Wow, I had no idea having a new job where I would have to learn all kinds of new stuff and not use hardly any of my old stuff (which was hard to learn and for which I had to go to school and get a degree and all that crap, then start at the very bottom-or wait...what's below the bottom? start there and now here I am again...) but which is still taking up a lot of space in my haid, (yes I mis-spelled it on purpose. Sound it out.) crowding out space that should rightfully be devoted to shoes, would take so much out of an Old French Whore for so many months, but that's exactly what happened. I had NOTHING left for writing in my blog. I had to make a hard choice...put the time and energy into the thing that they pay me to do, thereby keeping a door over my head and the roofies from the wolf, or whatever that melodramatic saying is about not being homeless and having food is ***OR*** writing in my blog, which to paraphrase (actually completely butcher, cannibalize and otherwise misappropriate) a Marlo Thomas after school special title, is free, and doesn't contribute to my bank account AT ALL. Well, don't act surprised. Look at the title of my blog. It's called Old French Whore, not Old French Starving Artist. Anyway, I'm finally getting caught up on sleep and play, not in that order, and I feel refreshed enough to pound out a thing or two.

Soooo, I went on a vacation. Just got back 2 days ago. A real vacation. The kind where you have tons of fun, laugh your ass off, meet new people, eat buckets of delicious fattening food (mostly lobster and cookies-go figure), watch two impossibly beautiful people get married on the seashore in Maine and then let the maid clean up after you. THAT kinda va-ca-SHONE. I told my boss when he hired me I had to have this week off for my friend Lara's destination wedding (who thinks this shit up? 'Destination Wedding', like that's really a thing. Like 'Fascinators'. Like people have been wearing them for YEARS, dahling...that's not a fucking THING. They made that up. And those poor gnarled spawn of Fergie & her inbred royal ex-husband bought it hook, line and sinker and made complete fools of themselves on international TV when their cousin got married and they attended in those ghastly things that looked like i.u.d.s. God, don't get me started). So, the royal wedding that some of us may or may not have gotten up at 2:50 a.m. on April 26th to watch probably cost less than the wedding I attended in Maine, and was not half as tasteful. My friend Lara has better taste than Martha Stewart and Jackie Onassis combined. She also has money. But money cannot buy the kind of impeccable eye my friend has. One of these days I might learn how to post photos and get one or two of the wedding of the century up here...but for now you'll have to listen to me prattle on about. Well, listen in your head, because you're actually reading this.

First, I flew into New York to see my Favorite Cousin Lily. I'm contractually obligated to always call her Favorite Cousin Lily. Don't hate me, other cousins. It's in our contract. I can't break it. I love you all very much. Admittedly, some more than others...but that's another story. Maybe later in the week I'll write about the B_______ Family Reunion I attended last month...damn, now that's a story. Damn, I'm tired and I am getting sidetracked. Damn.

Lily, much like her town, never sleeps. No, she's not a crack whore. She's just energetic. As am I, most of the time. My friend/muse Daniel says he has to take a nap after he hears about what I've done in a day, it makes him so tired. Got in at 11:30pm, bed by 3am (we had to catch up!) up at 8, into the city in the afternoon to shop all day long,(oh, did I mention Favorite Cousin Lily lives in the Bronx? Well, she does) then back to the Bronx for dinner with Lily's Wonderful Husband Don (Don is a lawyer. I'm contractually obligated to always call him Wonderful Husband Don) and then home to tart ourselves up and totter on 'shoulder shoes' (think about it. Visualize it. Got it?) 10 doors down to Brian's gorgeous house for his FABULOUS birthday party (gay men throw the best parties!), then up at the fucking buttcrack of dawn for breakfast with literally everyone in the neighborhood at a Mexican place (I just wanted a waffle!!!), then a 20 mile bike ride from the Bronx, thru Harlem into Manahattan and around The Cloisters, down to 70th street on the other side and back again. I was dying. When we got home I said I couldn't believe I rode 20 miles. Wonderful Husband Don said, "How long have you been riding?" I looked at my watch and said, "About 4 hours." (We stopped for food and drink somewhere along the line. It's all a blur.) He said, "No, not today, silly." I said, "Yeah well, I rode a bike one other time in the last 30 years or so, so yeah, 4 hours about covers it." He was somewhat impressed, I think:-) I wasn't even sore afterwards. Well, my ass was. And my neck was, because the bike was built for a shorter person. But other than that, no pain! I'm gettin' me a bike! I must take after my dad, who took up bike riding at about this same age after having abandoned it as a teenager, and in his 70's rode to San Francisco (twice!) and Montana (once!).

