Reunited

Step back off the ledge…I’m back.

It’s been wayyy too long since I’ve had the opportunity to polish off a bottle of wine on my couch, listen to my 70s music cable channel and expound on why Gristede’s sucks. Now I know how Lindsay Lohan feels. I’m sure all she wants is to kick back and chill at home but she’s under constant pressure to party, party, party. Kind of like me lately. Forced to go to Utah, then Worcester, then the Cape. I mean, for the love of god, I’m not a machine.

Despite the many opportunities I’ve had to be annoyed in the past month, I can’t think of anything new that I haven’t already gone into at length, so I will spare you. In case you’re wondering, I still hate: my job, Bank of America, Boston College, Jorge Posada and people who snap their gum on the subway. In my bid to be more positive and tolerant (which hurts me more than it hurts you) I’ve enjoyed the following: seeing actual, live buffaloes in Utah, hanging out with my Boston peeps, watching Brigid try not to puke during Jeremy’s wedding ceremony, the Red Sox kicking the NL’s ass, a mudslide at the Beachcomber and driving through Connecticut. Okay the last one was just to see if you were paying attention. Connecticut: an Indian word that means “driving 50 mph in the passing lane.” Thank you, I’ll be here all week. (Everything’s funny after a bottle of Prosecco!)