OFF TO MAINE

Thanks to the generous Clark family, we are off once again to our annual trip to Maine. I guess this means I have to leave my straightening iron and high heels at home. Just kidding.

Last time we were in Maine on the porch with this exact view- it was a rainy day. The cabin is usually filled with friends also visiting but this time it was only E and I. The weather was kind of cool and we lit a fire and were under a blanket. Ella Fitzgerald was on the radio. It was all very calm and peaceful...except for E who was squirming around like a newborn baby and excusing himself to the bathroom like...5 times every 5 minutes.

K: What are you doing? (After 5th time back from bathroom)
E: Ah...nothing. (wild look in his eyes)
K: (back to reading)
E: Hi.
K: (looking up) Um...hi crazy man. Are you getting cabin fever?
E: No. (literally looking drunk at this point)
K: (back to reading)
E: (squirm) Can you sit up for a second. I have something I want to tell you.

And then I sat up. And then before I knew it some words were exchanged, some Prosecco was drunk from plastic camp coffee cups and I had a beautiful ring on my finger. I said yes.

Then...

The rain stopped.
We went for a canoe ride on the lake.
We cooked a delicious meal of fresh corn and burgers.
We talked about our future life together.

Sometimes things in Maine are that simple.

LIKE NIKE - BUT INSTEAD JUST DON'T DO IT

Just do yourself a favor. Don't ever go to a bar with the word 'zombie' or 'flaming' or 'tiki' in the title. Just don't. Because if you are like me, you will still be feeling the results of the festivities from the previous night. Currently it feels like an animal has crawled inside my stomach and died. Maybe a monkey.

This tiki flaming zombie place was the reunion venue last night for the Wine & Whining girls and I. As I've told you before, three of my girlfriends and I -W, D, and H decided to start a group that meets together (often at alternative apartments) once a month or so to well...wine & whine. We laugh more than we whine but still it's a great time to swap mags, eat lots of food, talk about sex, talk about our careers and try on one another's bras. Just kidding. About the swap mags.

Last night was a special reunion since we hadn't seen one another in a REALLY long time. Ok - a few weeks but still. H was just back from being in Barcelona for a month. W just got back from a photoshoot in Croatia and Italy. And D had been traveling back and forth from the Hamptons with a new guy we heard all about. Me - I just walked in from midtown Manhattan. While they all shared tales of their sexy adventures, I got to tell all about my commute to and from Penn Station each and every day at the exact same time doing the exact same thing since I last saw them. It was great.

On my walk home I ran into an old guy friend of mine from college who worked for Lucky Magazine:

K: Hey! How are you? Good to see you. Are you still at Lucky?
G: No.
K: Oh wow. Is this a good thing?
G: Yes. Things were starting to get 'unlucky' at Lucky.
G: Currently unemployed.
K: So how do you feel now? The whole summer off not working thing?
G: Lucky.

WHAT IT'S LIKE TO DATE ME

I will sleep so soundly at times that I will do strange things. I will get up in the middle of the night and put on your hiking boots and grab the mop and stomp my way to the kitchen looking for water. Or like last night I will wake up, head to the shower only to 'come to' and look down to see that I am in fact wearing a clean pair of your boxers under my nightgown.

THE EYEBROWS WILL HAVE TO WAIT

The other night - after heading to the subway having finished one gazillion errands around the hot, sticky city wearing tight fitting, black, Seven jeans - ugh - bad call - I ran into an old friend - New York based, South African born, celebrity make-up artist Layla.

The first thing she noticed were my eyebrows:

L: K? What's happened? (running her fingers over them)
K: I know. I know.
L: It's horrible. Let us go for drinks at once to discuss.

The combination of her serious tone and her South African accent, indicated that Layla might just have to perform an emergency eyebrow plucking on me down some New York side street. She had her makeup kit with her afterall. The very same kit worth THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS that she once left in my posession and I stupidly left overnight by mistake in my UNLOCKED office.

At the time, I recall waking up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat having realized what I'd done. I'd not only left a makeup kit worth thousands of dollars in my unlocked office but I'd left a long line of people in jeopardy - mostly Layla. Flashes of Lindsay Lohan with a unibrow came across my mind. Leonardo Di Caprio with uncovered zits for his upcoming movie premier. Diane Sawyer with cheap, Duane Reade style, hooker makeup that Diane applied herself in desperation so she might deliver the morning news.

