Thing of the Day: Punctuality

I've had a problem with being on time to things ever since I was little. This issue, like most issues of children, was probably a direct effect of my parents' parenting. Whenever we were going somewhere, my mother would rush around the house picking up every little thing she could have possibly forgotten and stuffing it into her purse, while my father sat on the couch and watched football/basketball/soccer/ping-pong/competitive eating until the very last second before we had to leave, going as far as to let my sister and I start the car and "let the engine heat up" as we waited for him.

My problem with punctuality has not affected my life all too negatively because I make it a point not to be late to important things--I have never shown up past the hour for an interview, a meeting with a teacher, a plane (except for the ONE time they shut down the entire Belt Parkway on the way to JFK...sorry if I had to get a pedicure for $12 from the Asian place down the block instead of shelling out $25 in Nashville, I thought allotting one hour for the 20 minute trip to the airport would do), a test, etc. But when it comes to smaller things--classes, dinners, dates--I am completely hopeless. Anyone who knows me moderately well knows that I operate on "Nikki Time," and thus knows to lie about the time of our dinner reservation (this Friday: Choice Kitchen & Cocktails), the movie (this Sunday: 500 Days of Summer (!)), the Hamptons jitney, etc etc. The one minutely irritating thing about this habit is that my friends tend to overestimate Nikki time and tell me to be a half hour early to things, when really I am usually only about 10 to 15 minutes late, but this is a small price to pay as it usually gives me the chance to read menus in detail, enjoy movie posters and popcorn, and people watch leisurely, so I have never had a real issue with my punctuality problem. Until now.

Yesterday I was watching the episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm where Larry thinks that someone stole his plane tickets and the search for them causes him and Cheryl to get to the airport late and miss their flight to her sister's wedding. There's a scene in the episode where they get to the airport and try to skip the security line to catch their flight and the people in the security line throw a fit, not allowing them to pass.

This scene shed a phenomenal amount of light on my lifestyle. As a cute teenage/20-something traveler in big sunglasses, Juicy sweatpants, and matching luggage, I have always been allowed to skip the security line. In fact, when going to the airport, I deliberately allow myself enough time to get on the plane but not have to wait in the security line--that is, I get to the airport early enough to catch a flight but late enough to pull the "Sir, my plane leaves in 30 minutes, do you think you could possibly by any chance of kindness and empathy allow me to skip you in line?" (Blink, blink). And it has always worked. There was once a close call flying from Lisbon to Milan with my dear friend Stacy where were told by a mean airport employee to ask every single person in line if it was okay if we skipped the line (apparently my cuteness doesn't transcend the Portuguese cultural border). We proceeded to ask the first ten people in line before she realized that we absolutely would snake our way down the line of hundreds to get on this plane, and let us pass.

I do this with not only planes but restaurants ("Ma'am I was SURE I said 830, not 8...I am leaving to move to London tomorrow and this is supposed to be my last dinner with my boyfriend" (Sniffle, Sniffle)), and thanks to Larry David, I've come to realize that in about ten years I will no longer be cute enough to pull this shit. So I've come to a resolution here and now. I will be on time to things.

Starting this day of July, Thursday the 30th, I will be a person who is not lied to in fear of her constant lateness. I will arrive punctually, if not early, for every event I schedule. I will never make a disgruntled friend tap on her watch face in front of the restaurant/club/theater/platform again. I will not run from the train station to work/yoga/meetings. I will not try to trick myself by winding all of my clocks to show a time that is 5 minutes later. I will simply be on time.

It can't be that hard...right?

In other news:

Train offender of the day: This morning, I saw Penn Badgley's identical twin on the C train. That is, he would have been PB's identical twin if ever thought that someone of Penn's bloodline would have the audacity to be wearing a yarmulke over his peyas and reciting from the Torah at 9am. Now I love my Judaism and my Jewish bretheren, but if you are that hot, why oh why must you be Hasidic? I decided to channel my commuter boredom into inching as close as possible to Badgley Bro until he moved away. It didn't take too long. Probably because Hasidic Jews aren't allowed to even touch women until they are married.

Thing I am excited for this weekend: brunch and/or dinner at Essex (three free Bloody Mary/Mimosas with your meal or unlimited half price drinks till 10pm...which to choose), a day of exploring Williamsburg for cheap eats and vintage clothes, and a Foley and Corinna sample sale.

