Along the Charles
Worst pickup line of the weekend, especially given the fact that you're dancing in a club:
I can't dance, do you want to teach me?Accompany this with some stinky breath, and it's like ewgrossgetthehellawayfrommenow. ERGH! And it's not like it was complicated dancing, like salsa dancing, from which we had come earlier in the night. No, this was your regular ol' bump-and-grind hip hop. Yuck. Just yuck. Chew some gum, dude. And work on your lines.
Anyway. I was going to showcase the quite lovely dinner I made Friday night, with proscuitto-wrapped asparagus and this pasta with sausage, sausage that I had brought all the way back from New Orleans. But we got drunk whilst watching The Prince and Me (I am sorry, for all my cynicism, the day some guy quotes Shakespeare in earnest to me, I am so his, especially if he's hot and the heir to the throne of some nice progressive country) and Old School,and we somehow managed to erase all the pictures on my camera. Unfortunately, this included the lovely pictures of food which I hadn't yet had time to download. Dammit. So I leave you with these pictures, which I took while the weather was actually nice last week:
It's scenes like this which make me ask myself - why am I leaving Boston?
By the way - Crystal Light and vodka. It's so retro it's like being an undergrad drinking in the dorms. Don't knock it until you've tried it.
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