The Daily Bogo

Moving On

2010-06-10T21:30:00.000-07:00

Please check out and follow my new blog!

http://citygirlinthedistrict.blogspot.com/

This Place Will Last.

2010-05-16T20:15:00.000-07:00

Dear Vanderbilt,

First and foremost, let me put out there that I realize you're moving on. You’ve made it clear to me via an extended and anticlimactic series of speeches that you are ready to say goodbye, and that’s fine. I know you've found a whole new class of someone elses now, and this letter is not going to be a plea to take me back.

We've had a good run. I can’t honestly say that I’m ready to bid you adieu, but for the sake of my pride and my well being, I'd rather remember our relationship and all the amazing times we've shared together in a positive light than dwell on the fact that you're ready to be happy without me. So I'm telling you from the getgo--I'm moving on too. I won't Facebook stalk you and obsess over photos of you and yours, I won't text you at inappropriate hours of the day and night (although, as you may remember, during your farewell speech you encouraged me to do so if I needed anything, even money), I won't resent that your feelings towards me have changed.

The four years I spent with you have been the best of my life. You've made me laugh, you've made me cry, you've made me laugh till I cry and cry till I laugh. I never realized when I stepped foot on your campus (a national arboretum! Things I won’t miss: allergies) that I would be meeting the place I may want to spend the rest of my life with.

When I first opened the door to my tiny cinder-block framed Kissam room (things I won’t miss, part II: The Office of Housing and Residential Education), my initial thoughts included: “Ooh, a lofted bed just like in college movies…sweet!,” “Why is the chick across the hall in a sundress, full makeup, and cowboy boots to unpack?”, and “Mommmmm can I have money to buy things to decorate?” My wee freshman mind didn’t even ponder the realm of events that would, until I called said office of Housing and Residential Education whining enough to be switched to a room in Branscomb, unfold in the 10X10 space on the fourth floor of Kissam Hall. That inhumanely small space was where I fell in love with my first college boyfriend, met some of my best friends, shared memories I will never forget and some I will never remember (Momma B, I know you told me over graduation that you read my blog, so apologies in advance).

Sophomore year was an upgrade. Oh, Peabody Commons, with your glorious and spacious lawns, the Commons Center that could be utilized for everything from studying to eating to inconspicuously pregaming. Sophomore year brought me closer to my campus, my sorority house, my classmates, my friends, and myself. Days were spent gallivanting from HOD classroom to HOD classroom and from fraternity porch to fraternity porch, nights were spent consuming food and wine on the Vandy card, dancing around downtown, and often holed up in the reading room of the Peabody Library, which does have both a fireplace and a glorious collection of children’s books (spare me, A+S).

Junior year was a series of ups and downs for you and I. I became fed up sometimes with more of the same—didn’t you have anything to offer me but fun? Entertainment was good and well, of course, but I was ready to get serious and I wasn’t sure if you could make the commitment. But meetings with advisors, long talks with friends, and yes, gallivanting from HOD classroom to HOD classroom and from fraternity porch to fraternity porch and from honky tonk to honky tonk proved to me that you really did care about me, and were in it for the long haul. I took on an extra major, made the decision to spend a semester abroad, and was forced to choose between adventure and stability in the worst way possible. Nonetheless, I came out stronger, more sure of myself and my goals and values, and with a plethora of wonderful stories to tell.

And then we got to senior year. I’ve always believed that one can’t properly reflect on something without the passing of time, and it hasn’t truly been long enough for me to decide how I feel about senior year. All I can say is that it was the best of times and the worst of times. The most amazing things that have happened to me during my time with you occurred this year, as did the worst. What I can say with certainty and definity is that I don’t regret a single choice, a single night, a single element of the string of events that led me, and us, to where we are now. You told me on our last day together that “this place will last,” and I truly believe it will. So here’s to: A traditional called raging. Waking up at 8 am for tailgates. V-U(!). 903. Sunset Grill. Dan McGuiness. The Stage. Costume parties. Towers. Pregames. Postgames. Taking beach vacations at least once a month. Formals. Informals. The Porch. Speeches. Crawfish. Late nights in Peabody, Stevenson, and The Dungeon. Gordon Gee. Nicholas Zeppos. Dolla Beal. Kristin Torrey. Jay-Z. Being young forever. The pursuit of happy-ness. CMSB. And finally, me and you.

Thanks for everything, Vanderbilt. I will always love you. Maybe, in the future, when we’re both more mature, we can give it another try.

Until then, with love, yours truly,

Thing of the Day: Senior Week

2010-05-11T16:48:00.000-07:00

Things I learned at Senior Beach Week:

1)I never want to live anywhere near Spartanburg, South Carolina. Above picture was taken in the parking lot of a Spartanburg McDonalds. Case in point.

2) All beach towns are basically identical. Some may think this is a mark of corporate capitalist America taking over all that was once good and pure, but I think it is really awesome. Reasons why include Senor Frogs, and souvenier shops. I have come home from Myrtle Beach several hundred dollars poorer but one hermit crab richer. Speaking of...

3)Responsibility sucks. I spent approximately $14 on a herbit crab, hermit crab food, a hermit crab habitat, and a nifty instruction manual at a wonderful corporate/capitalist America establishment called Wings (which also sold useful things such as chandeliers made out of shells, neon tanks, water balloon launchers, and shotglasses boasting "I got tipsy in Myrtle Beach" (you stay classy, spring breakers). Anyhow, since acquiring said hermit crab (Jamie La-A Esteban), I have been sporadically breaking into small fits of stress about whether it has enough crab food, whether I have moistened its' drinking sponge, and whether its habitat is warm enough. Last night at midnight I text messaged one of my roommates to move Jamie from his (or her. Google hasn't been helpful in teaching me how to determine Jamie's actual gender) spot on our kitchen counter to my room because I couldn't sleep thinking of how someone might knock over his (her) cage. Further Google research has showed that hermit crabs live approximately two weeks in the care of silly vacationing owners, and I have spent at least one hour today picking Jamie up to make sure he (she) is still alive.

4)Teenagers are crazy. The second night of Beach Week, I actually took the time out of pregaming to MTV News to save a note in my Blackberry reminding me to blog about this piece of groundbreaking news: Justin Bieber fans are sending Kim Kardashian DEATH THREATS because he Tweeted a picture of the two of them together calling her his girfriend. WTF, fourteen year old girls? Maybe it is because fourteen year olds are sort of out of my age range for potential boyfriends, but I really don't see what all the Justin Bieber fuss is about. Yeah, he's kind of hot for someone who has yet to go through puberty, but first, the video of a small child crying in suicidal fits because Justin Bieber isn't her boyfriend, and then death threats to Kimmy K? A slight bias because I adore Kim Kardashian and Justin Bieber sounds like a girl when he sings and has a silly haircut, but mothers, control your teenagers. Why do teenagers even have Twitter? One really shouldn't be allowed to broadcast their opinions on the internet until they have exited puberty and can make fun of themselves/have unbiased opinions.

5)I really really really love my graduating class. Yes, you guys. I have spent today doing useful and important things such as letting Jamie crawl from my left hand to my right and emailing strangers whose blogs I admire in order to avoid packing up my apartment for my impending departure in a week. If my stuff is still here, Vanderbilt can't make me leave, right?

Thing of the Day: Sabotage

2010-05-03T19:14:00.000-07:00

Clearly the Gods of Natural Disasters/Oil Spills have something against the Vanderbilt graduating class of 2010, since in the past two days have brought:

1. The relocation of senior beach week from Destin, FL to Myrtle Beach, SC. Thanks, BP. Although it really is extremely impressive how rapidly the senior class rallied when massive oil spills threatened drinking on the beach activities.

2. APOCALYPSE 2010. A 20 inch downpour has completely flooded the city of Nashville! The above photos are just a few of many of what is going on in Tennessee. Both these pictures were taken Monday on the exact street of bars on which we had our senior pub crawl Saturday, and are really fairly scary, considering that yesterday when my boyfriend and roommates learned that the city was on a flood warning, we rejoiced at the cancellation of Monday finals and spent the day eating at the two restaurants that weren't closed (Cheesecake Factory & P.F Chang's in one day? *Embarrased emoticon*), and spending copious amounts of money at Target on rainy day activities (Buzzword, Mancala, 750 piece GLOW IN THE DARK puzzle).

The Vanderbilt campus was for the most part unaffected by the floods, but several dorms shut down and a particularly low-rise parking lot was completely drowned. Ironically, it was 80 degrees and sunny today as we surveyed the damage and felt guilty for spending 7 hours on a puzzle yesterday when the city was in crisis. I think I'm volunteering tomorrow with Hands On Nashville to make up for assembling a 750 piece skyline instead of taking note as Nashvegas turned into Lake Nashville.

Karmic retributions complete, rain storms? oil spills? I can't help but ask--does anyone else see it as a blatant sign from above that Vanderbilt doesn't want us to leave?

Thing of the Day: Iron Fork/Vampire Weekend

2010-04-25T18:34:00.000-07:00

Iron Fork Nashville

Good week!

My rebuttal to the CNN article on "hooking up" was published in the campus paper, which led to a huge amount of support from friends and strangers (thanks for the comments and the love, everyone!) as well as several moderately uncomfortable moments, such as a professor leading a class discussion concerning the matter as I sat blushing and awkward, my mother somehow finding the article (stop Googling me, Margarita) and BBMing me a series of messages praising my writing and scolding my opinions, and a stranger named Terri commenting on the Vanderbilt Hustler website that I will surely never get a reporting job because of my views on sexuality. Either way, the positive response was overwhelmingly larger than the negative, and I'm really glad I wrote the piece.

Eating adventures were plentiful as well. On Wednesday, my roommate and I had one of the most excellent Nashville culinary experiences of my college career. Several weeks ago, we had bought tickets to Iron Fork, an Iron Chef-esque event that takes place every year in the Country Music Hall of Fame. I had never actually been to the Country Music Hall of Fame, and to experience it for the first time in an open-bar-unlimited-sample environment while watching chefs from several of my favorite Music City eateries (Acorn, Eastland Cafe, Sunset Grill) battle it out in in a live show with an actual secret ingredient (purple sweet potato?!?) was nothing short of weekday perfection. The next day, in continuing my search for the perfect pad thai in Nashville, I had lunch in great company at East Nashville's Thai Phooket and was pleasantly impressed. Despite the hole in the wall location (trailer in parking lot), the food was both delicious and cheap--definitely the best Thai I've had in the South thus far.

The weekend brought Rites of Spring, a Vanderbilt concert with a scheduled lineup of Cold War Kids, Phoenix, Drake, Passion Pit, Ben Harper, and more. Although sake bombing caused us to miss Cold War Kids on Friday, Phoenix was amazing! Passion Pit unfortunately cancelled due to "illness" (or, "we're hungover and don't feel like playing in the rain), but the rest of the acts put on a great show.

And the perfect closing lazy Sunday: I just got back from Date Night. Tina Fey is possibly the only female I find funny ther than Chelsea Handler, and the movie was a high point on both her and Steve Carell's parts. Except for the fact that (spoiler alert, sort of) in a high-action scene, the day was saved by a Kindle. Details aside, this would clearly just never occur in real life. I wonder how much Amazon paid 20th Century Fox to have their silly gadget featured in such a heroic scene, because there's no way I buy it. An iPad, maybe, but a Kindle? Spare me, Amazon.

In other news: I can't stop listening to Vampire Weekend's Contra, although I don't really understand what a Contra is. Is it like Contra-band? Or Contra-dict? Wikipedia says it might be referring to a Japanese video game, or a Nicaraguan rebel army, so I'm really not sure what VW (Hipsters--is this an approp abbrev for Vampire Weekend?) is getting at, but I think the song and the CD are great. Also, why do hipster bands and popular rappers always think its okay to make up words and phrases? The only one other than Contra (because, apparently, Horchata is a thing) that I can think of right now is "Badonkadonkdonk" but I'm sure a quick review of this decade's hip hop songs would provide us with at least 50 more.

Thing of the Day: Hooking Up

2010-04-21T14:18:00.000-07:00

In response to "No Hooking Up, No Sex for Some Co-Eds"

Disclaimer: I do not mean to attack Frannie Boyle’s personal choices, simply her choice and means of publicizing them.

