there’s nothing like spending a long weekend in brooklyn. i always feel trapped when i go there, but in a good way; there’s so much to eat/drink. my dear friend christina, aka C, recently got her masters in architecture at pratt- it was time to celebrate. not only is she one of my favorite people in the entire universe, she’s my favorite baker (got me hooked on these scones) and cocktail shaker. yup, a pretty good friend to have.

i took the bolt bus, per usual. did you know that to get to manhattan you have to bypass manhattan?

avoid the red AT ALL COSTS. trust me.

can we just take a moment to talk about my ipod and how embarrassed i am of it but refuse to buy a new one?

ol’ bessie.

i try to keep ol’ bessie hidden in my bag with the fear of some young hipster asking me “OMG what is THAT?” sure the screen is tiny and i can’t play video on it and it weighs like 12 pounds, but it holds all of my sweet jamz. plus i’d rather spend 300 clams on a new pair of boots. so that’s my reasoning. or is this the beginning of a terrible hoarding problem? i mean, i can’t give it away if i get a new one, it’s VINTAGE.

anyway. let’s get back to the important stuff. like DRINKS. C used to bartend at charlies in harvard square for like, ever, and i have yet to drink something she’s created that i haven’t loved. she muddled up some fresh squeezed grapefruit and thyme, shook it up with vodka and ice, and added a splash of soda water. DANG GIRL.

grapefruit+vodka+sodawater+thyme=GULP

i said DANG GIRL. I enjoyed a few with C and her beau, who said that i should have my own talk show. I LOVE HIM.

there was only one gorgeous day to the entire weekend, so we walked around and explored, and ran into this guy:

whoooo are you?

pretty crafty, no? i wanted to take him home with me but he was secured pretty well to the fence. yes, i checked.

we went to the brooklyn botanical gardens, which sounded like a perfect idea, but it turns out that the entire place is zyrtec resistant. in other words, i didn’t last very long and we retreated to the cafe and split a delicious slice of strawberry rhubarb pie.

disregard C’s monster finger.

we ordered iced coffees with the pie, and when i asked the dude where the lids and straws were he gave me an angry look and repeated to me like a robot “no lids. no straws.” i felt like i was on the soup nazi episode of seinfeld.

obviously and very quickly, the phrase of the day became “no lids. no straws.”

C and E!