Another weekend of madness

My weekend had all the elements of a good soap opera. There were reconciliations, cutting of ties, unexpected occurrences, surprise guests, and various other things that I, of course, can not blog about. (I'm a mystery wrapped in an enigma wrapped in an AWESOME rack.)

Actually, a short bit about the cutting of ties, mostly because I want to make very clear that I had nothing to do with it. I have this thing about me where I like to stay in touch with my ex boyfriends. Mostly because, as I figure it, if someone meant a lot to you they should continue to mean a lot to you, even if you aren't sleeping together anymore. (Unless they, I don't know, raped your puppy or something.) Apparently not everyone feels this way, which I understand. Sort of. I just don't like losing touch with people, especially people who I thought were awesome enough to spend a ridiculous amount of time on. So yeah...end of rant.

Anywaaaaaaaaaaaay...

The weekend, she was insane. On Thursday and Friday I had Jury Duty which was completely uneventful because everyone was settling out of court so as not to be stuck in the city over Fourth of July Weekend. Which is, well, shitty. On Friday night it was time for Fireworks at Coney Island! MY FAVORITE THING OF ALL! Except, well, I got to Coney Island at 7pm and nobody else got there until 9pm. So I took some photobooth pictures by myself...because I'm a nerd. Then, FINALLY, people showed up and the fireworks started and, as usual, they were effing amazing. Seriously, if you happen to be in NYC on a Friday and have not made it down there for these, please please please make the effort. For starters, Coney Island is not nearly as far away as it's made out to be. Seriously. And secondly - beer + fireworks + RIDES + FIREWORKS + photobooths + Fireworks + More beer and Chilidogs = slightly different and more fun than your normal Friday Night plans.

Plus, you get lovely souvenirs like these:

(I'm just happy I managed to keep my eyes open on both rides. And also - didn't ride on the back of the cyclone this time...because, holy SHIT. Never again)

On Saturday I had brunch, and went to the MoMA where I saw a really cool exhibit by Olafur Eliasson, the guy who put a waterfall under the Brooklyn Bridge. You walked into the exhibit via a hallway lined with yellow lights that made everything look like it was in black and white. Which was slightly eerie because you were suddenly stuck in an old movie. (I was told about the exhibit by the woman from Jury Duty who I had lunch with on Friday. This same woman, after hearing about my mother, walked up to her on the street today and said, "Are you related to Sarah?" No joke. Apparently my mother and I do look alike, though I still think I look like my father.) There was a circular room that changed color and made everyone in it change color which was pretty cool, and there was also a room with falling water and strobe lights that looked like glitter. It was worth the trip, but unfortunately is closing tomorrow, so unless you've got the day free you won't see it.

From the museum I endured torrential downpours and ended up at a Korean BBQ restaurant for a party that was half celebrating a birthday and half sending off a friend of mine who decided to leave NY before he was deported. It. Was. Ridiculous. We ate an amazing amount of food including pork belly, which is seriously one of the best things ever. This is because it is essentially bacon and I will eat anything involving bacon. (A coworker of mine once remarked that he would probably eat a turd if it was covered in bacon. Because, dude. BACON!) From there we walked down to the east village where we all drank what was probably far too much and then a small group of us ended up on the roof of the friend who moved today to watch the sunrise. And also to eat sandwiches and drink absolutely terrible blueberry beer. I got home far, far too late.

Today was Gay Pride Day which involved fruitlessly looking for a street fair with X-tina (my best friend and furure maid of honor), and heading to the Tigerlily's for a bit before coming back downtown for more fireworks. Last year the Pride fireworks were terrible and lasted approximately three minutes before pooting out quietly, so this year they made up for it by having a barge slowly moving downt the Hudson River shooting off a spectacular show for over half an hour. It ruled.

And now, I think it's bedtime. I haven't gotten nearly enough sleep and my head is relatively jumbled from this weekend's events. I can has snow day?

