Mush goo.

My boyfriend is coming to visit me this weekend. For about thirty hours. He gets in from Los Angeles on Saturday morning, leaves Sunday at 6 p.m. It’s supposed to rain. I haven’t made many plans; going to introduce him to my babysitting family (duh), maybe try to get him to go on a gondola ride in the Central Park Lake, maybe listen to some jazz with him and my Dad and pretend to be Betty Draper in one of her rare happy moods; but most likely we will end up eating a lot of food and then I’ll be complaining to him that I’m full and it’s all his fault, which is my go-to-move on our rare visits together. Regardless, I’m very excited. It’s been three weeks since I’ve seen him. I love this city, and I can’t wait to be with him in it, even if IT’S JUST FOR A DAY. Uber sigh. 

Right now Will is at a Pearl Jam concert in L.A., aka he’s dancing around heaven in a pile of lollipop gumdrops, which is what I think is going on in his head/body whenever he gets to hear Eddie’s voice live. He went to their concert last night too. Spoiled brat, I know. Kid loves Pearl Jam even more than he wants to be Tom Brady. That didn’t really make sense. Anyhow, the goon sent me their new CD last week as a surprise gift (cuuuuuute, riiiight), and the track below is one of my favorites. I like the piano especially. I’m looking forward to listening to this song in his Jeep in a few weeks, which is when I trek out back to L.A. to visit him and stalk the Kardashians.

Um…

Uh, gross, I’m so majorly in love with my boyfriend. I mean, I’m sorry to say it again, but, hmmm, occasionally it overwhelms me fo sho, and I feel so very lucky. He is a wonderful guy. Thus, even though he loves Vedder’s voice more than me-okay Will literally JUST texted me to say “my seats are incredible!” (He must be flipping out like a kid on Christmas.)

Now he has texted me to say, “I might cry tonight.”

Hmmm. Interesting. I wish I was there. Really, though. Meh.

Here is the song.