Always Anna

Seriously, I think my heart skipped a beat when I read that Matt’s ex-girlfriend is pregnant with his love child.  Or should I say pregnant with his booty-call child?

I am freaking out.  And what does it mean that she isn’t commenting until after the baby is born?  AH!  I can’t deal.

You know what you get when you add cheesy concerts and a house party? A weekend in which I partied high school style.

Last Thursday, I went with Nikki to see the Black-Eyed Peas at the Tweeter Center.  Now, I’m not a huge fan of BEP anymore (I fight “Monkey Business” just as much as I love “Elephunk”), but the Pussycat Dolls were supposed to open, and I figured that would be an entertaining show.  PLUS, I got my lawn ticket for $10 – not a bad price for Thursday night entertainment. 

Sadly, the lead Pussycat got sick… and since she’s the only one that sings, by dream of learning new dance moves from PCD was crushed.  Instead, I was to be treated to the sound of Danity Kane – apparently they won season 3 of Making the Band.  Sigh.

That said, I was pleasantly surprised by the concert.  Not by Danity Kane – they stunk – but by BEP.  They were… good.  And entertaining.  And energetic.  And Fergie didn’t piss herself once!  I did almost throw up when Fergie “treated us” to a live performance of “London Bridge” (gag), and almost died laughing when they sang “My Humps,” but overall… it was really fun. 

An alcohol-free pop concert?  Totally high school. 

I continued with the high school theme by heading to CT for the weekend for a house party.  Em’s parents were out of town for the weekend, so we filled her house with about 20 people, a ton of beer and a beer-pong/flip-cup table.  Drunkenness ensued, followed quickly by crazy dancing, wrestling, letterman-jacket wearing and chair-throwing.  And, of course, throwing up in the woods. 

Ah, those high school days.

I used to go out all the time, drinking and dancing almost every night away.  I used to get silly drunk and still be able to wake up in the morning for work.  I used to be able to puke and rally.  I used to be able to get rid of a hangover with some greasy food and flat Dr. Pepper. 

Sadly, those days are long behind me.  And I’ve started telling people that I’m too old to drink all the time, and that I don’t have the energy to go out more than once or twice a week – and forget two nights in a row!  But, I may have counted myself out too soon - turns out I can get drunk two nights in a row!

I spent Friday and Saturday nights drunk as a skunk – three sheets to the wind – totally plowed.  And I loved it.  I loved being silly and dancing and chugging my Stoli Raz and sodas.   And I love that I’m NOT too told for this shit.

After work last Friday, I wandered through Downtown Crossing on a mission to find a knee-length denim skirt that would be appropriate for casual Fridays at work.  While walking down Washington Street, I saw the most amazing thing:

A group of people wearing Target shirts, riding Segway scooters (or something like that) emblazoned with the Target logo.  I was so confused – why were they there?  What were they doing?  Is there a Target coming to Downtown Crossing, and this team was there to build hype?  I can only hope!

(In case you’re wondering, after a two-year search, I found the perfect knee-length denim skirt at The Gap! And it was one of the last ones left in my size – it must be fate!)

** UPDATE: Slave to Target is on the case!  Hopefully someone will have an answer to the mystery of the roving Target-ees! 

I can’t believe it’s been 5 whole days since I posted something!  I know y’all were on the edge of your seats.

I do have an excuse of sorts, though.  I injured myself.  Not horribly, just enough to make typing a pain.  Literally.  What happened, you ask?  Well, it’s the silliest thing….

After working out with DDD on Monday, I was making myself some pasta for dinner.  I boiled the water.  I added the pasta shells.  And I set the strainer down next to the stove.  About 12 minutes later, I put on an oven mitt, took the pot off the burner, and picked up the strainer with my other hand.  Unfortunately, the strainer had been a wee bit too close the stove, and had turned into a whole lot of hot metal.  And I had picked it up with the hand without the oven mitt.

My hand now bears some nasty looking blisters.

I could barely move my hand on Tuesday, and had it slathered up with Neosporin and bandages.  Yesterday was still rough, but I dealt with it.  Today, I was able to take off the bandages and not scare small children, so that’s a step in the right direction, I think.

And thankfully, my typing skills are mostly back.

Dear Comment Spammers,

I have all of, like, 10 regular readers.  Do you really think this is the best place to be advertising your Viagra/penis enhancers/Japanese or Chinese writing?

Just wondering,

Anna

Last night, a male friend of mine went off on a rant about Keira Knightley, and how she’s not hot, and how her teeth are the biggest things he’s ever seen.  Seriously, he talked about her teeth for about 15 minutes.  At first, I tried to see what he was talking about, but then I realized that he’s just crazy.  Keira is so classic!

All I’m saying is that while Keira does need to eat a cheeseburger, anyone that says she’s not hot needs to get their eyes examined.

I spent this past weekend being eaten alive by bugs.  This is what always happens to me when I go to Connecticut.  But I think it was worth it – friends, food, drinks, the beach and pool parties are a great way to spend a summer weekend.  I obviously loved hanging out with my friends and soaking up the sun, but the highlight of the weekend for me?  Drinking champagne (oh, I’m sorry – “Sparkling White Wine”) from a CAN!

Isn’t it CUTE?  And it was yummy too!  Fruity and summery, but not too sweet.  And it came with a tiny bendy straw (which I only used for the first half of the can)!  I wasn’t sure, at first, if I would like champagne from a can, but I have to say that it worked out swimmingly!  No cork to worry about, and just the perfect amount for a glass!  Apparently this sparkling wine, Sofia, is made by Francis Ford Coppola in honor of his daughter – isn’t that sweet? 

Single serving champagne cans.  I sense that they will be filling my fridge soon.