ship it good

We went to Portland last weekend. We left Jay around 10:30 a.m. Saturday, in order to get to the Portland Public Library by noon (they were having their book sale, and noon was when prices were slashed - ten cents per paperback, fifty cents per hardcover). We, as always, were late, but Emily S., who met us there, knew this was likely going to be the case. She herself had just gotten there when we arrived at ten past. We talked, mocked, browsed and made purchases. I think we were at the religion table when I was sharing my UMF tale, about not being accepted, about hearing that they weren't necessarily a non-traditional campus, feeling weird about it, etc., when a strange gal (late twenties, early thirties?) came up to me. I will abridge the encounter.

"Hi, did you just say University of Maine in Farmington? I just applied there. I have a 3.0, what was your GPA? (my answer: "Actually, I don't know.") I've been told I'm inspirational, I survived cancer you know. Then there was the abuse. I just submitted my essay. I think I'll get in. So you didn't get in? I think I have a good shot. Do you think I'll get in? I've been told I'm an inspiration."

There were also questions about how Emily and I knew each other. Jeremy had long since defected to a far corner of the auditorium. Emily eventually followed. I did my best to maintain politeness while this girl followed me around the book sale. I later managed a subtle, natural escape. Not that I didn't feel sorry for this girl. I don't imagine she has many friends to talk to if she can walk up to strangers and unload like that. But it's hard to sympathize when your sad tale so perfectly highlights my general feeling of inferiority. I threw lots of "that DOES sound inspirational! I'm sure, despite the university's tendency not to admit non-traditional students, that you will be the exception to the rule." and "yeah, my GPA was nowhere near 3.0, so that'll help."

From there, we went to the public market for coffee. We caught up (we hadn't seen each other in who knows how long, and had been trying to make plans to get together for the last ten months), reminisced, and went to browse at Material Objects. We didn't last long there, and parted ways shortly thereafter. We stopped in at Clay City to make plans with the other Emily, and popped into Videoport to visit and get movies. Jeremy and I had a late lunch at the Oriental Table (the best food on the eastern seaboard).

We went to Michelle and David's from there, where we met their new cat, and watched The Adventures of Pete and Pete on DVD. Emily came over after work, and she, me and Michelle went to Target. There was lots of almost-purchasing, and Michelle inadvertently asked a stockboy we had just deemed excessively bootylicious about where we might find contact paper. We had Target Dogs, and an enlightening debate over natural cures for yeast infections (garlic vs yogurt). I think it was the first time we all hung out together, without the men. It was the highlight of my weekend.

Once we were back, we watched three Garfield specials, and prepared ourselves for Ruskis. We went at 11:00, and were the first ones there. A few people later tricked in, and it was a nice, calm evening. Emily S. showed up, as she's dating one of Jeremy's Videoport pals, so I spent a large portion of the evening chatting with her. From there we went back to Dennis's, watched some Robot Chicken (not a funny show, but not unfunny either), and went to bed. The next morning we woke up entirely too early, and went to breakfast with Jackie. We stopped in to see if Em and the Joes were around, but alas, they were out. Which worked fine for us, because we were ready to go home.
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Every Wednesday, the following week's new releases are sent to us via Fed Ex. Our Fed Ex guy is exceptionally nice-looking. Tami and I are the only ones who ever have to deal with him, so we will talk about his hair cut, how he shaved his beard, etc. At one point he was a quiet and shy delivery guy. Last week, however, the movies came on Tuesday, and Tami was there alone. She's a tell-it-like-it-is type, and I think she told it. Right to him. Because yesterday, Mr. Fex Ex Ground came in, and was perky and chatty... I commented on the exceptional temperatures outside, and he told me that he was going to have to pull out the Fex Ex shorts soon, because he was getting sweaty and people were complaining! And he said it with the shamelessness of a guy who's suddenly found his confidence. Naughty Fex Ex guy! I laughed about his shorts for the rest of the afternoon. Shameless, I tell you. I love this town.