Time for a Change

Earlier today I received an email from my friend Gosia, a coworker from Block Island, with some pictures from this summer. They were mostly of me, I guess because she knows how vain I am and how much I despise looking at other people. It was fun seeing the photos and reminiscing about the summer, but they also caused me to come to a distressing conclusion-- I make the same faces in every G-D picture! I knew I made these faces a lot, but it has finally hit me how much of a problem it has become, and Im ready to admit that I need help.

Why I do this, I don't know. Maybe its because I don't like the phoniness of a standard smile. Maybe I thought I was being cute and original. Either way, I have failed to look authentic, attractive, or creative in any of these. No, I just look plain stupid and end up ruining many otherwise nice photos.

So, although I know its a little late, I am finally making my New Year's Resolution: I, Jane Marie L-ch-t, will no longer make the same outlandish expression in every photo I take. Furthermore, for now on, I will only make faces that are appropriate to the current situation.









Prepare to see this no longer

Is this guy serious?

For anyone who doesn't know, my parents have finally sold the house we have owned for the past 13 years. I moved here when I was eight, rather begrudgingly, but I have eventually grown fond of this house and am sad to see it go. However, I realize that I have no right to truly be upset since I am so rarely at home as it is, and the time spent here in the upcoming years will only get less and less. Besides, my mom and dad are 59 and 61 respectively, and they are getting no younger. They need something smaller, something with a first floor bedroom and bathroom so they won't have any difficulties when they can no longer walk upstairs, say in the next few months or so. So I've decided to suck it up, keep my mouth shut, and be as helpful as possible.

Before Spain, I was stuck with people coming in the house almost every other day to look it. I would have to clean everything up, leave the house, and find something to do for the hour or two that people were roaming through MY home. I did it with minimal eye rolling, but it sucked. I did not enjoy waking up at 8 in the morning on my vacation to go idle at Starbucks for two hours or, even worse, sitting on my front porch waiting for people to leave when they took far longer than they were supposed to. So when we sold the house I was a bit depressed, forced to accept the reality of the move, but relieved that all the hassle of potential buyers was gone.

Earlier this week, though, I found out we weren't quite done. The buyers wanted to come in for one final inspection, in order to get a professional assessment of our dying heating system. Even better, they wanted to come at 8:30 in the morning. Now, when I came back from Spain, I found my room stripped of its original furniture, most of my bureaus removed. I have been forced to keep half of my clothes in their suitcases while the other half has been sprawled across my floor. Admittedly it’s a mess, but right now there isn't much I can do to fix it, so I didn't know what I was supposed to do about the buyers coming. Luckily, my mom told me not to worry about it, that she would leave a note saying I was sick and sleeping upstairs, so I wouldn’t have to clean my room or get up and leave the house so early in he morning. I was very grateful and very relieved.

At quarter to nine this morning, I could hear people walking around the house, but it wasn't a huge disturbance. I just put on my head phones, listened to some Corinne Bailey Rae (she's awesome), and sort of half slept through it all. But then, a half an hour later, I heard a knock on my door. "Uh, yeah?" I asked in confusion, just before my bedroom door creaked open. "Is it ok if we come in and check the heat circulation in here?" one of the two men standing there asked me. Looking around at my slovenly room, I wanted to scream what was clearly obvious: " No! I am sleeping, the note says I'm sick, and I look like a rabid cat attacked me during the night." But, of course, too shocked and cowardly, I only managed to let out an exaggerated sigh that clearly said "No, fucker" and muttered an exasperated "whatever" before pulling the covers over my head. Unfortunately, my clear frustration didn't register with this a-hole, and I was forced to endure their presence and even answer his questions about the ventilation in the room.

I'd really like to know how this guy ever thought it would be ok to come into my room. Clearly, what any young female wants is for two middle aged men to walk through piles of her dirty underwear, tampons, and candy bar wrappers as she lies in bed, filthy and half asleep. I may not be easily embarrassed, but I do have some pride, people. I would like it if I didn't have to cower under my covers from strange men in my bedroom; I would like to not worry about people judging the despicable state my bedroom is in right now; and I would like to know that my new underwear isn't going to get a giant boot print on it from some socially inept electrician. I don’t know, maybe I'm just picky.

