Thing of the Day: New Years Eve

I've always had a love/hate relationship with New Years Eve (someone pointed out to me that having love/hate relationships seem to be a quasi-forte of mine: The Jersey Shore, guidos and all things tacky in general, binge eating and drinking, pop culture, most people I interact with on a day to day basis, technology, becoming an adult etc etc)--but New Years Eve especially. The issue that I have with New Years is the same one I have with birthdays--it makes me feel old, and it makes me feel guilty for not having done more since the last New Years Eve/birthday.

This year has been a little different. Over the course of the past year, I have done, experienced, and changed more than I have during any other year of my life that I can remember (which, to be quite honest, isn't saying much--I have an incredibly selective and can't really recall any memories that I may have formed before the age of 16, save for the ones that Mama Bogo has embedded in my head via telling and re-telling of stories. "Do you remember the time you...were 1 and pretended you didn't know how to walk and insisted on being carried everywhere even though I had caught you sneakily walking around your room at least 10 times when you thought nobody was watching? Were 3 and kicked your pediatrician in the genitals and then ran out of the office and down several floors completely in the nude because he tried to give you a booster shot? Were 5 and got yourself banned from the playground and thus myself banned from the mothers-who-gossip-at-the-playground because you stole all the little boys toys and nearly cracked ones' skull with a shovel when he tried to refuse toy surrender? Were 9 and broke both your wrists trying to demonstrate to the playground you had just been re-admitted to how well you could cartwheel on top of the monkey bars? Were 14 and got a one day suspension from school because when your cell phone went off in Chemistry class for the third time that week you pulled it out and answered the teachers' reprimands with "sorry Mr.Banks, I really like this boy and have to talk this call?" NO Mom. I have no memories from before at least sophomore year of high school. But while you're at telling stories can we talk about how I was 4th grade Brooklyn spelling bee champion, or how I once placed at the science fair, or how I wasn't the bane of your existence? GOSH.) But I digress.

I've done more this year than I ever have in the (memorable) past, and I can say surely that 2009 has been an action packed year for the world as well. America inaugurated our first black president. The world got swine flu, one Mexican spring breaker at a time. Michael Jackson died, and everyone immediately forgave him for (maybe?) molesting children. Bernie Madoff swindled millions of dollars from thousands of Jews and caused us to doubt everything we hadn't already been questionable about (which wasn't much). Google, Twitter, and Facebook continued to take over the world. Khloe and Kourtney Kardashian got married and knocked up and all of America got to laugh along. Banks collapsed and were rebuilt. A (maybe?) terrorist's plan to hijack a plane from Amsterdam to Detroit (Amsterdam to Detroit? Cmonnn...that has got to be a plane full of some chillll individuals. Who would wish harm to those flying from Detroit to Amdam?!) was foiled and we cheered for America. A dude landed a plane on the Hudson River, no one got hurt, and we cheered for America. Barack Obama got the Nobel Peace Prize and we booed for America. Sarah Palin "wrote a book." Our favorite d-bags, Levi Johnston and Spencer Pratt, continued to show the world what d-bags they were by posing in the nude and, well, just posing. Iran elected and re-elected presidents. The longest solar eclipse of the 21st century (7 minutes!) came and went. Jon and Kate + mistress + mister + Ed Hardy + 8. The G20, NATO and Hopenhagen summits came and went. People continued to purchase Nooks and Kindles despite this blog. Brittany Murphy died and we forgot to notice. Susan Boyle sang. Kanye West was a jackass. Sweden was named capital of the EU and gave us Tiger Woods' hot thang wife Elin, who will soon be retiring back to said capital. Wars were fought. People died. We passed and subsequently broke laws. People laughed and cried and fought and fell in love and got married and divorced and had kids and kids who had kids who had kids who were paid by MTV to appear on "16 and Pregnant." Life went on.

When I first started this blog entry, it was meant to be a list chronicling my personal best of 2009 moments. Because of my issues with selective memory, however, I found myself stuck and unable to recall specific instances. It was only yesterday when someone tried to help me come up with memories for my list that I came to a terrible realization, a cliche, and the oldest one in the book at that: it's not, and will never be, what you do that matters. It's who you're with.

So off the top of my head, without overthinking and overanalyzing and overwriting, for those best moments of 2009 and those who were there with me: "Black Monday". Our last day in Amsterdam. Mulled wine and the Charles Bridge in Prague. Thursdays (every) at Kulor Bar. Meals consisting solely of "salats" and cold fish. Caiscax and the end of the world in Lisbon. The day of culinary adventures in Paris. Dinner with long lost relatives in Moscow. Norwegian Booze cruise. Our last day as stoweaways in Copenhagen. 4th of July weekend. The day of 9 bottles of wine and a lost camera on the roof. My 21st birthday party. The day of the Brooklyn Bridge/the last day of my internship. The Bourbon and BBQ festival. The first tailgate. The last tailgate. The Jay Z concert. Wine and cheese in the park. Sunday night family dinners. The entirety of the last week of finals. The suite evenings with Pie Cook. Skiing Mt. Mansfield. The Christmas Party. Oh, and Love Hill.

Welcome, 2010. We've been expecting you.

Thing of the Day: The Jersey Shore

First things first. A bunch of pretty excellent things have happened over the course of the past few weeks. For matters of organization, I will divide these into city categories:

Nashville, TN: I had a week left in Nashville after finishing my internship and all my final projects and I chose to spend it doing what I do best: watching TV and eating. I have become incredibly invested in How I Met Your Mother (please watch this clip of the best 30 seconds of television I have ever seen/an explanation of why the male race has anything to do with me), a sort of whacked out Friends-ish sitcom for the more cynical and promiscuous Aught generation (Did anyone else know the 2000's are most commonly referred to as the "Aughts?" Also, the "00s" and the "Naughties?" Apparently we're living in a decade suffering from an identity crisis), and since one of my best friends also wrapped up finals early and had plenty of time to invest in doing nothing, I had the chance to sample several new Nashville eateries. Lunch at The Yellow Porch was okay, lunch at 1808 Grille was awesome, dinner at Taco Mamacita was delicious, and drinks at The Patterson House were perfect for a date night/girls night out. My week of lounging and eating ended perfectly with a binge eating and drinking session with my best friends at our favorite, Sunset Grill, to fully purge every last cent of our Commodore Cash and reflect on the semester that just passed.

New York, NY: Though it took four bags, a layover and an obnoxiously long and pricey cab ride home from the airport (I hate cabs home from the airport and Mama B received a serious silent treatment for not greeting me at the gate), the second I got off the plane in New York, I remembered that my favorite thing about the city is how it all comes together during the holidays. Such thoughts were enhanced at a friends' "Jersey Shore Holiday Party" (God bless you, MTV), my grandparents' anniversary party (think three generations of Russians taking shots and dancing the Hora), and a day playing tourist with two of my favorite people (Low Point: the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree is smaller this year due to recession, purchasing socks at the Rockefeller Center GAP because ours were soaked through, High Point: Memphis: The Musical and the incredibly talented star, Montego Glover.

Stowe, VT: I survived the ski trip! And I actually enjoyed it. Thank you, plethora of spa treatments, attractive and talented ski instructors, and Mama and Papa Bogo. I managed to only have one near death experience in which I found myself on a slope that angled down approximately 70 degrees, sat down, promptly removed my skiis and walked/ran down chasing the one ski that fell out of my hand and would be found a quarter mile later casually resting by a rock. Stowe is an unbelievably cute town in which one can only find resorts, bed and breakfasts, general stores, glass blowing studios, and cheese/maple syrup shops and was a great escape from city life for a week. My parents managed to have a perfect Russian Orthodox Christmas Eve (hours of spa treatments, a four course Christmas dinner, and a sleigh ride through the woods) followed by a perfect American Jewish Christmas Day (skiing, Hibachi dinner, and movies in bed) and I'm headed home this morning.

