1095 Days of Love

The perfect anniversary is spent wandering around the Philadelphia Art Museum -- falling in love with the paintings, the architecture and your guy, all over again. It's little moments that make your day - singing together in the car - kinda off-key, Illy coffee in 85 degree heat, an Edward Hopper print, sitting on the steps, looking out at Old City and not wanting to be anywhere else in the world.

It's Turkish food in a secluded oasis - cold mezes, rich olive oil, flaky baskets of phyllo and the best falafel in the city. It's being with a guy who indulges your culinary whims, despite being a meat and potatoes man.



It's 500 Days of Summer in the popcorn-scented darkness, the taste of real Coca-Coca, holding hands and developing respective crushes on Zooey Deschanel and Joseph Gordon Levitt. It's parking garage kisses and heat lightning. It's summer storms, giggling in the car and running in from the rain.

It's 1095 days of love and knowing that there are so many more to come.

Happy anniversary, pookie. I love you. Always will.

He's got enough self-esteem issues being a Chihuahua, Mom.

Dan and I were discussing Mark Sanford this morning:

Dan: Did you hear he said this Argentinian woman is his soul mate?
Me: He's a douche. He claims that marriage is sacred and was yelling for Clinton's blood and it turns out, he's doing the exact same thing. There's something very wrong with him.
Dan: I believe him.
Me: You do? You really think this woman is his soul mate?
Dan: Yeah. I mean, what if I had met someone who was nice and pretty and that I got along with just fine...
(At this point, I start thinking, "Oh God! He's talking about me! I'm the nice girl!")
Dan: ....and then, I met you. I couldn't stay with that woman knowing I belong with you.

This proves several things:

A) I have pitiful self-esteem. Seriously.
B) Dan is a lot more diplomatic than I am.
C) Dan is the sweetest guy ever. He wasn't being obsequious or saying this to get brownie points (which are insanely easy to earn with me because I am so damn susceptible to flattery). It was a simple statement of fact akin to water is wet...and that's why it meant so much.

Laughter is the shortest distance between two people.

Dan: I love making you laugh. It's like crack for me.

Apparently, I became quite giggly at the marina bar yesterday. I think it was less the alcohol and more the fact that Dan just happens to be a pretty funny guy.

That'll put marzipan in your pie plate, bingo!

Love is decorating each other's hands with bingo markers (orange and teal -- Go 'Fins!)
True love is terrorist fist jabs.

Who says romance is dead?

I just got the following email from Dan:

"....Don’t worry about me on Christmas morning. As long as I wake up next to my most favorite present.

Love you!

P.S. I’ll be sleeping with my PS3 on Christmas Eve."

Who needs the love of a good woman when you've got a gaming console?

Less Than Three

♥

Congratulations Jake and Steph!!

Jake and Steph
April 19th, 2008

May you be poor in misfortune, rich in blessings, slow to make enemies and quick to make friends. And may you know nothing but happiness from this day forward.

I can't think of two people more made for one another. Love you both. Congratulations!

I Choo-Choo Choose You

After spending two and a half hours rummaging through the greeting card racks at Target and Hallmark, I came to a simple conclusion -- Valentine's Day cards for men suck.

They're schlocky, contrived, ostentatious and last time I checked, men don't really give a shit about pink glitter or black-and-white images of kissing strangers.

That's why I made Dan his Valentine -- A piece of posterboard, a whole mess of construction paper and glue, the requisite sweet, punny Valentine and a far-from-complete litany of reasons why I love the guy so much.




Yes, there's something very elementary-school about making a valentine but I think I'm short enough to get away with it.

So, that's my valentine for Dan and here's my valentine for you. I've always believed that music ≥ love. That notes, chords and melodies can alternately break and heal a heart. That being said, here is a collection of tracks about love that I love. I hope you dig 'em too.

