Too Little Too Late

Things always seem to happen at the wrong time. Boyfriends, girlfriends, jobs, non-jobs. I prefer to call it shit storm, with the shit usually hitting in threes.
Well, this is hardly a shit storm, but is a case of too little too late. Ashley and I just met our new neighbor, a man in his mid-50's who has lived across the hall for a month or so. I officially met him last night, on our way out to our uncle's house, and he mentioned getting together for drinks tonight. Ashley arrived home from work to find a note taped to the door, so we took him up on his offer. His apartment is nice- every apartment in this building is nice. The architecture is gorgeous, and the units are huge! The building is in need of some serious updating and renovations, but it's historically beautiful nonetheless.
Anyway, he made us each a whiskey sour that could peel the paint off the walls. We spent the next hour talking about Wagner, opera, counterpoint, and Baltimore. Who knew! This man, who was born and raised in Charm City, is about as far from being a Baltimoron as you can get. His home is full of antiques and old opera LPs, and he's very softspoken and intelligent. He took a genuine interest in what Ashley and I had to say, and was regretful to learn we are vacating this place.
Too little, too late. I bet he would have come to my recitals.

Fat and Happy

I just had the BEST going away dinner at my uncle and aunt's house. Now, let me just preface this by saying that they can throw DOWN. Even Nakia can testify to that! Whenever I eat at my Uncle Rod's house, we always have something awesome, and most of the time, something expensive I would never make for myself. Once a year, I go there for crabs and fried oysters, and the rest of the times, we usually have some other type of seafood or ham, or fried chicken, or some other regional specialty. Plus, my crabcake recipe (and my favorite crab cake) is my uncle's.
Tonight's menu was lobster. My aunt Joan is from New England, so we did it up right. God I love me some drawn butter. Anyway, we had some great wine, lobster, potatoes, salad, and corn bread. For dessert, my uncle made a fabulously moist cake with key lime icing. Honestly, such a treat. Each time I have one of these belt-loosening meals at my uncle's, I kick myself for not spending more time with he and my aunt. The same is true of my uncle Bill and aunt Liz, who live just outside of D.C. Whenever I spend the night with them, I am treated like a princess. We usually have cocktails before dinner, then eat something like grilled salmon or fried okra, with wine for dinner, then have some ice cream for dessert. That is before retiring to my bedroom, with king size bed and private bath, and waking up to a home-cooked breakfast.
Now, this isn't to say that I don't enjoy visiting my OWN parents. Of course I do. But there's just something about being a guest, especially with family. They treat you like, well, family. But better.

OK, this is the last one

Franz Ferdinand Frontman Shot By Gavrilo Princip Bassist




March 17, 2006 | Issue 42•12


GLASGOW, SCOTLAND—Lead singer and guitarist for pop band Franz Ferdinand, Alexander Kapranos, is in critical condition today after being shot by a man identified as the bassist for rock group Gavrilo Princip. "We ask fans to cooperate with Interpol to find the assailant, and call upon British Sea Power, Snow Patrol, and The Postal Service for help," drummer Paul Thompson told music magazine NME Monday. "The suspect had links to The Decemberists and The Libertines, and we are following up on all leads." It is unclear whether the shooting was linked to The Polyphonic Spree's invasion of Belgium earlier this week.

Oh Onion

Two Hipsters Angrily Call Each Other 'Hipster'

March 29, 2006 | Issue 42•13

AUSTIN, TX—An argument between local hipsters Dan Walters and Brian Guterman has devolved to the point where each is angrily calling the other "hipster," those close to the pair reported Monday. "Hey, hipster! Here's 12 bucks—why don't you go get yourself a bucket of PBRs at the Gold Mine?" Walters, 22, is said to have told Guterman, 22, invoking the name of a local bar known for its "poseur" clientele. "Whatever you say, scenester," Guterman allegedly replied. "Don't you have a Death Cab For Cutie show to be at right now?" Acquaintances of Guterman and Walters trace the long-running conflict back to high school, when they reportedly threw pencils at each other and argued about who was more "emo."

Stolen from Jess

OK, so this isn't Myspace, but it's my blog and I'll post a survey-type-thing if I want! Plus I'm bored.


the 6 ways to describe "self"


1. what we believe in
Myself, God, and free-will.