I really really hope it doesn't rain. Did you hear that, God? As first karmic retribution for my resolution to be an on-time adult human being, it better not rain this weekend.

Thing of the Day: The PS1 Warmup

Does anyone remember that episode of Friends when someone at work eats Ross's sandwich? In summary, Monica makes Ross this awesome sandwich, which he brings to work and labels "Knock knock. Who's there? Ross's sandwich--please don't eat me, okay?" His boss ignores the rather witty note and eats the sandwich anyway, leading to very understandable fury.

Well. Around 11:30AM this morning at work, I decided to go upstairs to the communal kitchen area and eat one of the low-fat mozarella string cheese sticks I had left in the fridge. These sticks came in a bag of 12, neatly had "Nikki" written on them in permanent marker, and as of Friday numbered around 5 or 6. Imagine my feelings when I trekked upstairs to find ZERO string cheese sticks remained. Not one. Apparently someone decided my string cheese was a free for all and proceeded to hand them out to friends and coworkers. How to win friends and influence people: free food. Namely, mine.

It's taken me all morning and most of the afternoon to finish mourning the loss, and although I am fairly sure I am not fully over it, I can bring myself to talk about something else, if only for a little while.

This weekend, I had the pleasure of attending the Summer Warmup at the PS1 Contemporary Art Center in Long Island City. PS1 used to be a shitty New York public school, and about 10 years ago the MoMa bought it and it was somehow turned into an art museum. The exhibits themselves are ridiculously cool, they consist of really contemporary art pieces ranging from sculpture to painting to audio and video, but what makes it really unique is that many of the elements of a disintegrating NYC public school are preserved in building, from the graying staircases to the classrooms. (I haven't been keeping up with NYC Prep but something tells me Jessi would faint from disgust if she ever stepped foot in such an educational venue, and it really made me appreciate Stuyvesant's glass bridge and marbled hallways). To add to the really sweet museum itself (our favorite was the Jonathan Horowitz political And/Or exhibit), the Summer Warmup features up and coming bands, a beer and wine bar, and really attractive Hipster McYuppies imported straight from Williamsburg and the Lower East Side. The band plays by the sculpture in the featured picture above, which is basically this 30 foot tall fuzzy...thing...which sprays everyone around it with a fine mist. We goth there around 3pm, and by 4pm, everyone was raging. I have never seen people so blatantly trashed/tweaked during the day (disclaimer: real adult people, because Vanderbilt tailgate, duhhhh). There was a man in purple Ray-Bans and skinny jeans who I swear beat-boxed and break-danced for two hours straight, a couple decked out in matching fluorescent iridescent mermaid costumes, and a plethora of Vneck McWayfarer couples grinding more aggressively than I have seen in any club at 3am. This place was so amazing and I would highly recommend it to any New Yorker or visiting friend--future Warmups on August 1st, 8th (but you won't be there because you will be celebrating my 21st birthday. Duh), 22th, 29th and September 5th.

After a great day at the Warmup, we went to Battery Gardens, where an employee friend treated us to extra full glasses of Chardonnay, delicious tuna tartare, succulent crab cakes and a massive platter of chocolate, cheesecake and mousse dessert. Further culinary adventures this week include Daniel Boulud's most recent eatery, DBGB, the Vanderbilt Summer Sendoff Party at Cipriani 42nd Street (what's up, open bar?), and the Hudson Square Food and Wine Festival. In non-food-and drink-related activities (surprise)!, I plan on seeing Billy Elliot with the best friend on Wednesday and checking out candle-lit yoga at YTTP Sunday.

My New York summer is quickly drawing to a close and there are so many things I have yet to do (speed date, see Shakespeare in the Park, go to a SummerStage concert, walk across the Brooklyn Bridge, explore Williamsburg, visit the Brooklyn Yard, shop at the Chelsea Flea, see In The Heights, have the all-you-can-drink brunch at Garage, see a Hudson River Flick, bike to work, student rush the Ballet, and eat at a growing list of potential eateries. I think if I up my after-work/happy hour dates from two to three a week, I can squeeze it all in. Who wants to eat, drink, and be cultured?

I think I'm going to go steal some peanut butter from the work fridge. Sorry, co-workers. Karma's a bitch.