Fourteen For The Fourteenth

1. Falling In Love At A Coffee Shop -- Landon Pigg -- Also known as the song from the diamond commercial. It's lo-fi, very sweet and I don't know a girl who could resist being told that someone is falling in love with her.
2. So In Love -- Curtis Mayfield -- A little 70's soul does a body good...and does two bodies even better.
3. Virginia Moon -- Foo Fighters feat. Norah Jones -- Dave Grohl writes the prettiest ballads and this song is no exception. Sweet and remarkably sexy...but I'd expect nothing less.
4. Paperweight -- Joshua Radin feat. Schuyler Fisk -- Another sweet, lo-fi song about being happy to be in love. That's my favorite part, I think. Just hanging out in bed on the weekends and not wanting anything more in the world.
5. Broken -- Jack Johnson -- Another weekend morning track. A little Jack Johnson, some coffee and pancakes and sunshine streaming in through the window. It's pretty perfect.
6. Diamond Ring -- The Black Crowes -- One of my favorites from the Black Crowes. It captures the euphoria of being in love and that moment when you know you're ready to say, 'I do.'
7. All Day Love Affair -- Cee-Lo -- As you can probably tell by now, I'm not about the sweeping grandiosity of love. I dig the everyday stuff. Like the Soul Machine says, "Nothing compares to waking up this morning to you."
8. The Good Witch of the North -- Everclear -- What's got two thumbs and is a sucker for both Everclear and The Wizard of Oz? This girl. This track gets me every time. Especially the last lines.
9. As You Sleep -- Something Corporate -- When Dan and I were doing the long distance thing, I listened to this song ad infinitum. I remember never wanting to sleep because I considered it time wasted. Now, though? I think I have low-grade narcolepsy. If I'm warm and comfortable and Dan's next to me? Out like a light.
10. Not Fire, Not Ice -- Ben Harper -- Like Harper says, true love is sacrifice and probably the most worthy one you can make.
11. Love You 'Til The End -- The Pogues -- Fun fact about The Pogues? They were originally called Pogue Mahone -- the Anglicization of the Irish póg mo thóin, meaning "kiss my arse." And who says love is dead?
12. Two of Us -- The Beatles -- All love songs don't have to be epic paeans. Sometimes, sweet simplicity will do.
13. Here's Everything I've Always Meant To Say -- Jamison Parker -- I've been called 'cute' my whole life. In fact, think of any adjective you'd assign to a Labrador Retriever and odds are, I've been referred to as such. Then, I met Dan and he called me beautiful and he meant it and more so, I felt it.
14. Wild Horses (Live) -- The Rolling Stones feat. Dave Matthews -- And what would Valentine's Day be without Wild Horses?

When I first discovered this song, I developed a theory to go with it. I call it Aural Custody.

See, when you start dating someone, you invariable have 'your song' and every time you hear it, you get a little misty. But then, catastrophe strikes and you break up! Now, you're stuck with hating a song you once loved because it reminds you too much of your jerk-ass ex.

Luckily, my first ex boyfriend decided that our song should be All My Life by K-Ci and Jojo, so no great loss there.

But then, the dude I dated after that? Our song was I'll Be There For You/ You're All I Need To Get By by Method Man and Mary J. Blige which is actually a really good track. I mean, Marvin Gaye/Tami Terrell interpolation and sick production courtesy of The RZA -- what's not to like? Anyway, after we broke up, I could no longer appreciate this track without thinking of Admiral Dickface and that pissed me off. This is a great song. Why should I have to give it up because of some asshole?

So, I came up with aural custody and the musical pyramid. This way should the worst happen, you don't end up hating a piece of music you really loved.

Yes, I am fully aware that I probably love music more than I love people and I'm OK with that. Like Sapphire said, "They don't even know what it is to be a fan. Y'know? To truly love some silly little piece of music, or some band, so much that it hurts."

Anyway, back to the pyramid:

You start off at the base with some generic love song. Something sweet but relatively harmless. A nice little Dave Matthews track. Crash Into Me, perhaps. Sweet enough that you smile when you hear it, but innocuous enough that you won't have a meltdown in the produce section of the grocery store.

Then, Phase Two -- a little more personal but fairly generic. Glycerine by Bush, maybe? Or Stellar by Incubus (P.S. -- Happy Valentine's Day, ladies and gay gentlemen. The shirtless rockstars are for you).

Phase Three -- More personal, less generic. You're getting serious...but not serious enough to give this person custody of your favorite song. Not yet, anyway. Joshua Radin's cover of Only You is a good choice as is Walking After You by the Foo Fighters.

and finally, Phase Four -- the top of the pyramid. If this was A Link To The Past, you'd be gearing up for a boss battle with Ganon, but you're doing something far more dangerous. You are willing giving custody of something you love to someone else. At this point, you trust them with your heart and more importantly, with your favorite song be it Wild Horses, an Elliot Smith b-side or a Billie Holiday gem.