2. what we love
My family, my friends, my gifts, food, nature, my beliefs, and most of the time, me.

3. how we react
This one has taken some major work. I tend to over-react, but I've curbed that quite a bit over the last few years. I try to pick my battles. It doesn't always work.

4. what we look like
Curly, short, sassy, and fit. So what if I don't wear a bikini.

5. what we wear
clothes that fit. I like V-necks, A-line skirts, and winter clothes.

6. what we do
Sing, live, love, administrate.

Check Couture

Hardly anyone uses actual checks for bills these days. I do most of my bill-paying online. The only bill I don't pay online is my credit card and taxes, of course. I recently opened a new bank account at M&T, since they are located all over MD, NY, PA, etc. I was given a little book of 5 starter checks, and I needed to use two of them to pay my taxes. Here's my question- why can't the checks just be plain, or blue, or green or whatever... without Tweety Bird or the TAZ or a stupid dog? (I don't think dogs are stupid: except on checks.) Seriously...what's with the cartoon character money? There is nothing cartoony about money. Quite the opposite- it's pretty serious stuff. I'm against designer checks. Thank goodness I ordered "Azure"; a cartoony name for Blue, for my printed checks. Otherwise, I'd be too embarassed to hand a voice coach a big, fat payment with Bugs Bunny in the background. Nothin says opera like Disney.

Obvious

I think it's pretty clear that I've really got nothing to do at work. My boss just called me into her office and said I can leave whenever I want to. She said, "I'm sure you have a lot to do...and unless you're being really productive here, you may as well just go. Just don't forget to say goodbye."
I appreciate what she's saying, but in all honesty, I've been working like a dog for the past week BECAUSE I knew I wouldn't have the time now. So I told her that might leave a little early today and tomorrow, and just stop in to pick up my check on Thursday. Apparently me trying to hide blogging/IM/Myspace is to no avail anymore.

Props

to Dan for a great recital last night. He did a terrific job- the music was awesome, the musicians were excellent, and the whole vibe was relaxed. Congrats to you, Dan! I spoke to the G-man: he said you get an A.
I have to admit, I was kind of jealous last night. Dan had, easily, 25 friends supporting him. The last time I had that many friends at a recital of mine was 2 years ago, grad recital. Now everyone lives in different places, everyone has commitments, jobs, lives, families, etc. So I'm happy for Dan. Happy that he has a giant support system. After all, none of us could do what we do without it.

To the Roots

For Christmas, I bought my older brother an Itunes gift certificate, and made him a (kickass) mixed cd for the gym. I expected to hear about it almost immediately, as my brother was once my gateway to all that is good in popular music. When other kids were freaking out about NKOTB, I was singing "People are People" by Depeche Mode and "Girlfriend in a Coma" by the Smiths. My first CD was They Might Be Giants, followed by Automatic for the People (REM) and Violater (Depeche Mode).
Well Christmas came and went, and I heard nothing about the CD. In fact, he didn't even mention it until last week, and that was to tell me that I had effed up labeling tracks. Well, he finally admitted that he likes the cd, but was embarrassed because he's out of touch with new music. His CD collection pretty much ends with Oasis and Hooverphonic, and (shhh!) I've stolen several DM and Cure cds from him, so I know he no longer listens to those albums.
Strange...my brother was my total influence for rock-n-roll. Without him, I never would have listened to half the stuff I do. Now the tables have turned. I provided him with a list of current albums I'm diggin, but was sure to remind him that I am true to my roots. My library just isn't complete without the Smiths, The Cure, Fugazi, and Erasure.

Out with the Old...

My mother and I just spent the past 3 hours cleaning, and I mean scrubbing on hands and knees, my kitchen and dining room. We also threw away my living room carpet, and about 4 other HUGE bags of heavy trash. It was kind of gross..this apartment is the dustiest place I've ever lived. I just hope it keeps its shine for another week- I ain't doing this again.
As I was tossing things I no longer want/need into garbage bags, I came across an item I've had for years; a gift from a former boyfriend. I wasn't really holding onto this thing for sentimental reasons- in fact, I tried to get rid of it before but was convinced to keep it for memories. Well shit. I have the memories- I don't need some doodad that's really just taking up space to remind me of all the things- good and bad- we went through. So, along with the last bag of trash went my doodad, right into the dumpster.
And the new chapter begins...