That being said… (has anyone seen the Curb Your Enthusiasm episode where Larry David asserts that any time someone begins a sentence with “that being said”, what will follow will likely insult, upset, or judge you? It’s true), I am disappointed and confused with Frannie Boyle’s CNN piece on her decision to refrain from “the hook up culture at Vanderbilt.” Had Ms. Boyle chosen to express these choices to a few dear friends, or on her personal blog, or perhaps in her opinion column in the Hustler, I would respect and in some way admire them and leave them to exist in a realm different than mine. Boyle, however, has chosen to share this resolution with millions on CNN.com. Leaving me to ask—why?

CNN.com is not your sealed-with-a-kiss-heart-with-a-key diary, and I do not know why their reporters deemed the decisions of one Vanderbilt student’s love life (or lack thereof) news-worthy for millions of Americans. True, as far as new sources go, CNN.com tends to be trashy and emotional, which is why readers frequently do not know how many civilians have died in Iraq but do have access to really cute videos of army wives and husbands reuniting (note to those recovering from the “casual hook up” or “friends with benefit” encounter gone awry—watching these and crying into Ben and Jerry’s—the FroYo kind offered by the Munchi Mart, you mustn’t let yourself go entirely—can be very therapeutic), but nonetheless, my first question is: how did this piece go beyond the realm of the Hustler? Who does Frannie Boyle known at CNN.com that publicized this story to the point where my mom can awkwardly call me and say, “Honey? Are you friends with this girl?...ah, I thought you might not be.” And I know this is a lot to ask after this article, but whoever they are, can they possibly get me a job?

Newsworthiness and favors aside (but seriously…call me if they can), Ms. Boyle’s argument against hooking up, casual sexual encounters, and in some perverse and rather inexplicable link, day fratting (side note: I do take personal offense to Ms. Boyle’s arguments against day fratting and am moderately angry that when I hear the words “afternoon delight” I will no longer think of the charming and entertaining Will Ferrell film Anchorman but of her judgmental viewpoints against it) is faulty in several ways. Although she claims she abstains from any sort of non-committal sex because she “respects herself,” what Boyle is actually doing is disrespecting almost a century’s worth of feminist and women’s rights movements. In the 1960’s and 70’s, women practically begged for access to casual sex. They did not want to be virgins, sweethearts, or housewives, rather, they wished to claim full right of their sexuality and exercise it fully to their desire without criticism. If Boyle had kept her decision to abstain to herself or discussed it with some friends, I would not believe that she was in violation of what this movement had achieved for women. However, she chooses to not only share with millions but does so in a matter that makes those women who participate in non-committal sexual encounters seem morally and intellectually inferior to her. In saying that she “respects herself” by abstinence she implies that those who do participate in the behaviors she has left behind are not respecting themselves. And what do we call a woman who does not respect herself? A fool? A floozy? A slut? Ms. Boyle perpetuates this type of naming and stereotyping by identifying herself as the pure outsider.

A woman’s sexual choices, serious or casual, few or far between, are not to be publicized, discussed, and studied from sociological and cultural perspectives. They are her own. To criticize them is to take a dozen steps back from the heights of equality we aspire to. Furthermore, the “Bring Back Dating Facebook group cited in the article is inherently anti-feminist. “At least take her out on a date before trying to get her into bed,” the group’s motto reads. Umm…in our fight for rights and representation, didn’t we claim that we were equal to men in every way? Do we see men begging to be “taken out to dinner” before we make our moves? No, because that would inspire never-ending mockery on their fraternity list serves and rapid loss of male friends. But also, no, because if a man wants to be taken out to dinner, he will tell his woman. Not the world. In an unrelated but equally important note, claiming that Boyle has lost “male friends that don’t understand my decision …but they were probably never really my friends anyway,” makes the males that engage in casual sexual behavior seem as inferior as the females. And no, they were probably never your friends anyway. When you flaunt a BORN AGAIN VIRGIN stamp across your forehead, chances are, your f*ck buddies will likely stop calling.

And finally—what was it that happened to Ms. Boyle that so enforced this vendetta against “hooking up?” “After consuming large quantities of alcohol before a party, her night would sometimes end in making out with a stranger or acquaintance,” reads the article. After a year of this, she quits cold turkey. Honey. The best way to get over a particularly insensitive fratstar who you found locked in the tender embraces of your sorority sister at the last “GI Joes and Barbie Hoes” party is to blatantly ignore him, make a point of having a great time without him, and go home laughing when he texts you “Long time no see…where are you?” at 2:30AM (You are happily in bed with Bagel Bites and a Diet Coke, thank you). No reason to give up altogether. After all, in the wise words of the Gawker rebuttal “Warning: Celibacy Can Be Hazardous To Your Health,” Brian Moylan writes: “College is a fantasy world. It is a wonderful dream universe where children get to party their way to a degree, get graded on an easy curve, survive on meal plans made entirely of fast food, and live in comfy dorms way nicer than anything they'll be able to afford once they graduate and enter the stagnant job market. Trying to get them to give up the sexiest part of their extracurricular activities is just making it worse.”

Thing of the Day: The Motherland

2010-04-11T16:18:00.000-07:00

I am basically the only first generation immigrant in my circle of friends and aquaintances, and I often forget how absolutely ridiculous the place that my family comes from actually is. My father is from Moscow, which is an awesome metropolitan city that I don't consider too different than New York. Of course, my views are slightly biased given that my only adult trip to Moscow was with a large group of Americans and I spent my time there eating overpriced food and gallivanting among nightclubs and casinos, but nonetheless, I don't think my Moscow upbringing would have been drastically different than my Manhattan one.

My mother, on the other hand, is from Norilsk, the Northernmost city in Siberia. Norilsk was founded for nickel mining in Gulag labor camps and is legitimately only accessable via sled in the winter months. Grandfather Bogo often used such sleds to hunt and catch deer and elk, the antlers of which we have mounted in our den despite numerous allegations from both myself and Sister Bogo that this sort of decor is really creepy and inappropriate in New York City and scares away potential non-immigrant suitors.

Momma Bogo just got back from visiting family in this wonderful place (average temperature, -10 degrees Celcius) and has sent me the above photograph. In addition to frolicking with small baby wolves like it was no big (these small baby wolves inhabit her brothers' back yard...normal), she participated in activities such as cross country ice skiing (I went cross country skiing once and threw down my skiis in a fit of rage and demanded to be carried back to the lodge...I was probably around fourteen), igloo building, and making me really glad that I grew up in a comparatively temporally climated city of tens of millions.

That aside--HOW CUTE ARE THESE CRITTERS?!

Thing of the Day: Sandra Bullock

2010-04-07T09:47:00.000-07:00

Normally, I read celebrity gossip for two reasons:

1. Pretty things: Celebrities have really really pretty things and I want them. Often, H&M, Forever 21 and other stores I can afford to shop in make pretty things that look like the things that celebrities have, and I can buy them and be pleased at myself. Additionally, celebrities often hang out at New York venues I have been to, making me feel as if I am sort of one of them.

2. Schadenfreude: A German concept referring to "happiness at the misfortune of others." Beloved musical Avenue Q once said, "Schadenfreude...making me feel glad that I'm not you," and celebrity gossip often makes me feel this way. Who isn't glad to not be Britney Spears, or Heidi Montag, or that chick the Bachelor just picked that everyone hates (one trend I do not keep up with---reality dating shows). Reading celebrity gossip often reaffirms my happiness that I am not a celebrity, especially when really bad things happen to them or their cellulite is photographed. Of course, there are the instances where their 10 million dollar cribs and walk in closets the size of my apartment at school are photographed, and this concept fails.

Nonetheless, I never really think of celebrities as people, or identify with them. Some readers of celebrity gossip have favorite celebs, or one's whos stories they really track, but I don't. I have famous people I love to hate, but that's the closest I come to a favorite. And I never feel particularly bad when anything unfortunate happens to them.

Until now. Sandra Bullock, I want to write you fan mail. I want to send you a large basket of fruit with a card that says MISS CONGENIALITY WAS AWESOME AND SO ARE YOU! I want to hold you in my arms and eat Ben&Jerry's One Sweet Whirled (the actual ice cream, not the frozen yogurt version) and watch romantic comedies (perhaps your own) and tell you that its okay and tht your ex-husband's a cheating Nazi (which, actually, he is). Also, I haven't actually seen it, but everyone I know thinks The Blind Side was really good. And for one born in 1964, which makes you...umm...46(!!!), gurl, you look great.

Thing of the Day: Denial

2010-04-06T08:30:00.001-07:00

Dear Vanderbilt,

If you send me another survey asking about my undergraduate experience, another PDF file informing me how many days are left till graduation, another reminder to get my cap and gown, or another prying questionaire about what I am doing after school, I will throw myself from the 9th floor window of my modeled-after-low-income-housing-yet-somehow-the-most-expensive-real-estate-in-Nashville apartment building (How satisified was I with the Office of Residential Education and Housing? Not very satisfied), leaving you with a massive PR crisis regarding why graduating seniors are not only jumping from windows but warning of this on their very public blog and not being stopped.

That being said, if I had the chance to relive my college experience, would I choose Vanderbilt again?

Yes, yes, yes, yes, a million times yes.

Wah.

Thing of the Day: Passover

2010-03-29T21:22:00.001-07:00

Even though/especially because my roommate and I failed to go to tonight's Vanderbilt-sponsored seder, I would like to take this time to say that Passover is among my favorite Jewish holidays. I love Seders. In high school, these would involve long, wine-drenched meals at my best friend Rachel's house. Rachel's mother is Jewish and her father is not, and their Haggadah (the text that tells the Passover story and explains the Seder) was deliberately simplified and hand-illustrated with stick figures in order to teach him, (and bad Jews such as myself who learned the story of Passover exclusively from The Prince of Egypt) the stories with minimal complaint.

Last year, Passover fell during a trip to Moscow with my dear friend Stacy, and being a better Jew than I, Stacy rallied the four other celebrators in our tour group and assembled us in a Russian Restaurant that was a bizarre cross between an all-you-can-eat buffet and a Soviet TGIFriday's, where we made the best of it by arranging eggs, herbs, and assorted vegetables on a circular plate and drinking copious amounts of crappy Russian wine. We kept the celebrations pretty discreet, because I'm pretty sure they still hate Jews in the Motherland, but Stacy led some prayers and we felt rather proud of ourselves.

This year, a piling up of midterms exams and general laziness caused me to miss the Seder. I initially tried to claim that my vegetarian-ness would prevent me from eating the traditional foods, but when one thinks about it, that is a lie. The Seder is really as vegetarian as Jewish foods go. And if the Obamas can do it (awww, Barack and Michelle), so can I. In the face of midterms, TiVo, and excessive excuse making, we are going to the Vanderbilt Hillel's celebration tomorrow.

I am hoping that my efforts to keep Passover (that is, refrain from eating breads/bread products) this year will combat the fact that I spent the hours that I was supposed to be at Seder buying children's aquatic toys and warm-weather alcohol for my upcoming beach weekend in Florida.

But for serious, happy holidays and warm wishes to all those celebrating.

Thing of the Day: Chelsea Handler

2010-03-23T10:10:00.000-07:00

I have expressed my not-so-secret aspirations to become Chelsea Handler (that is, physically morph into her in every way shape and form possible) both on this blog and in every day life, but after reading her third book, Chelsea Chelsea Bang Bang, I have become hellbent on going to a filming of Chelsea Lately, charming her with my own inappropriate humor and affinity towards vodka sodas and television, and becoming Ms. Handler's intern and susequently her second in command for all time.

In Chelsea Chelsea Bang Bang, Chelsea takes her 300 pound African driver to Turks & Caicos to find him a lover, adopts a dog with the same nickname as her boyfriend, steals a Cabbage Patch Kid from the neighboring teenage boy in exchange for an innocent game of doctor (here we diverge, Chels--I find Cabbage Patch Kids terrifying and awful dolls for children. They look like Chucky and cause hieghtened levels of teenage pregnancy in kids who grown up thinking that babies come from cabbage patches), and boozes her way through weddings, funerals, meetings, and casual Monday afternoons.

Furthermore, a recent episode of Chelsea Lately has clued me into this gem of a news piece--Zhora, a chimpanzee in zoological captivity in my great communist hometown of Moscow, has been expelled from the zoo and sent to rehab because of his drinking problem. Oh yes--zookeepers decided that Zhora the chimpanzee was consuming too much alcohol, and the alcohol caused him to behave erratic and aggresive. Additionally, he began to fiend for booze to the point where he would harrass innocent zoo-goers sipping on brewskis for sips of their alcohol, and sometimes accompany his liquoring habits with cigarettes.

WHAT? How does a chimp even hold a cigarette, let alone smoke one? Cigarettes are fairly fragile, I always find them irritatingly broken in half and scattering tar and nicotine onto all of the contents of my purse. Chimpanzees have big hairy clumsy hands, and if they get their hands on cigarettes without breaking them, how in the world do they light them?