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Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

When I was fifteen or sixteen years old my high school held a voluntary trip up to SUNY Oswego so we could "experience college life." Girls thought, "Oh my God! College Guys!" And guys thought, "Sweet! College girls!" And a lot of us also thought, "Hooray beer!" This trip was to take place on a Thursday and Friday, so on top of everything else we would be missing two days of school. Almost the entire grade convinced their parents to let them go on this trip. "We want to see what college classes are like and learn about the application process! We really, truelym desperately want to talk to people who have been where we are now! Our attendance on this trip has nothing to do whatsoever with our desire to attack attractive and older people, nor does it have anything to do with our desire to drink illegally!" We all batted our eyelashes very well.

During the one night we stayed up there very few of us slept, two guys got so stoned they were falling into things, and we drank a lot of beer. (Well, a lot then. I think a guy named Jimmy topped out at three beers and threw up. We were fifteen! Maybe sixteen! Give us a break!) Other NYC public high schools (the private school sect tends to shy away from public universities) were also invited on this excursion, so our pool of potentially attractive people shot up remarkably. A bunch of us were sitting in a dorm room talking when one of the girls, from one of these other schools, while slightly drunk, decided to address the group with a serious inquiry.
"Do you want to go to a urban school or a woo woo school?" Confused glances were exchanged between myself and the other people she was addressing.
"Excuse me?" I asked.
"Do you want to go to an urban school or a woo woo school?"
"I..." I paused. "A what?"
"Woo woo! Woo woo! I can't say it right!" She looked upset with herself.
Someone else finally ventured a guess. "Do you mean rural?"
"Yes! Woo woo! That's what I meant!" At which point we all dissolved into giggles. Poor girl.

I got home the next day, absolutely exhausted and damning myself for making plans to go to a rave that night. But I was a raver, and a lot of people I knew were going to be at the party, so I got dressed up in a very silly outfit, far too much plastic jewelry, and about a pound of glitter. (I spent most of my time from the ages of 12-16 absolutely fucking COVERED in glitter. ::barf::) I got to the party at about ten and by eleven thirty I was all tuckered out. So instead of going home like I should have, I simply found a nice corner and went to sleep. At a rave. With music so loud most people were wearing earplugs. But oh no, I just went, "Well this looks nice! I think I'll just curl up...zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz"

I bring all this up because last night my friend Matty and his roommate Jim threw a movie watching extravaganza on their roof. We watched an episode of The Real Ghostbusters cartoon, followed by Ghostbusters, followed by Ghostbusters II. It was really really awesome. I announced to Matty and Jim early on in the evening that I was crashing on their couch because while I only live a ten minute walk away, it is not a ten minute walk I should be taking at one in the morning. Because eek! Scary! So halfway through Ghostbusters II I excused myself to pass out on the couch. I woke up at seven this morning to Matty going, "Sarah! It's seven am, my alarm didn't go off!" (Dude has to be at work ridiculously early.) I gathered my things while he got ready and he goes, "Dude, Sarah. You were OUT last night. We had like twenty people in the apartment and you didn't wake up at all. I kept saying, 'guys, there's a girl asleep on the couch!' and they kept saying, 'She's not awake.'" Because I can sleep through anything.

The reason for this is because when I was growing up, and my parents were invited to a party, babysitters were expensive. So rather than get one, they would simply drag me along for the ride. When I got tired I would go up to one of them and tug on their shirt and say, "I'm tired!" At which point they would direct me to a corner, give me their coat to sleep on and let me sleep. Which I would, quite happily. I have vague memories of being carried out of parties (as a child, people! Come on!) and waking up to say things like, "Oh, are we leaving?" And then waking up in my own bed in the morning. I was actually trained by my parents to be able to sleep through anything. Which might explain my inability to work with alarm clocks. I hear them, but it's just so much easier to keep sleeping. ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

As Requested

Popular girl that I am, I've been asked by two lovely ladies to be a bridesmaid this year. The Tigerlily, and my friend Karin who just got hitched in the Caribbean. (I might have mentioned it.) I have heard many horrible stories of bridesmaid dresses gone awry, and I thank my lucky stars that this is not something I have had to deal with firsthand. (Seriously, the stories...the PICTURES...holy God.) I, because my friends have impeccable taste, have two lovely VERA WANG Bridesmaid Dresses. TWO. And they are PRETTY and I LOVE them AND I will wear them again. How often can a bridesmaid say that? Hah!

