So I had plenty of things to occupy me before we left for Boston. Tons of places where I wanted to eat, historical sites I wanted to see, and events I wanted to attend. Because I am way more optimistic and out-of-touch with reality than my friends (who may, in this example, be referred to collectively as "Pinky"*), though, I got to do very little of that. Let's explore this notion further with another edition of Boston: DAY THREE.
*love you guys!
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Seeing as how this was a little over four months ago and I have the memory of a goldfish, we (royal) will try to reassemble the picture. The day began with a foray into downtown Boston.
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This is what Lily and I look like most of the time. Minus the weird expressions. Also minus the dinosaur bandage, which was covering a sikk burn I got from cooking a week or two before.
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The lovely Boston Common
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We picnicked with some foods we'd picked up from Lambert's across the street. Note to self: Don't pay a lot of money for "fresh" "Californian" fruit in "Boston". It's not as good.
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"I tried to tell you," says Ashley.
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"Silly Christine," says Lily.
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I tried to recreate my regular sandwich from Bay Cities Deli in Santa Monica: prosciutto, tomato, basil, mozzarella. It wasn't nearly as good. Sorry, Lambert's. I'm even sorrier, Bay Cities. I won't leave you again.
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That's me up at the top.
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What's that? You don't believe me?
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(insert photoshopped photo of my head on that, which I'm too lazy to do)
I was a little obsessed with these.
"Hey guys, we're all going this way for a revolution. Wanna come?"
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"No! You don't get it! What--why am I even talking to you. You don't have a head. Where's William??"
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"Which camera are you guys looking at? Are we all looking at Geoff?"
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"So help me--don't make me strike you in front of the lads, Wilhelmina!"
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But back to the story at hand, if there ever was one. During my research for Boston goings-on during our trip, I happened across something involving colonials, Redcoats and drums: the Redcoat Encampment. That, along with the Freedom Trail and the Dorchester Beach Festival, were all hazy inconceivable wishes.
Until I heard some cannons.
Noticed some people gathering down over there.
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And yes, we happened to be traversing the Common just as it was being INVADED BY REDCOATS.
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I think my face was this lit up the whole time.
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Jerks!
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Ha. NICE HATS, JERKS.
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I'm pretty sure this is historically accurate.
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So that was fun for about 10 minutes. Then we left the cloaks and quills behind for greener pastures.
Saw some bridges and shit.
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I like to imagine this "woman" here "sitting" and minding her own "business"
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Saw a WEDDING in progress. Naturally, we had to go lurk it.
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This way, guys!
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I hate to be that guy, but "by the willow tree" might not be the most helpful phrase.
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This may or may not have been Theresa and Kevin. With the "official" photographer. Hey, if you two lovebirds want this baby, I invite you to take it! I'm here all week!
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Later we trekked to Newbury St., which I guess is like 3rd St. for Boston but with more stairs going down.
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Now, I think this was from that night. This picture hardly does justice to the sardinian atmosphere of this train jammed with Red Sox fans just leaving the field. I had to stifle an urge to comment mildly to one of them, "Red Sox? Is that a new play?"
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Later Kim insisted we go to The Other Side, which seemed to me like a pie bar. Lauren and I split some molten chocolate something-or-other. Forgive the flash...like it said, a bar.
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We ended the evening with another foray into Cambridge to attend a "Moulin Rouge" singalong at the Brattle Theatre, made famous by Lois Lowry's hilarious Anastasia Krupnik. I haven't been to a "Moulin Rouge" singalong probably since that one theatre in Santa Monica stopped doing it years ago. It was a lot of fun. This time we even got a lyric book, like any of us needed it. Got some good duets in with a few gay men nearby.
I'm sure more happened that evening but I have the memory of an ox...or a goldfish...so let's leave it at that.