Thing of the Day: Speed Dating

I know that I write about encounters on the subway rather frequently, but when you're coming from Brooklyn, you really come across all kinds. This morning's offenders:

1. A yuppie businessman who would have been almost too attractive if he hadn't been reading Rich Dad, Poor Dad: What the Rich Teach Their Kids About Money--That the Poor and Middle Class Do Not...on his Kindle! This choice of commute self-help book would have been offensive enough had it come in original hardcover form, but in electronic version, it was almost nauseating. The rich teach their kids not to invest almost $400 in the Kindle. Read my blog instead.

2. An average, normal, non-gothic looking chick that had an "I <3 fangs" pin clipped to her otherwise totally normal outfit. Why, oh why, would you <3 fangs? I don't think I entirely get the vampire craze. Sure, I would follow Robert Pattinson around New York City and even to his scenes in New Jersey (crossing the GW bridge=true love, R.P) anyday, and yes, I avidly watch and obsess over True Blood (MaryAnn what the f are youuuuu), but that's because R.Patz is gorgeous, and True Blood is captivating. Not because I think that there is anything moderately attractive about sexual intercourse with the undead. I still tear up when I get my blood drawn, I do not need someone sucking it from my neck thank you very much. Why, oh why would you "<3 vampires?" They are pale and cold and can't even spend the day with you after sleeping over. Another classic case of nice girls being drawn to bad boys. Ladies, if the man needs to bite you to get off, he's just not that into you.

Subway delinquents aside, the real reason for this post. Speed dating. I don't know how my friend Cayla got on this subject, but as summer is quickly drawing to a close and I prepare to go back to my beloved Na$hville, I have realized that I will avidly miss New York wierdos. Nashville has its own brand of bizarre human, of course ("But what I really wanna do is sing country music"), but you never meet people who quite match the degree of strangeness you'll find in New York. And what better way to engage in meeting unusual and interesting people than via blind date? Or 30?

Amidst g-chatting our internships away (just kidding! I love my internship. And not just because someone in my office might be reading this, because its really a rather excellent place to work and (shameless self promotion, sorry) they let me write this awesome blog), Cayla and I somehow ended up Googling "speed dating NYC" and finding almost 3 million results. Among possible replacements for our usual happy hour next week:

1. Jewish Singles Speed Dating. I love Jews. I love the Village Pourhouse. I love complimentary beverages. And I get to "enjoy up to 15 5 minute dates!"

2. Hot or Not Speed Dating. Description: " Looks aren't everything, but initial attraction is definitely key to the beginning of any lasting relationship. Ever been to a speed dating event and upon arriving and giving the other daters a once-over, you've found yourself discreetly running out? We've built in a "quality control" element into this speed dating event. Interested daters MUST create a profile with a photo and join the event "waitlist" to be considered for approval. Disclaimer: This event is not for the "thin-skinned" and the only guarantee is that 3 out of 5 single judges found attendees submitted pictures to be attractive." Submitting our photos to this would probably be a good way to boost our self confidence. Or cause us to descend into a self-pitying black hole.

3. "Size Matters" Speed Dating for Tall Singles. Despite the fact that they will be "measuring at the door," this would be a really fun event to attend with our shorter friends. We are considering calling all of our tiniest amigas, putting them in their tallest shoes, and demanding admission.

4. 50 First Dates. At this event at M1-5 Lounge (I have never heard of M1-5 Lounge but their website is the horrible kind that places techno music as you try to find happy hour prices), we would have the chance to meet 50 people for 2 minutes each. Despite very seriously considering both the Speed Date a NY Fireman and Cougars&Cubs: Young Men and Older Women events, we decided this was probably the event for us for several reasons. Firstly--it will give us the chance to meet a maximum amount of New York wierdos. And secondly--2 minutes is just short enough for us to have a little fun with this. Over the course of the day, fellow g-chatters have come up with some excellent questions to ask our 2 minute dates. Some highlights:
-"If you could be one ninja turtle, which would you be?"
-"If you could perform any Harry Potter spell on a regular basis, which would you choose?"
-"If you were a cannibal and got the chance to eat any person, dead or alive, who would you choose?"

At $29 for event registration (includes a free drink) + the 4 or so paid drinks we will definitely need to consume (~$20 at happy hour), this experience could round out to one dollar even per bizarre encounter. I've certainly invested in worse.