Happy Valentine's Day, guys! Make it a great one!

Here lies Jaime. She had one love and lots 'o shoes!

I got my shoes for Meme's wedding and they are fabulous.



They're pink, they make me feel tall and pretty and they go perfectly with my favorite black pants.

I love them. I want to run away to Malibu with them. I want to have a pre-breakup Rachel McAdams/Ryan Gosling love affair with them....

What? I really like my new shoes. They're cute.

On a related note, I totally want to watch The Notebook.



I blame the heart-shaped candy. I bought some for Dan, I had one piece today and now, I'm all nuts.

I swear to God, this mix could sink the sun

As mentioned earlier, we're keeping Valentine's Day a fairly lo-fi affair this year, but I'm keeping with our tradition of the Valentine Mix CD.

Only, there's a slight monkey in the machine.

I can't think of what to put on it.

Since we've been together, we've made each other approximately 40 mix CDs. Let's assume each CD contains 16 tracks. 16 x 40 = 640 songs.

640 really good, really thoughtful tracks -- Wild Horses by the Rolling Stones, Sing by Travis, This Old Heart of Mine by the Isley Brothers, Cry Love by John Hiatt, Good Witch of the North by Everclear, Darling, Be Home Soon by Matt Costa...

Amazing music you want to listen to again and again.

I'm looking for music primarily in the rock genre but would also appreciate some really good, old-school soul.

Never underestimate the power of a good soul classic. For example -- last night while I was blow-drying my hair, I heard the strains of Sam Cooke emanating from the bedroom and when I popped my head out, Dan swept me up and we spent the next couple of minutes dancing to You Send Me in the bathroom. What can I tell you? The kid's a romantic.

So, if anyone can recommend some well-written, non-schlocky love songs -- I would really appreciate it.

The songs you would use if you were making a mix CD for someone you loved.

Thanks guys!

P.S.

Andrea -- this one's for you. I figure you'd appreciate it:

The art of Christmas sneakery as done by an expert

Christmas 2007. Dan and I exchange presents.

He goes first. He knows what he's getting. He's known for months. If I didn't tell him, he would have picked up The Simpsons Movie the second it came out and laid waste to my gift idea.

Now, it's my turn.

I gingerly tear off wrapping paper and there, staring me in the face in big white letters are the words, "Build a better resume!"

Huh.How....practical. I mean, it makes sense, right? I'm going to start job-hunting soon and I want my (incredibly meagre) resume to look good.

I look up at my very cute fiance who is smiling at me expectantly.

"Thanks...honey. That's so sweet of you to think about...."

I trail off, not really knowing how to finish that sentence or whether or not I can maintain a false air of happiness.

"Look," Dan explains, obviously oblivious to the fact that his fiance doesn't care for practicality when it comes to gifts. "See, it comes with this great pamphet!"

A pamphlet? I'm supposed to get excited about an effing pamplet?!

He thrusts a flimsy stack of papers at me and smiles. Damn it, he's cute. I half-heartedly rifle through the paper, wondering how you can know someone from the age of fifteen and not really know them at all.

Then, something odd catches my eye. Bold text reading, "Wachovia Center."

I flip to that page and my heart pretty much stops.

Thursday, February 21.
8:00 p.m.
Wachovia Center.

THE FOO FIGHTERS.

I stare at Dan, my mouth agape and he's doing that incredibly cute and incredibly annoying thing with his mouth -- the smile that says, "Ha ha! I gotcha, you sucker!"

"Dude...." I quietly intone while his mom, sister and brother-in-law look at me. The wave breaks and I let out an almighty shriek:

"DUDE! WE'RE SEEING THE FOO FIGHTERS!!"

The family cracks up and engulf Dan in a huge hug. Best. Present. Ever.

Thank God he uses his powers of deception for good and not evil.




In other Christmas-related news, my parents and sister might just be the coolest people ever. Why? Because this is what they got me:

My sister got me Eat, Pray Love by Elizabeth Mitchell. That's not the best part. This is -- she enclosed a note that made reference to her being a "d-bag" and then, signed it 'Sarikaisawesome.'

Indeed.