Eye Kan Spell

Man. Misspelling is really gettin' on my nerves. I understand making simple mistakes- Lord knows I'm guilty. Sometimes I just skim what I've written before publishing it, but if I make any mistakes, Robert is sure to point them out (bitch.)
But lately, the horrible misspellings on mypsace, IM, and even craigslist are out of control. So, in order to help any challenged spellers out there, I'm including some friendly pointers/reminders.

1. Tomorrow, not tomarrow.
2. Awkward, not ocward. Yup..true story.
3. WROUGHT iron, instead of ROD iron. Honestly people.
*Grammar tip* Let's learn the proper uses of apostrophes, and "your/you're", shall we?
4. The, not tha. I don't care if it's on purpose, it's dumb.
5. Dinner is what we eat, diner is where we eat.
*Grammar tip, II. Know the difference between there, their, and wear/were.

That does it for now. I'm sure I'll think of more, but I'm tired and still have a headache from this morning.

Thanks, Andrea

I nearly forgot to post this along!!!! Gloooooooooooorious!

Pathetic

OK, so everyone just left my house, and I'm alone and sad. Oh, and drunk. In fact, I'm editing this post like a hawk for spelling errors. Anyway, I just called my sister in tears becuase everyone left at the same time, OF COURSE no one is online (it IS Friday, after all), and I'm alone. Again.
I'm sad.

I will be leaving a group of absolutely wonderful people. Alllll of whom I will see again, and frequently. But, I'm still sad.

This morning when Ashley left for work, I felt a little sick; I knew she was leaving to visit friends after work and I wouldn't see her for 3 days. Normally, this would be fine. But knowing that I only have 4 days with her after this weekend was what made me nauseated. Man...when did I turn into such a sap?

Maybe it's the beer, but I'm really gonna miss these people and this place.

Shoutout

Heyyooooooo!!! Ryan!!!!!!!! I'll see you soon! Is your number still the same? We'll be in NYC Saturday, the 1st, round noonish. If you can help, that would be great.

I'll call ya.

Your Elbow is in my Back

Ashley sold her bed a few days ago, so we've been bunking together. Aww..ain't that sweet? Sisters sharing things. Well, the only problem is, neither of us are really used to someone else being in the bed. (OK, me more than her cause she's a slut, but I wasn't gonna come right now and say it. But now I've said it. Slut slut slut. She gets more ass than me.)
ANYWAAAYYYY..neither of us have boyfriends, so we aren't used to another body in the bed on a regular basis, mkuh? This has made for some interesting nights. 2 nights ago, Ash said that I was in the fetal position, but taking over 75% of the bed, and she didn't know how to move me. Then I told her she was snoring, so I had to hit her so she'd roll over. Last night, we switched sides of the bed, and that seemed to help a little, but I still tossed and turned the majority of the night. (Mind you, this was after we spent a good 15 minutes making fart noises and cracking ourselves up).
And so there is only a week left. Hardly seems possible- time has really flown. I wonder who'll make fart noises with me in bed in New York? (ROBERT).

Shave that Shit

I don't like facial hair- never have, never will. Although I have to admit, scruff DOES look good on some guys, but a full beard? Not my cup of tea. That's not to say I would completely discount a possible suitor if he was sportin' some hair on his chinny chin chin, but I like 'em clean-shaven. Smooth.

I've noticed this trend, and I have to say- I'm not happy about it. In fact, Ashley and I are often disgusted by some of the out of control beards we see. And honestly, doesn't your face get hot?

http://www.nytimes.com/2006/03/23/fashion/thursdaystyles/23BEARDS.html?_r=1&oref=slogin

From Ye Old Co-Worker

If I remember correctly, Robert strongarmed me into blogging about a year ago (and by strongarm, I mean set up the account for me and basically told me what to type), for the purpose of sharing jokes I received from my co-workers. Little did I know this would become my platform for airing grievances, sharing good and bad news, and just keeping in touch with friends across the globe. Three cheers for blogging!
Anyway, I'm Old School today- here's a particularly tasteless joke from Marige, my favorite Dundalk gal.

