17 Years of Good Lovin'

Your Word of the Blog: Friendaversary: n. 1. A special celebration of the unique, cherished relationship between two or more friends. 2. A damn good reason to brunch.

Guest appearance: $. Yes, $. Who is he? One third of our awesomeness. Sorry, ladies, he's happily married. But, keep reading...

Tee's Take
With commentary from Rai

**Note: We owe you some dates. We know that and we're really, really sorry. Coming soon! In the meantime, enjoy today. We did!

Commentary provided (in purple) by Rai

Happy Friendaversary! Well, to Rai, $, and myself, at least. Since you’re here, we’ll include you in the celebration! See, on a March day 17 years ago, as trouble-making middleschoolers, the three of us met, mingled, and merged into one cohesive friendship unit. Menage a trois? I think not! More like losange eternal! Because, well, diamonds are forever! (Confession: I totally used babelfish for that.) All these years later, I could not ask for a better pair of friends – or a greater reason to party! It's true. She celebrates *everything*. I think I even got a card in the mail for secretary's day once. So, to commemorate such a special occasion, a brunch (of course!) was planned.

Besties! ;)

Now, when you think “brunch,” you think morning, right? Stop that. As the three of us have busy, busy schedules (or just like to sleep in when the kids aren’t around!), getting us all together before 1 pm can be trying. She's just trying to be nice. The truth is, $ double booked and "sleeping in" is an understatement when it comes to me...I didn't get up till 11:00. In our world, brunch is any meal that includes at least one breakfast food, is appropriate to wear a cute dress to, and allows for a daytime cocktail without an intervention or phone call to anyone’s sponsor. Also, it’s best done on a Sunday, those rare, glorious days where everything moves slowly.

As usual, dating Rai meant a trip to Philadelphia. South Jersey is just not the hotspot necessary to woo her (This could not be more true. Despite having grown up there, I've become a snob when it comes to hanging out there. "What's there to dooo??" I ask.), and as $ lives in Center City, I loaded up the car (Greeting cards! Candy! A jacket! Mementos! Spare accessories!) and hopped in the driver’s seat. The ride to Rai’s never gets old, as I have an intensely peculiar love of 295N and socially inappropriate music. (Why, yes, my milkshake does bring all the boys to the yard! You see me doing what on that pole, Snoop? You really do like dem girls, don’t you Lil Jon?) Going over the bridge, I got a text from $: “Ok, where are you guys at?” 12:45 pm. Hm. We had previously decided on Jones, since it was within walking distance from $’s apartment, looked like it had something everyone would eat, and had received positive reviews on yelp. (Whaddup, yelpers!) Brunch in Philly tends to end at 3pm, so at almost 1 pm, we were already pushing it. I waved my ezpass and sped through the tolls, determined to grab-and-go with Rai.

“Haaaaaaaaappy Friendaversy!” I yelled as I entered Rai’s house in my typical fashion - throwing myself through the door, no knock, full force, “like the ‘effin cops,” as she tells it.

From upstairs: “Back atcha! Now get your ass up here and help me get ready!” Uh oh. My stomach grumbled (left empty all day in preparation for my brunchy feast!) as I ascended the staircase. My date was in the bathroom, glaring at her polkadotted belt with obvious consternation. We were going to be a while. *GASP* Lies upon lies!!! This is NOT an accurate retelling of this portion of the day at ALLLLL. 1. I was more ready than that. 2. My question was to wear flats or heels and it took me all of 20 seconds to make that decision (I hate my calves, heels make them appear slimmer). 3. What made us late was Tee's need to have pics taken in a Boba Fett costume helmet. Mmhmmm.