My parents gift was very, very cool. Most parents use Christmas as a time to eke out sweet little Hallmark moments between them and their kids. My parents wrote me a very nice note telling me how much they missed me and how they hope my first Christmas in PA is a good one...and attached said note to Ego-Trip's Big Book of Racism -- a tome which features the 'Are You A Racist' quiz. Sample question:

It's the annual Puerto Rican Day Parade. Boricuas from all across this great nation with descend upon the Manzana Grande to commemorate:

A) ass
B) Ass
C) ASS
D) AZZ (Boo-yow!)

Yeah. My parents are from the five six ace in the Gunshine State...and it shows.

I hope everyone had a very happy holiday. Tell me all about it!

Love is...

Singing Good by Better Than Ezra together, making up better lyrics and meaning every word of, "It's good living with you...wa-how!"

So...

How was your day?

You're the reason I want to sing
You make me feel like a king
I love the sunshine that you bring
I think I'll buy you a diamond ring
A diamond ring
Baby baby say I do
And I'll spend my life with you

Diamond Ring
The Black Crowes

Show me a woman who's not jealous of another woman, and I'll show you a man.

(Discussing the drinks-from-strangers-in-bars policy now that we're both no longer single)

Dan: If some frat guy bought you a drink, I'd be upset.
Jaime: Why? I get a free drink. I don't have to go home with him.
Dan: Well, how would you feel if some girl bought me a drink?
Jaime: I'd make a necklace out of the bitch's teeth.
Dan (laughing): That's sweet.

Happy anniversary, baby. I love you.

Happy Birthday!

24 Reasons I Adore My Boyfriend:

24. The fact that this will probably mortify him. As similar as we are, in some ways -- we are very different people.
23. His encyclopedic knowledge of minutae. Especially film and TV minutae. It's mind-bogglingly amazing. The guy's a pub quiz champ for a reason.
22. He always opens the car door for me. In the end, it's the little things that really matter.
21. He is gorgeous. When we finally met in person, my first impression of him was, "Wow....he is really good-looking." This was of course, followed by the inevitable, "Oh. This isn't good. This isn't good at all."
20. He makes the world's best grilled cheese sandwiches and french toast. I'd date him based on this alone.
19. He believes in me and thinks I'm a great writer. Coming from a writer I respect so much, that's high praise.
18. He serenades me with everything from Motown Philly by Boyz II Men to The Doors to completely retooled versions of Disney songs (I could be wrong, but I'm fairly sure that A Whole New World from Aladdin never featured lyrics about DJ's boyfriend, Steve).
17. Because even though we've been together for almost nine months, I still get butterflies whenever he calls and thinking about him will still make me smile and blush.
16. He has great taste in music and makes me the best-best-best mix CDs. I have mixes entitled, 'Dear God! Ten Volumes!', 'Eye On Springfield' and 'Now! That's What Dan Calls Christmas.' Tell me that doesn't rule all.
15. He shares his food and lets me eat off his plate (You'd be surprised at how annoying this is to some people).
14. He thinks I'm beautiful. How can you not love a guy who says things like this and actually means them? I've been called cute before. Ditto adorable and precious. Actually, think of any adjective you'd assign to a Labrador Retriever and odds are, I've heard it in reference to me, but beautiful? Never. I've never been told that. Not in a genuine sense, anyway. More in a slap-the-ass-get-me-another-beer-wouldya-thanks-beautiful way. Everyone should feel beautiful at least once in their life and because of Dan, I now know what that feels like.
13. He drives stick. No, that's not a God-awful euphemism. He's got a stick-shift car and according to numerous sources on manliness (primarily Maxim, Esquire and my dad) -- real men drive stick.
12. Despite the fact that driving stick and holding your girlfriend's hand is damn near impossible, he manages it anyway.
11. He always smells great.
10. He inspires me -- to write, to be a better person, to see the ever-evolving beauty this world possesses. Being with him, I'm reminded of how optimistic I was at sixteen. Somewhere along the way, that unabashed optimism got submerged, but now? It's starting to come back and that is a beautiful thing.
9. He indulges my spectacularly crap taste in music. Not many men would put up with their girlfriend belting out off-key versions of old-school Mariah Carey at ear-splitting volumes.
8. He's a great uncle and his niece adores him (His niece, by the way? Smartest child ever. But in a cute way. Not in that pretentious and scary Dakota Fanning way)
7. He's got a huge....wit. What? The kid's funny. He can make me laugh harder with one noise than most comedians can with an HBO special. (Come on now -- did you really think I was going to be so lewd? Ahh, I don't blame you. I would have expected it from myself too)
6. Dating Dan means almost unlimited access to his grey American Eagle hoodie which might just be the most comfortable article of clothing in this world. Ladies, back me up here. No matter how many sweaters and hoodies you own -- the most comfy one always belongs to your boyfriend, right?
5. He introduced Lost, Wawa Iced Tea, Bruce Springsteen's Atlantic City, Black-and-White cookies, Before Sunrise and Before Sunset into my life, thus making it ultimately better.
4. Best. Conversations. Ever. He's intelligent, eloquent, passionate and opinionated. That's why I love this picture of us so much. It perfectly captures exactly how we are together.
3. His 'Gatsby' smile. He's got this amazing smile that reminds me of a line from F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby -- "...and then, his face broke into that radiant and understanding smile, as if we'd been in ecstatic cahoots on that fact all the time."
2. When we kiss, I get weak at the knees and a little dizzy. I used to think that was a myth promulgated by Hollywood and romance novelists to sell tickets and books. I thought wrong.
1. He took the risk, flew 1000 miles and met the Internet Girl. And they'll live happily ever after.