Food for thought for Chelsea's next book, perhaps. Or mine.

Thing of the Day: Handicapped Restrooms

2010-03-22T17:03:00.000-07:00

Up until seeing the episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm where Larry David is berated by a man in a wheelchair by using a handicapped restroom, I hadn't considered that the etiquette on handicapped restrooms is the same as that in say, handicapped parking spots--they are actually reserved only for the use of handicapped people.

I don't know if its because my immigrant parents didn't teach me better (because c'mon, there's no way Communist Russia attended to the public bathroom needs of handicapped people), but when it's available, I always use the handicapped restroom. It's bigger, and usually all the way at the end of the row of stalls and thus tends to have less urine on the seat. Speaking of urine on public restroom seats, I wish germaphobes everywhere would realize that there wouldn't be urine on (female) restroom seats, ever, if they could just stop squatting. It's simply unneccessary and creates a vicious cycle of pee. Sitting directly on the toilet seat is about as unsanitary as sitting on any public seat anywhere ever in a skirt. It is only the back of your thighs that touch toilet, not your genitalia or any somewhat private part. Last time I checked, one can contract no diseases via thigh to thigh contact.

But what do I know? I have full use of all my limbs and have never suffered from seizures or any other handicapping ailment and proudly and exclusively use those massive, sometimes equipped with own sink (!) last stalls.

Thing of the Day: College

2010-02-28T16:28:00.000-08:00

Foreword: This is my last LOLcat ever, I promise.

This week/end did a fantastic job re-affirming that no matter what events occur to make me believe I am ready and willing to graduate and leave college, I would like to stay at this place forever. Reasons why included:

1. They are doing a casting call for the "Russian American" version of the Jersey Shore, to take place on Brighton Beach. The casting notice says:

"Are you the Russian Snooki or The Situation? Are you a super outgoing and fun Russian American that sometimes sneaks kalbaska, pel'meni and vodka from the fridge? Can people hear the Euro/Techno/Russian music blasting from your car windows before they can see you pull up? The cameras will roll as you do what you do best...eat, drink, and PARTY."

Umm. As someone who has spent a considerable period of time perusing job postings/volunteer gigs recently, I can honestly say that absolutely no opportunity has appeared quite so cut out for my skills and interests. This would be just a summer thing, of course, and I don't really see long term career plans coming out of it (although Snooki racks in 10 Gs for doing club appearances now and several hundred of my fellow classmates paid 10 dollars each to take a picture with Pauly D when he performed at a Nashville bar) but I think the casting call is definitely worth a try.

2. I went to my first gay bar this week. It was nothing short of a phenomenal experience, and if my life plans as being Ruski Snooki or Chelsea Handler don't work out, I would very much like to play straight female best friend to a gay man for all time. My friend Bea was writing a profile piece on a waiter from our favorite restaurant, and after telling us about his life experiences (singing for the Nashville opera, getting arrested for accidentally selling several tabs of extacy to a friend in what he thought was a favor, his brief stint as a crossdresser, his love affair with his cellmate/massuese/boss etc) over a three hour long, high point of my week/semester, very wine-filled dinner, he took us to Tribe and Play, Nashville's two gay clubs. Tribe was a cool, relaxed scene made slightly more interesting by the presence of casual music videos such as this one (Jonny McGovern Gay Pimp: Soccer Practice), afterwards, we headed over to Play (officially called Play Dance Bar) for a plethora of seven foot tall beauties dressed fully in drag, men resembling those in the above music video grinding to dance moves I would be lucky to ever even endeavor, and full on fog machine, strobe lit, techno music glory. I love living in Nashville, but one of the things I miss dearly about New York is the clubby nightlife. Play is possibly Nashville's only actual club venue, and it was made even better by the fact that no sleazy sweaty men tried to dance with me, since they were all too busy with each other. Best Wednesday night ever. Thursday hurt.

3. I spent at least an hour Friday night and at least another hour Saturday night fully immersed in a foam pit. Adults see packing peanuts and think: goodie! my new Pottery Barn matching dishware has arrived! College kids see packing peanuts and think PARTY. I don't know if I am ready to go out into a world where packing peanuts are utilized solely to prevent the new picture frame I ordered to display respectable photographs of my colleagues and myself at a work holiday party from breaking.

4. Not entirely related, but in research for a class project on prison reform, I just read about this guy--"Terrible Tommy," who has spent 27 years in solitary confinement for murdering two inmates while in jail. TWENTY SEVEN YEARS. In solitary confinement. Only one journalist has ever interviewd him, in 1988 (for reference, that is when I was born). As the most co-dependent person I know, I don't think I could spend twenty seven hours in solitary confinement, let alone twenty seven years. For entertainment, Terrible Tommy (cute alliteration, Colorado Incarceration Systems), crochets and does yoga. WTF. I want Terrible Tommy's address, so I can write him a letter, and perhaps include some recent crosswords and Sudokus. Most people will never have to spend any time in solitary confinement, but as adults, they will have to spend time alone, which I do not like to do. Luckily, in college, you never have to spend time alone! As my roommates will be sure to tell you.

Happy March to everyone--Rabbit Rabbit.

Thing of the Day: Stalking

2010-02-23T19:41:00.001-08:00

Dear Vanderbilt Recreational Facilities,

One would think that if you have televisions at all, you would have some sort of method for the ellipticalling sorority girl to listen to them and not just see them. Perhaps an earplug in the elliptical machines, like real gyms? Or if not, an investment in subtitles for said televisions? In English, and preferably not Spanish, like today. LOST is impossible enough to understand in Ingles, let alone Espanol. After six years of Spanish, I don't even know how to say smoke monster. Actually, I totally do. Monstruo de fuma. Muchas gracias, Stuy High.

Today I discovered a really fun development from my favorite place of all time that is not New York--Scandinavia. Apparently Swedish phones have developed this new technology where you can point your phone at someone's face, take their picture, and have this software scan the internet for their picture so that you can friend them on Facebook, or MySpace, or Friendster (is Friendster still up and running? I really liked it when it was. In 2005 there was a poll on Friendster about most attractive girls at Stuyvesant High School and I think I made it in there somewhere. Ah, to peak in high school...), or Swedish Facebook. It makes connecting online much easier than searching for all the Ben's that go to UMichigan or all the Alex's that attend Indiana, and is aptly named Recognizr. Except it is also the creepiest invention OF ALL TIME. WTF, Technology.

Google Earth is cool. Anything that allows you to know who/where things/people are more than Google Earth is terrifying. This summer, a friend of mine tried to get me to install Google Latitude onto my Blackberry. For those not familiar with Google Latitude, it is a GPS Technology that allows "Latitude Friends" to see where you are at all times. To the street. No thank you, Verizon. I think Google Latitude was probably invented by a scorned housewife, who via intricate skills of gossip spread it to all her friends, who then sold it to Blackberry hook line and sinker. I can only think of how many cheating husbands' lives must have been totally ruined by Google Latitude. Honey, I'm at the office late--wait, no. I'm totally not.

Sometimes, technology is excellent. At other times, its a life ruiner. As someone whose high school "sleepovers at my best friends house!" were totally ruined by Caller ID, I'd go with the latter.

What we don't know can't hurt us...right?

On another note, just as I decided I am officially a Winter Olympics fan, they decided to suck tonight. I don't even know what this sport is...some sort of sledding? Luge? This resembles the ice luges I see at frat parties, so I will go with that. Apparently, it is the most dangerous sport of all time. Meh. Looks boring to me. But luckily, they are thinking of allowing pole dancing to be a sport in the 2012/1016 games, so things are looking up. I had no idea pole dancing was a sport and not a...job, but apparently they have events such as the International Pole Dancing Fitness Competition and those ladies are getting quite rallied up from their exclusion from the Olympic world. Now that I'd watch.

(Excuse the LOLcats. I've been thinking they're really funny lately, but am hoping it will pass).

Thing of the Day: Cheese Substitutes/The Olympics

2010-02-21T20:36:00.000-08:00

Life updates:

1. The lack of cheese and frozen yogurt in my life since Wednesday has not only caused me to be emotionally tormented, but actually contributed to my physical illness. I have a minor stomach virus (I've always heard that yogurt has those bacteria cultures etc that prevents such ailments...hmm, Lent) and have been le miz since yesterday afternoon.

2. On a slightly happier note, Whole Foods has an extraordinarily impressive selection of cheese products that consist of absolutely no cheese. I spent an alltogether perfect Friday afternoon shopping for rice cheddar, soy mozarella, tofu ice cream, almond milk, and vegan gnocchi/ravioli. Who knew all these mediocre foods could come together to so wholly appease my desire for pizza, grilled cheese, and carbo-loaded pastas? Yummmm.

3. Whole Foods additionally offers an even more impressive list of cooking classes . Being as one of my yet-to-be-fulfilled-in-any-way New Years resolutions was to learn to cook instead of just eat, I have scheduled two cooking class dates. Yay. Prepare for dishes a vegetarian would never dream of devouring but eagerly anticipates cooking.

4. In non-food related news, Michelle Obama has invited the cast of Glee to perform at the Annual Easter Egg Hunt at the White House in April. Although my slightly more pessimistic/Republican friends (ahem, Dani), have greeted this news with "I guess that's where our tax money is going," I think this is utterly phenomenal. Someone get me to this party, ASAP. And when is this show coming back on anyway? I have had considerably less fun on the elliptical with a lack of new sick jamz every Wednesday night.

5. This semester, I am taking Rhetoric of Mass Media, a class based entirely on television and films. Other than Vanderbilt's Southern Foods class, I can think of absolutely no classroom activity I could possibly enjoy more. Taking this class has given me an opportunity to watch TV for school, I would like to present my opinions on HBO's new show, How To Make It In America. I'm going to go ahead and give it 3.5 stars from the get-go. First off, it has a really catchy opening sequence, which is crucial to capture the interest of today's 30 second tops attention span public. Second, the main character, Ben, played by a moping and gorgeous Bryan Greenberg, may or may not be my soulmate. He lives in Brooklyn, is currently getting over his bi-atch of an ex girlfriend while trying to quit smoking cigarettes, and have I mentioned that he is moping and gorgeous? Give me deep seeded emotional issues and big pretty eyes and I'm yours, HBO. Finally, the show actually seems to be moving along quite well--it's by the writers/producers of the epically bromantic Entourage, and reflects a similar sentiment in this show, without being quite so obnoxious. I look forward to seeing more cute moping/bro bonding.

6. Ever since Mama Bogo got a Blackberry, she has found that a good way to communicate sentiments to her daughters when they don't answer her BBMs is via updating her BBM status. Seeing that "Nikki Bogo" and "Violetta B" are her two only BBM friends, Mama B does this rather often with no quips about alienating other BBM contacts. Recent statuses have been "Allowance Monday :)" and "My daughters don't love me :(," but recently the Mother Ship's status read a mysterious "I Luv Johhny Weir."

Clearly I immediately Googled Johnny Wier in hopes that he was at least some sort of billionaire businessman, and found even better--

Gay ice skater.

Concerns about mothers' affair alleviated, I decided to watch some brief clips of his performances. Mama B, hailing from the motherland, has always been been Ice Skating's #1 Fan. Wee Nikki and Violetta, in addition to being given years of lessons of rhythmic gymnastics (yes, the kind Will Ferrell mocks in Old School), were given a few brief lessons in the sport of Ice Dancing. Although we epically failed, extensive You-Tubing of Johnny Weir has proved that he definitely hasn't. The man is ice skating to Poker Face and looking as fierce/of questionable gender as Lady Gaga does when she performs to it. Androgeny jokes aside, this guy makes ice skating look kind of...badass.

He inspired me to further watch Olympic ice skating/other Winter Olympic events, and may I just say, although the Winter Olympics are obviously the Summer Olympics inferior little sister, they are pretty damn impressive. My favorites thus far have been alpine skiing and ice skating. Alpine skiing because as someone who just learned the pleasures of skiing without injury/near death experience, damn, those moves are impressive, and ice skating because I think Mama Bogo (as usual) was right--it's awesome, and to be BBM Luved. This evening, in between "writing my paper," extensive Gchatting, and writing this blog post, I got the chance to catch some couples ice dancing. Sweet moves, France. Step it up, Mother Russia.

Things I'm looking forward to this week: Vanderbilt basketball, dinner at Miel, and does anyone want to do this?