On the train to $

At 1:50 pm, dressed, dolled up, and accouterments doled out (Me: camera, bottled water, greeting cards. Her: candy, change, cell phones), we left the house. After much debate on the front porch, I decided to drop my coat off at the car and walk sans outerwear to the train. It was a pleasant 54 degrees and, provided we did not tarry in the shadows, I was content to enjoy the first day of spring in just my cardigan. Rai, however, having no faith in the sunshiney day (Take note that I turned out to be right in the long run. Tee was freezing after we left our brunch spot!), bundled up for our walk to the underground. Turns out, we were both wrong. Or, right. Or, inappropriately dressed, as it were. I was a smidge too cold and she was a bit too warm. Shrug. Even the best planned dates can’t account for everything…

By 2 pm, we were on the train and officially brunch-bound. $ called again: “I thought you were picking me up?” We are! Like any good suitor, we collect our dates curb-side!

Exiting the subway station, Rai spied a luggage store. “I’ve been meaning to go in here…” she trailed off.

“We can’t” I said. “$ is waiting. He’ll kill us.”

“We’re already really late…” she reached for the door handle. “How fast can he expect me to walk in four inch heels anyway?”

“I don’t think-“ But, I was speaking to the empty city street. My ladyfriend was already inside.

I followed after Rai as she and the salesgirl made guesstimates on luggage for her steno machine. To her credit, she was quick and we were back on the street and headed for $ within minutes.

“God, you walk fast!” Rai grumbled, hurrying to keep up. “As much as YOU truck it, he’ll never know we stopped…” Don’t worry, Rai! Your secret is safe with me! Or at least it was until you posted it on a public blog!! In my defense, I need a rolling bag for my SIXTY POUNDS of machine and equipment that I'm humping to and from school *on my shoulder* to class!! And she was not exaggerating when she said we were in and out in a matter of minutes. It's also true that she walks like a man...like a 6'2" man. Meanwhile, despite adding 4 inches to my height by wearing heels, *I* still walk like a 5' tall girl.

We spotted $ a block from our destination. I threw myself across the busy blacktop and into his open arms for a hug…an injurious hug. “Your face…hurt my arm!” I complained, rubbing my damaged bicep. Who knew that best friends had such hard chins? “Your arm hurt my face!” he retorted, and we started off down the pavement in search of food. He looked pointedly at his cell phone. It was nearing anti-brunch time in the city. Another plan was needed!

The Gayborhood is nice for many things, and good eats is definitely one of them. As we ventured further, $ was quick to point out the available eateries. A brief stop at Glaces (Nay! I do not want quail eggs as my first meal of the day!) and it was decided we’d head to Valanni’s for a brunch $ declared to be "always amazing.” Rousing endorsement; I’m in!

Valanni’s proved to an excellent choice for our celebratory date! The inside was slick, dimly lit, and comfortable. I visited the bathroom and was pleasantly surprised to find fresh flowers there…although slightly freaked out by the music pumping through the speakers. (“I always feeeeel like...somebody’s waaaaaatching me….” Ooh. ) WHAT?! It was The Beatles! Who in God's name gets freaked out by The Beatles?? On a related note, that was the first thing I noticed. I now absolutely *heart* this place...and any others that play The Beatles almost the entire time I'm there! The brunch menu was not extensive, but offered some solid options. And the cocktail offerings? Orangina? Yes, please!

With greetings!

Rai advised, “Try not to hit on the waiter!” Sigh. I’d do my best. A necessary digression: I have a tendency to accidentally proposition people. No, I am not joking. I have no idea how or why this happens, but it does. I am the unintentional master of the double entrendre. It is ridiculous and wildly amusing- if you’re not…me. I have been known to involuntarily elicit booty calls and turn simple shopping transactions into barters for much more. The last time we were all out together, I managed to be blatantly suggestive to our server- or, at least, the rest of our party thought so…as did the waiter. Conversations with me usually leave the other party quite happy…and feeling slightly dirty and/or mildly turned on… aaaahahahaha Oh, have I got stories to back this up!! She doesn't so much proposition as say blatantly flirty things, albeit unintentionally. And it's ALWAYS hilarious! But, hey, back to brunch!