Anywho, because some of my other maids and I have the humor of a twelve year old boy, Vera Wang has been shortened to "The Wang." Or "My Wang." But because I have two there has to be some differentiation, so there is my Tiny Gold Wang and my Large Green Wang. I have two Wangs! Hooray! (Bwahahaha, two wangs...bwahahahahaha). Yeah, am twelve.

On that note, here are some more pictures from the wedding! In the Caribbean! That I went to! YES!

The Happy Couple...Being Adorable, as per usual.

The Ladies!
From L to R - Colleen(Karin's Cousin), Yours Truly, Pat (The Groom's Mother), Karin, Judy (The Bride's Mother), Lindsey (Maid of Honor), and Nora (Karin's Aunt)

The Bride and her ladies.

Karin and Her Dad, mostly because I wanted to post another picture of her dress because OMG THE DRESS. (I'm going to steal it to get married in I love it so much)

And finally, the whole group. Don't we look fun? (And pretty and nice...haha)

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Home Sweet Home

Ah, scenic Bushwick Brooklyn. There are so many things to say about you.
There's the bad:
Rats, trash, screaming children, rats, men who think that shouting, "HEY MA! YOU'RE GORGEOUS!" over and over again will get your attention (Actually, I've noticed another trend in this. These dudes will walk up to you and the following exchange will take place -
Him - Hey Ma, can I walk with you?
Me - Sure.
Him - I really like your style, do you have a man?
Me - Yeah, I do. [it really doesn't matter if this is true or not...they don't stop.]
Him - Of course you do. Do you love him?
Me - Yes, yes I do.
It's the "Do you love him?" that always gets me. It's like, if I didn't would I automatically run off with you? Because you are such a suave suave man?) and also rats.

There's the good:
Cheap food, cheap rent, easily accessible by two different subway lines, quiet in winter, tons of hot water (I've found this to be a trend in Brooklyn. Freakishly hot water. It's really weird.), people who will offer to help you carry your laundry, and more cheap food.

And then there's the weird: (People mostly.)
-An Asian mailman who wears sunglasses and what seems to be a children's straw cowboy hatLike that one. The hell? I saw him for the first time this morning and I had to giggle. He just looks so silly!

There's the drunken man who lives down the block from me who claims to be a retired cop (seems unlikely), and also to speak sign language. This I know for a fact is not true because when he decided to demonstrate his sign language skills he mostly flapped his hands around a lot and made weird noises. Which was entertaining, but certainly not sign language. This is the same man who claimed to be the mayor of our block and was audibly laughed at by the other patrons of the restaurant we met him in.

The graffiti. There are a lot of teenagers in my neighborhood and they like to write on things. Which happens. (And I have yet to see anything as offensive as the stuff in the Tigerlily's Neighborhood. Actually, that isn't true...there was a very small Swastika on the subway steps a couple of months ago, but it was hard to see.) My favorite bit of graffiti is on a bus stop that says, "SHUTTLE BUS STOPS HERE."


Please notice the penis on wheels. It might be my favorite part.

I actually really like my neighborhood, even with all the quirks and rats. (Have a mentioned the rats?) But the quirks are safe and the rats have yet to invade my actual apartment. So as long as they stay outside, I'll be okay. The second they make it inside I am hightailing it back to Manhattan immediately.
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I'm freezing my tits off!

Seriously...it is SO COLD IN MY OFFICE and my dumb-ass doesn't have a cardigan (or an effing winter coat) with me. Dammit.

Hey, look up there! A new banner. Hooray!

This weekend I did that thing where I try to do everything and now I feel gross. (I'm also pretty sure I smell pretty gross right now. I showered this morning, but then forgot deodorant...oops.)

On Friday night there was a going away party for a friend of mine who has decided that because he doesn't want to be deported, he's going to leave the states before they can kick him out. The attendees were almost entirely people I hung out with in high school. (Not people I went to high school with, because most of the people from my high school were exceptionally lame. This group of dudes were the people I chose to hang out with in high school.) I was really nervous about going to this party because it had a really good chance of becoming a drama fueled nightmare.

A couple of ex-couples + a couple of crushes x a lot of booze = drama waiting to happen.

