I think my blog is officially retro. I mean, that’s how long it’s been since I last posted. I mean, the last time I updated this thing Betty White was just an aspiring actress and these sweaters were cool the first time around.* Between lack of blogspiration (which I do admit sounds a tad bit more about moisture than I’m intending it to be) and that ever continuing force called life, this bad boy just kind of fell to the wayside.
Have no fear though, I have no intention of letting this post disappoint. However, just writing that sentence fills me with intense feelings of expectation. Like a show pony that can’t do tricks on command or a porn star that can’t perform under pressure. I’d say my feelings are a mix of the two but I can’t help notice that the hybrid looks a hell of a lot like a donkey show and that’s not really the picture I was trying to paint. I digress.
So where have I been? Well for starters, there was that trip I made to the Holy Land. No, not Loehmann’s, but the actual Holy Land, that strip of primarily desert, the size of New Jersey, nestled nicely in between the world’s most hostile geographic locations, known for falafel and an abundance of over-protective Jewish mothers. Indeed, I took a trip to Israel, and unlike the aforementioned adult entertainment actor, it did not disappoint.
I met 36 awesome Americans, 7 incredible Israelis, and…a Canadian. I strongly contemplated an individual post solely recapping the events of that trip but much like a shell-shocked Vietnam vet, I don’t think I can ever discuss what I saw and experienced over there. I’m awakened nightly with nightmares of erections at Kibbutzim, orifices burning from hypersaline bodies of water, finding shawarma in my adventure sandals and basic survival kit, or getting double-teamed by a man named Irad and an overzealous falafel shop keeper. Until I’m ready, I’ll continue to drown my sorrows in Honey Pepper vodka, involuntarily shudder at the mention of Ukrainian airline ‘Aerosvit’, and hibernate in my urban apartment with a constant loop of Matisyahu and Infected Mushroom blaring through my speakers.
Though I returned from my overseas adventure nearly three weeks ago, I’m pretty sure I didn’t really feel the effects of my uncharacteristic lifestyle until this weekend, where I slept for an ungodly amount of time. Perhaps the one thing I’ll truly forever treasure from my time in Israel was my ability to not only function, but engage in feats of athleticism like nature walks and dancing on top of Tel Aviv’s bars while severely sleep deprived and legally intoxicated for ten days straight. I’ll think fondly of those days as I return to my 9pm bedtime and four day hangover from an extended lingering glance at a bottle of liquor.
Strangely enough, summer completely ended while I was abroad. One of my last posts included a description of D.C.’s sweltering heat, likening it to testicles. Well the current weather could also be described with a simile involving balls, only this time, it’s so damn cold said balls are shriveling up and retracting. I don’t know about you, but I smell a future in meteorology, as the first weather forecaster to project weather systems using only the groin area as points of comparison.
Regardless of the weather, I forced myself to go for my first official autumn run to both combat the case of falafel gut I’ve been sporting, as well as jump back into the training I’ve neglected terribly for a Halloween weekend 10K. It was rough, but the cool weather was far more conducive to hitting a stride than the 150% humidity wall I’d been working with the past few months. The whole experience made me feel so fall-like, I didn’t even hit next on my iPod when a rogue Christmas tune (*NSYNC Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, if you must know) interrupted my Ellie Goulding dance party. I also went and stocked up on cold-weather goodies at the grocery store, which will clearly bite me in the ass as soon as the temperature goes back up later this week. Either way, I’m glad to wish the summer of swamp ass adieu.
But truly the highlight of my last few weeks? Meeting this guy:
I’m under strict orders not to talk about him anymore, as my obsession is nearing Jennifer Lopez movie-level escalation, but I would like to point out that while some may see this photo as simply a favor to a fan, I’d prefer to see the way I fit perfectly into the crook of his shoulder as foreshadowing. Just sayin’.
*Which reminds me: a big ‘fuck you’ to whomever made them cool again, attribution I can only assume goes to fashion’s biggest influencers, either Anna Wintour or Suri Cruise.