Dear President Bush

President Bush:

You say, "our policies should aim to strengthen families, not undermine them. And changing the definition of marriage would undermine the family structure."

All I have to say in response is this:
According to Merriam Webster's, the foremost and most-widely recongized dictionary publishers...
"Main Entry: mar·riage
Pronunciation: 'mer-ij, 'ma-rij
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English mariage, from Anglo-French, from marier to marry

(1) : the state of being united to a person of the opposite sex as husband or wife in a consensual and contractual relationship recognized by law (2) : the state of being united to a person of the same sex in a relationship like that of a traditional marriage "

Please note definition number 2 my dear sir, and realize that amending the constitution would cause the change in the definition of marriage, not the other way around.

Love and cuddles,
Ryan

Need I keep repeating myself?

President Bush insists on promoting a Constitutional amendment that bans gay marriage. Apparently his proposal will go before Congress on Monday. And while there is no real support in the House or Senate for such a measure, I find it insulting that such a proposal exists in the first place.

There is no morality or Christianity in pursuing this. If you disagree with gay unions because of your religion, please realize that not everyone subscribes to your faith and if your god is the true god, then god will punish all sinners in the end (no assistance from you is required). Feel free to feel morally superior for the rest of your days. If you disagree with gay unions because you are uncomfortable with the idea, or you feel that homosexuals are "unnatural," then that is a personal problem that you need to deal with on your own. There are many things that other people do with which I disagree, but I am not pushing laws to ban these things. Picking your nose, proselytizing, and women with underarm hair are all still legal, folks. And you know what? That's fine with me. The existence of these things does not adversely affect my life, no one is infringing upon my rights, and frankly, I don't particularly give a damn.

So let's get off our high horse, people. Step off your soapbox for a second and realize that differences are what make this country great. America is the best place to live because we accept all kinds, we promote freedom of speech, and we don't put limitations on love. President Bush is free to think ill of all the homosexuals out there, but it is utterly wrong for him to amend the Constitution because gay marriage makes him uncomfortable.

I feel all this has been said (and better)... Straight couples are getting divorced at breakneck speeds these days, and gay people are fighting for the right to one day get divorced too. Is it not fair to acknowledge their right to be just as happy and/or miserable as the rest of us? When you say no, then the issue here is prejudice, plain and simple. "We don't like them, so we won't let them play in all our reindeer games." Ugh, it makes me sick. WHO THE HELL VOTED THESE PEOPLE INTO OFFICE?

And anyway. There are much more important issues in the world today - the Sudan anyone? And does anyone really understand the anti-American revolution that seems to be occuring in South America? Or maybe we could just focus our attention on the lagging U.S. education system so one day our children will be able to point to a map and say, "Mommy, here is Iraq" (and actually be correct, mind you).

And while I am still on my soapbox, I would recommend a movie. Last week I saw Gentlemen's Agreement for the first time (with Gregory Peck) and it very much relates to what is going on today with our homosexual population. I very freely admit that I am one of the silent but well-intentioned masses on too many occassions, and this movie will open your eyes to this fault many of us have. Gentlemen's Agreement was made in 1947, and is more centered on the prejudice surrounding Jews, but it is easily adaptable to whatever minority is downtrodden today. I make the argument for gays, you may make the argument still for the Jews. Your choice. But in any case, you should take the time to watch and learn. Be honest with yourself afterwards and try to make positive changes. You owe it to yourself.

Give a veteran a hug two days ago!

I spent the weekend in Massachusetts with my family (and my Masshole...and my Christy, with my fairy godchild Sarol), and was therefore blessedly without reliable access to a computer for several days. I did not think about you, about blogging, or really much of anything except trailing behind the dogs to Oxi-clean the heck out of the carpets they kept piddling on.

It was a given, but yes, my mother's dogs hate all of dog-kind and kept picking fights with Grace. It was a proud yet humbling moment for Anthony and I when Grace was finally prodded into defending herself. She has one hell of a growl, I'll tell you.

At the same time, we really didn't want her to kill little Napoleanic Tessa. What a stupid little dog! But she is not particularly socialized and we didn't help matters by buying a big old bone for just Grace to tease tubby-Tessa with. (Oh yes, the masochistic gene is in the whole line of women in my family!)