But, on a bright side, the selling of our house does lead to one good thing: an f-ing awesome going away party. Freddie and I are in the early stages of planning, and more details will certainly follow. 8427 Prospect Avenue has done us well and thrown its far share of parties, so it’s only right that we see it off properly. Expect tons of people, tons of dancing, and tons of stupidity. And now that I officially hate our new owners, feel free to damage as much property as you'd like.

Its About Time

It bothers me so much that no one in Hollywood has any balls. Though there are paparazzi everywhere, catching each miniscule detail of anyone with the slightest amount of celebrity, not a single Hollywood star ever 'fesses up when they've been caught redhanded. Look at Paula Abdul, who was recently interviewed on camera, clearly drunk out of her mind. When questioned about it, however, she claimed that it was just "technical difficulties" that caused her to act so strange and that she was merely "having fun". Or how about Angelina Jolie, who just last year swore that she and Brad Pitt were in no way romantically involved. Now? Well, she's the mother of his child.

Similarly, just a few months ago on the set of Gray's Anatomy, a reported "brawl" took place between actors Patrick Dempsey and Isaiah Washington. According to sources, heated words were exchanged between the two actors, in which Washington exclaimed he would not be Dempsey's "f*ggot like Knight" , referring to gay co-star TR Knight. Things then turned physical between the two stars, as I'm hoping Patrick Dempsey beat the living shit out of Washington for being such an ignorant prick.
Of course, however, as I've shown is often the case, these rumors were immediately dispelled by the show's spokespersons, who claimed there was just a minor disagreement between the two and that no epithets were used. By the end of the day, the two were best of friends again. Riiiight.

Though all involved tried to squash any discussion of the issue, the "disagreement" remained the topic of gossip for some time: Isaiah Washigton was continually proclaiming his innocence, castmates undermined the event, and poor T. R, Knight was more or less forced to come out to the public. The drama had died down, however, in these past few weeks and Gray's discussions returned to more innocent discussions of doctors McDreamy and McSteamy. That is until last night's Golden Globes, where the Gray's cast was awarded for "Best Television Drama". Backstage in the pressroom, while interviewing the cast, a reporter asked about the dispute and its effect on filming. All the actors, particularly TR Knight, looked like they were ready to downplay it and gracefully move on, but then Isaiah Washington opened his horrific mouth and screamed "I never called TR a f*ggot!", shocking his costars with his flagrant and casual use of the f word. Way to go Isaiah: not only are you a homophobe, but you're a liar too.

After the shock of Washington's vulgarity had worn off, I didn't expect much else from it, only yet another statement assuring us all of the love and support on set and the great admiration the cast has for one another. Luckily, however, I found out there is someone in Hollywood who isn't afraid to express their opinion, to speak without direction from their publicist. In an interview with Access Hollywood, Gray's costar Katharine Heigl was asked about the situation and her feelings about it. In a rare move, Heigl, looking clearly pissed off, announced that she "was going to be really honest". Instead of hiding her feelings, she strongly proclaimed that Isaiah Washington "..needs to just not speak in public. Period," Maybe it was just the booze of the Globes afterparties talking, but regardless, it was a bold and much needed move. Even better, she went on, saying "TR is my best friend. I will throwdown for that kid. I will beat you up. I will use every ounce of energy I have to take you down if you hurt his feelings".

Well, needless to say, I can't wait to see how they will explain this. Im sure there will be statements claiming her words were misconstrued or some bullshit like that, but I'm really hoping Heigl sticks to her words. They were a breath of fresh air, and in my opinion completely admirable. Not only did she stand up against a clear jerkoff, but she stood up for her best friend. As I've said before, I adore TR Knight, and I too will "throw down for that kid" if it will help keep him on the show. So to Katherine Heigl I say thank you, thank you not only for giving me a little drama to read about during my boring winter break, but also for having a little courage to say what we all knew everybody was thinking. Awesome, Katherine, you are awesome.

Funnest Weekend Ever

Since coming back to the States, Its been great being able to lie around all day in my parent's house, go out to dinner at my fav restaurants, and hang out at night with all my friends from here in Philly, but I have of course been dying to get back to Block Island and catch up with my summer loves. Thanks to the likes of Email, Myspace, and Facebook, I had kept in frequent touch with most of them while I was in Spain, perhaps even more so than my own family. Going on the internet to find a message from any one of them proved to me not only how extremely funny and insane they all are, but what good friends they are just to let you know they were thinking of you.

