Got this information at http://stmarysalbanianchurch.org/Festival2007/. Looks like fun but I can’t go. Gj.C. please provide us with gossip and entertainment
It’s that time again…the Albanian festival is upon us. As a celebration of Albanian culture and tradition, St. Mary’s Albanian Orthodox Church in Worcester, MA, is hosting the biggest Albanian festival in the country, and we want you to join us. So come out on Friday, 6/1, Saturday 6/2, and Sunday 6/3, to enjoy some Albanian food, music, and dance. It is certain to be a great time.
Friday, June 1st : 6pm – 11pm
Saturday, June 2nd: 11am – 11pm
Sunday, June 3rd: 12pm – 8pm
Festival Location
St Mary’s Assumption Albanian Orthodox Church
535 Salisbury Street / Worcester, MA 01609
Phone: (508) 756-1690
From the deep-ended treasure trove of Alb Maintenance Guy, I present you with two tales:
1. The mystery of the decorating butt.
There once was an Alb Maintenance Guy, diligently working to keep a school’s bathrooms in running order. He always took pride in a job well done but he was having trouble with the East Wing Boys Bathrooms, the last stall in particular. Several times the stall was found to have been decorated with piles of Human Excretions, enshrining a pristine toilet bowl. After several useless stakeouts, the janitor finally pinpointed the time of the “deed” as 4.30-ish. However, he still could not catch the culprit with his pants down. So, an elaborate plan was plotted and implemented.
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mr. e came to town. a genuinely likable person, who has a thousand stories, an impish grin, a tall and lanky figure and almost white teeth. me like. being with him is like being slowly marinated in an alcohol and laughter mixture, spiced here and there with sadness about past relationships and history lectures. the guy really knows his history.
he is surprised to see the fraying at the seams his old buddies show here in NY, and flabbergasted at the idea that he can go home at 4 in the morning instead of the customary 8. how dare we even suggest it? but home we go, after valiantly making it through one home get together, a barbecue and two quiet cafes that only carry vodka and red wine. and of course the promise that morning will bring forth the last of that wonderful gray goose bottle and that garden made raki.
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possibly, the moments i dread more in family life are coming home and finding a new piece of old furniture and my proud parents beaming next to it. i have come to notice the pride and self-satisfaction steaming from half curved lips and shiny eyes, as i hit my shins into yet another piece of horrendous taste somebody else had the good sense to dispose of, and my parents picked up in one of their “shopping” expeditions.
my personal furnishing taste is doing it as painlessly as possible. i go to the furniture stores, I point, they pack, i swipe the plastic, they deliver.
it was not always so, of course. i made the mistake of telling my parents the “war stories” from when i first had my apartment in the Bronx, a single mattress of a dead aunt, the old leecherous superintendand gave me, one chair and a phone line with voicemail. my former musician friend told me she loved the echo in my apartment. yes for the first nine months the wonderful echo bounced from empty wall to empty wall.
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This is for a sad friend. Find the author and win a smile. As usual, please give me your critique.
Because I chose to love you
And I chose to court you
And I chose to kiss you
That’s why.
And I chose to lose you
And I chose to track you
And I finally found you
That’s why.
Because again I loved you
And again I courted you
And again I kissed you
That’s why.
And I lost you girl
And I tracked you girl
And I found no girl
That’s why.
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she adjusted her pushup bra strap and the belt buckle of her jeans, breathed deeply and stepped off the train. it took a moment for her senses to get used to the assault of people, smells, noises, lights and bumps from all possible directions. she finally got herself together enough that she could remember his directions about coming out of the station at the exact spot he would be waiting for her.
oh, him. she made her way through the throngs of hurrying people, their luggage and their children, into a large corridor. he would be waiting, wouldn’t he. somewhere she could hear the sounds of a barrel organ. a street musician was massacring the tune of “love story” of all things. he would be somewhere in that direction, possibly leaning on a phone booth or a wall, looking for her. she was sure she would recognize him in an instant, even though they had only seen each-other in the camera. she had come to really know the strangely angular face, thin lips and little rebel curls that framed his face on their nightly sessions.
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As you see, the NY Albos wanna have fun. One party is Saturday at the place we all know so well, Essex Club,
And the other one is at the ROXY, a fun NY club Albos congregate too time after time. Either way, plenty of choices, so strap on your platforms, unearth that metallic blue eyeshadow and party Alb Style:
Have fun and let me know how they went. Or if my eyeshadow has not dried yet, I’ll go and have fun myself. Hope they have big enough woofers.
no, the One has not called yet. i thought that perhaps i would feel a bit anxious and hurt, but i amactually relieved, and hoping it will not happen. maybe he’s scared of my business card. it is after all red, shiny and square, compared to all the other off white rectangles in circulation. maybe those leather pictures came up while googling me. or maybe he read this blog.
either way, the feeling of freedom is almost overwhelming. i think that in a week i will definitely be in the safe zone.
however this story reminds me of another phone call i received a couple of summers ago, while on a picnic with friends. the voice on the other side was that of a nice Alb person, who would not tell me where he had gotten my number, but who was very persistent in his coffee invitiation. of course, i did not say yes there and then, but i did say yes a couple of calls later. who can refuse free coffee?
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