The Good Birthday Post…

Yes, Phoebe was totally surprised by her birthday shindig. Most of her friends made it.

And as you can see, you can tell she is a superficial bitch because she just hangs out with good looking people. Just kidding, Pheebs. My beautiful sister,

Is not a shallow idiot.

But her friends ARE hot. She hooked up with Ana Maria in college,

and since has been part of the upper crème of Latin New Yorkers.

Oh just look at them all.

And surprise arranger and Hubby Sam.

The presents flowed.

Phoebe cried upon arriving.

Staunton Social treated us to a wonderful meal.

Kobe burgers, pancettas, the best asparagus I have ever tasted,

And even some delicious dippin’ deserts.

If I were the queen,

What would I wish for?

A nice little series with Adriana?

Sure. Sad, angry, flirty. I went over the top, she kept it all in the eyes, like Tyra says in ANTM.

Obviously, Amelia wanted in as well.

These all look related. Orgasm. Jealousy. Taking a shit.

Cakes were brought.

Presents opened.

(I had a hard time picking something out for old Pheebs. I have never really bought her something nice, so now that I have a bit of money, I decided to take it to the next level: ipod shuffle, or slim camera. But it felt like I could do better, and sure enough, when I went to get a cheesesteak and walked by Kiehl’s, I knew it was a sign from yaweh. I got a chalk full of creams, shampoos, conditioners, soaps, perfumes...)

We played telephone throughout, and several naughty phrases came out. Here Adriana shows us all the infamous Dirty Sanchez.

Oh please,

No need to gush Ana.

What a beautiful time.

But wait, there’s more. Mike picked up the piñata and everyone got a chance to shine.

(I took this picture at the beginning, though, so I should get some credit.)

And I also ended the night double fisting.

Happy birthday Phoebe.

Surprises and Soccer Finales…

Daniel Baum in the house, bitches!

And the sad end of soccer.

You know I loved it.

I got my goal, its all I wanted.

Yo Sistah...

Happy Birthday Phoebe!

Happy Birthday.

(worry not, full post of this, the day of my sister's birthday is coming with a look at all her hot Dominican friends.)

Why Gamble Anyway…

My poker reports have lagged. Maybe I feel the repetition bores people. Maybe after my month of losing my reporting hit too close to home. Maybe I’m just lazy.

But poker does continue, I mean just last week I found myself in the presence of Lord Helmet.

The usual suspects attended this majestic battle of guts and wits.

And you can always tell where one Mr. Mclane sits by his trail of MGDs.

Which might or might not be related to the fact that he took almost all the money. I lost like ninety in a terrible display of rash calling.

Thursday we played at Sean’s place, a locale that I had never enjoyed.

I know, I know, not much of a pictographic montage. I guess it’s a good a time as any to admit, I’m losing my snap happiness.

I don’t know what happened, I just don’t care anymore. Or maybe… who knows? Apathy, thy cruel and sly monster of the deep, why must you latch on to everything I do.

I did catch Graham here,

Who has never smoked a cigarette in his life. That is some serious non-smoking indoctrination his parents must have pulled.

Which brings us to Saturday poker. For whatever reason, the Wesleyan Poker Ring has not been able to get their shit together as much to play. Then last week, they pulled a Nooner on my ass, on Saturday for Allah’s sake. I could not attend, for that time is sacred to sleeping next to a certain Mystery Date.

So I just came late this Saturday, when they pulled the shit again.

Look! The prodigal Lawson returned. Harris actually made it to a game. I was wondering if he was even alive.

Orson and Emily hosted at his posh West Village temp sublet, and we played on the lovely veranda.

Derek stared at Althea’s breasts.

And was reprimanded.

And here we get to the vicious truths about blogging (or any media format, for that matter), because no such scene elapsed. And yet, when I saw my pictures, the story line seemed to just invent itself. So watch out for phony narratives.

And even the African Traveler, Olivia, made it out of her anti poker funk to pl--, I mean, deal, and hang out.

Harris, took all the money in the first game,

Along with Derek who rivered like a dream.

I lost twenty, stupidly, to Harris in the first game, but made it back plus three on the second.

What else can I really say?

Let The Money Flow Once More…

Yes, jealous bitches, guess who gets more scrilla for his dulcet vocal stylings.

This guy!

Headed into Sound Lounge, with editor extraordinaire,

Maury. Did you notice him rocking the threads?

You better recognize the O Pizzle, bitch!

Look at me croon.

Look at me aurally saunter.

Check me out at the end.

See the end product, even: New Mazing Spot

Oh, and don’t go spreading this one around, I think I could get in some trouble if anyone really saw this (although it is freee advertising, they shouldn’t be that pissed).

The John Surprise…

Working away at the office, I suddenly got a call that I had someone upstairs to see me. And what do you know?

Joanna and John arrive at my office, straight from the W Hotel and Hawaii, respectively.

We get a classic shot.

Then the money shot with Mr Empire in full glory.

They invite me to a BBQ roof party, and on the way there, I meet up with the nice folks at Critical Mass, getting ready to give the NY’s Finest a little Goose Chase.

I got to see Jo’s unique room.

And then the chilling on the roof began.

Slowly people started to get there, like Seth (who lives there) and TK (who also video assist edits, at ABC).

The grill got fired up.

Will and I posed an instant classic.

And we munched on the Fruits of a good summer standard.

Just the way to open up the season.

While Joanna tried to get more Females in the house

(john complained about the sausage party atmosphere on the roof) Meredith finally arrived.