My Private Part Died Today

An old man, Mr. MacKenzie, was living the last of his life in a nursing
home. One day he appeared to be very sad and depressed. Nurse Tracy
asked if there was anything wrong. "Yes, Nurse Tracy," said Mr.
MacKenzie, "My Private Part died today, and am very sad." Knowing her
patients were forgetful and sometimes a little crazy,she replied, "Oh,
I'm so sorry, Mr. MacKenzie, please accept my condolences.

The following day, Mr MacKenzie was walking down the hall with his
Private Part hanging out his pajamas, when he met Nurse Tracy. "Mr.
MacKenzie," she said, "You shouldn't be walking down the hall like
that.. Please put your Private Part back inside your pajamas." But,
Nurse Tracy," replied Mr. MacKenzie, " I told you yesterday that my
Private Part died." "Yes, you did tell me that, but why is it hanging
out of your pajamas?"


"Well, he replied, "Today's the viewing."

Hol-ler

I don't have a website (yet), and I don't have 16 gigs coming up in the next month (Ok, I dont know if I'll EVER have 16 gigs in a month), but my friend Jesse seems to have both.
Check out his website it's dope.

Rode Hard and Put Up Wet

Being a musician is wonderful, isn't it? All the fucking money we make (yeah right), but then all the fucking money we OWE when tax times rolls around. I attempted to do my taxes a few weeks ago, via Turbo Tax, and was informed I would need an EIN- Employee ID Number. Well I've waited 2 weeks, and called the IRS- still no EIN. So I took matters into my own hands, downloaded all the appropriate forms, and did my own taxes (with my mom's help). Turns out I actually owe MORE money than Turbo Tax said. Wonderful. Not only am I totally broke because I've drained my savings account for NYC, but now I have less than a month to pay these taxes, my regular loans/bills/moving costs, and all without a job. I know- whine, bitch, moan..it's all I'm good for. And singing. Apparently I can sing and get paid for it- but then I have to pay for it.

Stressin' Sally

I'm getting nervous about the move. Excited, yes; I know it's the right time/right thing for me to do. And God knows I've spent enough time preparing for it. But now comes the time where I'm starting to get nervous. My stomach hurts at night, my mind races, no matter what I tell myself, I can't relax and just go to sleep. This pattern of being unsettled has happened these times in my life: before 7th grade (Pre-Algebra was really daunting to me. I suck at math, mkay?), before high school ('nuff said), before college, and after grad school. Yes, after not before. Strange.
Anyway, my pattern seems to be, have stomach issues for a few weeks before huge event takes place, have trouble sleeping, and this time around, throw in some bad headaches. I don't like it one bit. But, there isn't much I can do to thwart it. I'm a psychological mess.

Fluffernutter

Yeah, I'll be having lunch here very soon.

Life According to Me

I'm the second-youngest person in my office. The youngest is a guy (who I'm still convinced doesn't like me for whatever reason), who is 2 years my junior, and quiet as a mouse. Apparently, he and his girlfriend are moving in together in several months, so they are are apartment hunting this weekend. 23 and living with someone? Wow. Big step. I know a lot of my friends have lived with significant others; my own brother lived with his wife before they were ever engaged. But for me, I don't see that happening.
Maybe I'm selfish; maybe I just don't want to share my space until I know it's absolutely the right time. Or maybe I've seen one too many relationships end while in the middle of a lease. "Just because you're engaged doesn't mean you won't break up." I guess there is a bit of truth to that statement. But I like to think that when I become engaged to that lucky sonofabitch, it's for keeps. I'd like to think that when I say "yes" to being someone's wife, I've thought about it and thought about and thought about it, and know that I can live with that person day in and day out, despite him leaving the toilet seat up. I don't need a lease to tell me that.
In disucussing this life-altering move (for guy in my office), my co-worker told me about her wedding. She apparently had 300 people (holy shit), open bar and served dinner, and went to the Grand Cayman Islands for her honeymoon (which was a gift from her then-boss). Fancy. She then asked me what I wanted my (God-willing) wedding to be like. And yes, I'm an almost-26-year-old-woman, so I've thought about it. As of now, I told her, this is what I want: 100 guests or less, ceremony in a gorgeous cathedral-like church, but not too big b/c with 100 guests it will look empty, men and boys choir (OK, this may be difficult, but it would be nice, no?), brass quintet, flowers a-plenty, reception at a gorgeous restaurant or hotel, live jazz, sit-down served dinner, and (of course) an absolutely amazing cake. Followed by a honeymoon in the south of France.
Doable, no?