But then it didn't. And the night ended up being really really fun and I didn't throw up or shake violently and it was awesome. Some people threw up, but it had nothing to do with nerves and a whole lot to do with tequila. I also managed to close a door on my foot which caused a hole in my ankle which is now oozy and gross. It hurts like hell. So that's fun.

I just sneezed all over my hand. Ew.

Saturday I went to the Mermaid Parade which I had never been to before despite spending most of my life in New York City. It was...well, mostly it was hard to see. We got there too late to get a good spot because I really enjoy sleeping. So we wandered around and ate burgers, and Nathan's, and corn-dogs and shish-ke-bob (or shish-KA-bab...or Shishkibeb...depending on the place on the boardwalk to went to...there is also a bar called Cha Cha's with "Entertainment For The Hole Family!" They aren't very big on spell check, apparently.) and drank beers. After all that my friend Dan and I went on the Log Flume, The Scrambler and The Cyclone. As a girl who does not do roller coasters, I have been on the Cyclone twice now. Here's last year:
Don't I look like I'm having an awesome time? Or pooping? Or about to burst into tears? Weirdly enough, right after this photo was taken I started having a good time and actually enjoying the ride instead of wanting it to be over and wanting to get out now now now. I think this was because, as you'll notice, we were right in the front of the car. And the ride was relatively smooth. This time, however, my friend Dan and I decided to ride about three cars from the back and OH MY GOD I thought I was going to DIE. I swear we jumped the tracks at one point and Dan almost FLEW OUT OF HIS SEAT. Was terrible and terrifying and I am never riding on the damn back again. The front...maybe, but certainly not the back.

Look at me, Ma! I want to ride roller coasters! (I think my mother just had a small heart attack. She was always so proud of me for inheriting her love of the merry-go-round.)

And then Sunday was another loverly day at the Tigerlily's where we ate an amazing roast pork shoulder and risotto which I loved which was odd because I don't LIKE risotto. So yeah, if Tigerlily and The Boss invite you over for dinner? Don't ask questions, just go. ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

Remember the Lobster Sandwiches

I mentioned the lobster sandwiches in this post. And now I have photos to prove it!

This is where we ate the lobster sandwiches:

(Seriously. RIDICILOUS.)

And this is half of a lobster sandwich.

NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

Holy Crap! I want this!

The children’s bedrooms have radiator covers with poems written specifically for each child cut into them in code. The Caesar Shift cipher in the bedroom of the oldest child, Cavan, was broken by a friend.
(Photo: Fred R. Conrad/The New York Times)

I just came across an article from the Times about an apartment on the Upper East Side which has a puzzle hidden in it. I am INSANELY JEALOUS of this apartment and hope to one day have one like it.

"THINGS are not as they seem in the 14th-floor apartment on upper Fifth Avenue. At first blush the family that occupies it looks to be very much of a type. The father, Steven B. Klinsky, 52, runs a private equity company; the mother, Maureen Sherry, 44, left her job as a managing director for Bear Stearns to raise their four young children (two boys and two girls); and the dog, LuLu, is a soulful Lab mix rescued from a pound in Louisiana.

They are living in a typical habitat for the sort of New Yorkers they appear to be: an enormous ’20s-era co-op with Central Park views (once part of a triplex built for the philanthropist Marjorie Merriweather Post), gutted to its steel beams and refitted with luxurious flourishes like 16th-century Belgian mantelpieces and custom furniture made from exotic woods with unpronounceable names.

But some of that furniture and some of those walls conceal secrets — messages, games and treasures — that make up a Rube Goldberg maze of systems and contraptions conceived by a young architectural designer named Eric Clough, whose ideas about space and domestic living derive more from Buckminster Fuller than Peter Marino."

SO AWESOME.

Read the whole thing here.
And don't forgot to check out the photo gallery!

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Wednesdays with teh Internet. (It's like Tuesday's With Morrie, only way nerdier)

On most Wednesday's I meet up with the Internet for Happy Hour (I will explain that in a moment), and things are always A-OK if I only go to happy hour. It's when I decide to go somewhere after happy hour that the trouble starts. So last night playing pool after happy hour seemed like a good idea...and so did staying up until 2:30 in the morning. Neither of these things were good ideas. Oops.