We also learned that Grace should never be off a leash. Number one because she ran over and jumped on some little old man who lives three houses down from my mother. Number two because she "discovered" a 4-6' black snake at the top of the hill and decided that pursuit was the best option. Note to all doggies: pursuing an angry snake is only a good idea if your idea of a good time is giving your mommy a heart attack. And then quickly following that up by a mad dash to the veterinary ER for snake bite treatment.

On Sunday, Anthony and I tag-teamed Andrew in mini golf and I still lost. What a surprise. But there was much celebratory Dairy Queen to share (Andrew's food intake for the day: my mother's home-made pizelles, a large Reese Peanutbutter Cup Blizzard, and the chicken finger platter at Strand Theatre. Mmm-mmm, good). Then there was farting around and Ice Age 2 at the local theatre.

There was also much shopping (shoes, clothes, clippers, scrapbooking supplies, Napolean Dynamite memorabilia...), catching up, Corona, and there were even multiple sightings of my brother. He does indeed exist.

Oooh, I'm experiencing a temporary brain failure. Must go recharge...

UPenis Saturday and Sunday

Ryan & Mel
Originally uploaded by Pookah.

This post just never ends, does it? Much like everything else in my life these days, I am falling behind in reporting to you. My college reuion lasted forever, it seems.

In laymen's terms that means that it went on for four days, and still nothing of note was accomplished.

Therefore, I am going to give you the abridged version of all that came to pass on May 13th & 14th.

Most importantly? The meals. Michelle and I had Koch's for lunch on Saturday. Koch's is under new management, but the staff is still friendly and they even offer outdoor seating these days. If you ever get the chance, go for it! They will deliver the food to your table, and split it between two plates - or cups! - if you are sharing with someone else (god knows I can't finish a whole sandwich by myself!). The staff also still hands out free deli samples while you wait in line, and the line, no matter how many people are in it, still takes about an hour to navigate. Ahhhh, comfort food.

Then there were the oatmeal cookies under the Class of 2001 tent. It poured for about an hour and we took refuge while pretending to look for people we cared about who attended Penn. There was a small sort of UTV-13 reunion, with additions from Connecticutt and New Jersey (Steve and Kara - you rock!).

Then there was the vagina dinner, as Jeff likes to call it. Michelle faked a penis for the evening and uninvited herself, but the rest of the lovely Melslist ladies were present. Mr. Martino's Trattoria was the place to be at 8PM, and even Hadar had a brilliant time. Most importantly, I had a chance to catch up with Yael, Mel, Martha, and Estee (while Nicole, Melanie and Lisa took glamour shots of themselves and giggled into their wine).

We tried out Penske's open-bar theory, but Mel and I were totally pissed by the time we had to suck up to Jay to get inside (something about a limit imposed by the fire department). Hey man, I had to HUG Jay Penske (wait, can you believe he's actually listed on Wikipedia?)! I probably got some cooties from Lara Flynn Boyle or something. God, I am such a bad networker (you would never catch Andrew badmouthing someone who had opened up the bar for a night and gave him free drinks).

Needless to say, I was in line for far too long, and these bitches tried to cut me. I tried to start a fight, and Mel tried to finish it. But before long, here comes Andrew with wristbands for all, and total death and distruction was averted.

I got one drink from the pissy bartender while some guy grabbed my ass, and then I was DONE. The Class of 2001 events finally sealed the fate of Penn for me - I will not be back for future alumni events. Other than Melslist (and a few sorted others), UPenn's Class of 2001 is a bunch of shitheads. There, I've said it.

Sunday morning found us at the mecca of all brunch palaces, Sabrina's Cafe. There was much baby-passing to be had, including a new sideways-holding move by Ben, and altogether too many pictures. Nishchay threatened to steal some tattoed guy's meal and then ask for an order of coffee, but we were seated relatively quickly and with little complaint.

All too soon my stuffed pancakes were consumed and I begged a ride of Nishchay to 30th Street Station. When I returned to DC, somehow it seemed that there simply wasn't enough time with my friends. And how on earth had I become so tired?! I am nothing but an old fart, and I miss Melslist already...

Shiny, happy people (college reunion part II)

Yael & Estee
Originally uploaded by Pookah.

So I managed to leave you at breakfast on Friday, May 12th. I know how you hang on to my every word, so you must be hyperventilating by now, panting out, "Must read blog entry, must have more...!"