I ordered the blueberry pancakes and bacon (To hell with what Rai and $ ordered, is it? Well, I'll show you! *I* had the filet of beef & herb scrambled eggs with a side of cheese grits that $ strongly suggested I try. *HE* had lobster Benedict. If you know us, absolutely none of this is surprising) and, while we waited for the food to arrive, we swapped stories of yesteryear and made fun of $’s hair. We reminisced on our youth and how much things change…or how little they do, depending.

Then the subject switched to the old favorite...

“So,” $ said, turning to me. “How’s the love life?” Ack.

I mean, what reasonable guy wouldn't want to date THIS?!

“Let ME tell you!” always helpful Rai interjected. :D I looked on in horror as my recent dating life was chronicled and dissected in front of me. *facepalm*? You bet! There's something you don’t have to worry about on a date with an actual boy! On a real rendezvous, it is highly unlikely your date is going to tell anyone else present what or who you’ve been doing. Nor is it probable that the other party will heartily recommend “by date two, if he hasn’t sealed the deal, bail.” Thanks, $! $ also helpfully advised me, “You need to put out more!” and “Your taste in dudes sucks; As a dude, I’m a better judge of dudes. Let me meet them all to screen them first. What are you doing Friday?” Riiiiiiight. Rai gaily agreed. I pictured $ posting an open casting-call to all single men ages 26 to 43 in the tri-state area, lining them up and questioning them under a bright light: "In all actuality, how much of a jerk are you? Do you know any three-syllable words? If your date suddenly launches into a velociraptor impression, complete with wee lil' arms, do you ask for the check? (Or do you simply take note of where her "wee lil' arms" are placed and think she's trying to be dirty?) How much do you really enjoy documentaries and indie films? What's your stance on putting out?" I briefly gritted my teeth and reconsidered the homance in progress. I swallowed deep sips of Orangina through my straw and tried to relax into the mild midafternoon buzz. Ahhh, friendship!

By 4 pm, the food was gone, my glass held just a few scant icy cubes, and the waitstaff had been by “to see if [we] needed anything else” at least three times. We took the hint and left. I think it was four. And despite the otherwise enjoyable time, I was somewhat put off by this considering the place was empty save for us and the three people at the bar. I mean, really? We wandered over to Naked Chocolate for some after-brunch beverages (Rai was craving a chai like frat boys crave liquored-up coeds with low self-esteem and daddy issues...er..or beer. Yeh, let's go with that. Beer. Either way, it was something she really, really wanted. No, I was definitely craving one like frat boys crave liquored-up coeds, fo' sho!) and headed off towards the subway. $ was gallant enough to offer to walk us to our train. See? Chivalry is still alive! (But married, and also, our best friend, which makes the whole idea just seem gross…) She's confusing chivalry with obligation here.

We stood at the mouth to the station, discussing life, futures, relationships, sex, plans, hopes, and whether or not $ could manage to look non-Asian in a photograph for quite some time. (It was determined that he cannot unless you surprise him with the photo.) As is the usual, obligations called us towards departure and we said goodbye with a hug 17 years in the making.

“Let’s not get all gay here,” Rai said and off we went to the train, towards home, towards other commitments, towards future dates with… who knows? Someone(s) we’re familiar with? People we’ve yet to meet? Maybe you? Perhaps. Definitely you if you're a waiter and Tee says anything at ALL to you. With each other? Well, for sure!

Happy Friendaversary to you all! And to all a good night!

The Union League Club...a story for another day!

Rai's Ratings

1. Cost: I Wanna Hold Your Hand
My meal was a little over $25, hers was a little under. A little pricey for a leisurely brunch, and you can definitely get cheaper brunch cocktails elsewhere. The bartender was a little heavy-handed, though, and the food WAS good (even the grits!), so probably worth the money.