And she broke her eyes closed streak, too.

More people arrived.

This is a story on pause, while I talked on the phone.

It turns out she will be working with De La Vega with the kids in her program. Pretty cool, I thought.

Joanna’s John made it.

As did Laura, who had somehow made it to the awesome PS party last summer.

Oh, what a nice blast from the past reunion.

Juegos y Navajas (lic)…

What were these guys waiting in line for at 11:45pm on a Friday?

Sneakers.

Soccer started well, as we kept the only undefeated team in our league 6 to 6 at the half.

Then we fell apart on defense and they, very predictably, beat us.

What’s that you say?

Is it time?

Is it time to chop the chin pubes?

Why yes it is.

Look at the attitude.

The grace.

Admire the underlip keep.

Alma Matter…

Two long years I stayed away from the land of milk and coeds. Two years of holding off the surreal nostalgia of a wild and flowing era of yestermoon.

Yeah yeah, enough shit.

Upon arrival to the “Widest Main Street this side of the Mississip (sp!)” I remembered something long forgotten: the Wesleyan campus is absolutely gorgeous, but Middletwon is one shitty little town.

I don’t miss you at all.

But I do miss the people, and the crazy place. Staruday afternoon before Sunday commencement can only mean one thing: Eclenctic Reunion. A weird and sordid little tale. The past busts out of its cave and bashes you in the face. Rmember me! Well now you have to…

Janene and I once acted in Titanic, where I got naked.

Andrew pearlgut wore a massive Mohawk most of the time I knew him.

Sam and I met the crazy summer I spent in Middletown just hanging out playing scrabble (with Joel Sanders. Joel Sanders where are you). Mei Mei also joined Eclectic her Senior year, but I never really got know her that well.

Look at these fools.

It’s too much to explain. Moving on.

The only composite (the yearbook in a frame thingie that proves your face once belonged in this hall) I was ever in.

And its one of the worst pictures of me ever.

Oh how I miss the big chair. I was sitting in it when I was offered and denied a threesome proposal (that’s a completely different story for another post).

And then Bash walked in.

I met this guy the last reunion, and when he said his name, an older (but younger than Bash) alum spoke of him as this mythic figure of past, a time when eclectic really was eclectic.

So after the past, I met the figures of the present, the outgoing president, Elaine, who I only knew from listserve emails and reputation.

Time to just porch chill it.

With Jane, whose confident subdued bravado and wit have always surprised me.

And mark, who now also finds himself on the sidebar with his own political jabbering.

Tall, crazy, and hilarious Jack.

What can't i say about George?

Julian with a scar, and Janene grabbing some great light with a good pose.

The man who saw the change.

This guy was Phi Nu Theta before the turn from elitist home of Squash captains, to the coed raucous rebellion of the now. They sometimes return angry and weepy. But he just wanted to carry on about the switch.

Then I found my application, which I always like to return to, to remind myself that sometimes I can be witty.

Oh, the incoming president, Sara (my father works at Hunry Man and probably came in to PS 260 for CNN) Oshman.

Three years ago, it had been eight years since a female presidented, and now its two in a row. Awesome vagina power!

Then more mythical meetings. Brendan O’Toole, fellow tech nerd and list serve administrator.

Finally have a face to the grumbling snide typings.

And his Class of 95 mates.

Willie “Beamin’ ” Berman, who later in the night I will inadvertently cock block.

Did I say more chillin’?

Jacob. I was almost in a play with him, but sadly, the production never flew.

Heather here shared many and English class as a comajorer, she now works in the registrar as she gets her Master.

There just are not enough words out there for Snow.

James Steiner barely remembers me, so I shall barely cover him.

Older crew on the porch.

Including Carla.

These cooks.

Karen, a charming older alum that I had met before at Althea’s party.

Then we went off to a graduating senior house barbacue, at these guys’ place.

Oh, but what nice melons you have, (they also had a second keg, which I thought was a bit ambitious)

We got rained on, and chilled more.

Then back to Eclectic after eating the BBQ out of house and home.

This is the GOTE room, where I got the best handjob I ever had.

Kerry came to town as well, to celebrate her borther’s commencement of think tanking.

We went to the crazy intimidating final night Tent party.

But I had to run away after I didn’t recognize a soul. Back to eclectic for reinforcements.

And back to the party.

Sam’s going off to Cali. I thought she wasn’t laid back enough, but she tried to prove it to me.

Nope, still don’t believe it.

Rachet here was nice and drunk for his graduation night-before.

Max went to Thatcher, my rival high school. He is also “going to” Dooya.

Kitnec went there too.

Can you smell a CB? (i did not mean to)

Ambience shot.

Lerner and Hugh.

After large annoying party, I returned to the house to find a balloon (poping) orgy.

Nick left.

And I locked myself out of Eclectic.

Which meant I slept next to (not with, believe it or not) Mei Mei, who felt bad and didn’t kick me to the curb.

Beautiful graduation.

And a good train ride back to NYC with kerry where she totally resisted my advances and did not sleep with me.

I miss you Wes. Thanks for the memories.

So i'm going to try and get up to the Wesleyan Reunion Commencement Weekend, which is cool, but it also means that i might not be able to post as i would want to. So i figure, get the pictures up first (the most annoying part of posting) and narrate later, at some slow part of the wes day.

Low Down Easy Work Party…

Yup, work party coming soon. I’ll temp you with the Ronan invented (in 1990, no less) floor picture.

Don’t you wanna. You know you wanna.

Fanta Fanta, don’t you wanna?