That being said...The Jersey Shore. I don't think reality television has ever been this spot-on (sorry, Lauren). This show is beyond entertaining, beyond hilarious, and breaches all boundaries to pure genius. I have spent a mere four hours with the cast members of The Jersey Shore and I have never fallen in love/disgust quite so fast. Clearly my favorite is Snooki, the sloppy, shwasted, 4'10'' hybrid of an ethnic Barbie and one of those troll dolls with colorful tufts of hair and a rhinetstone in their bellybuttons. Over the course of the past four episodes, 21 year old New York native "Nicole" aka Snooki (me too me too!!) has managed to black out and make a complete fool of herself, pack up all her belongings to leave twice, get punched in the face by a fellow Jersey Shore club-goer, and describe to America that she "like, invented, the poof." She also has a fabulous collection of Von Dutch hats. As someone who also used to have a fabulous collection of Von Dutch hats (more details on my life as a thug/Guidette later, for further proof see the frat party costume box in my apartment), I feel like I relate to Snooki on many levels. If my parents had fed me mild rat poison instead of baby formula as a child, I'm sure we could understand each other thoroughly. Snooki has her very own You Tube channel. It is on my favorites tabs.

My second favorite character is "The Situation." The Situation is from Staten Island, aka, "How-the-hell-did-you-ever-become-a-borough-of-New-York-City-who-was-your-mayor-sleeping-with-your-entire-island-is-literally-built-on-a-garbage-landfill." Additionally, unlike the rest of the castmates, who are 21-23, ages at which you can do really dumb crap which you will laugh at later because you are either a)in college, or b)a bit of a life failure who never went but still college aged, The Situation is 27. Comparatively speaking, some other pop culture phenomenons who are aged 27 and younger: Mark Zuckerberg, founder of Facebook. Chad Hurley, founder of YouTube. Kevin Rose, founder of Digg. The Jonas Brothers. Taylor freakin' Swift. The Situation is currently engaged in mad drama, yo, because his gurrrrrrrrl, Sammi Sweetheart, has been hooking up with his boy, DJ Pauly D**. Get your shit together, The Situation. How I adore watching train wrecks in action.

Judgement aside, The Jersey Shore airs every Thursday night. Because Thursdays are my favorite night out when I am at school, the roommates and I have invented a rather simple drinking game for watching. We have only played once, but the basic premise consisted of buying Jaager, Red Bull, and beer, and taking Jaager bombs every time hairgel, spray tanning, or spitting game was mentioned. The rest of that Thursday night was blurry. We hope to play again.

To everyone out there, Merry Christmas. Be safe. And please, pretty please, keep it klassy.

**It has been pointed out that Sammi Sweetheart is seeing not DJ Pauly D, but Ronni, who for some reason doesn't have a nickname. I am deeply sorry for this error on my television watching part and hope blog readers can forgive me.

Thing of the Day: Updates

A couple of funny/important things happened in the past three weeks that I was too lazy to write about (in brief: Tiger Woods lost his shit, my mother put a menorah on top of our Christmas tree in lieu of a star in an effort to pretend she is a good Jewish parent and sent it to my Blackberry with the caption "sorry for not throwing you a bat mitzvah", I went apartment shopping with a friend in Manhattan over Thanksgiving and for the first time ever thought that maybe graduating and being a real life adult might not be that bad (cue browsing cute furniture store websites instead of job opportunity websites), The Fantastic Mr. Fox (aka why children's movies will always be better than adult movies, I was offered an amazing job opportunity for next semester (details to be divulged upon confirmation), this website, but after a disappointingly long hiatus I have finally found something too ground breaking to not share with the world.

This morning, upon perusing The Daily Beast (the onlllllllly way to get the news/so busted yes this is where I got the title for this blog), I discovered that not only does the new Harry Potter movie (the only other thing I am looking forward to in my real life adult existence) has a release date (early November 2010), but it will also be featuring the great HP in all his greatness...naked.

I thought I missed my chance to see Daniel Rupert in his birthday suit when Mama B refused to take me to go see Equus on Broadway, but as the stars will have it--myself and the other 100 million Harry Potter fans out there get a second attempt at happiness/child pornography. Apparently, the first installment of the 7th book will feature a love scene between Harry and Hermione (scandalous!) where HP will be nude. Hopefully, the fact that the movie will now have to be rated at least PG-13 will help in other aspects as well--more badass battle scenes, more pre-teens yelling curse words, and some hot and heavy petting. J.K Rowling and co: 1, PTA: O.

In addition to this glorious gem, The Daily Beast also informed me that one of my fave rappers, 50 cent (I know he really went downhill after "we gonna party like it's yo birthday" but the man still holds a fine place in my heart), would like to participate in a musical collaboration with the one and only Susan Boyle. Other than seeing Harry Potter naked, I can literally think of nothing else that I would enjoy more. I can't imagine how this mash-up could possibly work. Will Fitty be belting show tunes? Will SuBo burst out in rap? Fitty was quoted saying ""She's cool. I'd love to take her clubbing, show her around my world. She'd have a great time." If anyone anywhere knows of a club that would admit 50 Cent and Susan Boyle to the same VIP section, pleaaaaaaase call me. I would do anything to be there.

Speaking of clubs, I have become very interested in the idea of spending my New Years' Eve at the Lady Gaga concert at The Fointainebleau in Miami. Although Lady GaGa is clearly a treacherous biddy for abandoning her hometown of NEW YORK on the most important party night of the year, I would forgive her in an instant if I could somehow score the dollaz to make it to a)Miami and b)The Fointainebleau. Unfortunately, after requesting both a new Mac (peace out forever, Dell), and a new watch for the holiday my family has affectionately dubbed Christmakkuh, the money I can squeeze out of the fam this holiday season has dried up and then some, and I don't envision Mama B or the ever more generous Grandma B fronting the cash for me to get tipsy and gawk at celebs in the MIA, so all possible travel accommodations are on me. Life is hard. Does anyone know of a part time holiday season job that will make me about a thousand extra dollars in a week?

Until then, save one fifteen minute presentation on Friday morning, I am officially done with any and all schoolwork this semester! That and my internship ending tomorrow (my co-intern and I are celebrating with a classy lunch at the Hooters down the block) has left me feeling both incredibly relieved and depressingly old. I have one semester of college left before I am done forever (until graduate school, which of course is nothing like real college at all and lacks all of my favorite things about being a student: fraternities, costume parties, communal on-campus living, meal plan, cab cash, Greek list serves, and the Human and Organizational Development program) and I can't believe I am 7/8ths done with my undergraduate career. Being 7/8ths done with something is basically being completely finished--who would ever offer someone 1/8th of something? Just rude--and I am as, if not more, confused about my life direction as ever. But you don't read this blog to listen to me whine about having no post-graduation plans (speaking of, you who read this blog--I recently installed Google Analytics to determine if there was a you at all, and A--there totally is! Thank you and I'm flattered and honored, and B--if you hail from The Philippines, London, Copenhagen, or Alaska, can you please tell me who you are? Because I'm moderately confused about how you stumbled upon my bantering (thanks, creepy map feature))--you read this blog to be updated about the hilarious and ridiculous shit happening in the world and my life, so for your laughing pleasure:

Mama B has booked a five day skiing trip to Stowe in Vermont. For a normal, coordinated and adept human being, this would be great news and an excuse to spend fun family time in the mountains. Except last time I went skiing with my family they tricked me into attempting a black diamond when I have barely reached blue square level and I had to be escorted down in a toboggan by the emergency rescue people who are usually reserved for, well, emergency rescue, rather than crying twenty year old girl being walke down the mountain by her exasperated father on foot as he carries her skis in one hand. And last time, we were at least in Montreal, where I could opt to stay behind and shop/eat/nap in a cultural metropolis. I have Googled Mt. Stowe extensively. There is nothing else to do. I might attempt snowboarding, just to be funny, and have an excuse to be worse than the five year olds whizzing past me on the slopes.

Other holiday plans include: The Rockettes (score), holiday reservations at Momofuko Ko (score score score), D.C (possibly. I was so enamored after my last visit that I can't stay away), Miami (hopefully. But unless I find a suga daddy pen pal from the 305 before then, I'm not so sure) and a lot of detoxification.

Stay tuned for my Christma(kkuh) list. And a very very very belated what-I'm-thankful-for-one.

