Last year learned that sometimes it's possible for people to just suck, and that's all you can and need to say, because that's all there is to them. They suck.
This year I've learned that those beautiful flowery paintings that you may or may not have seen of Boston Common are in fact done from life. I've never seen so many huge flowered trees look so fantastic before in all my days. I've always loved the contrast of flowers in the city, like those huge bouquets of tulips that people sell in the subway. Any flower looks more beautiful in the subway, and flowered trees and mini gardens look that much more beautiful when they're scattered around the city. I actually think that even the bums and the heroin dealers that are usually in the Common acknowlege how pretty everything is, and just disappear for awhile to let people enjoy the grass and the baby leaves and those damn swan boats that are just too appropriately picturesque for words.
I love mes amis and I love May and I love Berry Berry Berry Good in a waffle cone and I love Wicked and I love Grey's Anatomy and I love tomato/basil/proscuitto/mozzarella sandwiches on sesame bread and I love little sprouts of ivy and I love John Williams and I love beating the Red Sox Rush on the D Line and I love Emerson, even though they refund me $30 for a $115 psychology book that I barely touched and I think I love Hint of Lime Tostitos, but I'm not quite sure yet.
Everything that sucks, well that's too bad for you because you have to deal with the fact that even Hint of Lime Tositios are more likeable.
And that's saying something, because tortilla chips covered in limey powder are pretty strange.
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