Next day I was off to Maine to participate in The Most Beautiful Wedding The World Has Ever Known (hereinafter referred to as TMBWTWHEK). I knew I was in trouble when I received the 4 page wedding invitation. "Uh oh", thought I, "I'm gonna need a new pair of shoes. And Charm School. And some class." I did manage to get the shoes. Oh well.

Day one: arrived and carpooled with the photographers. Plural. Two of them. (she hired 2 from Seattle-Alante Photography I believe they are called - but we just called them Loren and Kim. Wonderful people. Incredible photographers. Check them out. I'm not getting paid to say this. If they knew I posted their names in my blog they would probably be mortified. Come to think of it, they don't even know I have a blog...) Then there was a local assistant hired for days 3 & 4. Anyway, we meet up and drive 2 hours to 'The Destination'. We dump our crap in our rooms and race down to town to catch the gaff rigged schooner (as if I frikken know what the hell a gaff rigged schooner is! It's a pretty boat with pretty square sails, and it was helmed by a real live salty Maine dog (well, he wasn't an actual dog, just what sailors call a 'salty dog'. I was married to a sailor - most OFW's were married to or had relations with sailors at one point in their checkered pasts, FYI) The Mate was his wife. She was BAD-ASS!!!! That woman put up and brought down the sails and brought the boom about and she had guns on her like you wouldn't believe and I am sure that woman could 'lower the boom' any time she wanted! She was very nice and freindly, but I tell you what, I would think twice about crossin' the bitch. The Sunset Sail was beautiful, the weather cooperated, the sandwiches were tasty and no one got seasick, so it was a good trip.

Day 2: The Welcome Dinner. One word. Lobsterbake. 'Nuff said. Word.

Day 3: TMBWTWHEK. Perfect weather, perfect bride, perfect groom, perfect Maid of Honor (Contance, an appallingly sexy and beautiful Amazon Woman from the frikken MOON!) and perfect Best Man. The outdoor ceremony was short and sweet. The bride in her Vera Wang gown honestly glowed. So did the groom, no lie. Afterwards, hors d'oeuvre and cocktails on the patio and in the gazebo, homey! Then the sit down steak and lobster dinner, the cake cutting, then back to the patio & gazebo for the dance and lounging and eating cake and drinking refreshing beverages.

Day 4: Brunch at the groom's mother's cottage. Just a beautiful day with beautiful people in a beautiful place. The coast of Maine is like a Fairy Tale. It's the Enchanted Kingdom. Everyone was so nice and welcoming and fun. I hated to leave, but leave it I did...

On Friday (the wedding was on Wednesday) back to NYC to see Favorite Cousin Lily and Wonderful Husband Don one more time. It was serious culture shock to get off the plane from the enchanted kingdom and walk out into the hot dirty muggy NYC air and catch the M60 bus to the N Train to get my ass downtown to Favorite Cousin Lily's office. But it was fun, too, and I feel equally comfortable on the coast of Maine surrounded by rich white people for whom the word 'summer' is a verb (we summer in Maine) as I do on the N Train surrounded by all different colors of people of many different and varying financial strata. That's one of the things I love about myself. I took Favorite Cousin Lily and Wonderful Husband Don to dinner at a great Italian place in the Bronx called Umbertos. If you are in the Bronx, you should go there. The food was great; authentic Italian, and since this Old French Whore lived in Italy for almost a year back in the day, you can take my word for it. Or not. I really don't care.

Next day, my last full day before heading home, was perfect!!! Lily and I got dolled up and met my friend from high school, Betsy and 2 of her very cool friends, Amanda and Janice, at Bergdorfs for lunch. What a treat. Honest to god, I had Cucumber mint lemonade. I'm not making this up. It was to-die-for! I'm gonna try it here at home and see if I can approximate the deliciosity. Then we went straight to the shoe department where Betsy and I petted the shoes and purred and cooed at them, too. (We both pet shoes. We were surprised to find that our friends/family do not share this predilection. I thought EVERYONE petted the shoes! How else will they know how much you love them, especially if you can't afford to take them home?). Then we went to The Plaza and had coffee and pastry there and then walked and 'subwayed' (I now declare in NYC 'subway' is a verb. So let it be written, so let it be done. It is good to be king.) to a discount designer place Favorite Cousin Lily knows called Gabbays. Finally made it back to the Bronx, dead tired and starving by 8pm. We got Mexican take-out down the street and called it a day. That's the story of my excellent adventure in the polar-opposite worlds of Maine and NYC/the Bronx. Time for bed.

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