Oh, and I know that updates aren't really a "thing of the day," but there was absolutely nothing that this post was primarily about, so sorry I'm not sorry.

Thing of the Day: Fame

Up until very recently ago, I was under the mistaken assumption that if, as an adult, I was successful, healthy, wealthy and content in my relationships, I would be happy. The past week has proved me wrong. Yes, I would very much like to have success and money and good health and a great life partner and lots of small adopted African and Asian children, but I have decided that this will not be enough. I would like to be famous.

Several things have led me to this conclusion. Last Wednesday, I had the luck to work the red carpet at the Country Music Awards in Nashville. Since I do not like country music, standing for long periods of time, or taking directions from others, I thought this would be a pretty average and not terribly exciting experience where I would briefly glimpse several B-list celebs, snap a few iPhone pics, perhaps get some free shit, and be on my way. Wrong. Working the red carpet, apparently, means you get to actually be on the red carpet. Next to those who are walking down the red carpet, being photographed and interviewed and fawned over. Now, a fan of country music I may not be (Seriously. George Strait, Kenny Chesney, and the Zac Brown Band walked into the awards within one foot of me and had to be pointed out to me by my co-intern, to whom I responded with "who?!"), but when I found myself within approximately 2 feet of Carrie Underwood for a prolonged period of time I had to physically restrain myself from reaching out to stroke her perfect blonde curls. As if this wasn't enough, I actually touched Nicole Kidman. I don't particularly like Nicole Kidman--I think she desperately needs to go tanning, or if she's concerned about 'cancer' or something, use a no-side-effects tanning spray, stop getting Botox, and be generally less creepy-looking, but when we briefly grazed hands and exchanged greetings I would have chopped off my left arm, freeze-dried it, and crushed and spoon-fed it to my first born for the opportunity to hang out with her for five more minutes.

Hyperboles aside, I spent the following four days excitedly Googling CMA pictures in the hopes that I would appear in the corner of one (fail, but the co-worker who calls me "fashion girl" (I like you, co-worker), did tell me he saw me holding up the red-carpet sign for Reba on C.M.T! What I would give for that to have made it to my TiVo...), and on Saturday night, my lingering thoughts that I would maybe one day like to be famous were confirmed beyond any reasonable doubt. The reason? Jay-Z.

Jay-Z played at Vanderbilt's Memorial Gym this weekend and by the first song, quickly moved onto my list of favorite-concerts-I-have-ever-attended (other contendors: Radiohead in Miami, Regina Spektor in Nashville, N.E.R.D in Nashville, Backstreet Boys Reunion Tour in New York). The man is a performer--to see him live is truly an honor, and to see the effect he has on the crowd is breathtaking. Within ten minutes, my Jewish-white-girl friends were sweaty, screaming song lyrics at the top of their lungs, bopping to the beat and attesting that if the only way they could engage in sexual intercourse with Jay-Z was on stage in front of the crowd of 5000 at that very moment, they would absolutely do it. And I found myself thinking...I want people to say that about me.Not quite that, because it would be creepy and offputting, but I would like people that I don't know to get moderately excited to see me. I'm not striving to be an actor or a singer, or a reality TV star turned actor-singer (although if anyone wants to pitch me a good reality pilot, please don't hesitate for one second), but I'd like to be known. Perhaps in a really good author or cool talk-show personality way. Or a wife of actor/singer/reality star turned actor-singer who uses her husbands' money benevolently to start a scholarship fund for Russian immigrants and makes frequent appearances on Oprah and The Today Show while running her non-profit and casually attending culinary school/submitting weekly columns to New York Magazine. Not that I've given it much though, really.

In other news: I am going home to New York for the first time since August and I am so excited. I am making a brief stop at my friend Megan's house in D.C for the weekend to eat good food, bar-hop around Georgetown, and decide if I would ever want to live there after graduation. I plan to make her tour to me around all of the places I toured in middle school and take many embarassing tourist photographs, and then on Sunday I will re-unite with my one true love: the great NYC. People often ask me why I am so set on not living in New York right after graduation if I love it so much and I've come to start explaining it like so. You know those couples that have been dating forever and are obsessed with each other but decide to break up to see what else is out there and date new people and realize if they are truly right for one another while always secretly harboring the intention to get back together? That's like me and New York. It was wisely pointed out to me that in the case of these couples, one or both halves do tend to find someone they'd rather be with and then months are wasted Facebook stalking and writing angry emails that will never be sent and shooting imaginary poisonous arrows into each other's backs and all sorts of other dramuhhhh....

But lucky for me, New York can't ever break up with me. Only I with it, briefly, for D.C or Chicago or maybe even an extra year in Nash-Vegas, where I will cultivate a short-lived but undoubtedly exciting affair with the lesser city before coming back with open arms and welcoming myself home.

Thing of the Day: Lessons Learned

Preface: Picture fairly unrelated to the rest of this post, but how AWESOME would that be?

Four years ago, when I opened my Suntrust bank account in Nashville (a quick shoutout to the employees at Suntrust West End who have forgiven me somewhere between 5 and 15 overdraft charges), I was asked to create a pin for my debit card. 18 year old me looked down at my classy tricked-out flip phone and rapidly selected a pin based on a four letter word I could easily remember by spelling the numbers out on my flip phone key pad. Feeling clever, I proceeded to not to make room in my brain to memorize the four digits in the years since.

Enter Blackberry. Ever since I got the glorious PDA that never leaves my side but unfortunately lacks an old school number/letter keypad, one would think that I would have made the effort to memorize the four numbers that gain me access to cold hard cash. The one who might think that, however, clearly knows nothing about me. Ever since I first started using phones I have only memorized six phone numbers (my house, my mom's office and cell, my grandparents, my best friend Rachel, and one boy when I was 15). Furthermore, the only way to enter our campus apartments is via 5 digit access code. It took me until mid-October to memorize my own access code without checking my Blackberry notes, and I know only 2 others despite day-to-day entry into my friends apartments and the fact that all the codes are made up of only the numbers 1-2-3-4-5. The point being--ever since my phone keyboard stopped providing me with the numbers that make up my pin code (thanks a lot, QWERTY), I have had to resort to desperate measures to withdraw.

Usually I don't have much of an issue. Store purchases always have letters conveniently placed on the number pad where you swipe your card, and most ATMs still use the numbers as well. While abroad in Europe, I had several unfortunate ATM encounters where foreign alphabets threw me off and I was forced to either Google "phone keypad" on my Blackberry and cause a frustrated-at-dumb-Americans line to build up behind me, or grab a strangers' cell phone to quickly identify the numbers I needed. So despite embarassment, I never felt the need to really take the leap and embed the four digits to memory.

Until yesterday. A loving family member made the gracious decision to surprise my campus mailbox with a check, so I giddily headed down to the Suntrust office on the first floor of my building to make a rapid deposit and begin online shopping at work. As I approach the teller, giddy with check in hand, she has the audacity to ask me for my pin for "security reasons." Uhhhhhhh. "Can I borrow your phone?" is greeted with a dirty look and a flash of a Blackberry Tour. As I attempt to explain, the tellers' eyebrows retreat further and further towards her hairline as she judges me in utter disdain. I am clearly deemed an identity theif as the teller asks me to hold on and calls an intimidating looking superior who then proceeds to lecture me for a full two minutes about selecting a pin I am "capable of remembering." I am then told that my check will be held for 24 hours for further security reasons. There's a Gilt sale going on now, woman, I don't have that kind of time. But alas. After recieving a pamphlet about managing my student checking account, I am given a brisk goodbye and sent off.

I think I've learned my lesson.

On to embarassing moments for others. Now that I am a 21 year old responsible legal adult, I can judge the stupid decisions of those younger than me. So it must be said--what is with kids these days?! The Cheat Sheet this morning had not one but two WTF worthy pieces of news. Firstly, an 11 year old girl in Bulgaria gave birth to a child last night. On her wedding day. Sick. The Daily News quotes her as saying "I'm not going to play with toys anymore, I have a new toy now." I am going to vomit--there are several things that are incredibly disturbing about this case aside from the fact that this girl is ELEVEN.