Thing of the Day: Lady GaGa

First things first:

Today on the subway, an aptly sized Hispanic man stood directly over where I was sitting reading The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay (Pulitzer endeavor numero uno) and avidly prayed for the entirely of my 30 minute commute. Out loud. I made out "Jesus, Mary, Joseph, atone for your sins, lord and savior (does one who cares about being religiously PC capitalize lord and savior?) before I got off at my stop and he glared directly at me and repeated "atone to the (L?)ord"!

Now, I know that the most productive thing I did this weekend was learn that pizza bagels are a magnificent hangover cure, but c'mon, greater forces above. Was this really necessary? I plan on atoning today by giving one of six dollar coins (damn you, MetroCard machine) to the next homeless person I encounter. Maybe even the next two. I've gotta get rid of those things.

Since my weekend consisted of questionable life decisions, excessive carbohydrates, and one too many Pinot Grigios, I really have absolutely nothing respectable or interesting to report and would rather focus on things I am looking forward to. But before that. Lady Gaga.

Lady GaGa has made frequent appearances on both my Pandora and my Itunes ever since since "where are my keys I lost my phone" first made its way to my ears at some dirty frat dance floor. Who was this human who so shamelessly admitted her inappropriately drunk status ("I love this record but I can't see straight anymoreeeee"). I remained an avid fan despite a friend's revelation that she had gone to high school with GaGa (formerly known as Stefani Germanotta) and that she was not, as she states in interviews "a misfit and unpopular" but rather the most popular girl in her class and a rather hot thang. I think the high point in Stefani/LG and my relationship was when she debuted this hairdo, which i very desperately want to re-create in a significantly smaller size for my birthday (three weeks until I retire Lori from Tennessee foreverrrrrrr), but I think this time GaGa has taken it too far.

In an interview with a German news channel yesterday, she showed up wearing the above outfit. If you cannot make out the misshapen green blobs on her head and body, they are small reincarnations of Kermit the Frog. LG--excuse my French--but are you out of your F-ing mind?! Why are you wearing dozens of stuffed cartoon amphibians on your small frame? That is in no way attractive or, as you explain in the interview, "an art". Please cease taking psychedelic drugs immediately, your pupils are dilated and there is no way anyone is going to believe that you are not tripping in that getup.

That being said, the recently released video for Paparazzi is phenom. And I'd still totally be Lady GaGa's friend. Make it happen, NYC connections.

This week, I am looking forward to a free caviar and 2 for 1 champagne happy hour, another delicious Restaurant Week dinner at Blue Water Grill, a free concert featuring the wonderfully Hipster McHip Ted Leo + The Pharmacists with my wonderfully Hipster McHip roommate, finally visiting the PS1 Warmup, and another sunny (please)? Sunday on the beach. And I am especially looking forward into moving onto the Upper East Side on Friday with my best friend to "cat-sit for a friend" aka share a bed, cook each other heavily caloric meals, and watch hours of Law and Order: SVU.

Thing of the Day: Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince

Last night, after over a year of waiting, I finally had the chance to travel back to my beloved Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry and see Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince. I have a lot to say about the Harry Potter movie so I have to throw in two quick Muggle facts before I do so:

1)The lovely people at IAC have decided I am not only witty but also fashionable, so in addition to reading my frequent rants and raves about life on The Daily, the single-digit following of my blog can also skim my musings on trends, style and shopping at ProntoStyle. My posts are the ones by Nikki B (duh) and offer insight on things I am wearing and things I would like to be wearing. These posts make me sound a lot more stylish than I actually am, but I am having a great time writing them and they are leading me to do even more internet shopping at work than I did before. Nonetheless, yay awesome internship duties!

2)Yesterday afternoon I got into an almost-physical altercation with a postman! Alright, it was a postwoman, but W-T-F! Aren't these supposed to be friendly people? "The milkman, the paper boy and evening TV?" Postpeople are always portrayed on television to be bastions of kindness and neighborliness, not scary obese women who elbow you out of the way at the subway.

Now that that has been said--Harry Potter.

Harry Harry Harry...I am up there as one of your biggest fans. Seriously. My BBM name for the past three days has been "Viktor Krum." And although my BBM status is still "Hogwarts," I must say the last time I was so disappointed was when I pretended to be asleep on my couch and watched my tipsy-from-Christmas-dinner parents wrap my presents under the tree and precariously perch them in a messy heap (yes, I am Jewish. We're just fun).

There were, of course, some high points in the movie, which I will proceed to lay out in (short) list format.