Luckily, in this month I have off, I was able to scrounge up some free time between eating, watching tv, and going to Towey's in order to plan a visit to BI for the weekend. I have never seen the island in the off season, when the thousands of tourists are gone and the harsh winter weather takes over, so I was eager to experience it in a whole new way. Several of my friends are living on the island year-round, so despite the drastic loss of people, I also knew I would have plenty of people to hangout with. With Sara recruited to come along with me, we quickly sent out massive messages to alert people of our arrival and encouraged others to meet us there. Soon enough our dates were set and Sara and I were more than ready to hit up little Rhody.

However, before we could begin our trip, we had the slight problem of figuring out where to stay. Sara's house had been shut down for the winter so, with no heat, electricity or water there, we needed to find somewhere else to crash. We called our friend Timmy to find out what hotels are opened this time of year, but were unfortunately told that everything was closed. I have a feeling that this wasn't exactly true, but am ok with it since he offered to let us stay with him for the weekend. Timmy's family has owned a house on the westside of the island for several decades now, and he has been living in it for the past few years. His parents are there only a few months a year, and the rest of the time it remains his own little bachelor pad. Though Tim lives alone, it is not uncommon to walk in and find his friends eating breakfast and watching TV long before he has even woke up. In fact it wasn't until two days into our trip, that Sara or I even figured out that Timmy's friends Nick and Baggie weren't actually staying with him this winter. Yet, despite his often juvenile behavior, Timmy always keeps the house quite clean and comfortable, and Sara and I were more than grateful to be able to stay there.

So Friday night, after a long car ride of anticipation, we reached the Block Island ferry. My friend Morgan, who had been off island for the day, met us there to take the boat over, and the three of us quickly opened some newly purchased booze to enjoy on the ride over. We laughed the whole way as we all caught up on our last few months and reminisced about the past few summers. With the heavy fog settled over the ocean, there was no way of telling how far we'd gone, and I was startled to feel the boat come to a stop in what felt like just minutes later. Faster than kids on the last day of school, Sara and I grabbed our bags and rushed for the exit. And as promised, there was Timmy and Baggie kindly waiting for us to arrive. With one look at those two boys,I knew instantly that I was in for trouble this weekend, a suspicion that was reinforced moments later when empty beer cans came tumbled out of the trunk of Baggie's SUV.

That night, after dropping our stuff at Timmys and having a little something to eat, we heading over to the Albion, the local bar on the island. Sara and I were surprised to find so many people out and about on the island. I had alerted many of my friends of our arrival, but I was surprised to see many others. And some- like Rick, who was bartending that night- were quite surprised to see us. We all had a few beers and some minderasers- the fav shot of the island- and then Sara and I invited everyone back to Timmy's for late night. Everyone except Morgan that is. Sara, TRYING to be sarcastic, told him he wasn't invited and silly Morgan took her seriously and unfortunately did not join us. Mostly everyone else did, and after a little drama with Nick's car getting stuck in a ditch, the party continued at the house. Typical late night, Nick pulled out his guitar for a jam session, Tracy starting doing boxed wine funnels, and Timmy and I played flip cup on the kitchen counter. My idea of heaven!

The next day, I was awoken by Timmy as he handed me a piping hot cup of coffee and a mimosa. The night before Sara and I decided with our friend John, that we would take a long walk to Sara's house on the other side of the island. So we called John and met him and his dog Honey, who Sara fell in love with at late night, in town for pizza. It wasn't a very nice day- the ground was wet, the sky foggy, and the air sticky- but the surroundings were still gorgeous. Free from my hectic work schedule, I finally had the chance to enjoy it all, taking pictures of all the things I never would during the summer. I couldn't be happier. The town was free of tourists and instead consisted of only locals, the friendly hippies who wave to anyone they pass and who are always willing to strike up a conversation. We walked all the way down Corn Neck, the long road that takes you to Sara's, without any worries of obnoxious Moped drivers or drunken white trash stumbling home from the beach. Everything was perfect.

