2004-07-02 - 2:15 p.m.

It's been crazy around here, man, not in a bad way, but I feel like I've been running full speed since April. Plus the work shit, which is semi-resolved as of yesterday.

Last weekend, we went to the beach, and it was fabulous - I love being in a beach town, bringing my coffee to the beach in the morning, the smell of salt air, walking around in a bathing suit and tshirt and flip flops, sand on linoleum, the yards made of rocks. We took Monday off and stayed all weekend, came home Monday night and unpacked.

Tuesday night we went to the baseball game. Of course, the night BEFORE the really great game. Would have been great for me, too, even though I don't really give a shit about baseball. It's more of a sociological observation for me - the fervor, the rivalry, the camaraderie of the crowd, I love to watch it - and the observing would have been much better on the night the shortstop dove face first into the stands. Ah, well. It was a beautiful night and I ate a bunch of crap and drank warm beer, so that's always good.

Wednesday my parents came over to see my photographers proofs from the wedding, and last night we went to a ridiculous dinner.

There is a new swank restaurant in the ugly ass new T1me W@rner building, with a two month waiting list for reservations. (which is a crock of shit if you ask me, but that's another story) A friend of a friend of ours had made them months ago, and we got the invite two weeks ago. Now, normally I don't go to places like that - it's just not worth the effort to me, although I'm a foodie, when there's all this great food right outside my door. But there's been so much hype, so I got dressed up and we went. Four and a half hours and 9 courses later, we rolled out into a cab and got home at 1:30. In the morning. On a school night. After eating for four and a half hours. Today's been ugly. And if you're local and interested, the food was AMAZING. But not nearly worth the small fortune they charged us for it. I have a mental parameter for how much food should cost, even if it's the best food you ever had in your life. And they beat it. At the end of the meal, when your eyes are glazed over and your belly distended, shoes kicked off beneath the tablecloth, they bring you a little stack of three cookies, wrapped in cellophane and tied with a satin ribbon. M tried to leave his on the table when we got up. I leaned back into him and hissed, take those fucking cookies. He looked at me like I was crazy. Take them, I insisted - and get some silverware while you're at it.

I will never, ever, be a Manhattan trendy girl. I did have good shoes, though.

We're going to the country tomorrow morning, but will take advantage of the empty holiday weekend city to go see F@hrenheit 911 tonight. Happy 4th

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