Vers l'absurde

It's funny how you can totally swear you'll move back to a place, then massive humidity hits and it's all, "I'm going back to LA, suckas!"

Excerpt from email written at 3 this morning to friends. (Why so early, you ask? Because my flight obnoxiously got in at 1:30am.)

In addition to the complete and utter Masshole-y flight attendants (see definition #3), complete with both accents and attitudes, my flight home was marked by two particular interesting (and I use that loosely) people: 1) A pre-teen, who, right before the plane was ready to take off, decided to flee the plane as if the very hounds of hell were chasing after him, followed closely by his (adult) traveling companion, thereby involving a 40 minute delay as the state police had to come and deal with things and their luggage had to be taken off the plane, and 2) a bearded woman.

I am not even kidding about the second one.

Anyways, so, right. Where were we? I was in Boston, where were you? And it was a spectacularly lovely weekend - the weather was just absolutely perfect, up until Monday when I left.

Some of the things I did:
*Visited the new ICA. While the art is eh, the building is awesome
*Got lobster rolls out in East Boston. Vow every trip to return for MORE.
*Went to the Bueno Queso Social Club. It's as much fun as it sounds. Maybe more.
*Went to the SoWa Open Market.
*Saw the Edward Hopper exhibit at the MFA. Thanks, BU, for not putting an expiration date on your student ID cards, even when one's only taken a summer course there aeons ago, thereby enabling me to get into the museum for free.
*Generally, ate well, drank well, slept well, and had a lot of fun. As always.


It's funny how Fake Boyfriend, every trip, talks to me like I've never been to Boston before. For instance, he asked me about my plans for the one of the days while he was at work, and when I told him I was going to the MFA, he went into lengthy detail (worked at putting me to sleep, at least) about how to get to an appropriate T-station and which train to take out there. Maybe men just have a natural inclination (at least around me) to be a wee bit all, "Look at me, I'm a male, hear me roar!" Or, "Look at me, I'm a male, I know my directions!"


FB's moved to the South End, which is rather annoying to get to by public transportation (at least by T), but it's a lovely part of Boston I heretofore haven't really gotten to know well. While all the brownstones are super-cute (and super-expensive), unless you're one of the lucky (or willing to pay lots of money), you must park on the street. What do you do when it snows? Ah, that's why I don't live in Boston right now. Plus, did you hear that it gets humid in the summer?

But, as always, it's good to be home. Home, where I live alone, and don't have to hear finance guys (FB and all his friends are in finance) talk about "low hanging fruit", how GREAT is the fund they're working on, should they call China now to see if they can get any additional info, oh dear, haven't checked the Blackberry every minute, how much the principal partners at their firms are worth, etcetc. It's enough to drive a girl to drink.