Thing of the Day: Lessons Learned

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

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

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

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

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

I think I've learned my lesson.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thing of the Day: Halloween

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

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

In several other pieces of completely unrelated news:

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

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

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

Trick o treat lovers and friends.

Thing of the Day: Mistakes

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Happy weekend!

Thing of the Day: Robert Pattinson

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thing of the Day: NYC Prep

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