I Am Employed

This weekend, DM pointed out to me that I *do* have a job this summer. Your job, she says, is Working It. I think she was referring to my, um, social schedule, which has been unusually full lately, and thus is starting to feel like employment. Her commentary (which was and is hilarious, btw.) took place on the 8:05 am NJ Transit train to Little Silver, Saturday morning.

Friday was supposed to be an early night, but I had a somewhat traumatic date (details to follow), that I needed to analyze afterwards with MM and a large jug of white wine on her roofdeck. I would add that I sampled her miracle acne treatment cream while I was there, and thus walked home through my busy neighborhood with large spots of white medication all over my face. MS was on his way home from Ray's Pizza, and when I went downstairs to chat with him for a few minutes, took one look at me, cracked up, and asked what the fuck was all over my face.

The next thing I knew, I was climbing into bed at 3:30 am, and setting my alarm clock for 6:45. Blurg.

The beach, however, was a welcome retreat from the city, and aside from another traumatic experience with NJ Transit later that day (details to follow), Saturday was lovely.