1)Okay, no, she is 11. When I was 11 I learned from the son of the family who was renting the mountain house next to ours what sex was by engaging in one too many dates between my Barbies and his Kens. I was shocked that my beloved Barbara would engage in such an act and all in all didn't understand the logistics of it , but that may have been because Mattel didn't feel the need to equip B or K with genitalia of any sort. Nonetheless, the idea of humans engaging in the bizzare act was unthinkable.

2)Of course she's Bulgarian. Come on, Eastern Europe--no one is ever going to take you seriously if you continue to allow shit like this to go down on your turf. Lay down the law. Sex education in middle schools, please.

3)The girl is also quoted as saying "I didn't know I was pregnant until my grandmother said I'd put on weight. I just thought I'd ate too many burgers." W-W-WTF. I once spent a full eight hours watching I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant with Momma B this summer and have never heard as ridiculous an excuse. How many burgers is this child eating? And where oh where are her parents?

4)The new baby's name is Violetta, as is my little sisters' (hi, V). Since I have never met or heard of any other person named Violetta, I am going to take this as some sort of sick and twisted sign. To either join an against-child-brides-advocacy-group or call V and demand to know exactly what kind of crap she is up to her freshman year of college.

Moving on to the Cheat Sheet's second ugh-story. Next week's Gossip Girl will apparently be featuring a threesome. As excited as I am to find out who the lucky characters will be (Serena-Nate-Trip Vanderbilt? Olivia-Dan-Vanessa? Lily-Rufus-hot rockstar from Rufus's olden days...ah, I can only guess), this is completely inappropriate behavior for basic cable television aimed at teenagers. Back in the days of my dramedy filled teen-hood, the raciest shit ever pulled on TV was when Marissa and Ryan had sex in a random tent for some reason set up in their high school. And it took them three seasons! Maybe if we didn't air threesomes for impressionable eleven year olds to watch, we wouldn't have burger-babies named Violetta! Ick, world! I have learned my debit-card-pin lesson. When oh when will you learn your stop-encouraging-stupid-teenagers-to-have-sex-and-then-be-shocked-about-teen-pregnancy-statistics lesson? Oy.

Until then, I'll be counting down the minutes till my workday ends and listening to the "Glee Soundtrack"station on Pandora (Thanks, Caybabe!) Other music played on the Glee station:90s Disney movie soundtracks, the Rent and Wicked soundtracks, Bohemian Rhapsody, and Miley Cyrus. It's going to be a great hour and a half.

Thing of the Day: Halloween

Halloween is number two or three on my list of top five fave holidays (1. New Years Eve, 2/3. Halloween/4th of July, 4. Chrismakkuh, 5. Thanksgiving) and now that I have gotten back from fall break I have finally gotten sufficiently excited enough to begin adequately preparing. My apartment has been decked out in pumpkins and other seasonal fruits/vegetables (among my very few faults, being unable to destinguish between what is technically a fruit and what is considered a vegetable is moderately high on the list) for the majority of October, but seeing that we have a mere week left until the holiday, I have broken out the pumpkin cups and spider accessories. Sorry roomies. The other, considerably more important thing that I have broken out is my costume. I clearly can't reveal what I am being until the day (or in college, days) of Halloween, but it involves fake money, green fishnets, and a very LBD.

It's funny to me that all the holidays we used to get terribly excited for as children for very wholesome reasons (candy on Halloween, staying up all night on New Year's Eve, turkey on Thanksgiving, fireworks on the 4th of July, presents and cake on birthdays) are, for young adults, simply reasons/excuses to get excessively drunk. I come to this conclusion because every single person who I suggested come trick or treating with has responded either with a flat out "no," or an "only if we pregame." I am one of the founding members of pregaming's fan club, but for once, cannot see the purpose. What about putting on costumes and getting candy from strangers requires one to be intoxicated? Another thing that alcoholic friends refused to join me for this week was pumpkin carving at my sorority house. This time, pregaming wasn't suggested--probably because nobody should be wielding a knife and that close to accessible food in any state of inebriation--and I was flat-out greeted with "you're a loser." (In a twist of great hypocrisy, we will be hosting a Halloween/22nd roomie birthday party on Friday, complete with orange beer, spiked cider, and a plethora of unhealthy candies and revealing costumes).

In several other pieces of completely unrelated news:

1)Fall break was great and debaucherous. Charleston is a ridiculously cute city and I want to go back.

2)Does anyone know where I can get a Google Wave invite? I know its ridiculously geeky but I want this technology so badly. The 2 adorable Danish brothers who created it (Lars and Jens Rasmussen-duh. In my 4 months in Denmark, I learned that Danish people only eat three foods: fish, bread, and cheese, and that they only have three names: Lars, Jens, and Hans) just did a CNN interview about it and I want it on my desktop now.

3)Glee is officially my favorite show on television. After last Wednesday's mashup of "The Thong Song" and "I Could Have Danced All Night," I am officially denouncing both Gossip Girl (by the way, for those who watch Gossip Girl, check out this phenomenal GG Recap blog by the people at NY Magazine (Hire Me!). I am considering imposing this point system onto my own life. Thoughts?) and Greek in leiu of a wiser, funnier, better sounding teen dramedy. And, oh, Mr. Schuuuu.

Trick o treat lovers and friends.

Thing of the Day: Road Trips

First things first--I was so right about balloon boy! Duh, world. Publicity stunt central. Children are amongst my least favorite things in the world but even I can admit that they are not that foolish. Shame on the blog-reader who BBMed me "you are a heartlesss biatch" in reference to my correct thoery. I am not heartless--I'm logical.

Second things--they're releasing a Barnes & Noble version of the Kindle called the Nook. For those of you who are not aware, I find Kindles despicable and utterly useless tools and judge all those who use them. Which is why I clearly have several thoughts about this manner, namely:

1)Why oh why are people releasing Kindle competitors? Are Kindles so popular that B&N feels the need to further infiltrate the market with a Kindle alternative? I would like to conduct a survey that will help me determine what percentage of Vanderbilt students own Kindles, so please, if you are a Kindler, let me know via comment, gchat, or smoke signal.

2)Despite my disdain of e-books in general, the Nook is definitely a much better name than the Kindle. At least Nook makes one think of curling up in a corner with a dog-eared paperback and a cup of tea. So while I'm sure Nooks aren't cozy at all and rather hard pieces of metal, the terminology at least makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside. What does kindle even mean?

3)My dislike for the Kindle/Nook can only be rivaled by my admiration and dare I say love for the new MacBooks, also released today. Could these be any crisper? Absolutely not. Unfortunately, I am still twiddling away on my Dell Inspiron with webcam physically attached to the outside and lack of crisp resolution, iChat, and fun photo programs. In addition to my PC weighing somewhere between 8 and 10 pounds (who am I kidding? I don't know what 8 to 10 pounds weighs like...but I know the damn thing leaves aggressive red welts when I carry it on my shoulder) I'm becoming resentful that I can't use widgets, take photobooth pics, and drag and drop documents directly on the screen. Momma Bogo. Chrismakkuh. ASAP. Perhaps a Thanksgiving gift? It needs to happen.

And now onto the real reason for this post--fall break! In T minus 2 hours I am free free free from the land of internships and analysis papers and off to Charleston, SC, for a four day beach adventure. I am driving with 3 friends and couldn't be more excited because I love road trips. Other than the undeniable things that funny things always happen on road trips (the time we were driving to Nashville and went an hour and a half out of our way to check out a venue on the Diners Drive-ins and Dives list, the time we were driving to New Orleans a creepy man followed us for no less than 5 miles pretending to pleasure himself at our vehicle--although I might have been the only one that found that funny) they are an excuse to do two of my favorite things: 1)eat fattening foods with great frequency and 2)behave like a small child (liscence plate games, stories, singalongs, etc) and we will be doing much of both on the nine hour journey. We're making a quick overnight stop in Asheville, NC, which in addition to being the cutest town ever (their tourism site offers activities such as fall crafts, fall harvest adventures, and scenic fall foliage motorcycle rides) apparently has the most head shops per square foot in the South (goodies) and a large variety of outdoor eateries. Fellow food enthusiast road trips have already selected the venue at which we will be eating our North Carolinian breakfast before we head down to Folly Beach for a weekend of debaucherous beachy entertainment.