So outside of my little dream world... That Friday was very unproductive. I drank a lot of coffee, and did all those mandatory visits. The Committee of Seventy still functions without me, and Tyler still manages to flake out on his appointments. Vince was a no-show, and the visit with the Archives staff was short. All in all, I was able to say hello to almost everyone I wanted to see, and that was important and gratifying.

Yet the highlight of the afternoon was lunch at The Magic Carpet food truck in that little food truck haven on 34th & Walnut Streets. If you haven't gone yet, and you live in the Philadelphia area, GO NOW. I am dead serious. Put down whatever you are doing, get in your car, step onto SEPTA, do whatever it takes to get your overworked butt to that food truck - it is absolutely worth it!

It was a beautiful day (despite all the forecasts for rain), and Michelle and I hosied a bench by the button. Working in a cubicle for eight hours a day really makes you appreciate those moments you get in the sun (literally!), even if a tribe of bumble bees accosts you for your (damn fine) lunch.

Which is exactly what happened. Michelle must have jumped off the bench at least five times, but I was so happy with my meal that I barely noticed. Hey man, you have to have priorities.

It was GLORIOUS.

After the jumping/eating (depending on which of us you are identifying with), we wished Ann Marie and Loretta a happy Mother's Day with a bouquet of flowers and took the self-guided tour of the new and improved Bennett Hall. All graduates of Penn should really take a walk through there - there is so much more history in that building than in that new Wharton bohemoth, not to mention style and character. They totally revamped the 4th floor into a beautiful music department, and there is equipment there that the UTV-staffers should seriously consider stealing.

While there, we even stopped by to harass good old Professor Conn, who was kind enough to be in his office. That and he wrote me a recommendation for the Peace Corps so I can't sing his praises highly enough.

Done entertaining ourselves in Bennett Hall, we picked up Ann Marie and Loretta for our ladies-only luncheon at The New Deck Tavern. Having already experienced the bliss that is The Magic Carpet, I only ordered a Bailey's Irish Coffee, which sounded like a good idea at the time. (Yeah, because full-on body shakes sounded like a good idea at the time - gotta love the effect caffeine has on me.)

We chatted, caught up on life, and basically made our lovely English Department ladies late to leave for home. It is SO GOOD to see them after all this time and be able to hear how good life is to them these days.

(I forgot to mention registering for the reunion events with Andrew. The only things to note here are 1) I refused the "free" tote bag. I refuse to expend the energy to throw away something as heinous as that. 2) Andrew gave me a card for absolutely no reason. I love that boy, but sometimes he is very, very strange. Not to mention OCD.)

Before I knew it, it was time for dinner. Once again, food was to be had from one of the finest culinary establishments in town: Trattoria Primadonna. Owned by Giancarlo, and introduced to me by my friend Phil, this place boasts the best Fetuccine Alfredo I have ever consumed. At this family-owned and -run restaurant, all the food is made from scratch and you should order the chocolate tiramisu if ever you get the chance.

In any case, there is not a cab to be found in the UPenn neighborhood during graduation weekend. I don't know if the cab drivers go on strike that weekend, or simply refuse to cowtow to The Man (which, if it is the case, I don't entirely blame them), but either way I hoofed it in heels for about 10-15 blocks before I caught a SEPTA bus. I still had to walk about 7 blocks when I got off, but it was a far sight better than walking the whole way from 46th & Locust to 16th & Spruce.

Needless to say, I was the third-from-last to arrive. Which meant I was stuck in the kiddie corner, as I like to call it. That basically means I sat near Eric, who likes to talk inappropriately all through dinner (or drinks, or basically whatever/whenever/etc.).

It was a wonderful meal (did I mention the fetuccine alfredo?), but I will complain that three hours certainly doesn't seem like enough time for nearly a dozen people to catch up on life. I got to hear all about Melanie's new boyfriend (right down to his penis size!...okay, maybe not), Ben's Mom (guess from who), and Jeff's laser beams. Occassionally, I wandered and was able to hold Hadar (very much in-demand all weekend long) and give Yael a big ol' head rub. Hugs were had all around, but I managed to keep my hands mostly to myself. (A big bonus for all of you who don't like to have your crotches or boobies grabbed. Tee-hee...)