I loved you then. I love you now. I'll love you always.

I've walked a thousand miles to slip into this skin...

I got back from Pennsylvania a little less than a week ago and I've been in two minds whether to blog my experiences or not. On one hand, I blog everything, so it only made sense, but on the other? I wanted to have something that was mine (ours, really). Something that no-one else was privy to.

In the end, my desire for self-publication overwhelmed all. It's the journalist in me. I dig free food and publication. So here's an abridged version of my trip to Pennsylvania. Enjoy!

My flight to Philadelphia was delayed by about two hours and while waiting at the airport, I met quite possibly the world's nicest people. A family from Bryn Mawr, PA and a very sweet lady who used to work for Disney. We started talking and of course, I told them the story of how Dan and I met. I told them about how I had pterodactyls swooping in my stomach at the thought of meeting Dan's mom and sister. I talked about how more than anything, I was just looking forward to linking his fingers in mine and knowing he was that close to me. I talked about how he can make me laugh harder with one raised eyebrow than most people can with a half-hour comedy special.

By the time we landed at Philadelphia International Airport, I was accompanied to the baggage claim by five people very anxious to meet Dan. I guess I talked him up pretty good.

People never cease to amaze me. I had known these people for less than six hours and yet, they were rooting for me to see Dan again and genuinely interested in seeing us reunite. Making connections like that is rare, but it shouldn't be. I'm sure, at point in their lives, they were all as excited as I was about seeing someone they loved. The details might be different, but the emotional experience is essentially the same. It's nice to make that connection with someone. It helps reiterate that at the end of the day, regardless of skin color or sexual orientation or age -- we're all the same.

Having had a couple of airport reunions under my belt, one would assume that I'm a pro. Not the case at all. I saw Dan, I think I gasped and I flung myself into his arms.

We hugged, we kissed, I breathed him in and then, we realized that a gaggle of people were staring at us and smiling. I didn't care, though. I was just thrilled to be talking to Dan without holding a phone up to my ear.

In the car on the way home, I kept glancing to the left, staring at my ridiculously cute boyfriend and repeating, "I'm here. I'm really here." It didn't seem real at all.

Before we got home, though -- we had to make a stop at the infamous Wawa. Now, for those of you who don't reside in the mid-Atlantic states, you probably have no idea what the hell a Wawa is. I certainly didn't and I had been hearing about their glory since I was sixteen. A Wawa is the world's greatest convenience store. They have made-to-order sandwiches, great coffee, amazing iced tea and something called a Sizzli which I think is a breakfast sandwich...but I could be mistaken. In fact, it was at the Wawa that I encountered West Chester's most infamous resident -- Bam Margera. No, I didn't talk to him. No, I didn't take a picture. No, I didn't kick him in the balls. I just looked up, saw he was there and continued paying for my iced tea.

We got home and I met Dan's mom for the first time. Within five minutes of being in her company, all those Mothra-sized butterflies in stomach disappeared. His family is incredible and I am so lucky to have met them.
In addition to being the first time I was seeing Dan in six months, it was also the first time I was seeing snow in 22 years.




















