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thought i was a donut, ya tried to glaze me


oh, wait.

It's been a very long time since I've updated-- but hey, it's a holiday week.

Christmas Eve was good-- party at the Galvins (well, Michael & Maureen's house across the street) which had plenty of people abusing my families intense love of Stella, played shuffle board and sucked, hardcore. Later on more people came and we played flip cup, and there was a fight, I think, or, an almost fight. There was also a garbage can filled with sawdust that got thrown on somebody but the saw dust never seemed to get smaller. Weird. Went to the circle, stayed until they turned the lights on which, ouch, isn't good for church the next day.

Christmas is pretty boring when you're old and no longer believe in Santa; I knew almost everything I was getting, and while I was still really appreciative there's a big part of Christmas missing when you know Santa isn't flying over your house in a giant sleigh. When I Was younger I believed in Santa so much it hurt-- I insited I saw him once, flying in a shadow over the moon, even though it was definetely something I had just seen on TV. When I came to the conclusion that Santa wasnt' real it was scary and hard for me--I was a very emotional 15 year old. Ha, ha. I'm just playing-- I was 13.

So yea. Got some nice stuff. The rest of hte week is pretty much a blur, since I got a slight cold on Christmas and have been dealign with it since.

Monday-- drove Aunt Maria home and drove by Rockefeller Center, which, while still really beautiful and Christmasy, is still also just a giant tree. With giant lights on it. There's no point in parking and walking by it, unless there's enough time to mock the bad ice skaters below. But yo--I'll always love those giant gold angels.

Tuesday-- I don't remember what I did. Mall maybe? Yikes.

Wednesday-- it was supposed to be the LAST WACKY WEDNESDAY OF 2005!, but check it. Mary Cait had her amazing Roaring 20's party at her house, happy belated birthday, and we all dressed (Well, not all) in semi-flapper outfits and ate lots of appetizers and taco pie. And cake. Jesus, that was delicious cake. And JESS CAME!! YAY.

So yea. We were all really, really excited for the winter edition of Wacky Wednesday-- I brought out my $15 that I'd bring out in the summer, all in singles, and everyone went to the Circle but, surprise surprise, they wouldn't let Casey or Marybeth in. Apparently they were too old/wearing too much clothes/not right out of a cab from Marine Park, so, yea, of course,why woudl they let them in? I mean, they've already taken the Chem Regents, so apparently they aren't qualified for the Circle...sorry. I'm complaining about things I did when I was 16, too, but I like to point out that a) I wore clothes(I mean, out of decency I don't wear mini-skirts in the summer, so I wouldn't do it in the winter. And yea, I recognizethis isn't Cancun) and b) I didn't KNOCK INTO EVERYONE. These girls KNOCK INTO EVERYONE. And THEN THEY GRILL YOU. And I get so angry I want to yell "BROOKLYN IS THAT WAY" and point to the Bridge. And I want to tell them YOUR TUBE TOP DOESN'T CARRY OVER INTO THE WINTER and STOP WEARING UGGS THEY ARE HIDEOUS but I have some self-restraint.

Uh, where was I? Oh, yea. Casey and MArybeth did get in, but only after there was some threatening from Marybeth and Kenny Green getting involved. IT was an alright time, I guess; I was really pissed about the lack of a true WAcky Wednesday so therefore, it was just a Wack Wednesday, and I went home after getting a headache from red bull and vodkas.

Thursday-- Here we go.
Indaculture was playing Thursday night at Tin Lizzies, and, in possibly the greatest idea ever, Bobby arranged for a bus to pick people up at Jamos, take us to the bar, and then drive us all back. IT was any rockaway kids dream-- a booze bus bracketed by boozing-- and there was a nice random mix of people. But hey, guess what? The bus allegedly "broke down", and since the bus company has no professionalism, they didn't send one in it's place. So what now? Everyone got their money back, and, since I had work at 9 the next day, I briefly considered staying home. Briefly.
I had it in my head that I was going, so Marybeth, Casey and I got a lift from Mrs. Galvin to the junction and traded an amazing booze bus for the 2 to nevins, the 4 to the brooklyn bridge, and the 6 to 86th street, drinking bud light cans from a plastic bag hidden in a scarf (me) and jacket sleeves (casey and marybeth) on the journey there.

