Friday. Saturday. Sunday.

Friday.

On Friday night I met my friend HR at the Goodwill down the street where we found ton of stuff but were turned away at the dressing room (the dressing room closes at 7:30- have you ever heard of such a thing?!). I tried on a skirt over my clothes in between the isles like a fool, but it didn't fit. Humph.

Then we went to the Fulton Grand to sit outside for beers while discussing underground volunteerism and the intricacies of Groupon. We went to Hill Cafe to split appetizers and sit outside by the glow of a citronella candle. We talked gender roles and weddings. Before we parted ways, we ran into AP outside the cafe on her way to buy carrot cake supplies. I just love Brooklyn. I stopped over to watch an episode of Friday Night Lights with KS while AP shredded carrots and listened to opera. I went home around midnight before my metaphoric coach turned into a metaphoric pumpkin. 

Saturday.

Saturday morning I woke up to weekend construction workers singing Garth Brooks to their radio outside my bedroom window. There is something about hearing a bunch of busy Mexicans belting out "The Dance" that really motivates a person to get out of bed. I got up, made my bed, and did all those semi-productive Saturday errands. Then I got a text message from a former co-worker that I ran into last week, and she asked if I wanted to go to the Afro Punk Festival that afternoon. I thought about it for a second, and then obviously, I said, "Yes!" We met at the York stop off of the F train, and walked to Commador Berry Park to get our Afro punk on.

Our first stop was the beer garden where we filled each other in on what is new in both our lives. NS gave me the skinny on everything that has (and hasn't) changed at Zoni, and she reminded me of all the adventures, stresses, and surprises that happen within the bright blue painted walls of the language school. Post-Heinekens, we walked around to the different stages, people watching and music listening. We checked out the vendors, and NS had a gourmet grilled cheese while I had my first Dough's doughnut. Whoa.

We walked toward a gathered group of afro punk enthusiasts and watched a skateboarding competition as we stood on the slanted skateboard platform. We cheered as the only female competitor, a girl named Pocahontas with vans and a fro, repeatedly beat the boys on her jumps and refused help up when she fell. She was my hero. 

We watched some bike stunts too and a graffiti artists tag a side of a wall. We had more beer, listened to more music, and spotted a polo-shirt and white jeans-wearing Indian man wearing 4 inch studded platform heels. 

I have never wanted to have an afro more in my entire life.

We left before Erykah Badu went on stage, before the swarms of New Yorkers trampled the otherwise laid-back vibe, and before I ran out of money. I went home and ate cinnamon graham crackers while watching Mad Men in bed. At 9:00 I put on a party dress, grabbed my Brooklyn vodka, and headed to Park Slope for a One-Year-in-NYC apartment party at LJK's place. I drank pink lemonade and vodka and talked with friends, new and old, about the unrealistic nature of the entertainment industry and the benefit of having a lot of mirrors in your bedroom (apparently). 

At 2am, WL and WA and I walked along Dean street toward our respective Brooklyn abodes. We held hands, and WA played us this song on his iphone while WL's cringed at the C-word. We almost got ran over running across the street as WA squealed and yelled "YOLO". We survived, but it was irony at its finest. We giggled and it was wonderful.

Sunday.

Sunday morning I woke up with a post-vodka aversion to light and sound, but I pulled myself together and went to the laundromat for the first time in my life. It was a bit overwhelming-so many spin cycles!- and not at all as romanticized as I imagined it to be. There were no hot men who wanted to fold clean clothes with me.

While my clothes swirled, I met KS at The Outpost for coffee and conversation. I decided it's my new favorite Brooklyn spot, and it's only a block away. We went back and put my clothes in the dryer and then went exploring the neighborhood. We found a thrift shop on the corner, and we tried on ridiculous clothes while creepy men stood creepily close to the dressing room. We didn't buy anything but walked back to the laundromat to get my clean threads. (Does anyone call them threads anymore??) I went home and had a much needed phone date with TBK, and I got excited for Husker season and sad to be so far away. I napped and later KS came over to watch more Friday Night Lights.Tammy and Coach Taylor know real love, you know?

I fell asleep exhausted but totally satisfied on my busy/lazy/outside/inside/home/homesick kind of weekend. And now a new weekend begins again! Who knows what will happen..