And the Winner is...

Dan "animal" Marcellus. He knows his Beasties. Holler.

Professor, what's another word for pirate treasure?

(5 pts to whoever gets that title reference)

I don't really see myself being a university voice teacher someday. Mostly because I am not passionate about teaching, and I am not 100% sure that I know what I'm doing. After all, just because I know HOW to sing, doesn't mean I know how to teach. We all know that all great singers are not great teachers.
My only real experience teaching, save this past year, was in undergrad- teaching uninterested middle schoolers whose parents forced them into lessons, and a few random college kids who never practiced. Needless to say, I didn't have a whole lot to go on. Not to mention the fact that I was still learning myself; but, then again, I'm always learning. It's never a done deal.
Anyway, I took on a student last fall, and I was a bit nervous. She's my age, maybe a few years younger, in grad school at Hopkins, and told me she had studied voice privately in high school. Mkay. Well, I was very pleasantly surprised at our first lesson, when she told me she was comfortable singing in Italian, and wanted to learn classical technique. So off we went!
It's been 6 months since we first started working together, and I have noticed a real improvement. Thankfully, all the basics were there before she came to me, but I helped her learn to breathe, raise that pallette, "ng" and that blooming feeling, and diction/language. Last night, after coaching the recitative before Deh Vieni, she said to me, "I have to tell you, I am really pleased with the way I sound. I feel like I have a lot more control, like my voice has grown a bit, and I have a better understanding on how the voice works." Wow. I was really flattered, and I felt good about myself! Apparently, I do know how to communicate and it is actually helping someone. Whoda thunk?

Night Night, Ya Big Pig

Thinking of trying Ambien? Think again.


http://www.nytimes.com/2006/03/14/health/14sleep.html?pagewanted=1&_r=1

March Madness

It's that time again, people. College basketball's last horrah for this year. Now, I don't really watch sports, unless it's WVU football or the occasional Steelers game. I do enjoy some WVU basketball, while I'm at the gym, but that's really about it. But somehow, I managed to come in at a pretty close second in my office's March Madness pool last year. I could have won 50 bucks! I didn't actually know a single statistic: I just picked the teams at random. Turns out, that's really the best method (according to seasoned MM betters.) So, this year, I plan to do the same- go with my gut. But my gut might need a little help from actual basketball watchers. Oh, and I always pick WVU, so that's a mainstay. Where I need help is with the biggies- Duke? Texas? 'Bama?

Il Crappo

http://www.themorningnews.org/archives/personal_essays/in_the_arms_of_il_divo.php

Yikes

I was under the assumption that my benefits would be extended through April; at least, that's what everyone told me. Everyone BUT the benefits office. I just called, and apparently, my insurance will not be following me to New York. Shit.
I am now back in the same position as last year- almost to the day. I didn't have health insurance for a good 9 months after graduating from Peabody. Hopefully, I won't be without coverage for another 9 months after moving to NYC, but seeing as how I still don't have a job, who knows.
Keep your fingers crossed.

Éireann go Brách

Who knew that the Shamrock 5K here in good ol Baltimore would attract thousands of runners? I've always enjoyed the St. Patty's Day Parade (no,once and for all, it's not on St. Patty's day): the bagpipes, the Irish cloggers, the Irish Wolfhounds, and the beer, of course. But the pre-parade activities are just as fun.
My brother and I decided to run the 5K this year, since it benefits the Baltimore Irish society, and because it's fun. The weather was perfect for running, and Charles St. was packed with runners of all ages and fitness levels. After weaving our way through the crowd, we got off to a good start, and finished the race in 30 mins. Not great, but hey- I'm no athelete. I take pride in just being able to run 3 miles without stopping.
Beer at the finish line was tempting, but I decided against it since I was starving and dehydrated. Since when did this sensible side kick in?
I'm glad I was able to do something fun and traditional in Baltimore before leaving. As much as I complain about this city, I will miss parts of it/activities. Here's hoping Charm City (someday) lives up to its name.

