So I must offer my supercongrats to doll GrooveChick who just got engaged! Yay for love! I'm so psyched for you guys. (And now I won't be the only friend I know who is married.)

What else? Silliness: I finally got my pink poodle purse from V.Pickel, the cutest little store in Olde City. Beagle and I scooted around those parts on Saturday and ate some delicious pizza at the diner on 3rd and Arch.

Some days are better Philly days than others, and every day I marvel at how absolutely disgusting and trash-filled this city is. I go out at least twice a week and collect a garbage bag full of other people's crap. This makes me the crazy lady of my street and also one of its least passive dwellers. It drives me bonkers. Two of the strangest yet most often swept up items: chicken bones and corncobs. Who just walks around eating corn off the cob? Apparently people on my street do. And on any block I can look down and am confronted by a gnawed-out drumstick. They're everywhere: chicken bones -- the great equalizer. So gross, so random: Philadelphia.
Until next time. . .

Today my sister and I surfed the north beach at Spring Lake, which basically blew darling Manasquan away by being cleaner and less populated, especially in the water. Last weekend at Manasquan I almost mowed into a bevy of 10-year old girls who probably borrowed their dad's boards and still don't realise that projectile fiberglass hurts. Get out of the way! Anyway, I step down now and retreat to lotion up my sunburned limbs disassemble my structurally unsound soapbox.

So what has been up? Beagle and I have been going to a bunch of shows and dreaming up business plans. Last week at the North Star we saw his brother's band and talked about new forays into real estate. On Sunday we saw Jets to Brazil at the Troc. I had geekily e-mailed the band at the last minute and asked them to play Cat Heaven, our wedding song. This didn't happen. I guess Jets to Brazil don't check their e-mail, or else lack what I refer to as the Sentimental Bone, which actually looks naughty now that I've typed it out. Does your boyfriend have one of those?

So weather has finally acted normal and the scoot has been in full effect. Once again, I must give props to Philly for being such a great scooter town. It's the one-way streets, I tell you. Oh, one more thing. Last night we watched Dogtown and Z Boys. Have you seen this yet? It's all about being in the right place, right time, living hardcore and kicking ass. Highly recommended. This is how I will feel tomorrow when I go here. Shhh.

I am currently worried about the Galapagean honeymoon -- we are flying into Guayaquil for one night and then looping over to the islands the next day. I purchases our air tickets through our tour operator and haven't yet seen them. The woman I've been e-mailing at KleinTours told me that some woman will "meet me at airport" to give me the tickets. Generally, this would be a good cause to worry, no? The obvious springs to mind: what does this woman look like? How will I know her? Will there be a sign with my name on it or something?

This weekend I drove up to NYC to hang with my sister and Heather in Astoria. First we went to the American Museum of the Moving Image and knocked ourselves out making flipbooks and playing with the green screen. At one point, I fell down laughing. From there we met up with Amy and Ange and went to the Bohemian Beer Garden. We ate major portions of smaczeny syr and kielbasa and potato knedlicky! Omigod, Czech delight! We practically rolled out of there. To think that my diet consisted of such delicious things for an entire semester . . . Our Eastern European odyssey ended with dancing at some Bulgarian bar that played weird combination of Bollywood/Hungarian techno. Or maybe it really was Bulgarian, who the hell knows. Anyway, fun fun fun and a hot Slavic DJ in leatha pants makes my girls giggle. I'm still relieved we survived the cab ride home.

In other happenings, tomorrow's series finale of Buffy will probably leave me weepy. Until then, and another day closer. . .

This weekend my bridal party came into Philly for silly girl-time. First we went to Viv Pickle, where you chose a style of handbag and fabric and they put it all together for you. It's a great store, their fabrics are very retro-nifty and ladies loved picking out their gifts. Then we went to Me & Blue which is now my new favorite store in Philly. I bought a skirt in a print of kimono-wearing geisha kitties. So cute!

After house martinis, we got Beagle to drive us to Trust for dinner. Jill and C. were excited because their drinks came with light-up ice cubes. Early on they decided to make this an all-cheese event, and so we got on with it after our meal. They gave me a list of bachelorette "to-do"s: make boys bite candies from my candy necklace, tell some dude he's a "sexy motherfucker", wear condoms on all beltloops. Sigh. I'm a good sport, but there was a certain element of oh, dear god, no standing on 13th St while they tied the rainbow array of condoms onto me. This was their evil way of embarassing me prior to going to, where else, Polly Esther's.

Thankfully, Polly Esther's not only welcomes the bachelorettes, they throw out the welcome wagon. I got a free drink and "i spent my last night at . . . " t-shirt. Can't wait to wear that one. Anyway, there was a sea of veils on the dance floor -- many many bachelorettes. I asked one of them if she wanted to bite my candy necklace but the look she gave me could re-kill a dead horse. Oh well. Sometimes my drunk + funny antics don't work so good. I'm happy to say though that the 80s still sounded fabulous today when my sister broke into the refrain of "Jungle Life" at dinner. Housewifes wept.

Older entries are right over here.