It’s so nice out. I’m definitely going to start jogging every day. It was the cold weather that was holding me back before. Beach body, here I come!
What you said in June:
What you said in July: Sweet Jesus it’s hot. I definitely can’t go running now. I’m not being lazy. It’s just a health hazard to run in temperatures above 82 degrees. I have to be mindful of my health.
What you you’re saying now: Ok, maybe jogging isn’t for me. I mean, I went that one time and it was really boring. If not for the excruciating cramps and the need to stop every minute to pretend to tie my shoe, I probably would have died of boredom. Maybe I’ll join a gym in the fall. Yeah. I’ll definitely do that.
What you said in June: Yes! We HAVE to go to a water park this summer. They are SO fun. Remember that time like 10 years ago? Greg was insane. Man, that was the best. We HAVE to go.
What you said in July: There’s still time. It’s crazy that the summer’s already half way done though. But I called Greg. He’s IN. We’ll probably go in a couple weekends, or the weekend after.
What you’re saying now: F*cking Greg! He screwed this up. I was ready to go. Now it’s probably too late. I mean, we’re both free this weekend, but, ugh, I think I need something a bit more low-key.
What you said in June: Christmas was five months ago. I’m going to toss this bad boy on the tracks if “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” comes up on shuffle again while I’m waiting for the train. Right after the saxophone solo.
What you said in July: I guess I forgot to take “All I Want For Christmas Is You” off here, but that’s all right. Some songs are just too good to keep pent up in an external hard drive until December 1st. I don’t care what that gal next to me on the bus thinks. She’s probably just jealous of Mariah’s pipes.
What you’re saying now: Christmas is five months away. Time to bust out the second best Wham! song I’ll deny listening to in public.
What you said in June: I’m tired of looking like an over-sized fifth grader in these cargo shorts. I’ll head over to that store my ex-girlfriend used to talk so much about once it gets too hot for these slacks she bought me right before we broke up.
What you said in July: There’s no way I’m paying full trouser price for only half the material. Especially when I have no idea how much higher or lower than my knee they’re supposed to be. Plus, what kind of self-respecting professional would even consider wearing shorts to work?
What you’re saying now: What’s the easiest way to reattach legs to pants?
What you said in June: This is a great idea. We’re grown-ups now. I think we can get this together. Greg says he has a buddy who does something related to vacation rentals, so he’s going to hook it up.
What you said in July: You don’t want to use up your beach weekend too early in the summer. Obviously. You have to save it till regular summer stuff gets boring. And drinking while leaning my upper body on my fire escape is still pretty fun.
What you’re saying now: Fucking Greg! He said he’d be able to hook this up no problem, but now he says he can only get us a Tuesday-Thursday rental at peak rates. Who wants to do that? No one.
What you said in June: Is it supposed to drip this much? Did it do this last year? I remember some drippage, but this seems unreasonable. I’ll call someone about it tomorrow. Or I’ll Google it. Whatever.
What you said in July: I’m starting to think this might be normal. I mean, I don’t know of any other air conditioners that drip this much, but if it were a really big problem, someone would say something to me, right?
What you’re saying now: Ok, yeah, it’s definitely not normal. My AC is messed up. But it still works and it’s supposed to stop being hot in like two weeks, probably, so I’ll just ignore it. I’ll figure out the problem before next summer. Easy.
What you said in June: Sorry I couldn’t make it to your Christmas, New Year, Chinese New Year, St. Patrick’s Day, or birthday party, but I’ll make up for it all with one big summertime rendezvous. Yes, fine, at your place—but only if your pullout couch has thawed.
What you said in July: I know I said I’d come up this weekend, but between work and what I do when I’m not at work, things are pretty hectic for me. Not to mention, my grandmother isn’t getting any younger—so maybe try and have some sympathy.
What you’re saying now: You know you’re always welcome here, right? Not that weekend though. I think I have a doctor’s appointment.
What you said in June: It’s time for me to become an adult. I’m going to go out there, show the world what I can do, and really start providing for myself. I’ve got a college degree, a CV printed on shiny, thick paper, and a dream—not even a bad economy can keep me down.
What you said in July: Times are tough, but if I keep on networking, applying, and getting my name out there, I just know I’ll catch on somewhere.
What you’re saying now: It certainly isn’t the job I imagined myself having, but there is absolutely nothing wrong with being the overnight fry cook at a fast food restaurant. In a way, I’m sort of glad the manager decided to go with that Yale graduate. He makes one hell of a good fish sandwich.