Living in Florida, you get used to three types of meteorological conditions -- hot, not so hot and plywood (as in, hit the Depot and stock up on it because y'all about to get peckerslapped by a hurricane). Snow is a big deal and I was obviously excited by its presence.




















It wasn't snowing on my first full day there, so I improvised and made it snow.



























In addition to snowball fights, snow angels and sledding, the biggest benefit of snow is looking like one of the ice climbers. Seriously. Looking like a video game character is never a bad thing.



























As well as playing in the snow at Oakbourne Manor, we also hit up Baldwin's Book Barn - a five-story barn built into a bookstore.




















































I've got a thing for bookstores and can spend hours poring over texts and tomes. Living in Orlando, you don't really get to see many bookstores that don't have a Starbucks built into them, so this was a pretty cool experience.




















We also hit up the DK Diner -- allegedly a West Chester institution. I loved it -- the service was great, the people were friendly and best of all, the food was delicious.




















I love diner food. Eggs, hash browns, cherry pie, coffee, short stacks of pancakes covered in syrup? Love 'em all...but then again, I'm the girl who would eat a couch if they deep-fried it. Seriously -- I'm a fat girl in a little girl's body just screaming to escape. Look at the mess on my plate. I actually ate that and if I wasn't completely stuffed, I would have gone back for seconds.



























Reason #16549846531316354 I love Dan: He shares his food. Actually he shares everything and since I follow the 'Sharing is Caring' mentality to a severe degree -- this makes me blissfully happy.



























When we weren't eating, we actually did stuff. We drove into Philly one afternoon and checked out Temple University (where my ridiculously cute boyfriend happens to be an esteemed alumnus) and a classic rock art show. Being us, we picked the coldest/stormiest day of my trip to drive into Philly. See how red my nose is? Luckily, we found a killer parking spot right outside of Temple Towers and didn't have to trek too far to see the school.




















While at Temple, we grabbed a slice of Fame's Pizza. See, Dan has this theory that pizza and bagels and stuff suck in Los Angeles because the water's no good. Now, I don't know how much credence this theory holds, but I do know pizza and Fame's was pretty effing delicious....and now, I'm jonesing for pizza. Great.



























After touring Temple, we headed to the classic rock art show put on by 102.9 WMGK. We saw some pretty cool stuff including artwork by Ronnie Wood of the The Rolling Stones and Tico Torres of Bon Jovi, signed photographs, handwritten lyric sheets and best of all -- a gorgeous picture of Stevie Ray Vaughan and First Wife. Beautiful. I loved it.





















The weather was starting to turn ugly, so we decided to head back home. Normally, this would be a 40 minute drive. Instead, it turned into a 2 1/2 hour expedition in which we did not exceed a speed of 30 mph on I-95. Plus side to that? I got to snap this picture of Lincoln Financial Field -- home of the Philadelphia Eagles. I like the Eagles for two reasons:

A) Donovan McNabb. He's a good guy.
B) They hate the Cowboys with an unparalleled passion and take a real pleasure in pummeling them every season. I've got nothing but respect for that.





















When we got back home, Dan had to deal with the highly unpleasant task of shoveling the driveway. The poor guy was chilled to the bone when he got back in, but silver lining? I got a great picture out of it for my photography class. Yes, my boyfriend resembled Frostillicus, but I got a gold star from my professor. You can't tell me that's not a worthy sacrifice.





















As well as spending quality time in Philadelphia, we also decided to take a road trip to the wilds of New Jersey to visit Dan's college roomie, Adam and his girlfriend, Kristen. We stocked up on roadtrip essentials...even though it's only a 2 1/2 hour drive. For a successful roadtrip, one must procure some sort of snacky food (Tasty Kakes are delicious and beat the everloving crap out of Lil' Debby any day), cold beverages, directions and a fully loaded iPod filled with all sorts of eclectic music -- Marvin Gaye, Aerosmith, The Faces, Madonna and so much more.





















Dan's a great guy to road trip with. Not only because he shares his Swedish Fish and Tasty Kakes, but also because he indulges my spectacularly crap taste in music. Not many men would put up with their girlfriend belting out off-key versions of old-school Mariah Carey at ear-splitting volumes. In addition to this, he serenades me. I'm not talking about wobbly renditions of pablum like I Swear. I'm talking an anthemic, fist-pumping, passionate version of Motown Philly by Boyz II Men. Never has a song with a lyric about cheese steak sounded so good.





