-Ron's Quidditch game. Frankly, I'm impressed with any scene in which Ron doesn't fail at something because he is clearly the least awesome character. Proof? Rupert Grint got swine flu. But Ron looked almost attractive up there flexing his Wizarding muscles.
-Ginny tying Harry's shoe. Ginny Weasley, you little slut. I don't know if it's a Wizard thing but J.K Rowling CERTAINLY didn't have a shoe-tying scene in the book. You might as well have bent down and handed HP a condom.
-Creepy baby-Voldemort. Ugh, I said his name. Anyway. I am not a fan of horror movies but the only thing that really really scares me is creepy children. Ever since I realized my little sister looks suspiciously like the little girl from the ring (or did, when the movie came out. My little sister is actually kind of hot now and I don't think I like it), I have been obsessed with creepy evil movie children and whether they are convincing. Baby-Voldemort? Good. Little girl from Orphan? Bad. Very bad.
-Lavender Brown. Lavenderrrr. You were this film's saving grace. Whoever this chick is ("Jennifer Smith"? have a less exciting name,please), she was brilliant. Simply brillz. She was hilarious and phenomenally convincing as Won-Won's crazy girlfriend. I foresee many drunk/annoying best friend roles in her future. (Think vomiting best friend in Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist, but cuter).
-Dumbledore's fire-thing in the evil cave. HBP, did you even have a special effects budget? This was the only cool and badass thing that occurred ALL MOVIE. Where was the Death Eaters vs. Dumbledore's Army fight scene? Where was the escape from Privet Drive? I know we're in a recession, but Transformers II seemed to be able to conjure up all the explosions it needed! Come ON, HBP!

I think I'm ready for bad things now.

-Hermione. Emma Watson, really? I like you a lot as a person, think your recent Burberry ads are flawless, and can't wait to stalk you in NYC next year, but Hermione's pout in this movie could rival Serena Van Der Woodsen's (in terms of how many times it showed up--not in quality, of course). During the scene where she cried, my fellow Potterphile Jackie and I actually laughed at how bad of an actress EW is.
-Lack of battle scenes. See above. Do I need to plan a fund-raiser to acquire more money for the special effects budget of The Deathly Hallows? I don't think I can handle an action-less final installment. Vanderbilt has an unusually high endowment. Say the word, JKR.
-Complete abandonment of 3/4 of the novel. Why did the director spend 10 minutes on a made up scene in which Harry flirts with an afro-ed Muggle and decide to leave out crucial Harry-Snape, Harry-Dumbledore and Harry-Ginny interactions? I haven't read the sixth book in a while but even I knew things were awry. Also, the "fire in the Burrow" scene? DIDN'T HAPPEN.
-Harry and Ginny's "kiss". I have kissed my cab drivers goodbye more passionately at the end of a long night. For serious, I am pretty sure she didn't even slip him the tongue. First you tie his shoes, then you kiss him the way I kiss my middle-aged Moroccan strangers? Ginny Weasley, are you a ho or a tease?

I could go on, but I think I will instead nurse my sorrows by re-reading The Half-Blood Prince and reveling in the fact that although the movie was supremely sub-par, the book remains a work of unbearable genius. Overall, if not for an amazing adult cast (Helena Bonham Carter & Alan Rickman were flawless), and some awkward British humor, I would give this movie a solid thumbs down. As of now, I am tilting my thumb downward, but inverted up at a 45 degree angle. It looks a little weird.

Thing of the Day: Coney Island

This weekend, my best friend and I took a day trip to Coney Island. For those who don't know, Coney Island is this beach in Brooklyn that in the early 1900's consisted of beach resorts that were stomping grounds for the rich and famous, an amusement park that was home to the first carousel on earth and America's oldest still-standing roller coaster, and the world-famous Nathan's Hot Dog Stand. It has since become the most ghetto place I would step foot in without bulletproof vest (except for the time I fell asleep on the 2/3 and ended up on 135th street, and the time I thought it would be fun to day drink and go to the Bronx Zoo).