2. Can you wear a sweater dress here?
I probably wouldn't (and not just because it was the first day of spring!). We did wear little sundresses, but they were somewhat dressier than a sweater dress. I most DEFINITELY would not wear one to Valanni in the evening!

3. Real-Dude-Date-ability - Would a regular guy be able to hang?
How secure is your dude in his sexuality? Is he a homophobe? One needs to keep in mind the neighborhood this restaurant is located in. It IS the gayborhood, afterall. If none of that is an issue for yo' man (or you!), then sure, he could hang here.

4. Listen, girl... (some last minute advice)
In the immediate future, April 7, 2011 to be exact, Valanni will be hosting a Whiskey Dinner. Details can be found on their events page. Also worthy of noting, they hold an annual fashion show in October. Last year's theme was "Some Like It Hot: a fashion show dedicated to 1950's elegance." I was so sad to hear I'd missed it :( And while they were listed as participants for Restaurant Week, I did NOT find them under Sips (although, that does NOT mean they won't participate *this* summer...the list was last year's). Now I'd like to give a shout out to all mah table-waiting brothers and sisters! According to their events page, every Wednesday at 10pm is S.I.N. Service Industry Night. There's no indication of how you prove you're "in the 'biz" and I'm not even sure you really have to, but there it is!

Our 1st Date... or "When the Magic Really Began"

Your Word of the Blog: Homance: n. When two straight females share friendship, love, and affection for one another. Like a Bromance, but for chicks. See http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=homance for further information.

Tee's Take...

Five months ago, deep in the throes of a men-and-their-extreme-suckage rant (Sorry, dudes who may be reading this. We like you; really we do...) our brilliant plan was hatched. Or cracked, depending on your viewpoint. Either way, the discussion wound around to how lovely a fall picnic would be, how fantastic it could be to stroll arm-in-arm through the park and then stop to spread out a soft, plaid blanket, open an authentic, old-fashioned picnic basket, and enjoy some delicious victuals. (Yes, I said victuals. It's my romantic vision. Deal with it.) And then to gaze sweetly at your partner and have deep, meaningful discussions on life and love. Or... how amazing it would be, if ever such a man existed who would be so wonderful, yet straight enough, to invite us along.... And, considering we'd yet to meet a single dude - let alone two - who fit that bill, it was time to try it out ourselves. So a date was set...


Love is in the Air...or is it Fried Chicken?

A sunny Sunday was chosen and the victuals (yes, victuals, damnit!) prepared in advance. I fried up chicken cutlets the night before and picked out a special loaf of honey-wheat artisan bread and some not-as-cheap-as-Kraft-singles cheeses from the vast cheese display at my local Acme. Port Wine and a sharp New York Cheddar, for those of you in the fromage know. I added some fresh baked chocolate chip cookies and happily packed it all in...oh, shit! Okay, no picnic basket to speak of. Well, a smart woman knows how to make do, right? So I shoved it all in a couple of Cool Whip containers with an ice pack from my 7 year old's lunch bag. Good to go!

I drove to Philadelphia to pick up Rai and, low and behold, she came with her own picnic basket. What a great date! She demurely crammed our stuff inside, and we headed off to Rittenhouse Square. Rai assured me parking in Rittenhouse was free on Sundays. Woot! Sadly, she was not the only one who knew this. Apparently, parking in Rittenhouse on a weekend is a to-the-death battle. All cute'd-up in my sweater dress and tights, I wasn't sure I wanted in on the war. There were horns. There were fingers. There were angry voices. Since most of this was emanating from inside our vehicle, Rai sagely suggested I just find a garage and suck up the $12 fee. After circling the block a few times, I finally caved and motored into an overpriced underground parking spot.. We grabbed the camera and our basket and took the elevator to the street level, ready for homance!

Pausing outside of a Barnes & Noble, a gentleman spied our picnic basket. "Don't tell me there's fried chicken in there?!" he asked, both skeptical and hopeful all at once.

