but can she bake a cherry pie?

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ahoy, matey
Wednesday, Nov. 28, 2007

Now Playing - sports radio, from The Huz's bathroom.
Now Eating - I just told you!
Now Feeling - tired.
Now Tweeting - Melanie


I am having Marshmallow Lovers Swiss Miss and Chips Ahoy right now, with a side of nostalgia.

Six million years ago, the summers after my freshman and sophomore year in college, I worked at Stagedoor Manor. The second summer I had moved up in status and had my own room. Well, two rooms. The first was among the techies, in what had been the staff wing of the former Catskills hotel the camp occupied. It was about 5' wide by 12' long, and had a sink by the door. A sink which at one point backed up and spewed sewage in a four-foot circle around it.

I got my room changed.

I was then on the third floor, with a window that was directly in front of the loudspeaker. It sounds like something out of Meatballs, doesn't it? Actually, I liked to think of them as my Dirty Dancing summers, except without the sex.

*sigh*

Anyway.

[That was also the summer I nearly pulled an Isadora Duncan at one of the local bars, when a scarf I was wearing got caught in a fan they were using to cool down the place. Luckily someone pulled the plug.]

Anyway, Chips Ahoy.

The loudspeaker would wake us up every morning around 8, but I was already long awake by then. In order to get a hot shower, I'd be up by 6:30 at the latest, which for me is a minor miracle. So I'd shower and then go back to bed for a bit, before I had to teach my first period dance class. The kitchen was Kosher, and usually unappealing. Many's the time my friends (this guy among them) and I would show up for lunch only to find something thrilling like blintzes as the only dish on the menu, then quickly pile into my car to head to the local Pizza Hut. So given the menu and my status as a non-morning person, breakfast was usually a mug of iced coffee (except on the mornings where it was cold enough to see my breath) and a handful of Chips Ahoy from the bag I kept stashed in my dresser.

Ah, cookies for breakfast. Of all the things I've lost, I miss my metabolism the most.


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