Thing of the Day: Lent

2010-02-17T14:35:00.000-08:00

When I was a wee teen, I thought Josh Hartnett was the hottest thing since sliced bread (I've never really understood that sentiment, actually. What is so hot about sliced bread? Bread is really a rather boring food and if I were a metaphor inventor I would select something considerably hotter, like spinach and goat cheese pizza, or lobster ravioli, or Ben & Jerry's Half Baked in FRO-YO form)--so I obviously also thought that 40 Days and 40 Nights was the most fantastic movie ever created.

Being a wee Jewish teen, I never really understood the concept of Lent. What the f was the point of giving up something that you liked for 40 days? The Lord didn't have a choice, we do. No thanks. But after seeing Josh Hartnett in all his hotness struggle through 40 painful days and nights (what Mr.Hartnett's character gave up was sex, and sexual relations in every way shape and form), I decided if sexy Hollywood movie stars could do it and find the love of their life in the process, damn it, so could I. So with the help of Google (or were we still using Yahoo in 2002?), I discovered that the purpose of Lent was to "give something up and take something on," and more or less followed these guidelines through the rest of high school and into freshman year of college.

As I have become older and somehow, less mature, I have stopped giving things up for Lent. True, there is nothing actually wrong with this, seeing I am Jewish, but after this weekends' celebrations of Mardi Gras in the wonderful New Orleans (beads, booze, Bourbon Street, funnel cake, jambalaya (stolen from strangers at my favorite NOLA bar, Pat O Briens, and carefully picked over for traces of meat. Somehow, I am till a vegetarian, but I may have ingested half a piece of jamalaya sausage by accident this weekend), pizza, Hurricanes, Hand Grenades, and general debauchery), I have decided that if I choose to honor Fat Tuesday quite so, um, vigorously, it is only fair that I give the same respect to Ash Wednesday.

Thus, starting today, and for the next 25 days (I am leaving for spring break in Jamaica (!!!!) on March 6--one does not fail to indulge in anything when on senior year spring break) and then the 8 days after I return from Jamaica, I am giving up dairy, and taking on writing.

Anyone who knows me knows how I feel about dairy. I consider cheese its own food group. I once ate an entire block of goat cheese alone within an hour. I get Bagel Bites/Pizza Rolls as a late snack every time I go out. And I devour those Fage yogurts like its my job. But, for the next 25 days, I will remain dairy-less. This means: No cheese. No frozen yogurt. No ice cream. No chocolate products. I obviously plan on blowing through hundreds of dollars at Whole Foods tonight buying the organic vegan lactose free versions of all of these products, but I can safely say I feel about dairy how Josh Hartnett's character in 40 Days felt about sex.

I'm not sure I can live without it.

As for writing, I plan on writing something every of these 25 days--whether it be a blog post, a story, a journal entry, a poem, or a bunch of random scribbled nonsense. My only guidelines is that it has to be non-academic.

Wish me luck.

And by the way, whatever happened to Josh Hartnett?!

Thing of the Day: The iPad

2010-01-28T15:17:00.000-08:00

It's been a long time since I thought about my iPhone. We parted in the most devastating of ways. The story is tragic and hard to tell, but for the sake of full disclosure: it was May of 2009 when, two connections into the three connecting flights that would take me from Copenhagen to New York, I found myself in the Berlin airport starving and against all will, ordered two double cheeseburgers and large fries only to find that the McDonald's in the Berlin airport (and, as I would soon find, all establishments serving food in the Berlin airport), does not accept credit cards. Okay. I could deal with that. Hold my order, unfriendly German airport employees, as I go to the Currency Exchange window, reach for my iPhone to use my wonderful currency converter application and determine how many of my leftover Danish Kroner coins I would need to convert to Euro coins to purchase any from of sustenance, and...

...realize that I have left my iPhone on the (long gone) plane. And to make things worse, the German Currency Exchange does not accept foreign coins, only notes, which I lack, or my credit card, with a minimum exchange of 50 dollars, which, although it would have bought me a lot of double cheeseburgers, would have certaintly caused Margarita to confiscate said credit card faster than she did upon my arrival in the states (~18 hours). Oops. Hungry, iPhone-less, missing Scandinavia and with four pieces of incredibly heavy and bulky carry-on luggage, I moved on to layover number two, blocking out the memory of that awful day forever.

Until now. I love my Blackberry. I love it almost as much as these people love their Blackberries, (shoutout, Stace!) I would never even consider switching over to an iPhone as a primary cellular device (mine (RIP) was for utilized exclusively for the crucial purposes of taking snazzy pictures, playing extensive games, and utilizing the iCalendar)--but I think I am ready to commit myself to another Apple product with my whole heart and iTunes library--I need an iPad.

For those of you who believe that an iPad in any way resembles a Kindle or a Nook, you are wrong. Kindles and Nooks have made it clear that they are evil robots promoted by genius marketing. Anyone who knows me at all knows I will never have anything to do with the Nook or the Kindle (case in point, frantic BBM from recently turned 21-friend: "Nikkkkkkkkkkkki!!! My dad got me a KINDLE for my birthday! What do I doooooooooo??!"), ever. The iPad is a different story. Despite having a really poor and un-clever name (really, Steve Jobs? I preferred Apple Tablet), it is quite possibly the most useful and wonderful Apple gadget of all time. If you do not take my word for it, watch the video. Although Stephen Colbert just pulled one out mid-Grammys, the wondrous device is not available to us common folk until mid March. Wah. Although (glass half full), that gives me plenty of time to watch the video on repeat and convince Margarita why I need to own one.

In non-gadget related news: being back at school for my last semester ever is good/weird. On the one hand, everything is exactly the same, and on the other, it is so remarkably different. After a less than perfect fall semester, and a non-ideal start to this one, I have decided to make the absolute best of my final one by focusing exclusively on the things that matter and spending less time on those that don't or in the long run, won't. In the past few weeks, I have really tried to focus on that which makes me the happiest--I love 4 out of my 5 classes (Mass Media, Exploring Film Soundtrack, Fiction Workshop, and World Jewish Communities), have gotten a volunteering gig at the Vanderbilt Children's Hospital (I start next week and can't wait, although the idea of working with long-term and permanent patients is scary and devastating), have been taking fitness classes for the first time since this summer (I spent roughly a third of tonight's hot yoga class in child's pose on the floor trying not to pass out), and of course, eating my way through Nashville with my friends (brunch at Allium and dinner at Cha Chah this week were exquisite).

This week, I am looking forward to: my best friend's birthday (and subsequent dinner at Sambuca...mmm), (AH TAYLOR SWIFT JUST WON ALBUM OF THE YEAR YOU GOOOOOOO GIRL), the best TV show of all time coming back for a final season, (LOSTLOSTLOSTLOST---I would like for this to be a separate post entirely so will refrain from going into detail about my feelings/predictions for season 6), the Superbowl (I don't like sports perse but I like organized drinking activities/TV, so this will do), more potential snow days for Nashville (it snowed a grand total of 6 inches this weekend and the entire city has shut down due to there being approximately 4 snowplows total in all of Tennessee), and it being February, which is so superior to January, and contains two of my favorite holidays (Valentine's Day and Mardi Gras) in one weekend. I plan on celebrating Valentine's Day by watching the movie Valentine's Day and eating copious amounts of chocolate and wine. I plan on celebrating Mardi Gras by roadtripping to New Orleans with everyone I know at Vanderbilt and an engaging a Hurricane, Hand Grenade, and bead infused weekend of debauchery. I love New Orleans and haven't visited since Halloween 2008 and can't wait to see my Tulane bestie (hi, Emma), eat street food, and wear costumes for absolutely no reason.

Oh, and I GOT A NEW COMPUTER! Farewell forever, Inspiron...may you rest in my bottom drawer along with coasters I steal from bars, business cards from people I will never call, old Scattergories score sheets (high point of the semester thus far: playing a 12 person, liquor accompanies, game of Scattergories before we all went out mid-snowstorm on Friday night), phones/cameras that have died and are now resting in electronic limbo, assorted candies, and other things that I really should just throw out/recycle but due to some strange hoarding tendencies, can't bear to part ways with quite yet.

Thing of the Day: Avatar

2010-01-06T20:16:00.000-08:00

Things that are embarrassing but still sort of awesome: when you are riding the subway alone listening to the Glee soundtrack loudly in your headphones and casually bopping one foot along to the beat and the blatantly homosexual and wonderfully flamboyant purple-coated man next to you taps you on the shoulder and says "Gurlllllll, that's my jaaaaaaaaaam.

I miss you, Glee. Return to my television repertoire immediately. What I was riding the subway to was the show Fuerzabruta, which was really strange, kind of cool, and would have been significantly better if I had dropped a small amount of acid or a similar hallucinogenic material prior to entry to the theater. Watch this clip. It was weird. What wasn't weird was the show that I saw last night, Next to Normal. It's choreographed and set by the guy who did RENT, and like RENT, does an excellent job dealing with depressing and serious subject matters via upbeat musical melodies.

Speaking of upbeat musical melodies--I am obsessed with the new Lady Gaga/Beyonce song. A Lady Gaga/Beyonce collaboration proves two things to me: 1)Everything is right with the musical universe, and 2)Ebony and ivory are finally living in perfect harmony. Also, how did Gaga/Miz B know how I felt about my Blackberry when out on a Thurzday night? And I cannot text you with a drink in my hand eehhhhhhhh.

And finally:

On Monday night, I finally had the opportunity to see Avatar the way it was meant to be seen, in IMAX 3D. It was nothing short of a perfect film experience. James Cameron, how did you create that wonderful wonderful planet? What I would do to frolic in the forests of Pandora and play with larger in than life glow in the dark plants and fly on the backs of magnificent creatures to whom I was connected via braid link. Although in my ideal universe, I think the creatures would be considerably cuter/less terrifying. In Avatar, Cameron does a fantastic job combining fantasy with fact. Is the brutal war on Pandora because they have a magical substance that sells for ten million per kilo ("When someone has something we want, we find a reason to make them our enemy) loosely mocking America's own war on Iraq? Um, duh. The evil lieutenant dude even says "we will fight terror with terror." Does the Na'vi's love and appreciation of their nature and their planet compare quite shockingly with our own races' constant destruction of it for our own purposes? Yeah, clearly, in IMAX 3D. If the movie had absolutely no plot at all and consisted solely of 12 foot tall blue creatures with astonishingly human facial expressions running about and blowing shit up would I still think it was the most visually stunning film I had ever seen? Abso-freaking-lutely. Avatar is, after all, the most expensive movie ever made (it is also the fastest to gross 1 billion dollars in theaters, but that may perhaps be because IMAX tickets cost me an absurdly high $16.75) and every penny poured into the special effects was worth it. I don't know when the last time I saw an IMAX movie was, but Cameron has come a long way. When you are watching Avatar you feel like you are literally in the film. Animated and sparkling flora and fauna jump out at you. You can reach out and nearly touch the lovable blue aliens really well-built torsos. When predators launch and explosions startle, the theater audibly gasps. Despite the two and a half hour running time of Avatar, I was fully engrossed for every single second.

That being said (spoiler alert) there is no way those Na'vi critters would...mate...exactly like humans do. Come on, make out scene leading to wake up in the morning spooning scene. You could have been a little more creative. Perhaps some tail binding action? Maybe some sparks flying from the tree of life? Disappointing, J.Cam. Additionally, I would have liked to see more baby Na'vi. We had a few quick glimpses towards the end and they were remarkably cute. Maybe throw in a few dozen more in the DVD version?

Overall, this movie left me thinking that humans kind of suck. For example, on Pandora, a woman would never attack the McDonald's drive thru employee because they were out of McNuggets. It should be noted that I found out about this incident via a friend gchatting me that "it reminded him of something I would do." Said friend also sent me this gem about a woman who stole an ambulance to drunk-drive to her boyfriends' house because she "really wanted to see him" and "had a pretty good time" doing it for similar reasons. I don't thank my friends enough on this blog.

As you can see, I have not done much in 2010 thus far other than see plays and movies. The reason for this is three-fold. Firstly, it is really freaking cold in New York. I've been setting up interviews for a job in Chicago, and am really not sure I will follow through due to hatred of such weather. Secondly, my dentist, who is a good family friend, removed one of my wisdom teeth on a whim the other day because once I graduate, my mother's phenomenal dental insurance will no longer cover such procedures and I "have an abnormally small mouth, so we should really do this as a precaution." Spare the jokes, and thanks, ghetto Russian medical practices. And thirdly, I have all but given up my social life via New Years resolutions. Clearly I don't expect these resolutions to last long at all (I'm thinking week after sorority rush at Vanderbilt), but I am giving it my best shot as long as I'm trapped toothless in 24 degree weather.

