Picture Update

Rachel from (possibly) Pennsylvania and Peter from Colorado

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Okay, so I've still been really bad about taking pictures.  I promise to get better.  And it has nothing to do with the persistent nagging by my readers, but for my own want of tangible memories.  Either way, I have included two pictures in this post.  The first is the only not-blurry picture I took at the Moth Story Slam on Monday night.  The theme of the slam was witness, which was kind of a difficult one.  But it started off on a high note with stories of a teleprompter flub; a spoon drawer consisting of three Mormons: a brother, sister, and brother's crush; American's joining a kamikaze sing-a-long in a Japanese shanty bar; and so on.  But things went down hill after intermission.  Some drunk girl attempted to tell a story about--no, I'm not even going to try to tell you what came out of her mouth because it made absolutely no sense.  I almost booed her, that is how bad she was.  And then there was a guy trying to be cool giving us a rehearsed story of his drug-crazed, whore-filled trip to Mexico, and it ended with something about a donkey?  Don't ask, I'm not exactly sure.  There was a possibly crazy man who may or may not have been on the cover of TIME Magazine, talking about Nixon.  Let me remind you, he may have possibly been crazy.  And the rest were duds.  The upside: the host of the night, or hostess rather, was Sara Barron.  And she was friggin hysterical!  I kept waiting for the stories to be over so I could hear her filler stories.  You can look her up if you want.  And you'll probably want to look up "spoon drawer" on urban dictionary.  So I guess that sums up my Moth experience.  I'll probably go again and hope that the douche-bag drunk girl doesn't come back. 

This next picture is of Amy and I waking up in a Australian boy's bed in Harlem.  

No I am not lying to you, that is the truth.  Daniel (I think I previously mentioned him) lives in Harlem with another Australian chum, and he made dinner for Amy, Monica and myself.  His roommate was not home that night, and Monica did not feel well.  So instead of taking the train home, we just slept there.  He slept in the living room, in case you were wondering... because the bed could not fit the four of us.  There is not much of a story there.  We ate dinner and jammed to some 90s music, because I'm pretty sure Australia is stuck in the 90s.  His favorite song is "Don't Let Go" by En Vogue.  Again, not lying.  Oh, Sunday morning though, Monica and I were really craving some soul food.  I said that I would settle for either chicken and waffles or biscuits and gravy.  We were out of luck though, not because there was a lack of chicken and waffle places but because NOTHING is open in Harlem on Sundays. So we settled for bagel sandwiches.  We will be returning for some delicious soul food though.

Oh and lastly, I have a small favor to ask of my readers.  I have an interview on Monday for a possible internship and I'm currently waiting to hear back about a job.  So keep me in your prayers.