You didn't hear it, you didn't see it, you won't say nothing to no one never in your life what you know is the truth.....

So Ivy came for the weekend, I was nervous so got very drunk at the Oyster Bar at Grand Central waiting for him. The bartender had my back though, and didn't let too many creepy older guys buy me drinks, and gave me lots of water and stuff. Still, by the time he arrived, I had enough under my belt to make me giggle the entire subway ride home in my new camel fur coat (its cute! its UNDERSTATED, which is a new one for me). Yesterday I woke up and the boy had bought us groceries. GROCERIES. If you have never been to my bushwick apartment, you know what a big deal that is. Usually our fridge is empty except for some peanut butter and jelly (sebastion's), hummus (steve's), and leftover alcohol (mine). Ivy bought pb+j, bread, chips ohoy cookies AND oreo cereal (wtf?) as well as two things of soda and huge bacon egg and cheese sandwiches, one for me and one for steve+max. We went to Cobble Hill and saw "Lets go to Prison", which unforunately sucked donkey balls, and I took him to that place in Carroll Gardens which I'm convinced makes the best pizza in the city.
Then we went home and watched FIVE HOURS of battlestar galatica. I'm not even joking. FIVE FUCKING HOURS. Have you guys ever seen me sit still for five minutes, let alone five hours? We are such losers.
We did take a break to go downstairs and prep Karelisa (Ivy calls her K-mack, so I just have taken the liberty of calling her K-fed) on her craigslist date and smoke a bowl. Than back to Battlestar. The new version, none of that seventies shit for us. It was really intense. And depressing. But very cool and GODDAMN that Cylon chick is hot.

And so it Starbuck. And Boomer. And hell, those names are just so cool too.
By the time I was falling asleep at one am, I realized I missed eight calls; a couple from Chris saying he was having a gallery opening and since I was in some of the pics could I come? (oops!), and Brian Kaplow, who was apparently downstairs half the night with Becca Fuches and some kids he lived with in White Lakes. So Ivy fell asleep and I went and chilled with those kids, had some hot hard cider and then went to sleep.
This morning he left and I was sad, but then I went to Snack Town and ran into Casey, my handsome, gap-toothed neighbor, and we talked about Maya Derin and Buenel and shit and it doesn't matter that I can't spell the name of the pretentious directors I like, and since I won't even take the time to look it up, I think it represents something about how I'm lazy but ALSO rebellious against pretension. Or something.
I had an awesome dream on friday that i thought was a nightmare, but on waking decided it was probably a good concept. Stephen King had this live tv show where metal bands would play and rock out, and be judged by an audience of their peers. If they sucked, they were strapped down to a table and molested by hot chicks. If they managed not to get a boner, they won, and like got a prize or something. If they DID get a boner, their brain was sucked out through their ears and a turtle was replaced in their skulls. It eventually turned out the show was rigged, because the audience was composed of cops and Rebuplicans PRETENDING to be metal dudes, just so they could boo the acts off the stage and protect the general public from the violent influences of metalmania. I was trying to convince Stephen King that the whole concept was hackneyed and he was way past his prime with the cell-phone zombie things, but upon waking and reflection, wouldn't that game show kind of be awesome? Like American Idol, but metal, and sometimes the dudes would die and get a turtle in their skull. Can't get much more fucking hardcore than that. Or maybe I just hate metal. Yea, that's mostly it.
When Brian was needling me to come downstairs he was like "dreeeeew, stop boning some skinny, artsy hipster fag and get down here!" and I just had to laugh at how WRONG that assumption was. Ivy looks like someone who'd be a ship mechanic on one of those space shows, or maybe Starship Troopers. I've never seen a human being where a wife-beater so well in my life. He def. needs a gun rack. GodDAMN. Its weird, how we are like, not the same type of person at all and under regular circumstances (whatever THOSE are) we probably wouldn't give each other the time of day, but since he happened to be in my bar the night I was working and we happened to hit it off.....sometimes it doesn't take more than that. We like each other and can talk in movie quotes, so I guess everything else is sort of secondary.
Im reading Kafka on the Shore. Its very good so far. I think i will go home to DE for thanksgiving, then go to Philly for a couple days to visit Ricardo, Meg, and uh....I guess whoever's in philly that I still get along with.
A very short list...Emily G, you gonna be around?