Hours later, we returned home filled with euphoria, just in time to begin yet another night on the island. Timmy and Baggie were already there, just opening a bottle of wine with their friend Andy. Along with John and Rick, Andy is a member of the 007s, arguably the most popular band on the island and definitely the favorites of both mine and Sara's. Earlier the two of us had tried to convince John to get them all to play at the Albion that night so we were happy to see Andy so we could seal the deal even further. Luckily, it took little persuasion, as they all love playing so much, and our plans for the evening were set. We hung out at the house a little longer and then eagerly headed out to the Albion for round two.

As always, the 00s kicked ass, and even did some new songs we hadn't heard them play yet. Though they only do covers, the 007s put so much energy into each and every one of their songs, that you begin to think of them as their own. Everyone- especially myself- was up and dancing like the crazy white people they are. During breaks, we all did some minderasers "with the band". I had managed to stay somewhat under control the night before, but on Saturday these things really lived up to their name. All I know is that I was pretty much dragged out of the bar as I screamed "Late night at Timmy's!"

I sobered up at the house, but others seemed to go in the opposite direction as me. The boys-Tim, John, Cave Dave, Andy, and Baggie- together finished pretty much an entire bottle of Scotch on top of their beers. Soon enough they were having vicious arm wrestling matches on the kitchen counter and D.O.T- Timmy's drunken alter-ego- made an appearance and had to be put to bed. When I walked up stairs for bed, I found a toilet full of puke and a half smoked cigarette waiting for me. Lovely.

The next morning, we all woke up feeling pretty nasty, but the boys were insistent that we go get beers and snacks for the football game that afternoon. Sara and I, who had deciced to stay an extra day for the opening of Morgan's restaurant, had promised to be their "beer wenches" in return for taking us on for an extra day. Instead, however, we ate lunch and fell asleep until the end of the game, only to be periodically woken by screams of "Im thirsty!". When we crawled back downstairs at 4:30, they were not too pleased with us. I dont think I helped matters either by continuously asking them to open the beers I couldn't managed to open myself. But, hey, thats what they get for feeding me so much alcohol the night before. John and Andy tried to convince us to come to the Albion, but Sara, Timmy, and I decided it was probably best we stay in and recover fully.

Sadly the next day was the end of our stay in Block Island. Though still tired from all our fun, I was in now ay ready to go: The weekend was so fun, and it flew by too quickly. Baggie came by around 12 to drive us to the ferry, but first I needed to stop in at Swashbuckler's. the restaurant Morgan was opening that day. An addition to the Albion, Swashbucklers will provide food for the bar as well as for their own customers. Morgan was a chef at Harbor Grill, working breakfasts with me most days, but had decided to move on and open his own place with Phil, a bartender at the Albion. He's extremely talented, and I couldn't be more proud of him, though I am sad to see him leave the Grill. Anyways, I knew the opening was important to him and since I was fortunate enough to be in town for it, made sure I made an appearance. Unfortunately, we didnt have time to eat, but I did get a glance at the place and it looks like its going to be a hit.

After saying my goodbyes to Morgan, Colleen, and RIck at Swashbuckler's, Sara and I bored our ferry, sulking at the thought of leaving. Block Island is truly a special, unique place, and I'm so glad I have it in my life. Luckily, after this weekend, it seems I will be having a lot more of it in my life: Sara and I have decided to spend a year there after graduation. Rather then leave in October when our summer jobs end, we will try and find other work and remain island bound through the winter. The whole way home Sara and I discussed our plans with glee. It'll be a great adventure and I can't wait for it to begin. If I can have this much fun in Block Island in one weekend, I can't imagine what an entire year would be like! Until then, its four months until my return, and I will be counting down every minute while day dreaming of many, many nights like the ones that just passed.