Till then, a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon and Sex and The City season 4 on demand (how I love being home).

Thing of the Day: 2010 (Twenty-Ten)

2010-01-03T09:31:00.001-08:00

Full disclosure: as I write this, I am watching Jersey Shore in my Snuggie, which is actually not even a Snuggie--it is the significantly more ghetto Costco version of a Snuggie, and a disgusting mustard yellow shade. When I came home for Christmas break, I found this and a similarly ugly colored forest green faux-Snuggie resting comfortably on the section of my living room couch that is usually reserved for snacks, and ever since then my sister and I have been parading around in our new garments (these "Snuggies" also have hoods. As far as I know, real Snuggies lack hoods, which is really very silly since hooded Snuggies allow us to not only be warm and comfortable but also pretend we are dementors/Death Eaters and chase each other around the house screaming normalcies such as "Expelliarmus!" and "Give-me-the-remote-us!" If I were Snuggie Inc. I would definitely implement a hooded version. Also perhaps one that comes with feet. Although that would just be a onesie...). Snuggies aside, I'm really proud of all the characters on the Jersey Shore, especially Snooki, who really seems to have matured since she got punched in the face by a stranger. I hope she succeeds in her mission to find love with a Guido on the shore. I've been thinking lately that Snooki would be an ideal character for a reality dating show. It could be like I Love New York, but Snooki is considerably kla$$ier than New York will ever be, and I'm sure she would not have to repeat her show for a second season. When I googled "Snooki Dating Show" on a complete whim I was shocked to find that Snooki totally agrees with me. Although I was thinking of something titled "Snooki's Got Nooki" or "Nooki for Snooki," and her self-chosen potential title is the considerably inferior "Snookin' for Love." Dear MTV: If you read my blog, credit, please.

A few other thoughts:

1. New Years 2010 was...interesting (And its Twenty-Ten, not Two Thousand Ten. Come on, people). After a mediocre actual New Years Eve that culminated in having to take the subway uptown because we couldn't get a cab in the 15 degree weather, we woke up in our Times Square hotel, looked around at the confetti and glitter and eager bright eyed tourists, and decided to try again. We acquired brand new 2010 glasses (bravo to the genius who designed the 2010 glasses...before seeing them we were very concerned with how the eye holes would be placed now that it was no longer 2-eye-eye-something, but, big success!), wore them for the entirety of our family style Italian meal at Carmine's, and just when we thought the evening would culminate in wine and resolution-writing in bed, some friends saved the day by inviting us to Greenhouse. New Years Take 2 was considerably more successful, thus the only resolution we wrote was: In Twenty Ten, if at first you don't succeed, pick yoself up and try again (you can dust it off and try agaiiinnnnnnn...I miss you Aaliyah). Still working on other New Years' resolutions, but they include gems such as working out more/eating less, wasting smaller amounts of time reading strangers' blogs/StumblingUpon/other internet activities, making post graduate life plans, finding useful hobbies, running half marathons, being nicer to people, etc etc.

2. Why is Avatar 3D IMAX sold out every time I try to go see it? I am completely incapable of planning to see a movie a full day in advance, so nearly every day for the past week I have woken up and checked showtimes for the one movie theater in Brooklyn playing Avatar in IMAX and found it to be sold out every single day. Can the rest of New York City really be that much better at planning than I? All I want to do is see these blue creatures everyone has been raving about so I can blog about it, but the world seems to be against me. FOMO, Avatar.

3. Staying in Times Square for the past few days (thanks, Lauren!) has really got me thinking about tourists and tourism. As a New Yorker, I hate New York tourists. I hate their stupid I <3 style="font-style: italic;">The City. But I really don't mind other tourists. In fact, I think I like other tourists. I can only assume this is because when I am in other places, I too am a tourist, but in reality other tourists just seem more intelligent than those in New York. I was really curious about what the most visited tourist sites in the world were, so I consulted my best friend, Google who informed me that NYC, which I for some reason thought to be #1 (please consult picture on right hand corner of blog), is #5. Additionally, I have only been to 4 of the top 10 most visited cities (#1 Paris, #2 London, #5 New York, #10 Rome). I wonder what it is that drives so many people to go to the same places, and who it is that decides The Eiffel Tower or Times Square or The Colosseum is that which should be seen. But whatever it is, I would like to be a part of it. Bangkok, Hong Kong, and Shanghai, here I comeee.

4. Speaking of New York, I just finished a wonderful novel, Let The Great World Spin, by Colum McAnn, and in one paragraph it summed up exactly how I feel about the city: "New York had a way of doing that. Every now and then the city shook its soul out. It assailed you with an image, or a day, or a crime, or a terror, or a beauty so difficult to wrap your mind around that you had to shake your head in disbelief. He had a theory about it. It happened, and re-happened, because it was a city uninterested in history. Strange things occured precisely because there was no necessary regard for the past. It had no need to belief in itself as a London, or an Athens, or even a signifier of the New World, like a Sydney, or a Los Angeles. No, the city couldn't care less about where it stood. He had seen a t-shirt once that said: New York F*ckin' City. As if it were the only place that ever existed and the only one that ever would." Oh, New York. Every time I think I am over you, you reel me right back in.

5. For those who are not interested in great books, a great movie: I just saw Up In The Air. It made me think, a lot. Additionally, George Clooney is beautiful. If none of this convinces you, it is currently the highest rated movie on Rotten Tomatoes, which is the only real place to criticize movies. Go see it.

6. And finally, or those who are uninterested in great movies, great TV/great eats.
Double food porn tonight: The menu that I'm currently obsessing over, and the premiere of the White House episode of Iron Chef America on The Food Network (Bobby Flay + Mario Batali + Michelle Obama?! Leaving on the TIVO queue forever).

As usual, this blog post failed to have a concentration. So for new beginnings' sake, Thing of the Day: 2010.

Thing of the Day: New Years Eve

2009-12-31T17:29:00.000-08:00

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

2009-12-18T16:19:00.001-08:00

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

2009-12-08T14:33:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-18T18:27:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-04T09:25:00.000-08:00

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

2009-10-27T12:39:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-21T09:06:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-15T14:02:00.000-07:00

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)

2009-10-14T11:33:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-07T09:48:00.001-07:00

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

2009-09-23T12:02:00.000-07:00

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

2009-09-15T10:12:00.001-07:00

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

2009-09-08T10:24:00.000-07:00

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"

2009-08-31T14:03:00.000-07:00

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

2009-08-30T18:20:00.000-07:00

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.

Thing of the Day: Fall

2009-08-23T14:51:00.000-07:00

Helloooo darlings! I have been the most terrible of internet perusers lately, selfishly Facebook stalking and buying shoes instead of updating the blogosphere. I come back to you wiser (I now know the favorite quotes and interests of about half my middle school) and wealthier (in closet, not wallet), and full of thoughts, observations, and of course, complaints.

Since finishing my internship one week ago, I have spent a considerable amount of time destroying both my skin cells and my liver while lounging by pools and beaches with wines and beers galore. I would love to say I worked out every day and maintained a healthy diet, but the only days I didn't gorge myself on delicious homemade Russian goods and at eateries still holding on to Restaurant Week (yes, capitalized) were those when I was too busy or too hungover to--so alas, I return not only wiser and wealthier but also wider.

Life goes on. In addition to good food, this past week was excellent in terms of entertainment. Belated, I know, but can we talk Mad Men premiere? Don Draper, I want to bear your illegitimate children. Let's play good, bad and ugly:

Good: Don Draper's illegitimate children, my girrrrrrrrrrllll Joan Holloway, skinny and moderately attractive Peggy, the flashback opening scene with Don's prostitute mother, said mother saying "dick" on cable (AMC! Whoaaaa), Salvatore's new badass TV director position, THE CLOTHESSS

Bad: Hello, Betty Draper scenes? Where art thou? Same for Peggy scenes, you can't just show her slimmed down and sexy without any background information. Don--you are having a small child, stop shmoozing waitresses/flight attendants/anything with an orofice, Pete Campbell--nobody feels sorry for you, stop bitching and let me know what you are going to do about your lovechild with P.O?

Ugly: As happy as I am for Salvatore's televized man-love experience, was it really necessary to pair him with a bellhop half his size? I'm impressed with AMC's reach-in-the-pants-scene ballsiness (mild pun intended), but I think Sal could certaintly do better. He's a pretty suave dude.

That being said, I'm happy enough with the premiere. Mad Men, True Blood, Hung, Dexter and Weeds will be good enough to get me through summer/fall TV.Good lord, I really need to take up some new free time activities. Or not.

Other quality entertainment this week included 500 Days of Summer (great), an impromptu Beatles cover band by Central Park (greater), and an amateur freestyle rapper who "spit sick beatz" for an hour non-stop as I soaked in the sun at Brighton Beach (greatest).

15 hour road trip to Nashville in the AM. Expect musings. I have quite possibly had the best summer of my life since those spent at the mountain house and nerd camp (more on nerd camp later. Just go ahead and Google "Center for Talented Youth" and feel free to judge me. Or lament the fact that I have gone from talented youth to "adult of average intelligence"), and for the first time since getting to college I am kind of sad to leave New York City for Cashville, Tennakee. I had a summer of excellent adventures, from exploring new neighborhoods to trying new cuisines to going out way too much to finding myself in situations I had never ever expected to get in. But it was good--great, in fact. At the beginning of the summer I set a goal to try 100 new restaurants/cafes/bars/clubs and can proudly say that as of my departure I am 102 venues fuller and drunker.

Goodbye Northeast. Helloooo Dirtyyyyy South.

Thing of the Day: Time

2009-08-13T09:29:00.000-07:00

Photo Credit

It is the last day of my internship, and I'd like to think that the threatening grey rain clouds precariously waiting to burst with rain are the result of my coworkers weeping for my departure, rather than a byproduct of global warming and yellowcab fumes. It's bittersweet, as all ends are (except the end of the Harry Potter/Sex and the City series. That was just bitter. Do I talk about Harry Potter/television too much?), but I'm glad to be celebrating my last day with a delicious meal with my coworkers, and happy hour and the best pizza in New York with one of my favorite humans and avid blog readers, Lauren. The end of my internship makes me realize that summer will end in one short week and my senior year of college will begin in two.

I'm really confused about how this happened. I am the first to admit that I have a denial issue, I can block out any bad memories on a whim, repress anything I am not looking forward to, and occasionally ask my parents for money with the excuse "but Mommmmm, I'm still a teenager," ("No Neekee. You are not. You are an adult who has to LEARN TO LIVE WITH THE REEPREECUSSIONS OF YOUR DEECEESIONS. Here is $100 dollars. Make it last all year")--but for real, how is my semester in Europe over? How has May faded into August? And when oh when did graduating from high school turn into senior year of college?
Tuesday night at dinner, my friend Inna and I played a game in which we grouped all of the friends we had gone to high school with and still keep in touch with/Facebook stalk into the categories of "Doing Well" and "Not Doing Well." The majority of our friends/acquaintances/people of existence in the internet realm fell neatly into the "Doing Well" category, with jobs, boyfriends, opportunities and general life happiness. A handful of people teetered between "Doing Well" and "Not Doing Well" in the "Getting By" bin, which I suppose in your twenty-somethings (I'm a twenty-something?!?!) is perfectly respectable, and a few had dove headfirst into "Not Doing Well" (This included: Britney-shaved-head-friends, drug-issue friends, sent-to-reform-school-friends, and got-really-fat friends). I guess I can consider myself lucky to be within the "Doing Well" category--I certainly have changed for the better since high school, and hope to continue to do so, but it was a bizarre experience to look back on high school and have had enough time pass in order for us to make such generalizations.

I feel old, man. And to feel younger I think I am going to watch this wonderful video all day. To my Vanderbilt homies--click that. Hilarious.

Happy SENIOR year of college!