After hanging on to all these mementos and photos from our four years of college, I was also able to final bring my yearbook plan to fruition. Before dinner really got underway, I handed out CDs containing a personalized Class of 2001 yearbook for Melslist (amidst much knee-knocking and hand tremors caused by the overconsumption of caffeinated products). Melanie kept repeating how she didn't think any of us changed in the past five years, but it is simply amazing to go back and look through the photos. Having worked on this project on and off for the past five years, and kept in touch with everyone through Melslist, I am infinitely familiar with all the stages of our development. We were just kids back then, and I am so proud to see how everyone is blossoming...just thinking about everyone's accomplishments makes me get all verklempt. These Melslist members are the best group of friends a girl could have, and they are so friggin' amazing. I won't even go into all the details of their successes, but just suffice to know that they are highly successful, highly motivated, massively intelligent people (how do you like that for ego stroking?).

In any case, I probably said it best in my intro to the yearbook.

So yeah, hugs, talking over one another, Ben's Mom, yadda, yadda, yadda, Class of 2001 party. The Class of 2001 party was held in the Pottruck Center. Which is a fancy way of saying, "We will treat you like middle schoolers and make you have your little dance in the gym." At midnight-fifteen, they even had the chutzpah to turn on all the lights and tell everyone to go home.

You might be able to discern that I was a little disappointed with their arrangements. And then there was the DJ, whose sound system was tuned so loud that you had to stand nose-to-nose and scream just to be heard. What a way to catch up with fellow Penn grads.

The good news was that there was no one there that I really wanted to see (that I didn't know was coming anyway). Like I have always known about myself, I'm not really a school spirit kind of a girl. If it weren't for the fact that my bestest friends in the whole wide world were all willing to travel for this reunion crap, I wouldn't have been there. But as it was, we convinced David to travel from Germany, Yael to fly from Israel, and all the rest of the West coast gang to live through red-eye flights and bad airplane food.

The fun stuff? Watching Eric be the only person to attempt the rock wall, and with a drink in hand no less. Melanie's dedication to Eric ("Sometimes words just aren't enough. Eric Gordon, this song is for you."). Blue and red drinkies. Pretending to be a functional human being at Nishchay's house by eating Oreos and watching Michelle smile in her sleep. Hearing about Pete stealing a golf cart.

The not so fun stuff? Losing my voice and having swollen lymph nodes for a week. Nishchay dropping a glass of red wine on my jacket and staying up late to attempt to wash it off. The loud music. Not recognizing most of the people there (did they all really attend Penn? Who knew?!).

When the jacket was as clean as it was going to get, Nishchay made me nauseous by driving us home to the Pete n' Mumbles B&B. Passing out was instantaneous.

My college reunion, a.k.a. how I ate my way through Philadelphia

Hadar
Originally uploaded by Pookah.

First and foremost: the picture of Hadar relates in no way to eating my way through Philadelphia. She made it through the weekend safely, with only mental scars to haunt her for the rest of her life.

In any case, I'm a good week and then some late on making this post. I had promised you all guilt or co-conspiracy in the last blog entry, and I have held out for as long as I could. Actually, if it were up to the one remaining brain cell of mine that is functional, I would not be sitting here right now, broadcasting to the world...

So a week (and change) ago Thursday, I took the train up to Philly. Luckily, after staying up all night ripping CDs of our Class of 2001 personalized yearbooks (go me! Waay to procrastinate), I woke up just in time to depart in the city of Brotherly love.

My first order of business was to get me some Monk's food and libations, and yeah, Nishchay was there too. I would have taken pictures had I not been so busy shoving food into my face.

As you can see from my sidebar (see righthand side of my blog), I am a big proponent of Monk's so don't take this next criticism too seriously (i.e. I will be back). I ordered the mussels and it felt like I was eating sandpaper. NOT the way I wanted to start out my culinary trek through Philadlephia. The good news is that you can't screw up a rasberry lambic - as Anthony says, it will always taste like Robitussin. So I had two, just to keep the doctors away.

The waitress was wonderful, however, and offered us free dessert, which Nishchay happily ordered (you little glutton you!).

Next up: tracking down one Mr. Christopher Kessler (my god! He DOES have a first name!), my host-with-the-most for the weekend. He warned me that the Pete n' Mumbles B&B was formerly a fraternity house so I should not be fooled by the very grown-up looking living room and kitchen area.

