twenty-something

So much to say, so little ambition to sit in front of the computer and write it out for the blog...

• There are a mere seventeen days left until I move to New York. Eleven more work days. The countdown is both far too rapid and deathly slow...

• I can now insert and remove my contact lenses on the first try. I am awesome.

• I bought my first pair of non-prescription sunglasses that cost more than $20. Behold my new Oakley Spike shades. I look fucking hot.

• I also bought my first Red Sox hat that fits (kinda). I am on the verge of moving to Yankee Country and I purchase the one thing that's certainly not going to make me any friends...

• I'm doing some freelance (emphasis on free) design work for my best bud and future roommate. One of his (quite amazing, actually) plays is being produced at the beginning of July and he asked me to do some stuff. I'm having a lot of fun with it and I'm psyched to have work in NYC, even if its technically more of a hobby.

• I had my first asthma attack since fourth grade last night. I was up most of the night having trouble breathing, due to allergies and humidity, and then I simply stopped for a bit. It was fun. I like to think I'm not a high maintenance friend when it comes to my health -- I mean, most people don't know I have asthma -- but today I'm milking it for what it's worth.

• Matt -- aka the infamous Duncan -- has moved out of his apartment and no longer lives in Vermont. He'll be headed to New Orleans in a few weeks to begin a new job and a new life. To make an understandment, it's an odd feeling knowing that he won't be just a few minutes down the road for the first time in three and a half years. It truly is the end of an era...

• 135 Pearl -- Burlington's only gay bar, and the last one left in the entire state of Vermont -- will be shutting down this weekend after 22 years of operation. (For real this time -- it's becoming a Papa John's.) I've only been around for the last six, but they've been a blast. It's a place like no other, the worst gay bar you'll ever love. Friday is the last Womyn's Night ever and Saturday night is the aptly titled "Last Dance" (with a hefty $8 cover). I'll be there -- with visiting Duncan in tow -- for both nights as this era ends as well.

I spy the great guy who's been my rock for the past 3.5 years, through the amazing highs and horrible lows. Thank you for everything. No matter where I go, you'll always be in my heart.

Thanks, Dunc.

My savings account is a bit lighter today. The check for first-and-last's rent in New York is in the mail. Yikes. I suppose this country mouse really is moving.

Twenty-five days and counting...

Quick contact lens update: Last Thursday I just couldn't do it. I couldn't touch my eye, let alone get a lens in. The lady was mean and I left empty-handed and defeated.

Today I went back for my second attempt and... I'm proud to say that I am now a contact wearer.

It was a bitch. There were tears. My eyes totally hate me. (See how red they are?)

But I can see. And that kinda rocks.

At twenty-five, with the safety goggles you can see above hanging off my face, it's not so much.

(The frames, however big, are Versace -- for what it's worth.)

Tomorrow I'm going to bite the bullet and get contacts. I've been toying with the idea for a while now and actually practicing touching my baby-blues -- the only reason I haven't had contacts yet -- all week. Despite some mild seasonal allergies, I'm going to give it a shot.

Wish me -- and my eyeballs -- luck.