....T minus 1.5.

Thing of the Day: Mistakes

Things that bother me: when you order something to go, bring it home, and find that you have been given the wrong order. For instance, when you have been craving a cup of delicious soup in cold and altogether icky weather and get up from your desk at work to go down 11 floors to Panera, make the effort to pick the perfect soup by sampling both the black bean and the summer corn chowder, finally decide on the classic and hearty french onion accompanied by a whole grain roll, go up 11 floors, sit down and find that not only has the fool who has prepared your french onion soup given you the tiniest morsel of cheese (think finger-nail sized rather than delectably spread across the entire surface) but he has given you an apple instead of a whole grain roll. Who would ever want to dip apple into their soup? Altogether infuriating to the point where I actually considered re-making the trek for the sake of perfecting my soup, alas, I have found some questionably expired wonder bread in the break room and am trying to make do. Also, my first lunch today (3.5 slices of Pizza Perfect, Nashville's only pizza place that even slightly challenges New York thin crust, consumed on my couch while watching the last episode ever of the O.C (on that note--why hasn't any television network managed to make a teen drama as wonderful as the O.C in the past four years? Gossip Girl doesn't even begin to compare. And 90210? Melrose Place? Spare me. Give me a relationship as wonderful as Seth and Summer's or as screwed as Marissa and Ryan's and then we'll talk. And Julie Cooper as the evil villianess that you love/hate? Georgina Sparx has nothing on Julie. And Blair Waldorf would be beat down by Marissa Cooper in a second. Josh Shwartz--I really did expect better things of you after this soap opera of staggering genius) and reading gossip magazines was absolutely wonderful so I decided to allow this imperfect soup experience.

But not before broadcasting my deep disdain to the internet. Duh.

Other questionable/mistaken occurencesthat have happened today--the little boy and hot air balloon incident. WTF. I spent an hour literally clutching at my chest almost in tears thinking about this six year old and how cold and scared and lonely he must feel and burst out into actual hysterics of joy when the balloon gently landed only to find A LACK OF CHILD IN IT. I'm thinking one of three things has happened here:

1)The little boy and the sibling who reported he climbed into the balloon decided to play a really funny joke on America. Thousands of dollars and 10 texts from Momma Bogo later, oops, no one ever climbed into the balloon in the first place!

2)The family of the boy, who are storm chasers who like to "conduct experiments" and "search for extraterrestrials" in their spare time and have been on Wife Swap, wanted some free publicity for their really cool UFO/balloon structure and decided to say that there was a child in it.

3)I am a huge bitch and this boy is actually missing. I reaaaaaaaally don't know though.

I am hoping that there will be a lack of mistakes in the latter half of my day--off to see O.A.R , Asher Roth, and Pitbull in concert and enjoy a typically wonderful and wonderfully typical Nashville Thursday. Also--I have been spending the majority of today reading current students abroad in Copenhagen blogs, and I have found one that I really like (no creepy when you Google yourself, stranger--Hi! (also, upon Googling myself the other day I have found that my Google hits have expanded from 347 to 502 since this summer...I'm goiiiiiiingg places, world. Hire me.): Travel Unraveled, by a girl who goes to Tufts and is studying with DIS. After hours of looking at pictures of Nyhavn, Radhusspladsen and Tasingegade (yes, these are real places in Copenhagen) , I have come to two conclusions: one, that I am really really really excited to host my three Copenhagen friends this weekend, and two, that I really want to go back to Europe as soon as possible. Extensive g-chat with a best friend who is studying in Paris next semester (hi, little one!) and active search for a graduation gift has led to the conclusion that I definitely want to travel for a month or so right after graduation. I got to see most of Europe's major cities, but would love to spend several weeks traveling throughout all of France, Spain, and Italy by train, drinking wine, taking photos, and gaining somewhere between 5 and 15 pounds. My Eurotrip experience was very AMAZING to say the least, but it was rushed and I never really got to spend more than a few days in most cities. It would be phenomenal to get the chance to just relax, record, and take it all in.

Researching flights and ways of hinting to the parentals. If you do read my blog, Margarita, please keep this in mind.

Happy weekend!

Thing of the Day: Roller Derbies (and the month of October)

Last night I had the pleasure of seeing Whip It with a good friend--the movie was exactly what I would expect of a Fox Searchlight film--great music, bizarre sex scenes, quirky characters, and losers who become winners. Ellen Page was adorable and talented as usual, although it still wierds me out that she's 22 and looks 16, but supporting roles (Kristen Wiig as Maggie Mayhem and Ari Graynor as Eva Destruction) took the cake.

I first fell in love with Ari Graynor in Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist as Norah's blackout best friend, Caroline. This girl perfected the sloppy-drunk acting manuever. As someone who finds herself around inebriated and otherwise toxified persons at least five out of seven days per week, I always get really angry with actors who play drunk/stoned/enjoying other substances poorly. In fact, I can only think of a few instances (the episode of Friends where Rachel drunk dials Ross to tell him shes over him, the episode of Friends where Rachel and Ross get married in Vegas, the Knocked Up on-shrooms-at-Cirque-du-Soleil in Vegas scene, the Mean Girls Lindsay Lohan vomiting on crush scene...although chances are Lindz was on all sorts of shit) in which I was impressed with drunk/high acting to the point where I wondered if there was any chance the actors actually were boozing (which, by the way directors, would be a phenomenal idea--and certaintly provide for some wonderful ad-lib and contented actors). Anyway--Ari Graynor is either an alcoholic or a terribly talented actress, and the scenes in Nick and Norah where she fishes her cell phone out of a vomit-filled toilet in Penn Station as well as those in Whip It where she plays a delightfully butch roller derby rockstar are hilarious. I hope to see this chick in so many more movies--she'd be perfect as a supporting actress in a f-ed up HBO Original Series.

In addition to fueling a girl-crush of massive proportions, Whip It prompted me to Google "roller derby," and to my surprise and delight, not only do roller derbies actually exist but there is one in Nashville THIS WEEKEND. I have never been more devasted that it is Homecoming this weekend nor have I ever considered skipping a game more, but in the end the desire to drink with beloved graduates won over the desire to see blue-collar shemales beat the crap out of each other on skates (but come on--some teammate names: "Britches and Hoes," "Olive Turmoyl," "Maulin Monroe"?!). I am sinking into a deep depression at the thought of missing this cultural event.

But, alas, other fun events are of course on the calendar--this weekend, my friends from Copenhagen are coming to experience Vandyland. We have planned various festivities, like brunching to the point of nausea, a self-led bar crawl through the honky tonks in dowtown Nashville, and perhaps an afternoon of pumpkin picking and spiked cider drinking. I am a sucker for any sort of holiday-themed activity and have already come home with corn, pumpkins, gourds, and limited edition(a double sucker for anything limited edition) "Fall Scents" Febreze spray. My roommates choke every time I attack our family room with the overly-pumpkin spiced odor, but I will have our apartment smell like October, damn it! I can't wait to get cobwebs and/or spiders for our foyer (roomates--thoughts?), plan a group excursion to a haunted house, have an excuse to go cold-weather clothing shopping, and start working on our Halloween costumes which, obviously, are sexy, but also moderately, if not terribly, clever. Seriously.

Thing of the Day: Abbreviations

Today Momma Bogo sent me a text that read like so:

"Hi hun plz call gma she has smth 4 u. XO Luv u!"

This got me thinking about several things. Firstly--Momma B. You have a smartphone. You can type up to 180 characters into a single message to me. I understand hun, plz, and even luv (although I am slightly offended, since we all know luv =/= LOVE--thankssss, mom), but smth? Smth is not an appropriate abbreviation for the word it is meant to signify, which, by the way, is "something." I spent nearly one full minute trying to figure out why my grandmother had a Smith for me and what exactly a Smith is--the cocktail? The name of a beloved brunch spot on 3rd avenue? After 60 seconds of dumbfounded contemplation I realize mother has simply left out the o-e-i-n-g and given me less than half of the letters of a word to work with and my grandmother has something for me. Duh.

