Theater company scavenges for Brookline's castoffs to complete offbeat production - Brookline, MA - Brookline TAB
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Monday, August 31, 2009
Friday, August 28, 2009
i actually have the cutest dog in the world
i mean, i've known this for some time now. i get stopped on the subway and watch in amusement/horror as people try to surreptitiously take her picture. but this just in, people: she's playing with an empty water bottle on the floor right now and it is the CUTEST THING EVER.
the end.
(also, for those of you who have this emailed to you and just spent the last five seconds reading that, i'm sorry. guess you have to be here to truly appreciate it.)
the end.
(also, for those of you who have this emailed to you and just spent the last five seconds reading that, i'm sorry. guess you have to be here to truly appreciate it.)
Thursday, August 20, 2009
with perfection comes great responsibility...
Watching Season 3 of Northern Exposure, this quote came up and it seemed appropriate. It was followed by, "Being perfect, Cindy, it's not all beer and roses." Meanwhile, I'm watching this episode while wearing girl boxers, a Joe-Joe's Fish Shack t-shirt, eating the Papa John's pizza I ordered because it is hot and I am lazy.
Like Shelly says, it's hard to be perfect. But I think I bear the burden well...
Like Shelly says, it's hard to be perfect. But I think I bear the burden well...
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Maybe Trisha had a point
So I'm on my way to the subway and I'm think about the whole how-could-you-skin-both-your-knees-what-are-you-twelve thing when I realize that I am wearing paint-stained shorts with my Old Navy puppies and rhinestones t-shirt, which I got in 8th grade, and carrying a purple Jansport backpack that got me through middle school, all while sporting two giant bandages on my knees. When a Britney song came up in my iPod playlist, I began to wonder if I needed help.
Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile
Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile
Settling in to sleep
Maisie was really cute going to sleep last night so I took a picture. Yes, I am one of those dog owners. Deal with it.
Evan's First Birthday
So Mom has finally made her move to Seattle. (The trip there was very eventful, and her best friend Carolyn's accounts of them are awesome. I think I'm going to post all of them here.) But since she is there, she got to go to Evan's first birthday party! He turned 1 on August 13th. Totally bummed I couldn't be there, but my brother-in-law shot this video, which is pretty darn cute:
Just got my new bed set in the mail! No more old sheets!
Love,
Livvy
Just got my new bed set in the mail! No more old sheets!
Love,
Livvy
Monday, August 17, 2009
Settling in...
So my knees look like something out of a horror film, and I'm limping around my apartment, but as you can see Maisie is nonplussed. So long as she has something to climb and sit on and food to steal, she's a happy camper.
When I came home with big band-aids on my knees and told Trisha and Aaron what happened, Trisha's response was, "What are you, twelve?" I WISH. TWELVE WAS SO AWESOME. But I digress...
Don't you love the blue of the living room walls? I'll post more pictures soon.
Fumbling towards adulthood, skinned knees and all....
When people said I'd be kicked out of college and into the world, I didn't think it would be quite so literal, but c'est la vie, right?
Somehow, in the last month, I've been thrust into the "real world." Sort of. Well, I guess, actually. A quick rundown:
- I live in an apartment. My name is on the lease. I pay rent.
- I have a dog that I have to feed, walk, and care for.
- There are bills that arrive to said apartment that have my name on them and amounts of money expected of me. Bills for big scary things like heating and electricity.
This morning especially I felt like somewhere there was a cruel little reality-checking imp watching me laughing maniacally and snickering, "Ha HAH! Take THAT! This is the REAL WORLD, bitch!" If I ever get my hands on that asshole, you can be sure I'll wipe that snug little grin off his gremlinny little face.
Why am I so grumpy? Besides the fact it's 12,000 degrees outside in the shade?
So this morning I was awoken by the scruffling and whimpering of Maisie at 6:15, as usual. This is actually relatively late compared to times in which she's woken me up at 4:15. So I took her out and she immediately decided the best way to wake up this morning would be to find a dubious-looking patch of dirt and rub all over it. I mean, clearly. That's how I start all my days.
So we go back upstairs and I get dressed, but I can't find my shoes for like ten minutes because somehow tropical storm Claudette moved from the Gulf of Mexico to my bedroom last night without waking me up. I hate when that happens.
Anyway. So I finally find the shoes (under a laundry basket, clearly), feed the Maisie, walk the Maisie, and lock the Maisie in the kitchen. I collect my stuff and leave the apartment exactly an hour before my train to West Gloucester leaves North Station.