When you live in New York and want to go to the beach without turning it into a weekend extravaganza, you are very limited in options--you can either take the LIRR to Long Beach and pay for a day pass, or you can hop on the B,Q, D or F and venture to Coney Island (fo freeeee), where you might either be intimidated and grossed out or have the best day ever. If you are at all awesome, it will probably be the latter. Coney Island is fascinating in that it combines such a plethora of cultures, from a nice Latin American man we overheard telling his girlfriend that he was going to "leave a cockprint on her forehead," to octogenarian Russian couples who will push you out of the way to get prime real estate for their towels on the beachfront, to the group of Italian boys we met, who were employed as electricians and spent 45 minutes explaining the meaning of their tattoos to us, explaining to us that they couldn't swim because "muscle doesn't float" and trying to engage us in games of truth or dare where we would end up kissing them. In addition to a cast of beach-goers that if written into a movie would certainly win either an Oscar or a Razzie, the beach itself is actually pretty nice if you don't mind the occasional broken beer bottle, the water is warm and calm, and shit, we live in the greatest city on Earth, we can't expect to have EVERYTHING.

Rachel and I bought large Coronas from men selling them out of plastic bags on the beach front, gorged ourselves on delicious Russian pastries, corn on the cob and soft ice cream, and wandered through Astroland buzzed, sunburnt, and happy.

Other weekend highlights included: an Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations marathon which culminated with a 20minute interview and cooking session with Ferran Adria of El Bulli (if you are not familiar with El Bulli, I will leave you to read this and know that I will gladly give you my first born child, or my second one if you'd prefer a middle-child-syndrome kid (more complacent), to be taken there), the best thin-crust pizza and lobster salad I have ever consumed at Vento on Friday afternoon, an awesome roof party and open bar celebration on Friday night, a day drinking marathon overlooking Central Park Saturday, and a fabulous Sunday evening which consisted of applying aloe vera and concealer to my sunglasses sunburn and being blown away by this week's True Blood, pleasantly surprised by the second episode of Hung, and extremely amused by the premiere of Entourage.

If anyone could recommend some hobbies that don't consist of eating, drinking, and watching TV, throw them my way.

UPDATE: OMG, it's National French Fries Day! If you are in the East Village, please do yourself a favor and go to try the best French fries in the city. I myself will not be attending Pomme Frites due to an embarrassingly-large-almost-full cone consumed there Friday night, but I will for sure make a pits top at what is apparently the second best French fry joint in NYC, conveniently located 4 blocks from my office: Pasti's.

UPDATE Part 2: Seriously...any new hobbies...anyone?

Thing of the Day: Literature

I have decided that starting this summer and continuing over the next few years, I want to read every novel that has won the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction and the Man Booker Prize. Three very important events sparked this lofty goal:

1. My roommates have started a book club for next semester. We are reading Franny & Zooey for our first meeting, which will take place on the Sunday we get back to school and continue taking place every other Sunday, pending that more than half of us can rouse ourselves from Saturday night hangovers. Maybe they will take place every third Sunday. Or maybe we should just aim for Mondays. Guys?

2. When driving home from LBI on Sunday night, I dug Are You There Vodka? It's Me Chelsea out of my roommate's back seat and proceeded to read 100 pages on the way home. This would all be fine, since Chelsea Handler is my personal hero and I aspire to be just like her when I grow up (Why, you may ask? The woman has managed to write a best-selling novel based entirely on her love of drinking AND star in a popular television series based entirely on her disdain of stupid shit. And she has a pet midget. What I would do for a pet midget! Except I think I'd want an Asian one)--but, I have already read Are You There Vodka. Thrice. Four times if you count the re-read in the car. And despite necessary re-reads to learn how to behave exactly and precisely like Chelsea, I find it silly to read the same book more than once or twice at most. Nonetheless, I find myself doing this all the time.

3. J.K Rowling is not planning on writing any more Harry Potter books. When I Googled "8th Harry Potter book" the most reputable source I got reporting possible developments was The Gryffindor Gazette. I plan on contacting The Gryffindor Gazette ASAP to inquire about any potential need for guest columnists, but future post-graduation job if being Chelsea Handler's second in command doesn't work out aside, this is bad news.

These three combined facts, plus my desire to be able to tell people that I have read every Pulitzer and Booker book and then have them revel my intellectual superiority, has led me to print out a list of the books in question (40 Booker and 60 Pulitzer, a sweet O.C.D-friendly 100 books), cross off the ones I have already read (10.5. I started Disgrace by J.M Coetzee and hated it) decide which one I am going to read next (Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout), and plan a trip to my favorite bookstore, Strand, today before yoga.

Intellectualness(Intellectuality? Spellcheck, why are you telling me this isn't a wordddd?), here we come.

Thing of the Day: Sunshine

Some pretty excellent things happened this weekend.

