Lovin in the City of Brotherly Love...In a Non Gay Way

I was in a bad mood yesterday. So bad a mood that I came home after work, put on my purple muu-muu, and laid on the couch for nearly five hours, catching up on all the shows I missed during my hiatus / vacation to PA. And let me tell you - nothing gets you out of a funk better than Prison Break and Lincoln's wide-open v-necks.

Many of you have probably already seen Erin's blog, which pretty much sums up our trip. So what am I supposed to blog about? I could write about how we left 75 degree weather and entered a freak blizzard that lasted nearly the whole weekend. Or maybe you'd like to hear about how I brought back 15 pounds of Tastykakes. I might talk about how when I saw my 8.5 months preggo sister for the first time I started bawling. Or how we were G-L-A-M-O-R-O-U-S and got to fly first class.

Instead, please to enjoy my photos. And by "my photos", I mean "pictures taken by Erin and Johanna and many of which are already on Erin's blog".


Bone Senior and Baby Bone, aged 26 and 8.5 months, respectively.












My hero. Rocky, that is. Not Erin. But she's pretty swell too. And also here we see the beginnings of what I like to call The Tanorexia Effect, which is that I start to blend into the darker backgrounds.














Samuel was thrilled to see the official seal of the United States on the ceiling of a room at Independence Hall. Doesn't he look thrilled?

We met this strapping fellow at the historical society visitor's center. He refused to hold Samuel for a picture, but interestingly enough, he would hold a can of SPAM, which had earned him a place in the National SPAM Museum or something. It's not that he wasn't friendly, I just thought he was a bit cocky for someone in knickers and tights. And he thought he knew more than me and was funnier than me, as evidenced when he snootily corrected a passerby who thought a nearby spinster woman (who was black) was Betsy Ross, because according to him, everyone knows that Betsy Ross wasn't black. So I snootily corrected him and informed him that everyone knew that the spinster was actually Harriet Tubman. Because she was the only black woman I could think of right then. Then I went on to tell him that Harriet Tubman was injured as a child because someone threw a can of SPAM at her. Then I told him that I refused to visit the Betsy Ross house because I found out she was a fraud and didn't really sew the first American flag. Then I ran away because apparently I wasn't funny.

The Tanorexia Effect in full swing. I would like to point out that I am not, in fact, made of erra cotta. What you're seeing is an optical illusion known as Tan By Association, as I am posing with the two whitest people I know, other than Yanaj.


Samuel visits the Liberty Bell, and I make a spectacle of myself for the umpteenth time that day by whipping him out of my purse with a flourish and vogue-ing.







The Tanorexia Effect has taken over, as I have all but completely blended and disappeared into the background.










While I hope these pictures have been entertaining, nothing can compare to my latest debacle with McBicep. Take a trip with me in Ye Olde Time Machine back to Tuesday March 14. I remember it like it was just a week and a half ago.

That day, I'd been debating with my friend G over whether I should call McBicep, or wait for him to call me. The verdict was to wait. So wait I did, and McBicep came through, calling me that night while I was at work. We had a great conversation, which I thought went really well and we set up a date for the next night.

When I got off the phone, I was so excited that I immediately texted G in true Bone Junior fashion: really really really gay. And I quote: "[insert McBicep's real name here] just called me!!!!!!! He was SOOOOO cute and flirty!!!!!! We're going out tomorrow night!!!! AHHHHHH!!!!!!:) :) :) :)" Sigh. Basically, it was as gay, silly and girly as you can possibly get. I know. I know.

Now, if you're familiar with my work (and by "my work" I mean "my uncanny ability to relentlessly and constantly embarrass and humiliate myself") I think you know where this is going.

So we have a great date Wednesday night, full of lots of jujitsu moves and lingering hugs, I leave for Philly, time flies, and next thing you know, its Sunday night and I'm sharing a blow-up air mattress with Erin at Bone Senior's house. I'm having trouble falling asleep so I decide to mess around with my phone and clean out my old text messages. I'm browsing through the sent messages, I find my gay message to G and get severe retarded tingles for myself...only the recipient didn't say G.

And that's when the panic set in, because I realized I'd sent the message to McBicep himself.

I tried to get into Ye Olde Time Machine, but the front door handle was busted and cost $200 just to replace the part. Oh wait, that's Ye Olde BMW. Anyway.

Erin and Bone Senior were sweet, trying to convince me that maybe he'd never even gotten the message. Right. I knew. He'd gotten it alright, A WEEK AGO AND HAD NEVER SAID ANYTHING TO ME ABOUT IT. HE'D KNOWN FOR A WEEK. A WEEK. A WHOLE WEEK.

I. Wanted. To. Die.

The next night, McBicep called me, and while I tried to politely listen to him recap his weekend, all I could think about was that text message, and how I knew that he knew what a dork I really was. So I not-so-politely interjected with the dreaded "I have to talk to you about something."

Bone Junior: Um.......about a week ago, I sent a text message to my friend G.....

McBicep: laughing.

Bone Junior: You know exactly what I'm talking about, don't you?

McBicep: I thought it was funny! I was going to respond to it right then, but I figured there was a 30-70% chance that you would never check the sent messages, and then you'd never realize what had happened, and I didn't want to embarrass you.

Bone Junior: But you've known for a WEEK and you didn't say anything! Why didn't you say something?

McBicep: That's what I do....I sit back and collect information.

Bone Junior: Great. That's just great. Now you've got the upper hand, and I just look retarded.

McBicep: You're gonna have to learn to be comfortable with ambiguity. And not always being in control, because I know that drives you crazy.

Bone Junior: Let's never talk about this again.

So there you have it folks, I've once again outdone myself for being an ass. On the brighter side, McBicep has called me since the Infamous Text Message Debacle, and we've seen each other for a few minutes - - long enough for him to devour half of my Tastykake stockpile in one sitting. I'm serious.

In other news, I am now the proud owner of a brand new $200 driver's side door handle. Ain't I fancy. And to think the fancy BMW parts guy balked at me when I clamored into his pristine shop, leaving a trail of white trash in my wake, and asked, "Don't I even get a balloon or something with this? No? Nothing? Ok well thanks for giving me yet another opportunity to bend over and take it up the tailpipe. Long live the Aryan race!"

Now who's fancy.