plenty to drink and that combo made for an extremely drunken evening. Me being one very suspeptible to getting wasted on an empty stomach, and Mary, being very suspeptible to getting wasted in general, were in rare form. (According to my ex, who at the time, wasn't drinking, and watched the whole event unfold completely sober, poor guy. He said it wasn't the not-drinking that was the problem, it was all the drunk people coming up to him and saying, "You must hate being around us sober. We must be so annoying, huh?" over and over again.)

Anyway - Mary and I love to dance so we hit the dance floor. And near the end of the evening, Mary thought her husband was behind her, dancing, too. So being a fun, loving wife, she decided to do a little backwards dip into his arms. Very romantic. He, unfortunately, had gone over to talk to his friend and wasn't actually anywhere near her. She dipped and then dipped further, losing her balance and falling onto the dance floor. She scrambled to her feet saying she hurt her wrist. It was nearly 2am at this point and the boys decided they needed to get us home.

On the cab ride back, Mary was crying and saying over and over she thought she broke her wrist. I was like, "No way. There's no way anyone can break their wrist on the dance floor. You're just drunk. Go to sleep."

Well, Mary will never let me live down the fact that I didn't believe her. Luckily Andy is a better husband than I am friend. Or maybe she just wore him down. Anyway, he took her to the emergency room and sure enough, somehow she'd managed to break her wrist on the dance floor and was in a cast six weeks.

Anyway - hopefully this bash will be just as fun, but less eventful and require no trips to the emergency room. I'll give you the 411 tomorrow.

Mar