Something turns out to be a card I have to sign for a package she is bringing to the long lost relatives in Mother Russia. Borrrrrrrring. All that deciphering and not even a bottle of wine Ruski vodka (common grandparent to grandchild gift in the Bogo fam), let alone a handful of crisp bills.

This disappointing experience led to me to ponder on abbreviations--namely, those I find appropriate and use in everyday conversation on a regular basis, and those I despise and immediately judge people for.

A short list:

Fav. abbrevs:

-Fav. Not to be confused with fave, which just kind of sucks
-Abbrevs. Because abbreviations just has far too many syllables

-Ush (pronounced you-zhe), as in usual. Hard to spell, but comes in very handy

-Obv. Not to be confused with OBVI wish I hate hate hate and should be limited to the realm of 13 year olds with Blackberries and excessive amounts of Facebook comments.

-Miz. As in, miserrrry and death.

-WTF.

-OMG.

-BTW (pronounced bee tee dubz)

-Eva, neva, whateva, and any replacement of "er" or "ar" with just a. Gangsta.

Un-fav. abbrevs.

-LOL, LMAO, ROFL. I hate people who say LOL or LMAO instead of just "Haha." And ROFL? Please. You are not only a poor abbreviator but a liar since clearly you are NOT Rolling On The Floor Laughing and rather, you are typing to me.

-Ur. Just type your. Just do it.

-Ure. So much worse than Ur. Where did that e come from. What's the point of abbreviating if you tack on extra letters as you please?

-Plz. That doesn't look or sound even a little bit like please. Maybe pills. But please? I justtt don't see it.

-2, 4, and any use thereof (especially 2gether 4ever)

Just a brief compilation. Now, in full words, what in the world have I been doing for the past two weeks? Weeeeeeellll, other than the usual eating and drinking in excess I have:

1-Gotten my first post-graduate life interview. YAY. I might not have to rely on Google Adwords via my blog and personal checks via my mother to get myself through life after all.

2-Taken up several new television interests, namely, Glee, Bored To Death, and a rekindled love affair with Californication and Dexter. Also eagerly buidling up a TiVo queue of Modern Family. Between the first three episodes of the first two, a teenager has gotten pregnant, a crazy wife has plotted to take said teenagers baby and pass it off on her own, hot men have danced on stage and on football fields, a 30 year old guy has accidentally hooked up with a 16 year old girl (at St.Ann's, no less! Fellow Brooklynites rejoice--we are finally being recognized in television!), and two straight male best friends have gotten colonics together. Ah, fall TV.

3-And of course, eaten several meals worth noting. I won't bore you with the details but can't pass up a brief description of brunch at Marche Artisan Foods (croissant french toast with honey butter and cinnamon, goat cheese mushroom and potato crepes with warm gruyere sauce, smoked salmon and creme fraiche open faced sandwich , warm apple crisp a la mode, pomegranate mimosas).

4-There are birthday cupcakes in the office today. Crap. Till next time.

Thing of the Day: Other People

Several of my wonderful followers (bored friends whose Safari won't let them download StumbleUpon) have furiously g-chatted me inquiring as to why I haven't been blogging (hi, KR, roomates, my ginger goddess, and fratstars who drunkenly revealed that you read my blog). The truth is, as I have repeatedly told them, that life was very interesting when I was frolicking around Europe in the spring, and moderately interesting when I was eating and drinking my way through Manhattan this summer, but now that I have returned to the dirty south, considerably less blogworthy things have happened to me. Not that I haven't been having fun--daytime drinking, eating on the meal plan, costumed frat parties and going to the same 4 bars every night have kept me wonderfully content and entertained, they just provide poor content.

So, since I am doing nothing worth reporting (short of attending the Tennessee State Fair on Sunday and consuming thousands of calories of white trash, funnel cake, hush puppy, and cheese fries. It's hard being a vegetarian at southern state fairs. Also, Tennessee is the 6th fattest state in the country. Also also, this weekend's television was phenomenal. 100 OH-MY-GOD points for Mad Men. 75 I-think-I-am-really-going-to-like-this points for Bored To Death. About 25 of those because it's filmed in Park Slope (!)) I will focus on the wonderfully reportable things happening to the 6billion + people who are not me. Because sometimes its' nice to pay attention to other people. Courtesy of Twitter.

1. Marilyn Manson has swine flu. Hahahahahaha.

2. Instead of curing cancer, preventing the spread of HIV, or at least swine flu , the world has engineered a smoke-less cigarette. Said cigarette is now being given to passengers on Ryanair flights. For a fee, of course, since Ryanair flights legitimately charge passengers to go to the bathroom. My own experience with Ryanair has been limited and considerably unpleasant--8am flight from Copenhagen to Prague, meeting a friend without a Blackberry arriving from Italy, full bladder, 4 Euro charge for water--however, I think it would definitely have been augmented if I could buy smokeless cigarettes and "smoke" them aboard.....NO. Ryanair. World. Wtf. This invention might be more useless than Kindles. The whole fun of cigarettes is SMOKING them. This is like inventing a macaroni and cheese pill or something. "All the calories, none of the taste!" I think I might start a stupid inventions feature on this blog. Thus far: Kindle, smokeless cigarettes, Blackberry Bold, Katherine Heigl. Stay tuned. But speaking of Katherine Heigl, Grey's Anatomy THIS THURSDAY (Sneak peek first five minutes)! Will I sit through an hour of you pouting and being a poor actress to watch hot doctors eye f*ck? Yes.

3. This one actually very much relates to things that are happening to people who are me. My best friend, in addition to writing an artsy and witty and wonderful blog, has published the following article in our campus lifestyles magazine. (For much less exciting but obviously food-related articles by yours truly, click here). For those non-Commodores wondering about my post Europe/New York life, do read. It's very accurate.

4. Since I have no shame about creepily reading complete strangers' blogs, this girl (a DIS Copenhagen study abroad student this semester who I have never met and probably have absolutely nothing/no-one in common with except for Dane Worthington (swoon). This chick is currently blogging for DIS, which is how I found her page, but before that she blogged about her 4 THOUSAND kilometer bike ride from Baltimore to San Francisco for 4K For Cancer. Her description of her journey is amazing--this stranger makes me want to do something considerably more productive than eating food, watching tv, and writing about it. I have been looking for a project and this has further inspired me to really do something. Reports when I actually do.

Hmm. Two of those four things were actually directly related to me. Surprise surprise. On that note,

Things I am looking forward to this week: Girl Talk AND Super Mash Brothers at Vanderbilt, birthday dinners, Girl Scout philanthropy events (little girls + cookies. EEEE), and drinking on boats.

Thing of the Day: Taylor vs. Kanye

Okaaaaaaaay, let's talk Taylor vs. Kanye 2009.

But first, let's talk Sunday night television. Namely, Mad Men GOOD and True Blood BAD. Mad Men. Awesome. Loving Betty Draper's Demerol-induced hallucinations (but really, AMC, Demerol is alledgedly the drug that caused the King of Pop's untimely death...couldn't you have just given her morphine?), loving aggressive/slutty Peggy, loving obnoxious ice-cream sundae eating Roger. Done and done. True Blood--I've got to say I'm a little disappointed in HBO. Not "oh-my-god you forgot to bring the alcohol" flat out shocked but "oh boo, did you forget chasers again?" dull disappointment. The second to last episode before the season finale was amazing. The last scene with Tara and Lafayette dancing around the pulsating evil egg (trying to recap an episode of True Blood to non-watchers is even wierder than trying to recap an episode of LOST) really had potential--but come on, season finale. The egg didn't even hatch! It was just supposed to be licked. And in the end I found myself feeling almost bad for Maryann, black heart and all. But the good news is that Bill Compton looks fairly out of the picture, which opens up all sorts of Sookie/Eric sexual storylines. Yessss.

Moving on. T.Swift vs. K.West: The Ultimate Showdown. Let's discuss the VMAs in general. First of all...Russell Brand as a VMA host? Could you be more obnoxious? Rhetorical question. You could not. Russell Brand was funny for 10 minutes in Forgetting Sarah Marshall and really should have taken the opportunity to quit while he was ahead. Penis jokes aren't funny anymore, young chap.

