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.