I get to Porter Square, go down into the T, and realize that somehow I forgot to put my wallet in my bag. So I'm all, well shit now I have to go back and I might be late for the train, and I'm speed walking back to the apartment and BAM, I trip on a crack in the sidewalk, fall forward, coffee mug flying, and hit the sidewalk and slide forward on my knees and hands. Covered in coffee, dirt, and blood, I shakily make it back to the apartment, where my wallet is conveniently sitting on my bed where I'd put it before, and try to stop the bleeding from my knees to no avail. And since Claudette hit, I can't find band-aids or Neosporin anywhere. I improvise with some gauze, an old sample of antibiotic ointment I stole from UHS last year, and some mic tape from my makeup kit. By this time it is clearly too late to take the train. So I limp back to Porter, find an ATM, and call up Ambassador Taxi pleading them for the love of all that is good and holy get me a taxi because this is already the worst morning ever and I am comparing this to like the first ten minutes of Saving Private Ryan.
Twenty minutes and twenty dollars later, I'm at North Station with literally ONE MINUTE to spare and book it onto the train, collapsing into a seat and leaning my head back to rest without realizing I'd picked the seat without a headrest so I think I've given myself whiplash.
So now I'm tutoring SAT Critical Reading and going over vocabulary. We just did cataclysm. It seemed appropriate.
Can I go back to elementary school now? Stop the world, I want to get off.
Love,
Livvy
Somehow, in the last month, I've been thrust into the "real world." Sort of. Well, I guess, actually. A quick rundown:
- I live in an apartment. My name is on the lease. I pay rent.
- I have a dog that I have to feed, walk, and care for.
- There are bills that arrive to said apartment that have my name on them and amounts of money expected of me. Bills for big scary things like heating and electricity.
This morning especially I felt like somewhere there was a cruel little reality-checking imp watching me laughing maniacally and snickering, "Ha HAH! Take THAT! This is the REAL WORLD, bitch!" If I ever get my hands on that asshole, you can be sure I'll wipe that snug little grin off his gremlinny little face.
Why am I so grumpy? Besides the fact it's 12,000 degrees outside in the shade?
So this morning I was awoken by the scruffling and whimpering of Maisie at 6:15, as usual. This is actually relatively late compared to times in which she's woken me up at 4:15. So I took her out and she immediately decided the best way to wake up this morning would be to find a dubious-looking patch of dirt and rub all over it. I mean, clearly. That's how I start all my days.
So we go back upstairs and I get dressed, but I can't find my shoes for like ten minutes because somehow tropical storm Claudette moved from the Gulf of Mexico to my bedroom last night without waking me up. I hate when that happens.
Anyway. So I finally find the shoes (under a laundry basket, clearly), feed the Maisie, walk the Maisie, and lock the Maisie in the kitchen. I collect my stuff and leave the apartment exactly an hour before my train to West Gloucester leaves North Station.
I get to Porter Square, go down into the T, and realize that somehow I forgot to put my wallet in my bag. So I'm all, well shit now I have to go back and I might be late for the train, and I'm speed walking back to the apartment and BAM, I trip on a crack in the sidewalk, fall forward, coffee mug flying, and hit the sidewalk and slide forward on my knees and hands. Covered in coffee, dirt, and blood, I shakily make it back to the apartment, where my wallet is conveniently sitting on my bed where I'd put it before, and try to stop the bleeding from my knees to no avail. And since Claudette hit, I can't find band-aids or Neosporin anywhere. I improvise with some gauze, an old sample of antibiotic ointment I stole from UHS last year, and some mic tape from my makeup kit. By this time it is clearly too late to take the train. So I limp back to Porter, find an ATM, and call up Ambassador Taxi pleading them for the love of all that is good and holy get me a taxi because this is already the worst morning ever and I am comparing this to like the first ten minutes of Saving Private Ryan.
Twenty minutes and twenty dollars later, I'm at North Station with literally ONE MINUTE to spare and book it onto the train, collapsing into a seat and leaning my head back to rest without realizing I'd picked the seat without a headrest so I think I've given myself whiplash.
So now I'm tutoring SAT Critical Reading and going over vocabulary. We just did cataclysm. It seemed appropriate.
Can I go back to elementary school now? Stop the world, I want to get off.
Love,
Livvy
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