"There is!" I replied, gaily, and sauntered on. Clearly, we were girls who knew how to picnic.

HE knows what I'm talkin' about!

It was a bit cold and damp, but Rai was well-prepared to fight off the chill. Two words that will lift the spirits, warm the heart, and numb the lips of any woman: SPIKED COCOA. Ah, Cherry Chocolate Bliss! Swoon! Arm-in-arm, we strolled over cobblestone, gazing at our fellow pedestrians. Notably, many were couples. More notably, we seemed to be having a better time (though that may have been the cocoa as much as the company!). Also worth noting: It is near impossible to tell if a police officer is giving you the eye because he thinks you and your friend are cute...or because he suspects you are 1/4 of the way to public intoxication...

But enough noting...

We found a sunshiney spot in a grassy patch that appeared remarkably dog-duty-free (There's just some things you don't want to deal with on a homantic picnic!). Rai helped me spread out our picnic blanket and we sat down to enjoy our feast.

Victuals!

I'd like to tell you that the soft blanket cushioned my derriere from the hard, remarkably-wet earth below it. And I'd like to tell you that the "breeze" that whipped its way through the park was warm and relaxing and did not cause goosebumps in places I generally don't admit to having until at least the the third date. And I'd also like to tell you that two strapping, independently-wealthy rugby players with sensitive sides saw our cold, shivering asses and whisked us away to the warmth of their manly-yet-attentive arms. Yeh, I'd really really like to tell you all that... And if I did, you would totally be within your rights to call me a dirty liar. And since I would never lie to you, I won't tell you those things. Instead, I'll just issue this statement: Autumnal picnics are lovely...in early autumn...or don't wear tights. 'Nuff said, k?
As for the victuals: DELISH! There really is nothing better than cold chicken, fresh bread, smooth cheese, and chewy chocolate chip cookies. Except for spiked cocoa. And, y'know, we had that too.

People watching is an under-appreciated sport. Really, there's a lot to be learned about human relationships by paying close attention to random strangers' interactions. On a chilly fall afternoon, you can watch a pair on their first date, two people being introduced by their curious dogs, a gay couple with a child (was it theirs? we never did figure that out), stressed-out businessmen who clearly should have taken the day off, fathers who are obviously filling that difficult gray-area of "Weekend Custody," and a few wandering artists who look to carve out space for their souls to breathe in the midst of the urban suffocation. Plus, y'know, some moderately hot dudes.

The perfect leaf for our perfect date...

Even more interestingly, halfway through our lunch spread, we got to witness a flashmob that...wasn't. Or, at least, that's what their leader kept insisting... loudly...over his megaphone.
"We are not a flashmob." murmur murmur murmur "Right! We are NOT a flashmob!" murmur murmur It went on for about 10 minutes, Megaphone Man explaining this to about 30 of them who had seemingly randomly gathered there. After a final cry of "We are not a flashmob!" the group disbanded and went their separate ways. My best guess: They were a flashmob.

Luncheon finished, we packed up our basket and headed back to the parking garage to stow the basket. We briefly made a new friend in the elevator, who asked if we were lost then heartily wished us a fantastic day, and we wandered off down the bright city street. Man-less, we were free to windowshop to our hearts content. Rai is considerably shorter than me (and I'm short in my own right!), so our street-strut took about half a block to master. "You sexy girl, and you know it!" one upstanding gentleman called out. Indeed, sir. As he did not specify which of us was "girl," we can only assume the appreciation went to our combined effort. Ah, you really can't beat that "brotherly love!"

Rai with her basket and travel mug (*wink*) and some very amused bystanders

Children and chores waited as the afternoon hours waned and we reluctantly returned to the car. What a lovely way to spend the day! Was it successful first date? It definitely seemed as if two girls could enjoy one picnic date. Frigid ground aside, our visions of a perfect autumnal outing seemed near-complete. And, once the weather warms up, I would not hesitate to take Rai on any other baglunch date- especially if she's making the cocoa!


