Oh, Oh, Oh, It's Magic. You know-ow-ow...

Pay no attention to the fact that my head looks like some kind of sick Halloween pumpkin in this picture - it was Julie's birthday weekend and it was AWESOME! I was about to go to our little neighborhood deli to get us all some much needed post-previous night's party liquid replenishment and Jules insisted on getting a picture because she was under the mistaken impression that I was extra cute at the time. I think she might have been temorarily insane. Julie looks better in the morning than any other person I've known. When she says her eyes are puffy what she really means is "I might not be as completly breathtakingly gorgeous as when I'm fresh out of the shower and ready to hit the town." Bah.

Like I said in the last post - this past weekend was magic. It was pure magic. When I woke up this morning I was so glad to be in the bed I share with the man who makes me tingle all over and be back in the same house with him, but I was sad that I couldn't walk into the kitchen and see the girls all there... one by one waking up and emerging from their various quilted cocoons to stumble into the kitchen bleary-eyed and smiling in anticipation of that necessary first cup of coffee and a smoke. It was something indescribable to be surrounded by women who not only are some of the most intelligent, beautiful people I've ever known, but who all love me and love each other with a fury. Not just like how friends love friends - these women all love each other fiercely and it's inspiring. It is the most nurturing environment. It's also filled with a little too much estrogen and most of us ended up getting our periods when we weren't expecting them... thanks, Mother Nature! Ah, the wonders of the synchronization of women's bodies.

I came away from the weekend with about 7 new nicknames (most of which will never see themselves in print) and sore legs from dancing like a fool. The funniest one came from a Russian guy on the way to hop the train who turned to me, and in a very thick accent said, "Nice peeloh". Nice pillow? Singular? What was he referring to? One pillow... um, OK, let's see. Breasts, breasts are sometimes called pillows. Alright then, but which one did he mean - right one, left one, who knows. Julie said maybe he meant my butt. But no, he didn't see my butt. Heather, in all her wisdom, said maybe he meant my face. My big old pillow face. For some reason that was the funniest thing she possibly could have said at that moment. And from then on, I was Peeloh Face all weekend.

Which is a perfect transition to my flight home Sunday night. My flight... oh lord you don't even want to know. Firstly, I called a car to take me to the airport. I wasn't 100% sure that I wouldn't fall asleep and miss my stop on the train (you see, I hadn't slept since Friday night - oh yeah, I'm a freaking champ), so I called a car to be on the safe side. Thank goodness I left in plenty of time to get there because on the way we got pulled over and the driver got a ticket for talking on his cell phone. It actually ended up being kind of nice - I got to chat with the police officers out the back window for a good 20 minutes. They were amusing.

We finally made it to the airport. Take off was scheduled for 9:20. Funny how we didn't take off until hours and hours later. Why was that? Hmmmmm? Weather. Weather that we didn't even see - it was all thanks to the horrible system that ripped through the midwest earlier that day. So, take off was way late. I make it to my seat - my middle seat (is there a worse torture on the planet?). I was sandwiched between a retarded Orthodox girl and a smelly Russian dude (who had the most perfect peelow face accent - I kid you not). I wish that was a joke. It sure sounds like a joke... a blonde, a retarded Jew, and a smelly Rusky walk into a bar... Alas, it was just JetBlue flight 11 from JFK to Ft. Lauderdale.

The Russian dude was eating something that smelled like death and looked like fresh roadkill, and drinking from a full size orange juice carton. You know - the family sized kind. What the hell, dude? You're on a muthafukkin plane! *sigh* To make things even better he kept trying to talk to me even though my eyes were closed and I had my headphones on. Oh yes, he was entirely stupid. And annoying. And smelly. And Russian. Keep in mind that I have a relatively short fuse anyway. Also keep in mind that I hadn't slept in 41 hours. I'd get to the point where I was just falling asleep and he'd lean on the armrest and turn the volume on my headphones way up and jolt me from dreamland. I hate him. I don't know where he is right now, but I hope he just sat in gum.

The retarded girl was nice. She really was, but that doesn't mean that she wasn't annoying, she was just a nice pain in the ass. She was reading a book and every time she turned the page she'd whack me on the arm. Plus, that book she was reading - was resting on my forearm the whole time. I wasn't even using the armrest! Between her hitting me every minute and a half and the Rusky stinking me out and waking me up I got about 5 minutes of sleep. Needless to say I didn't do anything yesterday except sleep. I didn't make it into the office. I slept until 2:30. I couldn't help it. I was in serious need of rest.

And now I'm back. And I have to go do some work to earn this paycheck.

I miss Brooklyn. I miss the girls. And I think I love the man even more than when I left.

P.S. MT if you're reading this - you are the mack daddy of them all and I want details. You player, you. I'm in awe. She is SO totally entranced by you she can't even see straight.