Well, perhaps not a casino, but we’ll see where fun in the sun lands me. Yours truly may just end up being the most tanned and smiling cocktail waitress or ferris wheel operator you’ve ever met south of New York and north of Philly.
Vince and I haven’t figured out all the details yet, but I don’t see any reason why this won’t work out. I’m not entirely devoid of personality or talent yet so I think I can swing something in the service sector, don’t you? (Don’t answer that, Masshole…)
No matter what, this means early morning bike rides by the ocean – some early morning jogs as well – weekends on the beach, lobsters at Robert’s, New England clam chowder at Smith's Dock, mini golf with the old lady who kicks people off the green for loud and obnoxious behavior, shopping (see, that’s where the whole employment thing comes in), dock-side barbeques, boat rides, jet-skiing, and living in a 2-room apartment with Vincent (hey, you can’t have everything…).
For everyone within a two-hour radius, this is good news for you too! When you want to see me, a beach is involved! We’re thinking of leaving the last week of June and returning before our trip to the Grand Canyon in the first week of September (so I’m guessing late August). Of course, Corinne, you have the keys to the castle so you’re in charge of bringing Jimmy, Tom and the rest of the Philly crowd, whereas Estee, Mel, Starr and the New York gang will have to bus it on out! We still have a queen-sized couch-bed so there’s always room for guests…! (And you DC-MA-CA-etc. people are still more than welcome! It’s just more of a transportation issue for you guys to come visit – but if you find yourself in the area…)
So, with the big bang first, I might as well talk about last weekend now to bring you slowly back to normalcy (or as close as you can get, Michelle). Vincent and I spent the past few days in Philadelphia, our home away from home. Saturday night was Senator Fumo’s annual Harry S. Truman Ball,
and we were there to see Bobby Rydell drop to the floor in what we heard was a diabetic seizure in the middle of a number. Don’t worry, Rydell fans, he is fine and he left the party sitting up on a gurney, laughing and waving – but talk about buzzkill. Good thing it was nearly midnight and the ball was winding down (all those carriages turning into pumpkins at the stroke of twelve, you know!).
We also saw a Cher impersonator who was the focus of a lot of discussions. People were wondering if “Cher” was female or akin to the lead of The Crying Game, especially after there were many a photo taken of the Senator with his hand on “her” tattooed bottom. (To alleviate any confusion, I will let you know right away that our lovely impersonator is just a wonderful woman toward whom time has been fairly kind…
Corinne and I also were entertained by some party crashers who walked in from a “Family Board Meeting,” which to the uninformed (like ourselves) means that these crazy southerners were distant relatives of our former President, James Madison, and were in town for a meeting. Think Daughters of the Revolution, with a southern twist of lime and the Midwestern fondness for cousins… Well, the southerners found out I was dating Vince so they invited Corinne out to the bar at Le Bec Fin for drinks. Oddly enough, she declined – the southern gentleman was probably 65 years old!
Later in the evening, Corinne and I also enjoyed the delicacies of the Presidential Suite of the Sheraton Society Hill. Senator Fumo wasn’t staying the night so we gobbled up his Godiva and drank his champagne while we discussed life and politics, and shooed unwelcome drunk boys from our door. All in all, it was an interesting year for the HST.
Thankfully, Vincent and I had those hotel rooms that night because Corinne was dog-sitting all weekend, and although Rufus is absolutely adorable, he just doesn’t know when to shut up. The dog needs Prozac or something…
In any case, those are the tales from Inwood…what’s shakin’ in your neighborhood?