What you said in June: I know there are always only 24 hours in a day, but there’s something about how late the sun stays out in the summer that makes me feel really productive. Like, I just spent 2 straight hours staring at the Ikea catalogue that was accidentally put in my mailbox instead of my neighbor’s. I’m going to totally revolutionize my apartment this summer. It will be so easy.
What you said in July: I’m finally doing it. I’m going to go to Ikea on either Saturday or Sunday. Unless it rains or I’m sleepy.
What you’re saying now: You know what? I shouldn’t buy new stuff. That’s stupid. I should just throw some stuff out. But not that stuff. I need that.
What you said in June: I don’t know why it took me so long to give it a shot, but this “Mad Men” show is really something. They sure don’t make women like Joan Holloway anymore. Well, besides the actress who plays her. Va-va-voom! I think I need a cigarette.
What you said in July: Ugh, Betty Draper is the worst. Someone pass the whisky.
What you’re saying now: Are you serious, Netflix? You’re going to charge me more money for less service? I’m going to be very indignant and cancel my account now. That way, when people ask me why I still haven’t seen all of Mad Men, I’ll seem smart and principled, and not like someone who was too bored to finish.
What you said in June: Hey guys, you know what would be a lot of fun? A road trip. It will be awesome. Just like in that movie where those friends take a road trip. You know, the one where they go on a road trip to overcome some conflict and end up having the time of their lives. I forget what it’s called, but you best believe we’re going on a road trip this summer. Let’s figure out the first weekend we all have off from work, are free from any family or relationship commitments, and the weather looks like it’s going to permit.
What you said in July: Good God, gas is expensive. I think it might be best to just hang out at home and watch “Guy’s Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives” while opening up to each other on GChat. That should do. At least until Obama taps into those oil reserves—whatever that means.
What you’re saying now: My bad, I should have asked to borrow my cousin’s neighbor’s dad’s car before I volunteered to drive. We should just get together and watch that movie I was talking about. Before I go out and rent it, do any of you guys have Sideways on Blu-Ray?
What you said in June: Finally, reading up on all of the cool, new bands and committing all of their lyrics to memory while trapped in my room thanks to seasonal affective disorder is going to pay off. This generation’s Woodstock ‘99 is coming to town this summer and I’m going to be there, front row center.
What you said in July: I’d order the tickets online, but my wallet is in my other pants—and I’m not sure if I want to commit to anything right now. Especially something that’s more than a week away. I’ll just show up day-of and see if I can find a scalper.
What you’re saying now: Modern music is dead. Say what you want about Englebert Humperdinck, but at least I don’t have to stand, clap, or pay $12 for a beverage while listening to him.
What you said in June: Yeah, yeah. I got it. I’ll get light bulbs on my way home from work.
What you said in July: Come on, it’s not like it’s even that dark without that light. It’s summer. But, yes, I’ll do it. Do we have a step ladder? Should I buy one of those? Where would we put it? God, this light bulb business is turning into a big mess.
What you’re saying now: To be perfectly honest, I don’t even think that light is necessary. It’s been four months. Clearly, I can get by without that light. And I probably save like 8 bucks a month on electricity without it.
What you said in June: All right, I somehow managed to get through another year without my neglecting to read A Catcher in the Rye coming back to haunt me. This is the summer I take the time to sit down and read all of the classics. Well, at least enough that I can stop saying The Great Gatsby is my favorite novel.
What you said in July: Reading on the beach hurts my eyes. I just need to find a nice, quiet place with some shade that is properly lit, not too hot, not too cold, sans TV or any other modern distraction, but isn’t a public library, and I’ll be all set.
What you’re saying now: I should buy one of those iPads or Kindles. This laptop’s too heavy to lay down on the couch with. I’ll put that on my Christmas wish list and get back to this reading thing then.
What you said in June: Whoa, where did all these attractive people come from? Oh, they were the huddled masses of pasty, many-coated uglies that were wandering these streets all through winter. Turns out a bit of sun and some revealing clothing can really spruce up the options. One of these babes shall be mine by the 4th of July.
What you said in July: So, all of the really attractive people are already taken. I should have laid the groundwork in May. I guess I don’t need a true summer fling. Just a quick hook-up, perhaps in the vicinity of a beach. That should be manageable.
What you’re saying now: Summer flings are overrated. It’s so hot and this sunburn smarts way too much to risk having someone touch it incorrectly. But the summer wasn’t a total bust. I have 11 new Facebook friends, and I’m pretty sure I might possibly be able to woo one of them in time to be my date for New Year’s Eve.