They Could Walk...If It's Not Too Deep

On a note that is completely unrelated to this post, I am laying on my bed in front of the fan that I bought for $5 on Craigslist (only took me a cumulative 350+ blocks on the subway to get to it!), and it is glorious. I found out my apartment doesn't have air conditioning, but Craiglist always supports me when times get tough. Craig would never leave me sweaty and uncaffeineted. Right now I'm in the middle of a search for a free haircut, ride to Richmond, and, uh, job. Let's see how long the Craigslist gravy train lasts, WHEE!

Anyways, this past weekend I headed back to the great commonwealth (sic semper "state") of Virginia to visit Thomas, which was a spectacular time. The Pearces are a fun bunch, and even Luke, Thomas' 9-month-old nephew (he spent a solid amount of time reminding the family to call him Uncle Thomas, not Uncle Thom), was delightful. Also, Bettie is SCHMADORABLE,

and the cave was glorious:

A TV, an XBOX, and two computers. Tiny Computer's keyboard controls the larger computer but has its own screen? I don't know, I gave up on trying to figure out the NASA HQ set up. You can see Arrested Development playing on the TV. which became the theme of the weekend. Porter House threw an AD-themed PARTAY, so how else would we get in character and prepare for the festivities besides watching the entireties of seasons one and two? It was really and truly the only viable solution. The party was awesome, and everyone was in fine form:

THE CAST:

Rita and GOB. "He takes his queen, and covers her in diamonds! Clubs. Club sauce! He covers her in club sauce."

Another GOB (though less illusionist-y) and George Michael. Not pictured are the tube socks which were a great touch. Also, Labant looks like he's wearing a party hat which is just incredible.

Anne, GOB, and George Michael. GOD KNOWS THEY'RE SQUINTERS.

GOB, Rita, and Anne, discussing the Ocean Walker and illusions. "Across from where?"

Someone Whose Name I Didn't Catch as Tobias Funke after he blue himself. Brilliant. That is the kind of dedication we here at Peripatetic Peanut applaud and award.

I also got to see Zoe, Steph, and Janet, who were kind enough to let us crash at their apartment Friday and Saturday night. We baked too many "chocolate chip flavored cookies," hit up Eastern Market:

Friends! Zoe was all about that lemonade, and I've never seen someone locate a food more quickly and efficiently than Thomas seeking out blueberry and Nutella crepes. Moth to the light.

and wandered through Chinatown and the National Portrait Gallery. This is a portrait of...the United States? Whatever it is, I'm excited about it SURPRISE SURPRISE:

Janet was not as excited, although I'm sure on the inside she was brimming with joy and sunshine and gumdrop bubbles:

As you can see, I was not ready to leave by the time Sunday rolled around:

Hi, I'm caving in a leopard print Snuggie and yesterday's clothes, please come again.

Gift of the Craigslist Magi

The City is looking deceptively like the District right now:

1) I'm currently sitting at my desk at work, browsing news sites and Wiki articles in an attempt to kill time because I finished my tasks too quickly, which was what I did almost every day at NPPR, essentially twiddling my thumbs and filling my mind with interesting, though useless, trivia until the last two hours, when I would start and finish that month's newsletter. Not complaining though. New York Magazine's recap of Gossip Girl episodes have proven hysterical. There are worse things in life than getting paid to brush up on pop culture...

2)...by way of broken escalator, er, stairs, at the 34th street subway exit. Who does the F train think it is, the Red Line? New Yorkers seem much better at taking public transportation, but I've never seen such incompetence at handling a faulty escalator. "Wait, do I have to...walk up this? What's happening? I guess I'll just stand at the base and ponder my next move while half the city piles up behind me." So I spent the morning fighting Escalefters-by-default*...

3)...whilst tending to a 12-cup coffee pot, which I found for free on Craigslist (I am hopelessly in love with Craigslist and I can't see myself acquiring goods and services through any other means ever. My next hunt is for a fan, since apparently my apartment isn't air conditioned, and a free haircut so I can donate my hair to the oil spill) after yet another burdensome adventure to Williamsburg. Is Williamsburg's inaccessibility part of its allure? Do hipsters flock there because it's difficult to reach, or is it difficult to reach as part of a hipster-quarantine campaign? FEDORAS ARE CONTAGIOUS. DO YOUR PART. AVOID THE G TRAIN. But anyways, I now have this coffee pot that I decided to bring to work so I could have free coffee 24/7 (well, 7/4) and share it with coworkers and have the popular, caffeine-doling cubicle, but there are no outlets around me and National Properties won't respond to my email about obtaining a power strip and oh my god this desperate caffeine deprivation reeks of Fall 2009.

I came so prepared, too! Coffee and filters included. Ain't she a beauty?

FOR SARAH. DAMN STRAIGHT. So right now I'm just kind of staring at my unsuable coffee pot...

4)...while enjoying a Georgetown cupcake, courtesy of Madison, who visited this weekend. It's technically from Thursday but it's refrigerated and banana-chocolate-chippy and delicious and age is just a number.

It's been great having visitors so often, because it's forced me to get out and explore New York. There are so many opportunities and events going on, but they're only so fun when you're on your own. In only three short weeks, I've turn up SoHo nightlife and Central Park picniclife with Sarah, hung out in Carroll Gardens and Alphabet City + a visit to the American Museum of Natural History with Thomas, ventured through Williamsburg and Chelsea for some serious thrifiting with Madison, and even grabbed some midnight tea in Park Slope with Jonathan, who stopped by on his way to Providence, RI. Unfortunately, my cultural event of the night is an adventure to the Laundromat. Oh boy! I've been watching a lot of Mad Men lately because a) I've had a lot of down time after work, b) it's set about 5 blocks away from my office and c) it's a great show, but it's made me kind of want to be a housewife who wears A-line skirts and pastel-colored blouses and has perfect January Jones hair, but then I remember how bad I am at laundry/how awful I would be at motherhood:

"Mom, my white shirt is pink! And it shrunk!"

"Not now, Jimmy, Mommy is trying to watch Gossip Girl. Now run along and make me a Manhattan."

*MTA subway escalators are only wide enough for one person, so you can only move as past as the person in front you. New York has not yet received the memo that while escalators move, you can also walk up them too. It's not hard, people.