Free Therapy

My friend Lauren is great. Lauren and I met as freshman year roommates at WVU. Even before we met, face-to-face in Bennet Tower, we talked on the phone...a lot. Got to know about each other's likes and dislikes, colors for our dorm room, anticipation for band parties, etc. We became great friends fast, and thankfully, still remain great friends. Even though she now lives in England, we talk almost every day, about everything from purses to beer to family issues. I think we are each other's free therapists...well at least she is mine. Lauren is studying for her Masters in social work (is that right, Laur Laur?), so naturally, she is good at listening and giving advice. I can always count on her to make me feel better about things, and she gives great advice.
So thanks for the free couch, Lauren! I'm too broke for a shrink- I'm lucky to have you.

House Hunters

There are many places I would like to live. Cross New York off the list; unless I hit it HUGE and marry rich, I don't think I can afford property in the Big Apple. Some of the cities I can see myself conquering (or dream of conquering) include London, somewhere between Providence, RI and Boston, Austin, Portland, Paris...or Marseilles, Vienna, OK so pretty much anywhere in Europe, and maybe even Baltimore again- once that huge revamp of the city takes place.
Of course, I will most likely not live in all of these places...or even half of them...or even more than 2 or 3...but I like to fantasize. I look forward to watching House Hunters every Thursday night because I LOVE looking at homes. I think the main reason I spearheaded apartment hunting in NYC is because, again, I love checking out living spaces. Whenever I go for a run through my pretty neigborhood, I look at the gorgeous homes and imagine what they look like on the inside. Nice color palette? Is the kitchen new? How about a master suite...hardwood floors or carpeting? Honestly, these are questions I ask myself. Then I imagine what the house would look like if it were mine. Lots of color, eclectic, antiques, gorgeous kitchen and bathrooms, and comfortable furniture with plush bedding. Yeah..I'm a girl.
But all the day dreaming/checking out homes on the internet/watching HGTV leads me to wonder when I really will be a home owner. A lot of people with whom I graduated high school are home owners...but then again, most of them are married. Even friends from grad school are hunting for homes, or buying cars, or doing other adult things. Not that up and moving to the biggest, most competitive city in this nation isn't adult, but it doesn't exactly compare with 2.5 acres and a stainless steel fridge.
Ideally, I would be married before buying my first piece of property. I don't exactly have money laying around to invest. So, I guess my home ownership would also depend on my future husband's states of affair. Is he a New Yorker? Does he want to leave the city? Does he already own a 3 bedroom townhouse in Park Slope? (call me!)
That, I don't know. But I will now go from oogling houses in Roland Park to oogling Penthouses on Park Ave.

Sickies

"I'd rather have a dog than a baby".
That's what I told my co-worker yesterday. She disagreed, but then again, she's a mom.
"Think about it", I said. "I'm a single, 25 year-old-woman, who doesn't even own her soon-to-be-gone car. I can barely pay my own bills, let alone an entirely other human being. PLUS, dogs don't go to college and don't talk back to you. And I like petting them, and walking them. You can't put a kid on a leash! Well....actually you can."
Don't get me wrong- kids are great. They are cute (most of the time), and hilarious, and I like their little clothes and shoes. Babies especially. I find myself actually smiling during the children's sermon at church, picking out the best-dressed kids, and the ones who have the most effed up hair cuts. As I get older, the POSSIBILITY of being a mom one day becomes greater. But then I take a look at my co-workers. It's always something. "Bob has football practice, Sally has dance." "I didn't get to eat dinner last night because I was in the car for 3 hours." "This is the 4th time in 2 months that my kid has had the stomach flu, and the 3rd time for me." Call me selfish (I'm totally selfish), but that just doesn't seem like a good time to me. My co-workers are ALWAYS sick. It's always something- sore throat, headache, stomach ache, cold, cough- you name it! I was sick a lot as a kid- I had chronic sinusitis. I also had bronchitis, and pneumonia as a 4th grader, and missed a lot of school. Missed a month of school with mono when I was a senior, and went through the whole tonsil debacle a few years back. But I never saw my mom stop or complain. Not even when all 3 of us Ryon chillens had the chicken pox at the same time, did my mom falter.
Maybe today's kids are sicker than we were because of the hypochondriac society we now live in, with self-diagnosis on the internet and drugs being advertised as every other commercial. Either that, or parents are just looking for a way out.

