Thing of the Day: New Years Eve

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

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

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

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

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

Welcome, 2010. We've been expecting you.

Thing of the Day: Fall

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: Sunshine

Some pretty excellent things happened this weekend.

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

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

1. I really liked the above picture

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

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

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

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