So now I am quite happily munching on a bacon and peanut butter sandwich on toasted rye bread, while sipping iced peach Snapple (I just wrote "snapped." Hmmm....), a trick the Tigerlily taught me many moons ago for those days when you're feeling not so fresh.

So, the Internet. When I was sixteen or seventeen I started posting on a messageboard called Makeoutclub.com, because I read about it in Spin Magazine on my flight home from London. Within a few months I was meeting people off the board. We would do things like weekly bubble tea, and dinners, and lots and lots of parties. People would fly all over the country to meet the people they spent all day talking to. Eventually there were weekends away and planned vacations. People moved in together, I ended up dating someone on and off for three years because of the Internet. And now, after all these years, we're just all friends. We've traded one messageboard for another here and there, but we're still posting, hanging out and nerding it up.

So yeah...I'm a geek. ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

Ridiculous, Amazing, Etc...

Holy Crap.

I need to get very very rich very very quickly and go back to Nevis. The food! The pools! The beach! THE FOOD. Oh...and I saw a monkey. Wait...Two monkeys!

For starters - here is where I stayed on Friday and Saturday nights:

Uh huh. Here's the website: www.montpeliernevis.com

Go poke around a bit. I'll be here.

Done? Okay...let me tell you about the trip, the food, etc.

On Thursday Night we (my friend Matty and I) arrived in Nevis and within approximately five minutes decided that four days was not nearly enough time and we had to come back immediately. It was absolutely amazing. I ate some of the best food I have ever had in my life, drank some amazing cocktails, and spent most of my time in a bikini.
A sampling of the food I ate:

• Lobster Sandwich on homemade bread (eaten while overlooking the ocean and a smoking volcano across the way.)
  
• Homemade pastries with fresh lemon curd
• Grilled steak with Bearnaise sauce; grilled shrimp, mahi mahi and wahoo with fresh tomato salsa.
• Jamaican jerk pork
  
• Local tomatoes, avocados and cucumbers
• Crab puffs, cheese puffs, breaded veal with a spicy tomato caper sauce, fried fish with an aioli sauce, various other ridiculous hor'dourves.

It just kept going...and going...and going. On the night of the wedding two people (I won't name names) ended up throwing up because of the combination of champagne, an enormous meal, dessert, and swimming. One of them made it back to their hotel room, the other did not. But, the one who did not did a really really good job of hiding their vomit and probably made the two dogs that live on the property pretty happy. So...yeah.

The wedding was gorgeous. There were thirteen of us (including the bride and groom), and the bride's mother and I had a hard time slowing down the tears after the ceremony. But then there was more champagne, and then hor'dourves, and then more champagne, and then dinner. So we ended up being okay.

Basically, I want to go on vacation again right now. ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

Woo Hoo!

In three and a half hours I am getting on a plane and going away away away! YAY!

I can not even put into words how happy I am. I am going to sleep during the whole flight because, I...uh....kind of didn't do that yet. I was busy doing laundry! And packing! And showering! Hooray!

See, this whole heatwave thing really screwed everything up for me. Had I gone home in the past five days or so, I could have just packed there and slept tonight. But NO. The heat had to get all crazy and I was forced to stay at my mom's with the lovely central air. So I stopped by my apartment tonight, packed a suitcase full of dirty clothes, and hoofed it back to my mom's to do laundry all night. Ah well, I usually don't sleep before a morning flight anyway. I'm way WAY too last minute for all of that.

Also - I have completely over-packed. I'm only going away for four days, and I will be in my bathing suit for most of it, but I needed options, you know? And things to wear at night...and clothes for the plane ride back. And pajamas. Plus, there are some bra issues with my bridesmaid dress. Or maybe there aren't. I'm not entirely sure as I only tried it on once. So I've packed pretty much every bra I own. Just in case. I think it's logical, don't you?

Aaaaaaaaaaand on that lovely bit of over-sharing, the dryer just buzzed so I must be off.

