t h e . w r o n g . s t o r y

It’s Labor Day, which is apparently the symbolic end of summer. It’s time to put the flip flops away along with my fierce pair of homemade jorts. And since I haven’t blogged in ages, it’s also time to use it as an excuse to reflect on Summer 2011. So, taking a cue from my friend Jeff’s Summer Is… blog entry, I give you:

The things I learned this summer…

I learned that laying out can actually be fun. But apparently SPF 50 means you will never ever ever ever get a tan. Summer 2012 will be my tannest year so far!

I learned that even adults can get pink eye. And even adults act like children when they have pink eye.

I learned that I’m now allowed to get married. And that made me proud.

I learned that Sprinkles makes the most amazing Vegan Red Velvet cupcakes. I’m sorry, Babycakes. You’re cookies are amazing, but sprinkles wins the cupcake race.

I learned that just because some friends leave, doesn’t mean they are out of your life. Friendship survives.

I learned I look pretty badass in pink, bandanas, and pink bandanas.

I learned that turning 31 can be pretty damn sweet.

I learned that turning 31 doesn’t mean I can’t still act like I’m 13.

I learned a lot this past summer. Some important. Most not. But if there’s anything you can learn from this entry, it’s that while I may not blog as often as I should, I do take pictures and tweet quite a bit. So why aren’t you following me on twitter? You’re missing out on quite a bit of fun. @nickynax

Let breezes blow and turn cold as we continue growing old. Shall we all meet in the autumn?

Today we commemorate the anniversary of a tragic event in human history.

Thirty-one years ago today I was forced against my will to come in contact with a vagina. This mortifying event, thankfully, only happened that one time.

Thirty-one years have passed, and I am proud and humbled to say that I have overcome the emotional scars that traumatic experience could have left me with and have risen above to become a better person despite such an encounter of the labia kind.

Join me in celebrating this momentous milestone.

It’s been over two months since I last went to the park to enjoy the sun and warm weather on one of my days off. Partially because I have only really had one day off per week lately, and partially because since my surgery I’ve been pretty self-conscious about being seen without a shirt on and having people see my scar.

Again, I realize it’s a tiny scar and if I wasn’t sitting here making such a huge deal out of it, people wouldn’t even notice it and if they did, it wouldn’t be anything remarkable enough that they would comment or think negatively of it. But it’s still something I’m learning to live with, and that takes time.

The weather today was just too gorgeous to ignore, and I had to make a trip down to the park to lay out in the sun and get some natural vitamin D. So, I threw on a summery tank (I hate the term wife beater) and mustered up an eye-of-the-tiger attitude and set off for the park.

This was my first time to the park since the pool had opened for the season. I have always told myself I would use the pool, but after five years of living in this neighborhood, I have yet to so much as dunk a toe beneath the surface. Yes, it looks so refreshing and the view is gorgeous. But I just can’t get over the idea that a public swimming people in New York City would more aptly be named a public cesspool of disease.

I dunno, if it gets hot enough I may just break down and dive in and then run home and bathe in bleach.

But today, I was there to soak up the sun, not the urine of local children, so I headed over to the Great Lawn and staked my claim on a piece of grass, set the timer on my phone so I could turn over at proper intervals (like a human rotisserie), and spent the next hour baking.

I am happy to report that nobody pointed and laughed. No children cried out in terror. And, quite possible, nobody even noticed my scar at all. But even more remarkably, I even forgot it was there.

I guess maybe there is some truth to overcoming your fears by facing them head on.

In which case, I’d like to take this opportunity to announce that I am horribly afraid of people giving me huge sums of money. So, in the spirit of helping me get over that fear, you should all send me money. I accept paypal.

In exchange, I’ll leave you with a gratuitous crotch shot. I swear I was taking a picture of the view and not my boy parts. But it is what it is. And what it is is gorgeous.

Now seriously, send my money. My birthday is next month.