SAVE THE BOOBIES!!!!
Um, yeah. I’m just a little excited about boobiemonth.
Open your wallet, grab your camera, and give ‘till it hurts. It’s boobie saving time!
What started as a joke of sorts between some friends a few years ago became an interweb phenomena… Now, it’s grown up into a serious fundraiser for both Komen and whatever “Bloggers Helping Bloggers” charity has been chosen. (You can read all about it on the official site. - Main page is ALWAYS SFW.) The rules are simple - you can see boobies for free, you can donate, or you can donate more and gain access to the Pay-Per-Boobie area.
PLEASE NOTE: This has always been light-hearted. It is NOT exploitation. It is NOT soft-core pr0n. If it offends you, go find something else to do with your time. Me, I’m going to make a big fatty donation in Momma P’s name like I do every year. And maybe show some skin… you never know.
rowboats :: perkin’s cove, ogunquit, me :: sometime in 2002
Although I work in Maine and have to cross the “Bridge over the River Pi” (as my dad used to call it) every day, it still feels weird not to spend a week on Short Sands Beach.
I can eat at my favorite restaurant, can take even more pix of the Nubble Light, go to Brown’s for ice cream and travel to Ogunquit whenever I want. And I take advantage of that. Sometimes. Perkin’s Cove and the Marginal Way is forever linked with my father in a way that time has not been able to dull. I can eat at BCH and do the Nubble (& Brown’s on the way back)... but when I walk the Marginal Way, I honestly don’t feel like I’m walking around alone.
It’s a weird feeling. Even now. Looking at this (heavily photoshopped) pic, I can literally feel him standing behind my chair. It makes me wonder why that, of all places in Maine, is linked so strongly with him in my memory. It certainly wasn’t our favorite place - that would be the Nubble. Even though I feel him at the Nubble, its nothing like being in Ogunquit.
I don’t know why this is on my mind today, but it is. For whatever reason, I miss him terribly today.
ucmb reunion :: jeff’s wedding :: portland, ct :: august thirty first two thousand seven
Every once in a while something happens to put an experience into crystal clear perspective… or it exorcises a ghost. Whatever.
There were times when I HATED being at UCONN. It was my mom’s school. The hockey team wasn’t a Hockey East team. My friends were all drunks. The homework sucked. My dorm sucked. Whatever excuse I could find, I used… I didn’t want to follow in my mom’s footsteps no matter what. And I did. I even ended up dating a guy who lived in her dorm. (!!!!!)
And on the flip side, there were times that I LOVED being there. (Of course, oddly enough, the best times are all drumline/marching band related: Leaving my shoes at UMASS was a huge highlight.) The marching band, Committees, Cape Cod, TBS/KKY, Delta Sig, Big/Little night at Hooters, Tamacka & you got Tache’d, Vaddo!, Schultzie & LInk & road tripping…
When I look at the whole picture, I realize it wasn’t quite so bad. I got more out of it than I thought I would. I got IMPORTANT stuff out of it. It’s like that MasterCard commercial says: “Being with people who get you? Priceless.”
10 years later, these guys are still some of the most important people in my life.
Anyone want a $2.3 million dollar house on Seabrook Beach?
Better buy a porta-potty or build an outhouse… this house has ZERO baths.
I wonder how long it will take the Realtor to catch that typo?
(Forgive the bad screen grab - I’m still getting used to the MacBook & finding out what software I still need to install)
august twenty-sixth two thousand seven :: north station, boston
As seen on the ceiling of North Station’s new waiting area.
Words completely escape me.