Jetset Jealousy

I'm jealous because all of my co-workers are planning their summer vacations. "But Hilary", you might say, "you will be in fabulous, stinking hot, NYC this summer. There is a ton do to!" And you are correct. I'm very excited for all the free things that happen in the summer- Central Park concerts, museum excersions, shopping, being outside whenever possible, friends visiting, etc. It'll be good. But I'm still jealous of week-long Disney plans, condo rentals in Daytona Beach, and 2-week coastal trips in California. I like to cruise Craigslist and check out housing swaps- "My Amsterdam for your NYC" or "My London flat for your East Village Apartment" (I don't have one of those). Then I like to go to the Room Rental Page- "Austrian ski chalet- easy commute to Salzburg- ski out your front door", or the Vacation Rental page - "Kingston, Rhode Island beach house- 4 br- 1200/week." Yeah. I could deal with any of those.
I do plan to get away a little this summer. The Jersey Shore weekend, of course. And Robert and I are going to find cheap flights to Chicago to visit Terry. I'd also love to get to Vegas to see me sis, but I'm not sure if any cheap deals will come my way. Here's hoping. That my have to wait until fall.

In other news- I finally saw the hot elevator repair man who works in Robert's building. Let me just say- wow. Wow, wow, and wow. I was picturing some Baltimoron, blue collar, just happens to be hot repair guy. But this guy? This guy could model. Yup- he's that hot.

de l'onion

Ugh

Taking 2 weeks off from Body Pump is not a good idea. Actually, I didn't really take 2 weeks off- I had voice lessons, and then went running before abs class. It just happened to be during the Body Pump time slot.
Following a fabulous work luncheon at Baccaccio's, I knew I had to kick my own ass tonight. I did some cardio, then the Pumped it, and finished with gay abs. Ouch...oh, and ouch. I'm gonna be sore tomorrrow.
In other news, half the strife is o'er- we have an apartment in Astoria, Queens! 2 blocks from the train, convinient to midtown, and in a cute hood. I know a lot of people who live in Astoria, and they all love it. I'm sure we will too.

Service with a Smile

Baltimore isn't known for being pleasant. I'm actually shocks when I hear former New Yorkers say that Baltimore is a nicer city. Of course, I don't live in New York just yet, so I can't say they are totally wrong, but it has been my experience that for the most part, New York is a friendlier place than "charm" city.
Case in point: Yesterday, I phoned my eye doctor about my contact prescription. In case you don't know, you have to go in to be fitted for contacts, then receive a trial pair, then come back in to make sure the trial pair worked. Well my first trial pair was bad- wayyyyyy too dry. So he gave me a second trial pair- much better. Mind you, this was after I had to take off work early to attend a "how to put in your conacts class", which was really only 1 lady and me. She watched me put the contacts in (and I used the term watch loosely, as she was talking to her co-workers the entire time), and sent me on my way.
Well, I had a second follow up appt, which I completely missed, so therefore, I don't have a contact prescription.
I called the doctor yesterday to see if he can just write me a script, b/c these contacts are fine, but I was stopped dead in my tracks by the bitch of a receptionist. After she put me on hold for 5 minutes, she got back on the phone to rudely inform me that I had missed my follow up appointment, and would now need to order a NEW pair of trial lenses, thus starting the whole process over again. Um, how bout no? I kindly told her that I've only worn the lenses a total of 7 times, and they are 14-day lenses. So I have another 7 times to wear them before they must be thrown away. "NO!" She says. "You hafta get a few trial pair..and come back in for another appointment..blah blah blah". The doctor takes the phone. "Hello, Miss Ryon? What...you only wore the contacts 7 times? Oh! No problem....you're fine. Just come in Thursday to see me, and I'll write your script. Yes...yes...you're welcome." I just know that bitch was PISSED. But if wouldn't have been standing there, I would have had to repeat this process for a THIRD time.
Quality.