I ate pizza every day from Thursday-Sunday, Sarah Palin resigned from her "job," Sarah Jessica Parker and her three absurdly named but nonetheless adorable children are looked at houses in Park Slope (take that, Carrie Bradshaw! You may hate on the BK but I'll take the real SJP if she promises to wear heels at all times), I spent my 4 hour commute home back from the beach downloading Pandora for Blackberry (genius!) and despite Michael Bloomberg's warning, I watched fireworks both legal and smuggled to the tunes of my roommate's dad's 4th of July Playlist (Included: The Star Spangled Banner, American Girl, American Pie, American Woman, Simon and Garfunkel's America, Proud to be an American and an impromptu a-capella version of America, Fuck Yeah!)

That was a lot of parenthesis. Today's thing of the day is sunshine for several reasons:

1. I really liked the above picture

2. Even though The Today Show reported last week that New York's June weather has been equivalent to that of Finland (come ON, Scandinavia!), this week promises to be a bright and sunny one of 80 degree highs.

3. Thus a plethora of outdoor activities have been planned: outdoor dinner & drinks before the Meiko concert tomorrow, outdoor gallery/bar crawls at Dumbo First Thursday, outdoor binge drinking at Saturday barbeque's and outdoor $2 Coronas and $1 Corn on the Cobs from highly illegal beach vendors at Coney Island Sunday.

On a slightly less optimistic and sunshine filled note, this week's episode of NYC Prep really disappointed me. Taylor--what the f. You are not representing Stuyvesant High School adequately when you go on mediocre dates AND SLOPPILY MAKE OUT WITH boys who describe themselves in their Bravo Bio as "known among his circle of friends as the guy who constantly hooks up with the hottest girls – either in the City or at his place in the Hamptons." Sebastian. There is only one Chuck Bass. I hate you. And Tay--if you are reading this, send me your phone number. I have some mentoring I would like to offer you free of charge. On camera, of course). Other than that, the clothes were cute, the food looked good, and I think I will give the show another 2 episodes before I start watching it on mute.

Also, Bravo--how about a reality TV show set at COLLEGE, where we are actually old enough to drink on our dates and at our parties. We can set it at Vanderbilt (potential titles: Vandyland, Club Vandersex, open to suggestions) and film episodes at tailgates, parties, Sportsmann's, Stevenson, and beyond. Our parents would all stop paying our tuition, but I'm sure with the dollaz and free shit we score as reality TV shows, we'd make it through our last semester on our own. You know where to reach me.

Thing of the Day: Robert Pattinson

I pride myself on being someone who achieves goals when they set them, and after the past month, I can honestly say that I am moderately disappointed with myself. My four missions for the month of June were to be a vegetarian (check!), work out five times a week (half check!), binge drink only when necessary (small pen mark denoting about one sixth of a check), and to meet or at least snap a creepy cell phone picture of Robert Pattinson while he is filming in NY (large red X).

I really don't have any excuse for this miserable display of celebrity stalking. Last summer, my goal was to catch a Gossip Girl taping, and I managed to do one better--sit several tables away from Blake Lively, Penn Badgely and Puppy Penny dining and being gorgeous IN REAL LIFE. Unfortunately, this scenario couldn't be documented because a. my Blackberry doesn't have a camera, and b. I am not a massive loser--I draw the line at disrupting celebs in their non-celeb life.

Thanks to this site, however, I may be able to erase the massive and accusatory red X from my list of goals. It lists filming locations for Remember Me, Gossip Girl, and various other films and shows being shot throughout New York. Truth be told, I'd prefer to meet R.Patz out and about in a bar ("Oh, hello, stranger. You look so familiar...I can't seem to place you!") so I can effectively work my charms, but I am certainly not above making dinner reservations at a conspicuous distance from his current filming locations (Um, appetizers & drinks tonight in the East Village, anyone?)

I hear Robbie and his costars will be out of town for the 4th, which is fine by me, because after tonight I will be off slipping and sliding and sunning and grilling and erasing the one-sixth of a check mark from my abysmally unaccomplished list of goals on Long Beach Island. Hopefully with Patzie'z autograph...or, you know, undershirt, tucked neatly into my weekend Vera Bradley.

Oh, and Happy Independence Day, America! I feel that no words can express 4th of July joy more than these from textsfromlastnight.com:

(301): Lady next to me is getting american flags airbrushed on her nails. god bless the ghetto.