Tag Archives: boston you make me sad sometimes

dear boston;

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dear my beloved boston/broston,

it is may.

you should not be 48 degrees outside . weather that is overcast, gloomy, and not conducive to bike rides over the charles is a major bummer.

i should not have to wear thick socks around my apartment. or daydream about hot showers. or still have to use my electric blanket.

i am begging you. please warm up soon?

you’re making me so homesick that i’ve spent many nights sitting in my college’s gym sauna that mocks my homeland’s warmth. and buying anything that is orange scented or flavored.

i’ve been waiting since last july to wear my bright green swimsuit.

and have sassy dance beach parties listening to bridgitte bardot.

and drink sangria on my stoop with friends. because stoop sangria is the best kind of sangria.

get your act together, okay?



what’s left of petunia;

remember my beloved bike  neptune/petunia (she/he had a gender complex)?

well, this is what is left of her.

yup, a bunch of no-good ragamuffins stole my dusty-pink and turquoise steed late on friday night. i stepped out my apartment early saturday, and confusedly looked towards my usual parking spot with concern. i don’t wear my glasses like i should and found it really odd that there was only one wheel attached to my usual locking pole. i passed it off as bad eye sight  that needed to be checked and got my keys out to unlock what i hoped was the rest of my bike.

nope. just the remnants of a bike, my now ironic forty dollar bike lock,  a sinking feeling in my stomach, and a deep need to get new glasses.

i never thought i would be the type of person who would get so attached to an inanimate object. i also never thought i’d be the type of person who would openly sob on the subway on the way to work, feeling more than a little defeated over a stolen bike. there’s a first thing for everything i suppose.

i had grown attached to my 7:30 am strolls past m.i.t. feeling like you’re swimming through the air is something i always looked forward each morning.

it was liberating. it was cold as eff most of the time. i became a mackenz-sicle most days.  and it involved me being close to being run over more than a few times. but i loved it. i loved the yelling of words a lady really shouldn’t yell at people who didn’t know how to use turn signals. i loved feeling cute and pretty badass every time i saddled up on my ridiculously multicolored bike. i loved knowing that i didn’t have to spend hours each week trying not to stare at people on the subway.

so, to the ruffian who stole my bike. i hope your street cred grows exponentially, as i’m sure only a bright pink bike with turquoise handlebars can do. and i hope you ride the rest of my bike into a reallydeep, dark ditch filled with jagged bike wheels.

because i’m all about irony.