Hot Pants Parade

Kelly is in town for a teaching job fair, so she stayed with me on Friday night. Saturday we walked around Evanston and went to the beach where the water was closed and the sand was whipping. That evening, in the hail storm, we went to an Indian restaurant with Kelly's friend who lives just south of me in the city. I ordered lamb, which I always know is a bad idea, if you know what I mean, but every time I think, "Oh, maybe this time it won't be so bad." Wrong.

Val was in town yesterday, and we went to the Pride Parade. I have never seen so many hot pants and thongs in my life. It was AWESOOOOOOOME (said like Oprah). From what I can tell, the parade is about having pride in wearing tiny underpants and go-go dancing to the B-52's on sparkly floats. It was fun. Everyone dances the whole time and gawks at smooth men. I also saw some bare butts. Holler!

The parade suddenly came to a stop near the end (I guess because a dancer fell off her float and broke her leg, woops) and it started to rain. So Val and I danced through the rain, stopped to dance to "It's Raining Men" playing on a half-naked party float, and continued through the rain looking for a place to eat. Then the clouds opened up over a restaurant called Killer Margaritas and the angels sang. The party continued in the basement, with music and dancing. Val and I could not stop dancing in our seats. Then Kelly met up with us at the restaurant after going to the parade with her friend, and we soon parted ways.




Now get ready to see some half-naked men!

Tapas

Tonight I had dinner with Brendan at a tapas restaurant in Evanston. I hadn't seen him in a while, so it was fun to catch up. I laughed a lot, mostly at my jokes, and we had some wine and plate after plate. There was a guy in pink pants sitting at the table next to us, so when we got up to leave, Brendan goes, "I'm going to ask this guy where he got his pink pants." I thought he was joking, but he wasn't. So I got the hell out of there because I was mortified.

Then I walked home. It was such a nice night. Calm and light sweater. I love that I can walk to town—it reminds me of Royal Oak, and I miss that. If I got a job in Evanston I wouldn't need my car. I can walk to Jewel, restaurants, movie theater, the Gap—all the staples of life.

Beach time

Yesterday I went to the beach for the first time this year. The sand sculptor was there, I pretended to read—it was just like old times. Plus some dude or lady in a plane was writing in the sky—somethingsomething dot com, but looked like backwards "cow."



Today I helped Colleen and Matt move her stuff into Matt's apartment because Colleen "hurt her foot." So then they treated me to a movie.

Picnic

This week is Quill Week, so we have "fun" activities like karaoke in the cafeteria during lunch, where we're forced to listen to Sweaty McTanktop from the warehouse do "Friends In Low Places," and my favorite, the Brown Bag (It) Raffle. I put all my tickets in for the handcuffs and leather set. (If you live in the Detroit area, I hope you get that HILARIOUS joke.)

This afternoon is our department picnic, which is really just an excuse to plan our day around beer. My co-worker and I were having a serious discussion earlier about should get beer at lunch, or pick some up on the way there? She said, "I have a cooler in my car, so we could get beer at lunch and put it in there… But then we'd have to get ice." (She keeps a cooler in her trunk for beer emergencies.) I was like, "Oh, yeah, that's true, good thinking, hmm..." Should we stop at the gas station or go a little out of the way to Dominick's where they have a better selection? Should we get forties or a kegger? I don't know, my head hurts, I have to lie down.

on the rocks

Summer spot

Wedding

This weekend my mom and I went to my cousin Shannon's wedding in Lowell, Michigan on the Lowell Showboat. (Shannon was once the Showboat Queen. Hahaha, small towns!) We watched the ceremony from the second level of the boat. Shannon is my cousin on my dad's side, but my mom is still friends with my aunt, who isn't doing well, so my mom wanted to see her. That also meant, of course, that my dad and his wife were there from California. Or as my uncle called it, the Steve and Agnes Drama Hour. And Agnes did not disappoint. She is cuckoo for cocoa puffs.

It was good to see everyone else again. I don't see the Riojas side very often. I told my cousin Audrey (who's a year younger than me) she better get married next (she's dating a pastor-in-training, so you know she will), so Dad and I can be reunited again. We've exhausted the three Bennett girls.

On the drive home I was thinking about my own wedding, and that I'd like to get married only so I can make the playlist for the DJ. The first dance will be something nice, like LeeAnn Womack "I Hope You Dance" (hahaha), then it'll scratch into some Snoop and we'll go into a hip-hop routine. Sorry, no kids allowed.






Me and Grandma.


Me and Shannon, oh god I look awful.

I Review a Movie

I'd like to start a new segment called "I Review a Movie" in which I have a glass of wine after not having had one in many, many hours—like two—and review a movie I've recently or not-so-recently seen but for some reason may be thinking about. This is that segment.

I Review a Movie: Sex & The City.

(V.O.) Sometimes I see movies. Sometimes I don't. But this time I did. This time I saw Sex & The City.

FADE IN.

I can't remember if I was a big fan of the show or if I just watched it because it was on, but I don't think it matters. What matters is that I was sad when the movie ended. Not because Carrie died (haha, just kidding, suckers!), but because that meant it was really over. The characters that I may or may not have loved would never again be on the screen. Who cares if the movie was good or not, or that Jennifer Hudson was awful even though she's somehow won an Oscar? And that the only reason Jennifer Hudson was in the movie was because they were like, "Uh oh, this movie is full of white people. Let's get that girl from Idol. No, not Aiken—although, good one. The girl from the movie with the one with the butt. You know what I mean!" The point is, if I'm this upset when Sex & The City ends, what does that mean for my future?

CUT TO: Interior, movie theater, July. I'm watching the new The X-Files movie, probably alone, probably in disguise. Mulder says something like, "Scully, I want to believe" and I lose my shit. Through my sobs I say, "I remember when it was on TV." When the movie ends I refuse to let go and they have to carry me out of the building.

THE END.