Have a nice weekend! ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

Um...oops

The Hitler 'Stache entry was my 100th. Fitting I think. ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

Hitler lives in my pants

In two days I will be in a bikini. Because of this me and my chest cold went to get a bikini wax today. Like you do.

My waxer was not fluent in English, so when she asked how much...um...stuff I wanted to keep, I showed her with my hands. "You know, about this much," while I traced a decent, but not porny triangle. So she went to work and I, as always, stared at the ceiling and tried to think happy thoughts.
Rip..."PONIES!"
Rip..."UNICORNS!"
Rip..."DEAR GOD...KOALAS!!!!!"
Like that. After what felt like far too long, my foreign waxer asked if she had left too much. "Is this okay?" I raised my head a little off the bed to inspect my newly shorn bits. Or rather, my extremely shorn bits. There was a large discrepancy between what I had asked for and what I had left. Basically, for lack of a better mental image, my girl is now sporting a Hitler 'stache.

Awesome!

In that not so awesome kind of way.

Now what? My fear is that next time I go in they will try and replicate this girl's work. Is there a way to work around this? Do I just wait a little longer before getting the next one? Dye the patch I want to keep a different color? ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

Goddammit, Tigerlily

The Tigerlily lent me a book last night. And this book may or may not be a teen novel about first loves and vampires. And it may or may not be horribly written. And I may or may not have finished it. And I may or may not be COMPLETELY OBSESSED with the series now.

Twilight. Am obsessed. Completely. What the fuck?

And there's a movie coming out! AND...and...well...I think the Tigerlily puts it nicely. (Click on the word "nicely")

SQUEEEEEEEEEAL.

And it probably helps that there is a MOVIE coming out and in the movie the male lead is played by Cedric Diggory.

SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves

One Hundred Posts and Half a Tooth

Woooo! Post number 100! Weeeeeeeeeeeeee...Man it took me a long time to get here. Woo.

I hate the dentist. Hate hate hate. I hate the smell of the office (they all smell the effing same, don't even try to tell me that they don't), I hate the chairs, I hate being able to see all the sharp things, and I hate that light they shine in your eyes. Despite all this, on Friday I went in to get the root canal. And it wasn't nearly as bad as I was expecting it to be. There was very little pain, but I did make the mistake of looking at things going into my mouth. Never a good idea. I swear they were sticking tiny swords and knives in there. And just mushing them about since I was completely numb on the right side of my face. I had NO idea what was going on. But I did overhear my dentist asking a nurse for "a couple of size eight slow speed shanks," which he received and then jammed into my mouth.

Ladies and gentlemen, I've been shanked. Amazing.

The dental hygienist HATED me. I have a really small mouth (big lips, small mouth...it happens) and had to get x-rayed three times over the course of my appointment. The contraption that holds the thing to go over your tooth to take the picture (I know it's got a name, but I can't think of it for a life of me) was too big to fit in my mouth, so I had to use my index finger to hold it in place instead. Only this tooth was way WAY back there and things like my tongue kept getting in the way and the dental hygienist kept rolling her eyes and jamming my own finger further and further into my mouth. Fun!

Oh! And also? They fitted this weird splatter guard around my tooth that attached to a wire frame that kept my mouth open. They attached it to my tooth with a horrible looking pair of pliers and what felt like a screw. Blech. Also also? At one point something he was using on the tooth started SMOKING, so there was a lovely burning smell and black smoke coming out of my mouth. That was fun. Also also also? Dude used a modified soldering iron on my tooth. Or perhaps a hot glue gun. "You may feel a bit of heat." Of course I will! You just stuck an effing SOLDERING IRON into my mouth.

Seth picked me up from the dentist because he knew how freaked out I was going in there (Seriously? He's now going to have to wrestle with Mark for the prize of best ex-boyfriend ever), and we walked all the way from midtown to the financial district which was nice, and calming, and gave me time to regain feeling in my jaw before heading back to the office. (When I got out of the procedure my face was so numb that I could barely talk. I sounded like I had marbles in my mouth. And I was drooling. I was really cute.)

Oh, and I figured out the new catch phrase: "Holy Crap". I am eight years old again. Awesome! ♦DiggIt! ♦Add to del.icio.us ♦Add to Technorati Faves