Second of all...Lady GaGa. I take back everything I said about you being too bizarre to be awesome. Unfazable NewYorker that I am, I am rarely shocked by anything that happens onstage--but Miss GaGa's performance on Sunday night was fabulous. True, she looked like she was possessed and may have lost a considerable amount of the sex appeal she had left, but she was phenomenal. Who else can put on a show like that?

Third of all...the Janet Jackson Michael Jackson tribute dance. It must be said that JJ was about .25 seconds behind all of MJ's screened moves, but the tribute was touching and she looked great.

And finally--Tahlor and Kanye. Upon first watching Kanye's antics, I felt horrible for Taylor Swift. Truly Carrie-blood-at-prom awful. The poor girl looked like she was going to cry. But then several things happened:

1)Her performance in the subway cars/on an NYC taxi. I know for a fact that Taylor Swift filming in a subway must have caused terrible subway traffic and subsequent delays. As an avid subway rider, I also know that this certaintly ruined several thousand of New Yorkers transit plans for a considerable period of time. Taylor--WTF. And furthermore, what are you doing standing on a New York City taxi? How did you get up there? I'd like to achieve that feat of acrobatics while "singing live." And do you know how many streets you were blocking with your antics? Woman, the city is gridlocked, couldn't you have used a damn set?

2)Her acceptance speech. When Beyonce won video of the year and pulled Taylor on stage to give her speech, the astonished teenaged, instead of thanking her parents, her friends, her label, God (cmon girl, you're a country singer), chose to thank all of her fans on Twitter and Myspace. Tayloooorr. Your fans on Twitter and Myspace? You're certaintly pretty enough to have real friends outside of the internet realm. Why not thank them? Get off the internet, chica.

3)It has to be said...Beyonce's video was significantly better than T.Swift's. As someone who spent a considerable amount of her Friday morning hangover sitting in the dark, eating cheez-its, and watching "You Belong With Me" on repeat, I can say this with no guilty feelings--that video is just not that good. First of all, there is no romantic development. How does this dude end up at senior prom all of a sudden in love with nerd-Taylor? And how did he think of bringing the "I Love You" card? Second, Brunnette-cool-Taylor isn't portrayed as nearly evil enough. Why would she be left for nerd-Taylor at prom of all places? And third, come on, it's 2009, the "I Love You" cards are entirely superflous, these three hornball teenagers would have been BBMing for the entirety of the video if it had any intentions of actually resembling real life. I do like the line "She's cheer captain and I'm in the bleachers" though.

4)I can't believe there isn't more of this idea out there, but has anyone considered the possibility that this is all just one huge publicity stunt? After all has been said and done, Taylor's booking The View, Kanye's booking Leno, Queen Beyonce reigns supreme, everyone feels bad for poor little teenager, and hell, K. West can be as big a jackass as he wants, as long as he keeps making music, people will keep buying it. This is the man who accused President Bush of hating black people. He can clearly do no wrong by his fans. Meanwhile, the VMA ratings are up 17%, and MTV is racking in reruns galore. Can we say conspiracy theory? I for one wouldn't count it out.

Not much on the schedule for this week except for phone interviews, on campus interviews, career fairs, interest meetings, a whole lotta business casual and attempts to get a real-person job for next year. Come on, major TV networks...please purchase The Daily Bogo for a reality TV show? I promise to out-LC LC, out-Whitney Whitney and out-Kristin Cavallari that biatch. I can't say anything about being as obnoxious as Heidi, but show me the contract and chances are, the morals will fly right out the door.

Thing of the Day: Taxis

Things I dislike: cab drivers who do not have change for really small bills. What the f? How can a cab driver, a person who by profession picks you up, drives you to a location, accepts your payment, and does virtually nothing else (except perhaps the rare breed of excellent cab driver friend--that which consoles you when you are intoxicated and sad, tells you stories of their homeland, blasts pop music and allows you to smoke out the window while encouraging you to find Jesus), not have change for a FIVE dollar bill? This morning, I hopped into my usual Allied Cab, prepared with Starbucks and cab cash (for those of you who do not go to Vanderbilt--cab cash: a genius Vanderbilt University invention that allows you to charge multi-colored Monopoly money to your student account and then pay cabs with this "money") to go to my internship. $6.90 later, I arrive at my destination, hand the driver two cab cash fives, and ask for two dollars back. To which he responds, "Oh, no, I do not have change." SIR. Are you joking. How is it possible for you not to have TWO DOLLARS in change? I may be gullible and impatient, but I was not about to let the scheming no-change driver keep my ten dollars. So I sat at the corner for at least a full minute, scooping dollar bills, quarters, and even dimes out of my purse. I would have considered this a low point had I not found a twenty dollar bill neatly stuffed behind my ID card in my Blackberry case (on this note, I think I am going to start hiding monetary surprises in all of my belongings for such low-point situations). I paid the man, got out, and am now left with a sense of disappointment in Nashville cabbies, impressment (word?) with the amount of money I found in my purse/pockets/Blackberry case, and reminiscent of cab rides past.

So, despite the fact that I love and miss my subway commute and will always be a huge and devoted fan of public transportation, a list of my favorite cab experiences to date. In no particular order.

-Last week, on my way back to campus from my internship, an Allied Cab driver asked me if my weekend plans included church. When I explained to him that I was Jewish, he enquired politely whether Jewish people a)go to church, and b)believe in Jesus Christ our Saviour. My answer of "no" really didn't strike a pleasant chord with this man, who then turned abruptly and demanded I explain how I think we all came to be in the first place and do I believe in anything and don't Jews go to "Jew Church?" After five minutes of explaining/arguing the Big Bang theory in broken English, he accepted my cab cash, hugged me, and encouraged me to find God as soon as possible. Then he gave me his card.

-This summer, en route to meet a friend for cheese fries at 3am, I got into a yellow cab and explained to him that I had no money and really high heels, so if there was any way he could just drop me off at Pomme Frites and call it a night, I would really appreciate it and be sure to send good Karma wishes his way. He did. And waited outside while I entered the glorious french fry establishment to make sure that I was okay.

-Last spring in Rome, when my friend Geneva and I took a cab from the airport to our hotel in Campo di Fiori, the cab driver used the hour-long ride as a guided tour to the city, taking us past all the major monuments in the city and explaining their origins, history, and key details. He then dropped us off at our hotel and recommended a restaurant on the corner that served giant glasses of boxed wine with massive portions of pasta for 8Euro per pasta/wine dish. I believe we got two each. And then free tequila shots which Geneva's friends requested in Spanish, because "they don't really care what language you speak if you're pretty."

-Not a single experience but does anyone remember the Disco Cab? It used to drive around campus freshman and sophomore year decked out in strobe lights, Mardi Gras beads, and surround sound blasting the lastest hits and allowing you to cram as many people as you wish into it's comfy leather seats. I believe our record was 14 girls in two rows of seats, with two crammed into the front, loudly singing/screaming "I'm bossyyyyyyy" while en route to Bar Car. Ugh, on that note, does anyone remember Bar Car?!

-Last winter in Copenhagen, when a cab driver allowed me to not only stop for a gyro (oh, the pre-vegetarianism days of smoked meats, assorted sausages, prosciutto by the slice, greasy fried chicken and onion-ring smothered steaks...despite almost taking a bite out of a tailgate hotdog this weekend, I have held out for almost four months now and feel great about it), but proceeded to let me eat said gyro in the front seat while discussing the Danish system of socialism, universal healthcare, and free education and its' many benefits over the American system. He was a really young and attractive cab driver (due to the Danish system of socialism, 20-somethings often hold jobs they never would in the United States), and I gave him my Danish phone number. I'd like to think that I gave him the wrong number, or perhaps he was just playing me like a fool, but I never heard from Sven(?) again.

-The time in high school where my best friend Rachel and I sat in the backseat and dangled our feet out of opposite windows while our driver stopped at every red light to pray over the wheel--upon third or fourth prayer we realized that in addition to being a religious fanatic, our cabbie had NO FINGERS on one hand. I miss high school.