Luckily when I got to the office the kit was still there. I recall a co-worker that walked by and looked at me strangely - a grown woman kneeling on the floor clutching a black, duffle bag full of makeup in her arms like it were a teddy.

Three raspberry/blueberry mojitos later Layla was off to her next appointment. Before leaving she passed me her card:

L: Sorry darling but your brows will have to wait. I'm due uptown. (Insert celeb I am not allowed to say) needs an emergency mustache wax. If I don't get there in time things could get ugly.

It was great to see Layla despite our short visit. Despite the fact that the next time she sees me - I'll look like Andy Rooney.

DON'T MESS WITH THE FORMER BAR GIRL

Tonight E and I met our friend G for some beers at a local bar in Brooklyn. G is husband to one of my best friends. Going out with him is like hanging out with my best friend just once removed and minus all the hummus and US Weekly mags.

C was working. She works in a bar among her many other talents and commitments. It is a hard job and every weekend despite knowing her schedule for years I call her on the same night each week leaving the same annoying message, 'Hey, want to join us for drinks at a loud bar?' Duh.

Working in a bar is a hard and an annoying job. I know because I've done it before. In my case I was required to wear tiny, inappropriate clothing and pretend I liked people. It wasn't a good fit for me on many levels. First of all, anyone that knows me knows I get grouchy and tired after 9PM. My nickname in college was 'It's bedtime'. (You think I'm kidding) My 3am shifts were killing me. There were times my boss would find me leaning against a wall like a horse - asleep while standing.

I hated being called 'Miss' and being poked in the ribs. I hated the credit card machine and chasing after drunk people to be sure they signed the slip. I hated not knowing drinks as well as I should have so when someone ordered a 'Texas Mexican, dry with two O's' I'd walk away annoyed thinking, 'Couldn't you just order a frickin' Stella?' I especially hated the chicks. The chicks that ordered sticky, smelly, liquid Jolly Rancher cosmos with a sugar rim. For each cosmo I served, I wanted to personally ruin each and every one of their lives by telling them Sex and The City was no longer in production.

I alse hated the leery men. The men that asked for my number. The men that asked if I had a boyfriend. The men that would call me over to their table 'just to see my pretty face'. Ugh. The men that had the nerve to ask me what I was doing 'after my shift'. After my shift asshole? After my shift I'll be on my hands and knees at 3am in a dress custom made for Anna Nicole Smith - mopping up the VOMIT your drunk, frat boy buddy left as a gift for me on the bar floor. But hey...when I'm done I'll give you a call.

Eventually we finished up our drinks and walked outside. I trailed behind E and G as G finshed up his amusing story about being nicknamed 'glass jaw' by his fellow Canadian hockey teammates due to all the injuries he suffered throughout the year.

And then it happened. As we stood outside among a pack of annoying frat guys that were neither coming or going, I got hit with the number one flashback from my working in a bar days. A grown man's hand on my right butt cheek giving it a squeeze.

K: EXCUSE ME! Did you just put your hand on my ass?
FB#1: Ah..no. (hahahaha-nudge friend)
K: ASSHOLE. I'm talking to you. Did you just touch me?

(E and G not having seen this walk up wondering what was happening)

FB#2: Leave him alone. He's drunk.
K: FU buddy. How about he leaves ME alone because he's drunk.
FB#1: (still laughing)
E: What's going on here?
K: This asshole grabbed my butt.
E: You did what?
FB#3: Dude, it's cool. My buddy is drunk. Sorry about that. He thought it was me.
K: So you're telling me your buddy thought my ass was yours.
K: Oh Ok. Now I get it. Give me a break.
FB#1: It was just a brush up.
K: Oh really? Excuse me but I think it was MY ASS. You think I'd know.
K: Let me ask you something (in the face of the guy) do you have a sister?
K: How about a mother? Do you have mom?
FB#1: Um...yeah...I mean...
K: Would you like a strange man to grab her ass?
FB#3: It's cool. It's cool. We are really sorry. Really.
K: Ok. Well then think about that and don't do this to women.

Then we parted ways. The frat boys and their posse.
And me, E and glass jaw.