Thing of the Day: Birthdays

2009-08-10T12:58:00.000-07:00

I really like this picture, and would definitely like to meet this guy if ever I made it to NYC speed dating...but that aside:

I am 21 (!!!!!) Technically, I have been 21 ever since I was about 17, but now I am legally and fully and finally 21 (despite bouncers, bartenders, and waiters having failed to ask me for proof of this since I turned it on Saturday). I had the best birthday weekend I could possibly imagine, starting with a cool (albeit debacle-infused) LMFAO concert (for those who don't know LFMAO, they sound a little bit like Girl Talk meets Shwayze--in other words, great) and some casual drinking on a boat on Thursday, progressing to a much needed day off and subsequent shopping (enter oxfords, cage heels, and little summer dresses), followed by the most awesome birthday party ever ever ever (hi, friends who cook me dinner, supply my party guests with cheeses and dips and crackers, bake me cakes from scratch or buy them from delicious cupcake eateries and provide bottle after bottle of vodka, wine and champagne) on Friday, peaking at a phenomenal dinner with my parents at Tom Colicchio's Craft and a late night of casual wine-sipping with my favorite people at beautiful B-Bar and our go-to-live-music-cheap-drink venue, Red Lion on Saturday, and ending with a dinner party full of crazy/beautiful Russian family friends and relatives actively encouraging me to take shots of Grey Goose at 5pm on a Sunday afternoon (I politely declined) and beyond-words awesome Sunday night HBO. Longest run on sentence ever but--True Blood. What. The. Hell.

This week is going to be excellent for a number of reasons, which I will list here:

1)It is the last week of my internship. I learned so much this summer and was so glad to have gotten this opportunity but I can't wait to lay on the beach and do absolutely nothing but eat, tan, sleep and shop for 10 days.
2)Shakespeare in the Park starts again tomorrow. I can't wait to try to see The Bacchae. Dionysus is kind of an asshole. For more reasons why, please refer to last nights' True Blood.
3)Sex and the City at Hudson River Flicks on Wednesday
4)End of summer sales. NYC End of summer sales are phenomenal, and I am on the lookout for a jumper, a (new) perfect purse, ripped leggings, oxford flats, boyfriend jeans and new sunglasses.
5)Emiliana Torrini & Anya Maria at the Highline Ballroom on Friday. I kind of hate the Highline Ballroom, but I fully love indie chicks with guitars.
6)Possible trips to Long Island. I love the LIRR (trains with cushioned seats and bathrooms > trains with little Hispanic boys who sit next to you and ask if they can "listen to yo Ipod wichu, miss...just one headphone, cmon!"), and the friends on the other side of it.
7)Everyone Hates Katherine Heigl. There are actually 71,600 Google hits for the search terms "Everyone+Hates+Katherine+Heigl." The one I was really looking for was one I read earlier today, which was this.
8)On that note, there are 362 Google hits for me. Considering that I have never actually done anything of note and there is no chance there is another Nikki Bogo on the planet (Seriously. None. I once tried to Facebook all the people with my last name and got my cousin, my sister,and a girl named Natasha who goes to Claremont McKenna that I now sometimes exhange "are we related" and "how are you" messages with), that's pretty impressive.
9)Reservations at Le Cirque.
10)I can't really think of a 10th reason, but odd numbered lists bother me unless they are in increments of 5, so I will say the fact that the Yankees won last night, despite the fact that I consider myself much more of an aesthete than athlete and that I asked my friend Julie what the term "sweep" meant today because I was confused by happy New Yorkers' Facebook statii.

Thing of the Day: Bill Clinton

2009-08-05T08:16:00.001-07:00

Two posts in two days! I must be bored this week. This post will be about as positive as yesterday's was negative. I'm much funnier when I'm being a pessimistic bitch, so consider yourself warned. That being said:

William Jefferson Blythe III Clinton. I love you. I have loved you since your presidency and continued to love you through your not having sex with that woman and strengthened my love for you during that Texan's presidency and I love you unequivocally now. This morning as I got ready for work watching The Today Show as usual (what do I have to do to become Mrs. Matt Lauer? Close runner up: Ann Curry), the live video stream of freed journalists Laura Ling and Euna Lee reuniting with their families after months of imprisonment in North Korea came on and I actually cried. Embarrassingly enough, I cry at The Today Show relatively often (about as often as I cry at Grey's Anatomy and a little more often than I cry at 16 and Pregnant), but this was a particularly solid display of tears. When Bill Clinton and Euna Lee hugged, shit really hit the fan. What a wonderful wonderful red-nosed man.

Following that rather inspirational and emotional morning, I picked up the AM New York (I swear I only get it for the crossword) and decided to skim through the horoscopes. I normally think that people who take their horoscopes seriously are about as bright as Katherine Heigl, but today's Leo needs to be noted: "Someone has an unrealistic dream. Should you encourage this? Of course. All dreams are realistic until they are not."

Awwwwwwwuhhhh. I have decided I will do something productive with all this inspiration. Thus far, I have channeled it into browsing the shoe selection at UrbanOutfitters.com (but really. I should buy these, right?), trying to make reservations for birthday dinners this weekend (yes dinners plural. I am going to milk turning legal for all its worth), and deciding which award-winning book I plan on reading next (The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay was phenomenal. Exquisite. I cried on several occasions. Maybe I should consider birth control pills with less estrogen).

After two hours of internet perusing and money wasting, I came upon the website for Urban Escapes. I've been meaning to do an Urban Escapes trip all summer--unfortunately, full time 12 week internships leave little time for one to get out of the city for more than a weekend, and save for a weekend or two at the cousins in Jersey, a short trip to Long Beach Island and an even shorter one to the Hamptons, I've been NY-bubble-encased all summer. I suppose one can't complain after a four month 19 city whirlwind Eurotrip-- it's nice to be grounded for a while, but I've been itching to get out of the city and do something awesome. Since I go back to school a week after the end of my internship, space for awesomeness is limited--I planned to squeeze in a few more LBI days and nothing else until I came upon this.

Rachel and I had been perusing the Urban Escapes trips casually all summer, and I have made up my mind that I am going on one. I have wanted to go skydiving for a couple of years now and have always made half-assed flaky plans with my friends to do so. This trip looks great. Skydiving, snacks, and new friends. What could be better? The free periodical forced upon me by little Hispanic ladies, in combination with our adulterous and adorable ex-president has inspired me and I am finally going. Who's with me?

If I fail at being a badass (I'm giving myself a 50/50 chance of success here), does anyone want to go wine tasting and river tubing?

Edit: In case anyone needed further inspiration to jump out of a plane with me, it's SHARK WEEK. You know how they say "Live every week like it's shark week?" What more encouragement do you need?

Thing of the Day: Katherine Heigl

2009-08-04T08:12:00.000-07:00

In case you were wondering, I was on time to everywhere I went this weekend. I started off with being on time for half-day shoe shopping and the gym Friday afternoon, followed up by being 5 minutes early to dinner at Boom in SoHo Friday evening, arrived when expected at Greenhouse (so cool!) Friday night, only made a friend wait 10 minutes for a beach date Saturday afternoon, and left early enough for brunch at Telephone Bar & Grill Sunday morning (does a goat cheese, craisin and walnut omlette sound weird to you? Because it's not. It's delicious) to make it to the 4pm showing of The Ugly Truth.

Let's talk about The Ugly Truth for a minute. For some reason, instead of seeing the well-recieved and adorably Zooey Deschanel-ed 500 Days of Summer, we decided that a good rainy Sunday afternoon film would be this movie. After walking out of the theater and feeling like I would have rather ripped my $12.50 (and while we're on that subject, $12.50 for a movie? Come on, Manhattan) into confetti and sprinkled it over passerby's heads in Union Square, I spent the ride home trying to decide exactly what I hated about it. Was it the completely predictable plot line? Yes, but I expected that. Was it the disappointing lack of (spoiler alert) sex scenes? Definitely, but the movie was rated PG-13. Was it the fact that Gerard Butler got fat? The man has put on at least 50 pounds since 300. And worst of all, in the "sex scene" they show him not glistening and sculpted but chubby, scruffy and actually sweaty. Ew.

Yes, all of these factors contributed to my utter and complete disdain for The Ugly Truth--but somewhere on the Brooklyn Bridge it hit me: it was Katherine Heigl. I am fairly certain that I hate Katherine Heigl. Hate is a strong word, but bear with me. I will admit this and only this: that she was great in My Father, The Hero and that she has nice hair. Also, she smokes cigarettes, which I like in an actress because it shows that they don't care about being a positive role model for children. Children whose primary role models are Hollywood actresses are in need of some serious history lessons and cable package canceling. Other than that, there is absolutely nothing positive about Katherine "Katie" Heigl.

Let us start with Grey's Anatomy. Izzie Stevens is undoubtedly the most annoying character on Grey's. This is saying a lot, because the vast majority (Lexie Grey, The Chief, MERIDETH, The Homophobic Guy They Fired, The New Guy Christina is Hooking Up With, The "Lesbian" (because all shows have to have a lesbian character-duh), and about 70% of the patients) of characters on Grey's are extremely annoying. But Izzie really sucks. Primary reasons: 1)She totally killed her fiance, who was one of the characters who wasn't really annoying at all and 2)(Spoiler Alert) When she was dying of cancer this season I couldn't care less (one more positive quality for KH--she looks great bald. Nicely shaped head).

Let us progress. 27 Dresses. Could have been a really cute rom-com. Definitely had cast potentials. Didn't make me want to tear my $8.00 (I saw this in Nashville, where movies are priced appropriately below the $10 mark) into bits. I actually enjoyed this movie. All of it except for Katherine Heigl. Could her character have been any more pathetic? There is no way somebody that irritating and sad would have been in the bridal party for 27 weddings because there is no way that character would have had 27 friends.

And finally. Knocked Up. Knocked Up was an excellent, excellent film. My favorite characters were Katherine Heigl's sister and her husband, played by Leslie Mann and Paul Rudd. I would have absolutely no issue with being Leslie Mann's character when I grow up. The scene with Leslie Mann and the bouncer--"What am I, not skanky enough for you?"--is exactly how I envision my adult life. The only small problem with this film was its lead character--Katherine Heigl. Not only did the producers have the audacity to cast her in the star role of such a quality movie but they insisted on actually showing her vagina during the birthing scene. Dilating. It was probably a stunt double or a fake, but AHHHH. Ew. After you have seen someone giving graphic movie birth, you can't even consider them hot any more. So when you add up "looks good bald" and "I saw a baby come out of you," you get Katherine Heigl's hot factor right back to zero.

Am I being too harsh? I am sure that in real life, KH is an average decent human. Her husband is pretty hot, and her clothes are okay. But as an actress, she fails. Sorry, blog-o-sphere. I know that my movie reviews here have been rather negative, so to counter it I will provide a short list of movies that I am really excited for and think will be great in no particular order: 500 Days of Summer. Taking Woodstock. Paper Heart. Alice in Wonderland (waaaaaaatch this trailer. Tim Burton is a lunatic). Funny People. The Boat That Rocked. Extract. New Moon.

Sorry about that last one. I had to.

Thing of the Day: Punctuality

2009-07-30T09:55:00.000-07:00

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

2009-07-27T12:38:00.001-07:00

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 Festiva l. 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

2009-07-23T11:39:00.000-07:00

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

2009-07-21T08:36:00.000-07:00

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

2009-07-16T11:39:00.000-07:00

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

2009-07-13T08:19:00.000-07:00

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

2009-07-08T12:10:00.000-07:00

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

2009-07-06T12:32:00.000-07:00

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

2009-07-02T08:34:00.000-07:00

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.

Thing(s)of the Day: My Last Name/The King of Pop

2009-06-29T09:08:00.000-07:00

My darling roommate Lauren decided it would be funny to send me this, and I figure if you can't beat them, join them. Enjoy free smoothies till July 12, compliments of Jamba Juice and my ridiculous last name. As Lauren was kind enough to point out, at least this Bogo joke grants one free smoothies. Unlike this one, sent by less kind friends, which grants free Payless shoes...seriously, Payless? You might as well be free anyway. Its not my fault my last name happens to coincide with the term for "Buy One Get One (Free!)" But I'll be damned if I don't have at least five free Jamba Juices by this time in two weeks.

In other food-related news, I have discovered vegetarianism is not half bad with the veggie burger at brunch this weekend. I am fairly certain that I will change my mind about this come 4th of July weekend barbeques, where I will be eating Luna Bars out of my purse and looking moderately anorexic with a plate of condiments, lettuce, and chips while staring hungrily at all the deliciously grilled animals I am not allowed to eat. In more food related news, I have just acquired my first restaurant week reservation! Darling roommate Lauren, in addition to g-chatting me with mockeries of my fine Russian roots, has just informed that me, her, and a few other select humans will be dining at Jean Georges' Perry Street in several mouthwatering weeks. I can't wait until the reservations officially open (tomorrow!) as to snag a table at several more fine eateries. Suggestions from fellow fatasses/foodies always welcome.