Off to a delicious lunch at Cantina Laredo with the roommate. We will be driving ourselves, thank you very much.

Thing(s) of the Day: Blogs Part II, and "Regular People"

First things first. Two of my nearest and dearest friends and roommates have started their own blogs! Although this has sparked a lot of BBM questioning on how to make things bold and linked and colorful and et cetera, I couldn't be happier to help them and encourage you all to check them out. Alex of ArtsyVille is blogging about (duh) the arts in her favorite cities of residence: Nashville, New York, and Miami and gracing the blogosphere with her book, movie, and food reviews, while Kelley of Kelley+Kanon is running a photo blog with pictures of her many travels--she is much cooler than me and sailed all over the world from Europe to Asia to Africa this past semester, and has been entertaining our roommates by snapping really artsy and gorgeous photos of us over the past few weeks. The picture above (in Mauritius, Africa) and those of the Music City Barbeque and Beer Festival in my past post were taken with her super sweet Canon.

Although it's kind of creepy/voyueristic that half of our suite now puts things on the internet for all to see, and I really don't want others to start thinking of us as "those girls that REAALLLY like the internet," I am so excited to be sharing this with two of my best friends! Has anyone seen the Julie+Julia preview (I say preview in leiu of movie because the movie looked so boring/chick-flickish that I don't expect any of my fine-tasted friends to have viewed it) where Amy Adams' obnoxious-friend-with-drinking-problem-character (life goal if being Chelsea Handler fails: star as obnoxious-best-friend-with-drinking-problem-character in B list movies. Fine, I'll take C list) says "Oh my god! Showtime bought my blog for a mini-series!"? (Excuse that horrid punctuation. I really don't know how to work the ! " " ? trifecta). Anyway-Showtime. If you're listening. ALEX NIKKI AND KELLEY ARE AVAILABLE FOR MINI-SERIES. We do really funny things, are less trashy than the Kardashian sisters, are now 21 so can legally be documented binge drinking, and have varied interests we would like to talk about on camera. We adore both Weeds and Californication, and even have a Dexter poster (can we talk Dexter with BABY please?!) in our living/dining room. Put us on TV. ASAP.

That being said, can we talk about this picture?


The above photograph of a "model" with an ab roll was featured in September's Glamour and the media and bloggers alike are freaking out about how awesome it is that a "regular" person was featured in the fashion section of a major U.S magazine. No offense, regular people, but I for one am not pleased. I get to see regular people every single day. Whether I like it or not, regular people accompany me on subways and buses, in restuarants and bars, libraries and doctor's offices, and in mirrors throughout the world. The world is suffering from a widespread epidemic of normal-sized, ordinary, not-that-attractive regular people, which we come into contact with all the time. When I pay $3.99 to flip through the pages of a glossy magazine (I know, I know...I should just get a subscription and save 80% off cover price blah blah blah but I don't, so...) I do not want to see regular people. I want to see bronzed, skinny Amazon women who inspire me to put down that candy bar and get my ass to spin, pronto. If I wanted to see "ab flab" I would simply look out my window. We shouldn't have to suffer because some women are so insecure with their own bodies that they demand imperfect humans like themselves to be featured in magazines just so they feel better about their self-esteem. What's next? Shitty actors being picked over good ones in movies so that struggling thespians stop cutting themselves? Clumsy ballerinas to inspire all us klutzes out there? Half-frozen restaurant meals because you can't cook? No thank you, world. I am not perfect. I would like for my entertainment to be.

Another note about my friends' blogs--they are both much nicer human beings than I, so even if you are offended and flabbergasted by my opinions, you probably won't be by theirs.

Things I am looking forward to this week: free dinner (thanks, expert Jewery in acquiring coupons) at Zumi followed by the Weeds finale tonight, my first day at Universal Music tomorrow, Shakespeare in Centennial Park (because I didn't make it to Shakespeare in Central Park in Manhattan) on Thursday, the Wine to Five event ($5 wines and appetizers for ladiez) at The Wine Loft also on Thursday, and the FIRST TAILGATE, ahem, football game of senior year on Saturday. I couldn't find Western Carolina University on a map, nor do I know if it is in North or South Carolina or some new Carolina colony called West Carolina, but I will very gladly drink to their large bulky men playing ours.

Cheers!

Thing of the Day: Nashville

Yo yo yo. Things have been hectic to say the least. I got to Nashville a little over a week ago and it already feels like I not only never left for the summer but also spent spring semester here rather than travelling around Europe. A very wise away message once told me "Its funny how things change--even funnier how they stay the same," and that's definitely how I feel about returning to Vanderbilt.

We've had an amazing first week back, from the 15 hour road trip down, to reuniting with all my favorite Nashville eateries (Sunset Grill changed their dinner menu! Summer salad, anyone? Seafood PLATTER? Artisinal cheese assortment?!? Also the waitress who has worked there for the past 3 years and served me copious quantities of 50% off Pinot Grigio asked me for my I.D last night and upon seeing it very happily exclaimed "You're actually legal! Happy birthday--I can serve you with a clear conscience now...just kidding, I never cared") to exploring downtown Nashville (The following pictures are from the Music City Beer and BBQ Festival yesterday--beer in plastic bottles, roasted corn and sweet potato fries,excellent Nashtrash people watching (favorites included baby with beer bottle and man who offered us sweet tea flavored whiskey and barbecue to hang out by his tent and "make him look good") and fine country music) to our final year of dormitory living (Question: what do you get when you add 6 sorority girls and thousands of dollars spent at Target? Answer: veryyy brightly colored chaos).

Living with 5 of my good friends has actually proved really excellent, and the apartmentmates have already implemented several senior year rules. On Sundays, we take turns cooking family dinners and on Tuesdays, we plan on exploring a new Nashville restaurant that we haven't been to. We've really jump-started this program and thus far have been to Rumours Wine and Art Bar (adorable), and Tayst (delectable). Future venues (on color coded post-its at my bedside) include Urban Flats, The Wine Loft and Cantina Loreda in the all-of-a-sudden really cool and trendy Gulch area, Restaurante Zola, 1808 and Firefly Grille in the greater Vandy area, South Street, The Blue Moon Lagoon and Martha's at the Plantation in the "funny Southern food" category and a wide list of "places we kept meaning to try" throughout Nashville. Reviews to follow. Outside of the eating category, various apartmentmates have pledged to do hot yoga, run half marathons, apply to graduate school, ace LSATs/GREs/GMATs, volunteer, go abroad, learn Spanish/piano/photography and develop post-grad life plans. So it should be a very interesting year, to say the least, and I'm psyched. My personal goals for this year:

1. Take the GREs/GMATs. Since I ideally want an MBA but am the sort of person who sent deposits into three colleges and two study abroad programs,will consistently order 2-3 appetizers instead of entrees and told 2 people I would be their prom date in high school, I really can't make the choice to close the door on graduate degrees of other sorts. I know I don't want to go to grad school for at least 3-5 years after graduation, and by the time that rolls around I could be anywhere from the business world in New York, volunteering in China, a homeless surfer in California or practicing at a monastery in India, so I think I should get both tests over with while I still have brain cells and am in a school mindset.

2. Train for a half/ marathon. I am not sure if I want to bike or run, but due to my diet and excercise pattern of "run when I feel like it" and "eat whatever I want," I've never been in really good hot-girl-jogging-in-sports-bra shape and I feel like it'd be nice.

3. Expand this blog. I want to add photographs, post more often, and develop some sort of following that isn't composed entirely of friends who laugh at my rants and rambles.

4. Get a 4.0: This sounds reaaaaally ambitious, but (duh) it's not. I am doing an internship for my major this semester (hi, Universal Music! I am so excited for my first day this week! I even bought an appropriate length dress with SLEEVES) and the internship program consists of one class and one (really really) long paper. I think I can handle it.

5. Develop a hobby that isn't: eating, writing about eating, watching TV, writing about watching TV, drinking, and reading strangers' blogs. Self explanatory. Suggestions, anyone?

6. Have an amazing senior year! It's off to a great start.