the opera.

first of all, i just want to point out that i balls out love opera.

it felt so good to sit on the cool grass, watching bats dart through the dusk, surrounded by friends and listening to incredible music. we organized a big crew and sat together giggling, struggling to contain our laughter and getting glares from old people in beach chairs.

but i mean, what do they expect? most of us couldn't understand a word. i wish the met had organized some sort of supertitles. i don't speak french so i really had no idea what was going on. when the tympani came in and the organ went dum-DUM-dum, then i knew the devil was about to sing. that's about it. the main character's name was marguerita, and they kept singing her name annunciated loudly and carefully, which made it sound like MAR-GAR-IIIII-TAAA. which just made me thirsty for a margarita.

non-musical highlight no. 1: meeting a super-hot and super-smart girl.

non-musical highlight no. 2: watching a day-old blackberry drop headfirst into a container of hummus.

oh, here's a great little story. as we were leaving the park, we hailed a yellow cab and this park slope couple ran up with kid in tow yelling, no wait! that's ours, we called him! [what? you don't call a yellow cab.] wait, we have a baby! they said to the driver. he asked us, well, where are you going? cobble hill and then into manhattan, we said. he asked the couple the same question. their answer: just around the corner, a couple blocks away. sorry, the driver said. i've got to take the longer fare. what? no. we have a baby! frustrated huffing etc. we drive away.

just because you have a baby doesn't mean you can poach our cab. back off, yuppies.