Candy Shoppe

Easter definately brings better candy than any other holiday. Halloween is fine, but it's jut miniture regular old candy bars. And Christmas has some OK stuff, but homemade baked goods are where it's at for Christ's birth. But at the Resurrection, nothin says wash your sins away like some Starburst Jelly Beans and and Reese's Peanut Butter Egg. And, of course, Cadbury Eggs, but I've already devoted an entire post for my love of the cream egg.
Well, I fell victim to entire corner of the store devoted to Easter candy. I broke down and bought some Starburst Jelly Beans, mostly because I knew if I bought any sort of chocolate, I'd be 5 lbs heavier right now. The bag is miraculously still half-full, in our fridge, despite our daily handfuls.
Trouble is, now I'm really jonesin' for something sweet, to follow my lunch of a salad and orange. "But Hilary," you might say, "an orange is sweet". True, but it sure as hell ain't no dark chocolate coconut cream egg, with hard frosted pink and green flowers on top.
Salivating yet?

Jimmy Shortarms

Uh oh!

http://www.nytimes.com/2006/03/06/arts/music/06levi.html

Vielen Danke

Many thanks for all the well-wishes for yesterday's recital. It went very well- I sang well, there was great attendance, and a nice reception. I also was very surprised to see several ooooooold friends, for which I was very thankful. It's always nice to be remembered! It was also a success for me because this is the first recital since last summer for which I haven't felt a fear of bombing.
Last summer, I did a joint recital in Pittsburgh with a friend from WVU. The idea for the recital was great- the programming was not. I was trying to learn an entirely new program (with the exception of one aria and one duet that I hadn't sung in 4 years) after just finishing a role with Summer Opera, moving, fighting allergies, etc. Excuses, excuses. Combine that with 2 quick rehearsals (working with a coach/accomp. I had never met), me not feeling great about my singing, and there you have the recipe for a bad performance. I supposed it wasn't as bad as I imagined it to be- you are your own worst critic. But, that was only the second time in my life I cried after a performance (the first time, I was 19 and sick). And to top it all off, my old voice teacher, who hadn't heard me sing in 3 years, was there- realizing my every mistake.
So, being that singing (and a lot of performing) is largely psychosomatic, overcoming that mental block was difficult- IS difficult. I'm happy to say, for the time being, I am over it.

To Trim or to Cut

OK yinz. I'm getting a hair cut/color in a few weeks, and I'm trying to make a decision. I don't like myself with long hair, so I don't want long hair, but I am kind of ready for something new. That's not to say I don't adore my current hair cut, because I do. But I was thinking of growing it just a bit longer, so that it's more like Carrie on Season 4 of SITC. Whaddya think?

Honestly. Why?

Without getting into too much of something that is nothing, I am feeling a little rejected. Why is it that when I have so much going on (i.e. moving, recital, packing up my life, did I mention moving?), supposedly insignificant things bother the shit outta me.
I realize I couldn't be more vague...I just don't feel like totally dishing. Basically, there was this guy, and we hit it off, but it wasn't really anything, but it might be something, but now it's probably nothing because I'm being phased out. And here we have our point of contention- being phased out. Why do I end up in this position more often than not? Seriously...what is the deal? Do I give off some sort of "fuck her over" vibe? I must.

Again, this is really no big deal. So not a big deal, in fact, that most of you are probably saying, "guy? I didn't hear anything about any guy! What didn't you tell me, Hilary?" And that's exactly right. I didn't tell you anything because there is apparently nothing to tell.

Heaven

Only 39 more days and nights till I can have one. In a perfect world, I could eat one of these a day and not gain a pound. Of course, I'd probably get sick of them after a while, but then I would switch to something else. Look at that creamy goodness just oozing out. I'm salivating.
And if cream eggs disgust you, keep it to yourself. For me, there is no better Easter treat.

Happy Robert?

Next time you throw a fit because you HAVE to have the latest thang, remember this.

http://www.themorningnews.org/archives/oped/it.php