Indaculture did a really awesome job. MAybe it was watchign them in a different place, or maybe it was the stage, but they played the best I had ever heard them. And Tin Lizzies was overrun with Rockaway people (who all traded the bus for some sort of train), and it was crazy and fun.

But oh, wait. I was in the bathroom, which is down a decently steep and long amount of stairs, when I heard some thuds, but didnt' think much of it. A few minutes later someone came in and was like, Kristen Brady just fell down the stairs, and I was like, wtf?!?!

When I got out of the bathroom I saw KBrady and KMag standing with the bouncers, but it turns out Kristen didn't FALL down the stairs, some BITCH PUSHED HER. W. T. F.
We found out who the girl was, and while she said it was an accident, there were witnesses! And she must have been bugging,throwing a girl down the stairs whose like, entire town was there and cousin happened to be bartending. Not smart.

It's funny how drama, and being sort of out of the usual element, will bring people together-- people who barely talk in Rockaway, not in a bad way, just in a way that they know who the person is but aren't necessarily friendly with them--it'sfunny how when there's the chance to fuck some bitch up, some bitch who almost fucked up one of our own, we all become boys.
Monica Savage came up to me and was like, yo, we need to fuck this bitch up; and I was there with Marybeth and Casey, for Christ's sake; who better than them to really, really frighten someone.

All it took was a long talking to by Marybeth to get the girl out; I believe the words "you're lucky you caught me on a good day" and "I would have dragged you out of here by your hair, you fucking trashy bitch" were used. And just like that, some girl from some far-off state was kicked out by the bouncers and in tears, because shit; we may sometimes grill each other when we're in connolly's but if you're about to fuck with anyone from this penninsula, in the far off upper east side of manhattan, we're all best friends.

We went to a diner after, and took a cab home, and we drove over the 59th street bridge and when casey and i saw the giant silvercup studios sign (my favorite part of taking the queens-way home) she muttered "sopranos" and I muttered "sex and the city" and I was in and out of sleep the entire ride-- waking up only to yell "GET ON THE VAN WYCK" and "EXIT 11S ON THE BELT" to the cab driver, who didn't seem to know where he was going. I do remeber that Casey was being very very inspirational and I remember just feeling better about life and the world after hearing her talk but...I can't for the life of me remember what she was saying. Oh, man.

Friday-- work at 9 am...boo. I actually got there at 9:20, but it was dead so it wasnt' a big deal. Went by really fast;came and finished The Way We Were (awesome movie) and took a nap, and then Beth and Eric came over and we watched some useless TV, and then Clare came over and we all watched The Way We Were again and we all agreed (yes, even Eric), that Robert Redford is very, very, very, very handsome. Oh, if only I could find a Hubbel for myself; but, you know, one that won't cheat on me with some butt slut named Carol Ann and won't make me move to Malibu and will stay with me forever. And come to think of it, I'm not that fond of the name Hubbel. So yea, maybe I don't want my very own Hubbel, just someone who looks like him.

Tomorrow is New Years Eve and I have NO PLANS. I'm working until 8, but since I think New Years Eve is overhyped and not as fun as other Eve holidays, I don't care if everyone leaves me for the city to pay $80 for a 2 hour open bar and a champagne toast. Shit, I'll toast myself at midnight with Regis Philbin and be in bed by 12:15, plenty of rest for the 119th New Years Dip in the ocean. Yes, I am finally going to do it this year, which means I have to find my bathing suits again, which are probably in the bottom of my drawer, relegated to the corner since August; I'll also have to shave my legs, which I haven't done in a couple of days.

Too much information? I figured.

Maybe I'll update before 2006 with my recap of 2005.
No, wait, I'll just give it now. 2005 was : ehhhhhhhh.

Here's hoping for a not-so-ehhh 2006.

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