At first it was quite easy. When you’re too sick to do much aside from sleep, eat oranges, and watch endless re-runs of Pushing Daisies you don’t worry much about the outside world.
Eventually the vitamins and Buckley’s kicked in and I was ready to crawl out of my colourful basement. My first night out I followed Meghan to the famed El Mo to see a band I‘d never heard of. Meghan is extremely trustworthy in such matters, and did not disappoint. It seems that the best bands these days only need two people.
I’m still a new kid at work, which translates to a terrible work schedule. I work strange and silly hours and call Monday/Tuesdays my Saturday/Sundays. The only way you get your friends out on Monday/Tuesdays is to make them food.
Some are a little better with their chopsticks than others, which is quite entertaining.
There was also that night I went to my first work party. I’d heard rumours of parties past that involved broken doors and other stories that should probably remain secret. I knew what to expect, and yet, there is something about seeing your boss drunk that never gets old. I enjoyed all the blushing and shy smiles around the airport the next morning when everyone seemed to be avoiding memories of the night before.
And in keeping with one of my favourite traditions I returned to the Hotel Mogelonsky to enjoy my gentile status at the Passover dinner. Obama was so kind as to keep us entertained during traffic. I knew I was making the right decision when I brought him back from Hawaii.
There are so many pretty things at the Hotel Mogelonsky, lucky me, I got to play with the shoes.
Chocolate matzah never tasted so good.