Springles

Ah....Finally NYC. Wind that doesn't cut through to the bone; just gusts of comfortable that's cool around the edges. At last, a sky that more closely resembles bottoms swimming pools than slabs of concrete sidewalk. That's right, folks. It's fucking spring. Bring it on, pollen! I will sniff you up and stuff you in my nose, put you in my lungs and cough you out ANYDAY before I go back to snowy booby traps thinly disguised as my morning commute.

This weekend was A++, with a sticker in the corner, in bright red ink with exclamation points. And if the sweet, warm breeze and a blanket of sun weren't enough to warm my heart, the Hayley Maker came to town. You guessed it. Momma Keller visited for the first time in a year and we basked in all spring's glory.

Today's mixtape is especially dedicated to New York City spring chickies. And by chickies, I mean everyone. We just appreciate it so. much. When the first warm weekend comes people just go bananas and start lying on the sidewalks and shit. Seriously, we'll hop right up on that dumpster lid and have lunch if that means we get to sit in the sun. Everyone becomes ridiculous amounts of excited and let it all hang out. Then it's like "Shit, I can't wear these hot pants to work!? What was I thinking?" and they tone it down just enough to not offend building security or subway passengers. But that's it! That's all you're gettin'! Finally, we'll squeeze, yes squeeze, into Central Park, perch upon a hot rock and rock it like a fucking lizard (Said it, don't care).

So listen to the movements of NYC spring in the mix: Excitement. Whoa, too much excitement; put those boobs away. Bustin' out the capris. Jesus Christ. Putting the capris back in the closet. Nostalgia. Bonfires. And a sunset you swear you'd never see again. Sweet city springtime.

Cheers,

Merman