In surprisingly non-food related news, am I the only one who doesn't buy this Michael Jackson shit? Farrah Fawcett makes perfect sense, the woman had been struggling with cancer for years. Ed McMahon, despite being one of the snuggliest TV personalities I have encountered, was just plain old. Billy Mays, who the hell are you? When I heard that you had died I wasn't sure if I should mourn a classmate never-known or some long lost Russian relative. Upon Googling (or, you know, Perez-Hilton-ing) you I learned you sold Oxi-Clean and various other obnoxious products. That makes you less of a celebrity than Whitney Port, who is so much non-celebrity that I have already seen her twice at/around DVF and have not even texted a friend to report the sighting. Now DVF herself would be quite the celebrity sighting--she's married to the chairman of my company (who aside from being a really fun and scandalous person to Google, also owns the largest yacht in the world! When can I play?). I have already had the chance to make small talk with him in the elevator, and can only hope she will one day stop by and the two will be wow-ed enough by my charm and business cas. to invite me on a sailing trip around the world...

Anyway. Michael Jackson. I'm not buying it. The man(?) may have been crazy, but he wasn't old and didn't have any reported physical health problems. This morning, The Sun reported that the King of Pop was in a horrific state when he died, weighing 112 pounds, with numerous injection wounds and a stomach empty of anything but prescription medication. Three hours later, TMZ is reporting that this autopsy was completely fake and contrived. And to top it all off, MJ's doctor is now claiming that he had a pulse when he was found, and was not DOA as previously reported. Point in case: I don't believe this shit. Something smells fishy around here, and I suspect when all is said and done quite the Law & Order episode could/will be written about MJ's suspicious passing. That being said, proper RIPs are in order. Thriller.

Thing of the Day: The Kindle

2009-06-25T13:12:00.000-07:00

This morning on the subway, among the company of your usual batch of commuting crazies (aggressive Asian lady ready to push you into the tracks for a seat, African man singingly intensely to himself under his breath, couple that makes out at his stop so aggressively that I am pretty convinced he was leaving for the army rather than the office, thirteen year olds sharing I-pod headphones and texting each other ("OMG do u thnk ppl know we r txting each otha?" "Hehe obvi bcuz we keep riting stuffz + looking @ each otha + LMAOing" "ROFL")), I looked over at the seemingly normal girl with cute shoes sitting next to me and found her to be using an overly large mobile device. My Blackberry 8830 is pretty large, but this thing was the size of my head. Upon second glance, I saw that it was not an iPhone on steriods after all--it was a Kindle.

I am normally technology's number one fan. I read the Apple blog regularly, nearly peed my pants when this baby came out, can name my favorite ten iPhone apps quicker than I can name my favorite ten friends, and will respond to any message sent to my Blackberry--text, email, or BBM--within ten minutes. But the Kindle is absolutely where I draw the line. This electronic reading device angers me for several reasons, the most important of which I will list here:

1. I love books. I love the feel of cracking open a new book, rifling through the crisp pages, reading the front panel for a summary, checking the back to see if the author is hot. I love folding down pages of the book where a sentiment rings particularly true or a ridiculous thing occurs. I love organizing my books in order of like on my bookshelf. This impostor robot book can be used for none of the above purposes.

2. It looks dumb. Kindles look really stupid. They are ugly and gray and nobody can judge you on the subway based on your choice of New Moon vs. Freakonomics.

3. It costs $359! Thus the only reason one would purchase one--for convenience and to save money on books--is eliminated. According to the Washington Post, the median number of books read by Americans last year was 9. (27% of Americans hadn't read a single book last year. America--WTF). At 9 books per year and an average of $15 per book, it would take the average American 2.5 years just to pay for the Kindle. You will probably drop and break that shit before it pays for itself. And that's not even counting the cost of books--Kindle books cost approximately $10, so you would have to read over 60 books for the cost to make up for what you are "saving." 6 and a half years of looking like a douche, here you come!

Looking away from the girl with cute shoes, I noticed TWO more people in my subway cart with Kindles, and immediately proceeded to judge them. I would rather sit next to the African singer, beating an invisible drum on his knees and shaking his head to his muttered melody, participate in a three way text session with the 13 year olds ("OMG! Kindle sux" "Ugh tot" "WTF who r u?!"), risk death by beating the Asian grandmother to a seat, and be the Deanna to the makeouters' Jon+Kate than sit next to the Kindle user.

And she WAS reading New Moon. Judged.

P.S: Whoever said sex sells was right. Or maybe my its just my friends--I know you sluts read this, I post one picture of a burger blow job and all of a sudden you're all commenting? I better see equal enthusiasm on my posts about books. Oh and, ADJ, you're right as usual--Wikipedia places the average at 5.1-5.9.

Thing of the Day: Sexual Innuendos

2009-06-24T09:49:00.000-07:00

I had a difficult time deciding what I should write about today. Topics ranged from possible ways to split up Jon + Kate's 8 (1 twin and 3 sextuplets each? twins to Jon, sextuplets to Kate? by gender--5 girls to Kate and 3 boys to Jon?), to updates on the many meals I ate this weekend (if you are in the East Village and in the mood for perfectly flaky halibut and a $22 dollar bottle of white, please go here), to commentary on the weather--(Al Roker. You have promised rain for two days now. I have worn ugly shoes. It has not rained. I am starting to think you a corrupt trickster, a la the weatherman on Curb Your Enthusiasm. If not for the Speidi interview and your general chubby cuteness, I don't think I could forgive you).

Until this. The ADD fluttering around my head was rapidly halted when I saw the above newly released Burger King advertisement. "The BK Super Seven Incher. It will blow your mind away."Open mouth, insert phallic sandwich shaped and sized approximately like the average male genitalia.

WTF. This ad does not make me want to eat a Burger King Super Seven Incher, or a penis. Yes--even despite the small lettering on the bottom that reads "Fill your desire for something long, juicy and flame-grilled with the NEW BK SUPER SEVEN INCHER." Who has a desire for something long, juicy and FLAME GRILLED except for some sick sadistic pyromaniac S&M-ster? And WHO is writing copy for Burger King these days? Paris H? Kimmy K? Heidi M? Miley C?

The ad does, however, remind me of a favorite similarly sexually inuendo-ed one passed around the Zoom Media office last summer:

If possible, the above lemon looks even more like a female sexual organ than the Super Seven Incher does a male one. "True taste comes naturally." Come on, Absolut. My fellow intern and I quizzically discussed whether such advertising is supposed to make you want to go buy vodka (or a sandwich) or call your ex boyfriend, and I'm curious again. I can't wait till the feminists get their hands on this one.

And just because I hate feminists, the following outrageously innuendo-ed ads (thanks, Google image!) for milk come from my very own Mother Russia.

These make Heidi Klum and Hayden Panneteirre's Got Milk ads look like demure. And like they're actually meant to sell milk.

Thing of the Day: Swine Flu

2009-06-22T08:05:00.000-07:00

If you are one of my many devoted readers (Hi, five sorority sisters, three fellow study abroad students, and two family members who read my blog)!, you may have been wondering about my recent hiatus in posting. The above title may lead you to believe that this was because I had become one of the 1300 New Yorkers who had contracted the H1N1 virus. Spoiler Alert: I didn't have swine flu...but I might have.

Last Tuesday night, I went to sleep with a le miserable fever, and woke up feeling even more like le crap. This brought about a huge milestone in my life--my first visit to an adult physician! I had been moderately sick when I first came home from Denmark, but refused to seek treatment because Margarita refused to get me an appointment with anyone other than my pediatrician. Don't get me wrong--I love my pediatrician. He looks exactly like Vladimir Putin, if Putin's mother had hugged him more as a child and he spent his days surrounded by cuddly Russian children rather than fellow chain smoking politicians. The walls of his office are covered with pictures drawn by said cuddly Russian children and depict all sorts of land/sea creatures frolicking in the land of wellness. He gives me lollipops after shots AND blood tests, and sometimes even when I have come in for nothing but a checkup and a chat. He knows my medical history and has an entire file dedicated to my steady and quick increase in weight (not quite as steady and quick in height, we've found) and vaccinations and illnesses and etc. But these wonders aside--his secretaries are mean and wear overly tight Juicy jumpsuits, and when I call to make an appointment, they always make snide comments about the older Bogo sister still going here, and make a point of asking if I am still a full time student and on my parents insurance and applicable for a pediatrician. Last time I was in the office, a girl who looked my age walked in and my heart jumped with joy...until her husband walked in behind her with their infant child.

The possibly-teenage mother at my pediatrician's office was really the final straw, so on Wednesday afternoon, I found myself feverish and in a waiting room with bare walls unadorned with pictures of/by Ruski snugglers and boring awful magazines like Men's Health and Women's Wellness rather than TIME kids and Highlights and (most importantly) Teen Vogue. My adult physician was moderately interested in my illness and much less awkward to describe my sexual history and alcohol and cigarette use to than Dr.V had been, and after taking my temperature and other vital measures, drew blood without giving me a lollipop or a pretty bandaid, gave me a prescription for TamiFlu and instructions not to interact with other humans until my blood results were back because I may or may not have contracted the H1N1 virus. See you tomorrow!

I promptly hurried home to Google and WebMD everything I could about swine flu. It would be just my luck to have it, since I made fun of everyone in white masks a few months ago and make a point of telling people I don't believe in swine flu and don't understand what the big deal is--it's just the flu.

36 hours and no non-familial human contact later...I don't have swine flu! It's just regular flu. Oops.

Nonetheless, the flu sucks, especially as a week-in vegetarian because you can't have chicken noodle soup. But I am now all-strains-of-flu free and officially have an adult doctor! Yay for the former, meh for the latter.

Thing of the Day: NYC Prep

2009-06-19T12:30:00.001-07:00

I'm not a huge reality TV fan. I loyally watched the first 5 seasons of The Real World, have seen every Project Runway and Top Chef, like to keep The Hills as background eye candy (on mute, of course), and will occasionally be sucked into a marathon of My Super Sweet 16, but I would say I prefer scripted drama more than the "unscripted" kind.

Until now. Bravo's new reality show, NYC Prep, has been marketed as a "real life Gossip Girl," following the lives of six elite New York high schoolers as they go about their good looking ways. This kind of obnoxious glitzy tv show set in my hometown on my favorite TV channel would have probably made it to my TiVo anyway...but I have recently learned that one of the six bratty teenagers it stars goes to my high school.

Meet Taylor. She "has an active interest in politics" and "is horrible at relationships, so expect some boy drama." In the first episode of NYC Prep, Taylor giggles here way through a dinnerparty, goes to a runway show at Fashion week and sits next to Paris Hilton while flirting with "Upper East Side Bad Boy" Sebastian, and excessively twirls her long brown hair.

Taylor! W. T.F. Stuyvesant High School is no Constance Billard, and you are no Serena Van Der Woodsen. Sure, we had the occasional sex in the bathroom at Friday night dances, and senior year someone got arrested for dealing drugs, we're pretty sure there were some student/teacher sexual relations (hello, Ms. Nolan!) and we even had a New York magazine article published about my grade's promiscuous and sexually ambiguous ways, but I'm fairly certain Taylor never accidentally induced someone's overdose during a sexy video, and Ms. DiGiovanni doesn't have an illegitimate lovechild with Taylor's on and off boyfriend, and she will not get into Yale just for being voluptous and having a magnificent pout.

Bravo...I'm disappointed. I can think of at least 10 people in my homeroom who would have made better reality TV stars than this character. I can provide you with the email addresses and phone numbers of at least 5 current Stuyvesant High School students who can do something more dramatic than blink repeatedly at a fashion show and joke about "having a really rich husband one day (hehe)."

Nonetheless, a TiVo fave for the rest of the season. Expect updates.

You know you love me.

XOXO

Thing of the Day: Vegetarians

2009-06-16T09:50:00.001-07:00

Pop Quiz: What do the above humans have in common, other than being stars of a moderately mediocre TV series and bronzed demi-god/esses of perfection?

If you guessed vegetarianism--well, duh. It's literally in the title of the blog post. That was a pretty easy quiz.

Last night, after a grueling session of lifting 3 pound weights with my new wonderfully Guido-ed out trainer, Tony (I don't have a picture of Tony, because that would be creepy, but he very closely resembles this guy, except even darker in fake-tan pigmentation), I decided to take the next step on my summer get-life-in-order/become extremely fit plan.

Until I get back to Vanderbilt, I have decided I will be a vegetarian. I've always been the type of person who doesn't eat red meat or pork, except for the occasional late night hot dog, and starting yesterday, I have decided to give up meat for good and not eat chicken, turkey, bacon (ugh!), or other meat products until August 20th. I am slightly cheating, as usual, in that I will still eat fish and shellfish, but all animals with feet and feathers and fur are officially off limits.