Ah, New Jersey. Despite what I've heard, I didn't smell anything funny and no-one called me a 'douchebag' on arrival. I think this place gets an unfairly bad rap. Besides, how can a place that gave birth to both Frank Sinatra and Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle possibly be bad?





















While in Jersey, we hit up Jay and Silent Bob's Secret Stash. All they need is a couple of couches, a few flat-screen TVs, some XBoxes and pizza and this place would be a 14-year-old's wet dream....and by 14-year-old, I mean me. Dear God, I am such a nerd. In addition to seeing a replica of the Bluntmobile, we also saw Banky's famous sketch of Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, the male-affectionate, easy to get along with, non-political agenda lesbian and the man-hating, angry as fuck, agenda of rage, bitter dyke. We stood in front of it for about ten seconds before reciting the line, "Because the other three are figments of your fucking imagination!" at the same exact time. Yeah -- Dan and I are definitely made for each other.





















My boyfriend looks kinda like Brodie Bruce. So much so that he dressed up as him for Halloween one year. I'm not going to post those pictures, but here's a shot of Brodie at the Secret Stash.





















Since it was St. Patrick's Day, we decided to hit up an Irish pub for dinner and then we realized something -- it was St.Patrick's Day and it would probably be easier to get Paris Hilton to stop flashing her chocha than it would be to get a table at any Irish pub. So instead, we settled on a classic -- Applebee's. Burgers and beer -- what's not to love? Thanks again to Adam and Kristen for the hospitality. I had a great time hanging out with you guys and hope I get to see you again soon!





















All in all -- it was a great trip and one filled with firsts. First time traveling on a plane by myself, first time meeting my boyfriend's parents, first time spending a birthday with Dan (best. birthday. ever.) and first time visiting three states in a thirteen day period (Pennsylvania, Delaware and New Jersey). It was perfect and I can't wait until we see each other again (38 days!).

Love ain't for the faint of heart

Happy Valentine's Day.

You gave me the best mixtape I have...

I spent the better part of tonight working on this:



Silly really, but doing stuff like this makes the long-distance thing easier.

Ditto making mix CDs. Since we've been together, he's made me about twelve mixes (eleven of which I got for Christmas and still haven't gotten all the way through) and I've made him thirteen.

I put a lot of effort into my mix CDs and fully adhere to Hornby's axiom:

To me, making a tape is like writing a letter — there's a lot of erasing and rethinking and starting again. A good compilation tape, like breaking up, is hard to do. You've got to kick off with a corker, to hold the attention (I started with "Got to Get You Off My Mind," but then realized that she might not get any further than track one, side one if I delivered what she wanted straightaway, so I buried it in the middle of side two), and then you've got to up it a notch, or cool it a notch, and you can't have white music and black music together, unless the white music sounds like black music, and you can't have two tracks by the same artist side by side, unless you've done the whole thing in pairs and...oh, there are loads of rules.

There's got to be balance, there's got to be some semblance of eclecticism (even if you're making a mix dedicated to a single artist, you can mix it up a little by including a couple of live tracks and some really tasty covers) and every good mix should inspire at least one, "Oh my God! I love this song!" moment -- either from a forgotten gem or from a breath of fresh air.

I'm really proud of the mix I'm working on right now. It's a Valentine's mix -- lots of honeyed acoustic guitars (Stevie Ray Vaughan, Jack Johnson), twinkle-toed pianos (Something Corporate, Butch Walker) and the requisite sonic surprises (Queen, Big Bad Voodoo Daddy).

One of my favorite quotes about writing comes from German novelist Thomas Mann. He said, "A writer is a person for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people."

As a writer, I could pen a thousand pages, telling Dan how I feel. How he makes me feel. I could wrack my brain and come up with anapestic analogies and indelible imagery.

But you know what? None of it would ever sound as good or make as much sense as, "Wild horses couldn't drag me away."

Six little words would completely K.O. anything I could ever write.

And God, do I love that.

That's the beauty of the mixtape. Mixtapes, like love, make poets of us all.

The Story of Us

Nine years ago, a Yahoo! search changed my life.