Ringing in the New Year

Well, here I am back in the States. I was of course sad to leave Madrid, and I miss my friends there everyday, but I have been having a blast since the moment I landed in Philly. I have caught up with a lot of my friends here, made some trips to Solaris and Towey's, my favorite bars in Chestnut Hill, and have been trying my hardest to catch up on a little American cuisine- hoagies, mac and cheese, my mom's meatloaf. I saw pretty much my entire family over Christmas, at both the annual gingerbread house decorating at my grandmother's and the Christmas dinner here at my house. But the best part so far has definitely been my New Year's Eve. Caitlin D, a friend of mine and my brother's, had a party at her new apartment in Old City which I attended with Freddie, my friend Sara, and her friend from school, who is also named Caitlin. I wasn't sure what exactly to expect, but it ended up being an extremely fun party as well as a night of complete debauchery. All day I have been reminiscing with Freddie and wishing I could relive the night. Since that is impossible, I guess I will just have to relive it here for all of you. Some of the highlights:

- Walking into the party, I was confronted almost instantly by Danny D, Caitlins cousin and another Chestnut Hiller. I have known Danny for some years now, but last night there was a distinct difference in his appearance- Danny had grown a perfectly groomed, curled at the tips mustache. He was extremely proud of his facial hair, but also very disappointed that others weren't equally impressed. It was funny, ofcourse, but I don't think I've ever said a nice thing to Danny, so I made fun of him for it the entire night. I begged him to shave it but, delivering a sweet burn to me, he said he would only do so if I shaved MY moustache as well. Ouch.

- Mike Kilkenny ingeniously brought the best thing to the party- a personal breathalizer. We all took turns testing it out, and Mike, who had been at the Eagles game all afternoon, blew a .18 by 7 o'clock, drastically over the legal limit. Needless to say, he was a train wreck all night and, as usual for Kilkenny, a complete sleezebag as well. He made numerous fervent yet poorly executed attempts at hitting on Sara, and late in the evening approached Karen, a well endowed girl at the party, with this glowing line: " Debbie, I'm pretty much a respectable, nice guy but...I really think we should just, like, fuck." He's a regular prince charming, ain't he. Unfortunately, as smooth as he was, he quickly got shot down. He did however score some sweet prom style photos with her before the night was over, in which he tried to grab her tits every shot.

- After five years of unanswered requests, Caitlin's roommate Kim finally got the drink fountain she's been dying for. To anyone and everyone who entered the party, Kim proudly showed off her new gift, and shortly before midnight we filled it up with champagne punch for all to enjoy. It was absolutely delicious, so much so that I just stood next to it and refilled my cup after every sip I took. I thought it was funny, but I quickly stopped when Kilkenny of all people told me that I was being majorly sleazy. I got that painful message loud and clear and immedietely moved away from the fountain.

- It was clearly the night of Michael Kilkenny, who pulled off the best moment of the evening and possibly all of 2006. Waiting upstairs for the bathroom, I noticed that one of the floor boards felt a little soft. I was alarmed by the danger of it, and told Kilkenny to feel it, saying that "someone could fall right through". Well, what does Mike do but stomp his foot down right on that spot and goes straight through the floor. With his leg immersed up to his thigh, I burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter as I tried to pull him out. He had broke all the way through to the kitchen, leaving a giant hole in the ceiling. Unfortunately, though, just as Mike went crashing through, another guest walked through the kitchen door right next to the incident, causing everyone in the room to blame him for it all.

- This morning, I woke up on the living room floor, with little memory of the last hour or so before I wound up there. Apparently, Slats had tried to wake me up to give me a ride home earlier, but I was unresponsive. Maybe if he had played the bongos on my stomach like he had done to Freddie, he would have had more success. Anywho, without a ride, Fred and I had to grab a cab to Suburban Station and take the train home. Still wearing my gold dress and stilleto heels, but with Freddie's blazer on as well, I looked like the ultimate walk of shame. It also caused a lot of attention from everyone we passed- the woman at Dunkin Donuts, some fifteen year old kid in the station and, most of all, the ticket guy on the train. He was extremely amused by my brother and me and how absolutely banged up we looked. He was less amused when, still drunk, I crashed face first into the train door as I attempted to exit. Similarly, my dad was very pleased when I initially came home and asked him to cook me an omelet, but less so when I passed out on the couch for 5 hours afterwards.

Luckily, although I'm upset New Year's is over, I think I have a lot to look forward to this year. I have high expectations for 2007, and its going to be an important year for me: assuming these next few months go as planned, I'll be graduating college, and I guess I will have to face the fact that that probably makes me a grownup now. Its pretty exciting, but also extremely scary since I have no clue what I'll do. Whether I'll start looking for a job, bum it for awhile, or maybe go back to school, I don't know. But one thing about 2007 is sure: as long as there's more nights like the last, its gonna be one hell of a year.