this is the kind of stuff blogs were made for

Let's see what's right with this picture: Nice local cop not giving two shits about the crazy woman he's arresting and putting into his car. I'm sure when he gets done with working his overtime hours this weekend, he'll head to Murph's and laugh with his friends about how he was in Newsday. They'll all do some shots of Jaeger, and chuckle about the summer beginning, and how we all have to suck it up because they'll be gone in 3 months.

Now, why is this uh ... interesting (to say the least!) woman so irate? She has an art gallery and got arrested for selling alcohol without a liquor license.

Not such a big deal, you're thinking. Well, it's not. At all. However, and having been arrested out here, and also knowing police officers out here - i'm siding with the cops on this one. I know, I know, i'm supposed to be all Ice Cube. However, when faced with the hilarious reality of the situation, I have no other choice then to applaud the East Hampton Police Department on this one. For nothing more than the following quotes this hellbitch apparently said:

"I told them, 'I served liquor before you were born,'" Vered recalled Sunday night. "I told them they were not invited and I asked them to leave."She told them that if they wanted to talk to her, they would have to send the police chief."

Lovely, right? Oh, wait - it gets better.

"It's absolutely ridiculous," she said. "They're sabotaging the life of our small business. Everybody does parties and gives Champagne. It's East Hampton!"

God help us.

club deli traffic jam

Having been back to being a local for about six months now, i'm realizing how incredibly screwed up everything gets on summer weekends, especially holiday ones. I haven't lived out here in six years, so I believe I blocked out all the negative things about living out here from my memory bank.

Case in point: This morning, I hit up the deli, the same deli i've been going to since I got back, for my Sunday special - baconeggcheeseonarollsaltpepper. The line was full of girls from share rentals with their meat head boyfriends with tribal tattoos, of course they were wearing booty shorts which read things like "sexy" "juicy" or "diva". Gross. In addition to that, you had your stereotypical Hamptons weekenders - complete with straw hat, Nantucket Reds and gucci loafers, and then there were us. I gave a head nod of recognition to a kid I went to elementary school with who was behind the counter. He, of course, got my order straight away, even though I was pretty far back in the line. Nobody noticed, except me and him. The rude people - and this could be me, being that I was a line cutter, but i'm not getting into ethical debates here - just kept chattering on about "going to the club" and "having the nanny drop the children at the club". Two different types of clubs, obviously, from two significantly different types of people. I got my order and snuck out.

Typically, i'll head to a beach and eat my breakfast while relaxing, staring at the bay and checking out the placidity of the water. It's a holiday weekend. That doesn't happen. Instead, a five minute trip turned into a twenty minute trip, and every third car I passed was a Benz or a pimped out Honda playing techno way too loudly. What the hell happened to my town?! Agh.

Tonight i'm unsure whether to go out. My excursion today pretty much soured me on going out to mingle, and being that most people have been drinking all day and night for the past 2 days, i'm not sure if I should go out. Plus, I will suck it up and deal with all the idiots tomorrow at the Boardy Barn, which is deserving of a blog entry all its own.

My friend Megan, who is also a prodigal daughter, is coming back for the summer next week-ish from Portland, Oregon. I am hoping she would like to get in on this blog as well, as she is a much better writer and much better drinker than myself.

kickoff to summer, kickoff to blog

I had been thinking about creating a new blog to document my completely mundane and irresponsible life on Long Island for some time now. You see, it's not just Long Island, it's the Hamptons. Not the Hamptons you think of, with hedges and windex blue swimming pools. It's the Hamptons I grew up in, which I hope to shed some light on. There are normal people out here, although after returning, it seems theres nothing normal about it out here.

So, really, how did I end up here, the prodigal daughter's return? Long story short: Girl meets boy, Girl and boy fall in love, Girl and boy break up, Girl goes home. I survived the long, cold, drunken winter of heartache with a lot of help from the local dive bars, and some help from the local boy who was picked up in one of said local dive bars.

Memorial Day weekend is always a good weekend - the crowds of cidiots make their maiden voyages for the season, locals are happy to have successfully drowned the winter, and theres just a good energy. People arent burnt out on summer, they're not burnt out on going to all the seasonal places yet and everyone is cheerful and happy and fresh.

Last night could have found me at some silly overpriced Hamptons hotspot, spending thousands (of hypothetical dollars) for bottles. Instead, I chose to get some drinks then head to a bar my friends work at (and said local boy is employed at as well). All was good in my plan, but it all quickly went to shit. You see, this said local boy has an effect on me for the worst. Because the situation is completely awkward, the second he is spotted, the game begins. The game entails us making eye contact, then proceeding to get completely shitfaced while pretending to ignore one another, until it's last call and we wink at each other, then proceed to make out like teenagers in the backseat of his car. Well, I was prepared, but not to see local boy so early in the night, and my plan of being sassy and buzzed and cute when I showed up at his bar went to crap. He was spotted at the first bar before the sun had even set. This threw me into a frenzy. We made it to his bar eventually, alright, and embarassingly, the four hours of drinking beforehand made my arrival at his empty bar painfully obvious. You see, doors open at 9:30. Nobody heads down there until 11-12ish. We showed up at 10PM. Why? I have no idea. Hence, the pounding of shots and beers begun. The night was mainly a blur, until I had the great idea at the end of the night(and enough liquid courage for an army after 10 hours of drinking) of trying to convince local boy he and I should go to the diner. Well, knowing how much of a clumsy bitch I am, I proceeded to fall and completely eat shit, right in front of him. Wow. Classy. Needless to say, I took a cab home by myself and proceeded to pass completely out.

Obviously, I have some restraint, so I spent the better part of today nursing my hangover and trying to piece together the missing hours between midnight and 5AM. There won't be any Drift Inn for me tonight, which i'm not too heartbroken about. Thankfully, come tomorrow when I go back to local boy's place of employment, there will be stories from the drunk girls from tonight who fell down, and my trashy escapades of Friday night will be long forgotten. Or at least thats what i'm hoping for.