He was right. I pulled a mattress out of a stack on the wall of this room with water stained and peeling walls. The furniture may well have been left over from previous tenants, and there was an adorable coloring book picture of a hippo by the mirror which said, "To Tom Love Athena." The boys thought it was cute so they never took it down when they moved in.

I know I definitely got clean sheets, but the blanket was in a pile already in the room. Of course, the other choice was one that even Mumbles said, "I wouldn't use that one. It was here when we moved in." Clearly that translates into: "we have never washed it so use that blanket at your own risk." I heeded the warning and pretended my own blanket choice was clean. (Needless to say, I slept fully clothed at night.)

All this makes me sound ungrateful, but it was the true reunion experience. It totally brought me back to my good old days at Penn when I used to party at PiLam with Mumbles and the rest of the party crew. The bathrooms were so sketchy that I even piddled on their neighbors roof one time. Ahhh, memories...

That L.A. whore Erin joined us at the castle o' fraternity love and at 9PM sharp, Mumbles, Pete and I traipsed with her to Bluegrass night (Flat Possum Boys - can't find their website). If I were at all the observant girl you've all pretended I am, I would be able to tell you what bar we went to, but I'm afraid that, sober as I was, I have zero clue. All I know is that there is Ethiopian food somewhere nearby, and it's only a block or so from 46th & Locust.

The creepy thing is that the bar is built in an old row-home. When you walk in, you feel like you've just broken into and entered someone's house.

Needless to say, we were amongst the first arrivals. And what, to our wondering eyes, did appear? No, no, not Santa and his eight little reindeer, but rather one rather infamous JJ. Granted, he lives only three blocks away from the unknown bar, but it is astounding how many times I run into this boy. He certainly gets around.

Well, I took some very interesting photos of the bluegrass crew, and it's the sober pictures that make us look most hammered. Such a credit to my mad photography skills. (Speaking of which, I SO want to steal Mumbles' new Nikon D-50 camera! What an absolute dream...!)

The bluegrass band was pretty amazing and so was the Dogfish Aprihop. In other news, the Yuengling bottles really wet Erin's whistle (something about the ten frames I have of her deep-throating the neck of the bottle).

I kept doing a double-take at one of the bar staff because he looks like a body double for Daniel Day Lewis, and the band kept threatening to stop playing for us because we were getting too loud. I figured all they had to do was invest in one simple microphone and the world would be all glorious again, but they seem to like telling the 40 drunk people in a 12'X12' room to shut the hell up. Oh, and the lead singer (who incidentally also owns the bar) was randomly doing shots of high-grade tequila while he was singing.

After many shout-outs to our favorite word (PENIS!), Erin was escorted home by her friend from AmeriCorps. I was told that Erin had a minor accident with her dad's car when she tried to return it by 5AM on Friday morning. Don't worry, folks, she lived - if only to be out-gangstered by Pete the next evening.

I was probably in bed by 1AM, but any of you who know the post-Penn Ryan realize that 1AM is a good three or four hours past my bedtime so I was pretty pooped. Yet my damn internal clock woke me by 6:30AM. The only plus side to this scenario is that Michelle's red-eye was due in by ass-early that morning too.

Eventually I found her at the new coffee shop on Penn's campus, Gia Pronto (NOTE to current Penn students - excellent friggin' coffee!). She represented all that is L.A. by scarfing down a huge coffee and a bag of apple slices. And I, like the happy morning person I am, slathered a bagel in way too much cream cheese and happily inhaled my own coffee - did I mention how good the coffee is?

We got back to the B&B before Mumbles left for work and installed Michelle on the left half of the mattress in the scary "guest room." We chatted so long that Mumbles was late for work and had to take a cab. Ha ha.

Okay, I need a break...

Apologies, a.k.a. excuses

I haven't had a lot of time to write lately (something about my job actually becoming a "job") and I've been preparing a bit for my first 5-year reunion at Penn, which happens this weekend in Philly. I will be out of town starting this afternoon, so if you really can't live another day without an update, I'm afraid you are out of luck.

However, when I return, I will try to post some pictures and make you all feel a) tickled pink for having been included in the festivities, or b) totally jealous that you didn't have as great a weekend as I did.

Until then, my pretties...