This was before IMDB and WikiPedia, so if you wanted information -- you had to be a little more creative to find it. I typed in 'Kevin Williamson' into the search engine and one of the hits lead to a website. Nothing spectacular -- a biography, a filmography and a couple of photographs. Though simple, I was impressed by the passion poured into the project, so I did something rather uncharacteristic -- I emailed the webmaster.
He responded and we started communicating via email. In addition to a respect for Williamson, we also discovered we had a lot in common:

We were both 15 (born a day and a month apart).
We both adored the Back To The Future trilogy to near-fanatical proportions.
We were both going through the American high school experience and trying to figure out why nice girls and guys finish last.

Thanks to AOL Instant Messenger, we had some amazing conversations and our friendship grew. Despite our similarities, the idea of pursuing a romantic relationship never occured to either one of us. He had his life, I had mine and the notion of these two very separate lives ever intersecting was pretty unfathomable.

Life interjected as it tends to do and we lost touch for a little while, but whenever we did catch a spare moment and the chance to catch up again -- the conversation would pick up where we left off and was always effortless.

Then, earlier this year, I switched cell phone providers and found myself with a new phone number. I sent out an email informing friends and family of the change and accidently, sent the form email to Dan as well. He responded in kind and not soon afterwards, we began talking on the phone.

As expected, the conversation flowed completely naturally, often ending due to dying cell phone batteries. A few months later, he started batting around the idea of visiting Florida and asked if he could crash at my place. I agreed and we arranged an actual, physical meeting.

I was a nervous wreck at the airport. Hummingbirds were loop-de-looping in my stomach and my hands were carved from fault lines. What if we didn't get along in person? What if he thought I was a complete idiot? What if our quirky chemistry worked on the phone and online but not face-to-face? However, all these fears effaced the moment I saw him walking up. I ran towards him (spilling a scalding latte all over my hand in the process) and gave him a hug.

Less than six hours after he landed, we were sitting at the Hard Rock Bar at CityWalk. I can't remember what he said, but I remember thinking, "I could fall in love with this guy." Startled by this revelation, I shoved it aside, but stuff like that doesn't stay buried for too long.


The next night, we found ourselves laying eye-to-eye in my room. The tips of our noses were practically touching and I was feverishly hoping that he'd throw caution to the wind and just do it. I waited. I waited some more and then, being blessed with a reckless, impetuous nature, I took the plunge and kissed him softly, sweetly and squarely on his mouth. A few seconds later, the reality of my actions hit me and I broke away. I started to apologize for being so rash, but I only got as far as, "I'm..." before he kissed me. A real kiss -- one that makes you feel like you're dissolving into molecules. One that makes you feel like every fiber of your being is comprised of the bubbles in a champagne flute. It was the most incredible kiss I've ever experienced in my life....and it scared the hell out of me.

That kiss amplified the voice in my head that had been growing exponentially louder and louder since being in the Hard Rock Bar. With each subsequent kiss [and there a few], the voice grew louder and louder until it was shouting inside of me like a barful of noisy drunks at happy hour.

The entire next day, I tried to keep it under lock and key. I didn't just want to blurt out what I felt...and of course, that's exactly what I ended up doing.

Before my eyelids fluttered shut for the night, I wished Dan sweet dreams, a good night's sleep and I told him, between yawns, that I loved him. Then, I promptly fell asleep. Five minutes later, the severity of my actions finally caught up to my sleep-addled brain and jolted out of my somnolent slumber. I denied saying it at least a hundred times -- how could I have done this? I spent all day walking on eggshells and biting back my tongue. I had probably terrified this poor guy. He was taking the first flight back to Philly. Oh God, he probably thinks I'm a lunatic. Then, he asked me if I meant what I had said and I couldn't lie -- I did. I was falling completely in love with him.

I guess in my panic and my frantic rush to do damage control, I didn't hear him say he loved me too.

We call it 'density' -- George McFly's nervous mispronunciation of 'destiny' and it knocks me out every time I think about it.

What if Dan had never made that website? What if I had never emailed him? What if he had never emailed me back? What if we hadn't continued talking after our initial contact? What if I hadn't accidently emailed him my phone number? What if he had never come to visit?

A guy that I randomly emailed when I was fifteen ended up being the best thing that's ever happened to me.

It sounds like something out of a movie...and when you take into account who we are and how it all started -- well, that's just perfect.