Rai's Ratings...


The Important Stats


1. Cost Free As A Bird…
...or very expensive depending on what you put in your picnic basket ;)

2. Can you wear a sweater dress there?
Abso-freakin-lutely (see: pics of Tee from this date). In my many visits to Rittenhouse, I’ve worn jeans, overalls (Hey! HEY! It was a *uniform* for my job!), pretty skirts, heels, sandals, sneakers….

3. Real-Dude-Date-ability - Would a regular guy be able to hang?
Most certainly! However, if he’s a hipster he may be distracted by the guy on the grass with the guitar. If he’s competitive, avoid the old men playing chess. Other than that, you’re pretty safe. And if you can’t get him to acquiesce to a picnic, there are plenty of restaurants nearby AND….if case of fire (or the need to bribe) the Rum Bar is *totally* in walking distance.

4. Listen, girl... (some last minute advice)
Last summer there was a dance school that gave free lessons in the park on Saturday evenings. If memory serves, it was Dance Philadelphia. I’m not sure they’ll do it again this summer, but it’s worth checking their schedule, no? I do NOT recommend wearing a sweater dress in July, though. Jus’ sayin'

2 Girls 1 Date ??!?? ooh. yeh..

Did we go there? Yeh, we went there.



Unlike any cupped-up counterparts you may be reminded of, our visuals will be much tamer. And won't make you want to retch. (Well, we hope not, at least.)

So who are we? And why are we here? And why are we asking these questions into a completely empty space? **blink**

I shall proceed regardless...

Our story:

18 years ago, Rai met Tee and love bloomed. No, not with each other. At least, not the variety that might make this blog REALLY interesting to some of you. (I'm lookin' at you, buddy...) It was a love to last a lifetime, a love to carry us through the ages, a love of...okay, you get the point. Rai + Tee = BFF! (emphasis on that last F, fo sho!) Covered. So how does besties = blogging?

The condensed version (and then we can all get on the good stuff):

I mean, we're cute, we're funny, we smell good, BUT...

Three disastrous marriages, five kids, a whole lot of chocolate, and a deep, passionate love affair with cheap wine have sprung forth during the friendship of these two women. Realizing that, at 29 and 30, respectively, finding one - nay, TWO!- decent guys to date was going to prove difficult. And achieving the level of awesome we all wish a date could have? Hmm... It seemed our options were limited. What to do?


Girls just wanna have fun...right?!

Now, all girls know how the perfect date *should* go...all those little touches that make a simple dinner out amazing or night at the movies extraordinary? All the things you wish he'd say, the tiny extras you'd be bowled over if he did? Those things you discuss with your girlfriends -loudly and when you know he's listening (c'mon, you can admit it!)- hoping he'll he'll get the hint? Those afternoons when you think "what a perfect day for a picnic with my honey?" while he drags you to his buddy Scooter's to watch the game?

Yeh, we don't worry about that anymore.

As busy working moms (we both have careers and school and housework and et cetera. Lots of et cetera), time to ourselves is at a premium. And time to spend with a new beau? Hell, time to even meet that special someone? Ha! If wishes were horses, saddle me up a stallion!

But, I digress...


So, the solution: Double date - each other. Yes, you read that right. 2 Girls 1 Date. Simple, brilliant, FUN. I mean, as women, we know what we like. We know how to make the day special. We know how to have a good time and appreciate/be appreciated by our dates each other. And, does it hurt our egos any that, forces combined, we turn a lot of heads? Exactly. 2 Girls 1 Date = irresistible. (Trust us, we have references.)

Five months into this, we're having a ball...or two..or not.... a blast! My date is considerate, dressed well, great conversation, likes the same types of things I do and doesn't leave me with obvious beardburn. Can you say the same?


So, cue "Lovers Theme," we're heading out for the night.... Join us if you'd like, but just be sure to bring your own cup! ;)