I don't think I have ever actually given anything up before-Jews don't celebrate lent, bad Jews don't fast, I don't have any allergies, I've never smoked enough to feel the need to quit...this should be interesting.

Veggie burgers and Kristen Bell's abs, here we comeeeeee.

Thing of the Day: The Vanity Fair Summer Guide

2009-06-12T08:51:00.000-07:00

How I've been waiting for this to make its way into my email inbox! Thanks to my super hip and trendy friend Maggie, who's interning for MTV Networks this summer, I present: The Vanity Fair All Access Guide: Summer 2009.

Last summer at Zoom Media, the hot co worker who I had all sorts of girl crush on forwarded the Vanity Fair All Access Guide to the entire office. Armed with my fake id and her suggestions, I hit up all sorts of rooftop bars and outdoor eateries. One of my favorite summer events listed in the guide was the Bryant Park Summer Film Festival and the Metropolitan Opera in the Park. Armed with boxed wine and a variety of cheeses, my girlfriends and I laid out and enjoyed fun flicks and beautiful music. This summer, with practically all of my friends living in the city, I hope to make extra use of the guide. The Hudson River Flix schedule looks phenomenal, airing two of my favorites: Vicky Cristina Barcelona and Sex&The City. Similarly awesome is the PS1 Warmup, which I meant to make it to every Saturday last summer. Finally, as you might expect due to my frequent ramblings about food, I can't wait to check out the outdoor and rooftop dining suggestions!

A few I'm particularly excited to try:
-5 Ninth: Pictured above. I plan on going here with visiting friend next weekend!
-The Park: So gorgeous and across the street from my internship, I pass by every day and will go in for a happy hour cocktail eventually.
-Habana Outpost: perfect for day-drinking (Which is absolutely of my top five favorite things. If you must know, the other four are reality TV, great books, greater shoes, and outdoor naps).
-The Met Rooftop Bar/Restaurant: Also pictured above. Because look at the view.

Looking forward to a weekend of day drinking, delicious appetizers, and dancing under the stars. Because who doesn't love New York summer?

Thing of the Day: Craigslist

2009-06-10T13:05:00.000-07:00

Despite all of the negative hype recently about Craigslist (first the "Craigslist Killer" and now the Baby Thief), I've gotta say, I remain a huge fan of the site. This post comes in celebration of the fantastic sublet of a fabulous party pad to crash in with my visitor next week. Since I am making some well deserved mon-ay this summer at my internship, I decided to spare my visiting friend the commute to Brooklyn and long Russian style dinners with my family (Margarita and Felix of "you have a drinking problem" fame), and rather than getting a shitty hotel room (hotel prices in Manhattan are absurd!), found a perfect East Village studio to sublet. I'm looking forward to having friends over to the temporary place...granted that the several hundred dollars I just forked over on PayPal actually go towards an apartment, and not into the pockets of some Craigslist scammer.

In addition to providing me with a party pad, Craigslist always proves an excellent procrastination tool at work. My favorite is the missed connections section--the picture above is a pie chart of locations of NYC missed connections.

A few gems from today:

M2M: Very Cute Very Fat Young Boy on Uptown 6 this morning - m4m - 48 (23rd St Station)

M2W: Blinds left open! - m4w - 37

M2W: Guy who made fun of the fake homeless donations collector on the 4 - m4w - 28 (Financial District)

Last summer, I could have sworn I saw something about myself on there (M2W: 6PM Downtown N Train...you were wearing a red dress, reading The New Yorker and laughing out loud at a message you had received on your BlackBerry). When I told my fellow missed connections reader Emma about this, she flashed me a dirty look and informed me that I was one of the most self centered people she knew.

Factual, but a girl can dream.

Thing of The Day: Free Shit

2009-06-09T11:01:00.000-07:00

One of the best things about living in New York is that you have a frequent and constant access to free shit. And I'm not talking about the "best things in life are free" free shit, but actual tangible, edible, drinkable, appreciate-able (sp?) free food, drink, and events. I discovered FreeNYC several years ago, and have since then been receiving a constant flow of free shit in my inbox every morning at promptly 9am. (Ever since I got my BlackBerry, this prompt 9am email has also had the dual purpose of reminding me to stop whatever I am screwing around with and leave immediately or I will be late for work--such a convenient little "ping!")

Today I am writing about free shit because of the sheer quality of the past two days' free events. Yesterday my friend Sam had a wonderfully free afternoon. We first attended our usual 6pm class at the magnificent Yoga to The People. Technically YTTP is donation based, not free, but my $2 donation had such a meager effect on my wallet that I will allow myself to think of it as so. (For fellow yogis out there--I highly recommend YTTP--the instructors are incredibly talented, and payment is optional. They have 3 studios in the city). After a sweat-drenched workout during which a man named Reggie aggressively roared when encouraged to "release his emotions" during our downward facing dogs, Sam and I headed to the FreeNYC-recommended Taste of Times Square festival. For 10 $1 food tickets, we gorged ourselves on decadent mushroom ravioli, delicious lump crab cakes, heaping plates of mussels, cheesy eggplant parmigiana lasagna, grilled salmon sliders, tuna tartar with salads of pickled beets and grapes, grilled vegatable skewers and warm brownie dessert. Over 40 Times Square restaurants served their fare for $1-4 over the course of two New York avenues, bringing plethoras of cheap foodies. Sam is one of the types of friends that I mentioned in my previous posts--the kind that despite being a perfectly healthy and non-culinary educated individual, keeps her TV constantly tuned to the Food Network, and we both had a ball with our large selections of free-ish food.

After a wonderful $12 dollar evening, I woke this morning that this second Tuesday of June marks the annual Museum Mile Festival! The Museum Mile Festival is an epic display of free shit--the many museums among the Mile, including the Guggenheim (photo above) and the Met are open to free-shit lovers everywhere. From 6-9, anyone is welcome to enjoy art and refreshments at the 9 museums participating. And to top it all of, thanks to the Thrillist listserv, I've scored an invitation to a three hour Absolut Vodka sponsored open bar for me and a +1 tonight. My best friend, Rachel, has just gotten back from Italy and I can think of no better way to celebrate her arrival in the land of the free and the home of the brave than with gratis cocktails (or you know...shots) and complimentary art.

Thing of the Day: Celebrity Chefs

2009-06-08T08:35:00.000-07:00

As I laid in bed last night watching my third consecutive hour of the Food Network (Iron Chef America: Battle Octopus),I found myself thinking about several things.

1. Why the f was I laying in bed eating grapes and cold pasta when there were delicacies like fried octopus calamari with papaya sauce, octopus seviche with fresh salsa, octopus carpaccio, braised tuscan octopus, pressure cooked octopus with rock shrimp, and slowly grilled octopus skewers to be had?

2. Octopus sausage? Really? I don't know, Chef Kaysen.

3. When did obsessing over food, food preparation, and the chefs who prepare it become a socially acceptable thing to do, a hobby reserved not only for trained culinary specialists and the morbidly obese but also for your average, normal BMI, unskilled college student?

I first discovered my immense and inappropriate love for food via the Bravo hit Top Chef, which I caught by accident after a Project Runway finale and have ever since seen every episode of. Since that fateful moment two or three years ago, I have further expanded my food interests to include a personal (read: non family, delivered to my dorm room) subscription to Food and Wine magazine, frequent perusing of FoodNetwork.com recipes, ending every weekend in Kitchen Stadium, stopping to read every single moderately interesting menu I see on the street, daily research of new lunch spots on Citysearch (today's pick: The Green Table), watching Rachael Ray re-runs on mute (her voice makes me want to slit my wrists, but the woman can cook), and reading famous menus the way many people watch famous pornographic films.

And I am not even close to most fanatic of my friends. In the past decade, avidly following celebrity chefs, culinary reality TV, and "designer" restaurants have become a huge phenomenon in popular culture. Names like Rachael Ray (ugh), Wolfgang Puck, Paula Dean, Alain Ducasse, Mario Batali, Anthony Bourdain and Bobby Flay have become as well known as those of Paris Hilton, Justin Timberlake and Britney Spears. Ray, the highest earning celebrity chef, makes $18 million a year on her Network show. Puck, Dean and the rest follow with similarly unbelievable numbers.

Any why not? If Americans can watch a show about a brain-dead couple and several other D-listers fighting it out in the jungle, and another about a fame-whorrific couple and their adorable plethora of half-Asian children, why wouldn't we watch a show--or a dozen--about a crictical life need--food?

Lucky for me, the Food Network's glorious headquarters are just around the corner from my summer internship. And in between "working," perusing menus on the internet, and g-chatting with stunning speed, I will continue to camp out in the Chelsea Market basement until I get the opportunity to seduce Bobby Flay into becoming my personal chef/husband.

Thing Of The Day: Blogs

2009-06-05T07:39:00.001-07:00

Several months ago, inspired by my lovely friend Stacy/Sloane, I decided I absolutely positively had to start a blog. I excitedly signed up for Blogspot, chose a moderately clever name, and since I was living in Copenhagen at the time, decided to start writing about my travels and the cultural differences i encountered in Scandinavia.

I put the link to the blog on my Facebook, posted a total of seven times about my drinking experiences in Europe, and shortly received a concerned and appalled email from my mom. It read as follows:

Privet, Kuzik ("Hi muffin" in Russian),

Nu kak u tebya delishki ("How are things?")? Did you get your grades for the midterm? I heard from Galina that you are going to Prague this weekend? Good for you! Enjoy your time in Europe and see as many places as you can see. This is your life time opportunity to see Europe.

Now on a very serious topic, and you might get mad, but I think I need to talk to you about that. Ira (my aunt) read your blog (an I think you could've send a link to it to me too), and it said that you left your wallet in the bar because you were too drunk! It is not good… I told you to start counting signs that you are developing an alcohol addiction. Now it might seems that all of them are funny anecdotes and you will be in denial at first, but look closely. The bruises that I saw on you, origin of which is unknown to you, forgotten wallet, and probably a lot of other facts that I don’t know. You get me worried. You get drunk more easily, and lower tolerance is one of the symptoms. You should not drink so eagerly and so much. I personally knew women who drunk often in their 20s and at first they were ok, and were dead by their 30s. And I also knew a woman who started drinking heavily in her 30s and in 5 years became a low class prostitute. And I personally know many less dramatic but still very bad examples, like ______'s mom. I want you to reconsider your drinking habits.

How is your new boy? What phase your relationship are on now?

I love you and miss you!

-mom

Alas, my life as a blogger ended and my life as an alcoholic began. This time will be different, for several reasons:

1. I will ensure that my mom does not get ahold of this URL. Perhaps I preemptively will block in on her computer to be positive this will be the case.
2. I am home in New York for the summer, and working a full time internship for a legitimate adult company, thus I am going out about 5 days per week less than I did last semester. Since I will not spend the vast majority of my time drunk/hungover and instead will spend it sober at a computer, I will have far more time to blog.
3. I am setting rules. The title of this blog, the daily, implies that I will be posting daily. Clearly this is too much to ask, and I will set the very reasonable guideline of five days per week. Additionally, this blog has a theme. I will be posting about the Thing of the Day. These Things will range from news pieces, to anecdotes, to physical things: clothing, accessories, electronics, decor, etc. I will also occasionally be highlighting actual blogs as Things of the Day. Shit might get crazy. Well see. So after much delay:

Friday, June 4th's thing of the day is weblogs. How genius! Ever since I acquired a full time internship, I've really come to appreciate blogs. I am reminded of that feeling when you have had a really shitty/really awesome day and all you want to do on your way home is tap the person sitting next to you on the shoulder and tell them all about it. Blogging is like that, but you get to tap ANYONE. And if they decide they don't give a crap, instead of telling you to f off, they will simply say the words to their computer screen and go back to Facebook stalking their ex boyfriend's little sister's best friend's cousin.

Here's to blogs. A few I'm currently following:

Today's Big Thing (inspiration for this blog)

Cupcakes and Cashmere (this girl has the best clotheeessss)

Swank Heights (her too)

The Daily Beast Cheat Sheet (the best way to read the news)

MoneSplye (my two Fratty Mcfrat friends traveling through Europe. Hi-lar-ious.

The Prose of Krose (my co-intern/Elle Woods twin's musings on sales and happy hours)

Perez Hilton (duh).

Back tomorrow with a considerably shorter Thing of the Day. Happy Friday. Time to party. If you're reading this, mom, time to party in moderation.