A Narrative from the Freezing Tundra of Bolton Landing

This isn't so much a narrative as a random spit-up of "I-miss-Vassar" and life updates.

And I'll first start off by saying that the account of Cabuxton and MattyWheelz's sojourn to Boston is 100% accurate, but leaves out one small detail: the image of me diving headfirst into a pile of previously loved Buck-a-Pound clothes to snatch the hat before any of the cracked-out, dreadlocked girls had a chance.

Oh and the Gap in Cambridge does not stock size 14 Converse in case anyone besides me would ever require a pair.

Other than that brief Katheegasm, my 13-day trip to visit my family in Massachusetts was uneventful (other than the fact that I scored 1003 points in Super Scrabble! Oh what whatttt?).

So now I'm back in the BL, winter population about 2000. It's terribly boring and not at all like 3rd floor Joss no matter how many of my high school friends I see. Last night a group of us went to see The Spirit. Do not waste your $9.50. It was quite possibly the worst cinematic experience of my life. To top it all off, true to the Adirondack freak weather patterns, when we came out of the theater, there was a quarter inch of ice on the road. The drive home was epic, with my friend's jeep pulling up to my driveway with "1 mile to empty" flashing across her digital gas gauge.

Other than that, nothing exciting at all. I bought a sweatshirt and I've seen a deer, two foxes and a coyote in my yard since Friday.

Oh and I still hate the new pepsi cans.

Stay sassy,
MattyWheelz