I love the bright colors of these (well obviously!), and I think they'll transition really nicely from dorm to apartment! (July 1st, 2010, baby!!!!!) I find the mod style quite alluring, and think they'll compliment the metropolitan images, pictured in the previous post, very nicely!
Also, just a random question: Who LOVE LOVE LOVES "Kourtney and Khloe Take Miami?" I do... though should I advertise that?
My Dad is a champion at everything he does -- namely, giving advice. One piece of advice he gave me was to always dress up when you're feeling blue. While I'm not feeling blue per se, I'm feeling a bit bored, so to add some excitement to my day, I started my morning with a long shower and a brand new outfit. It might not match, but pairing khaki shorts with a pink oxford and a seersucker blazer put me in a great mood!
As promised, here are the posters I purchased for my dorm room. I have always been a fan of black and white photography that singles out a solitary color. I think these images really encapsulate the magic of my three favorite bustling metropolises! 
This post title is very unrelated. It's been a slow few days. Listening to some throwback Christina Augilera (ft. Lil' Kim) has been the most exciting thing I've done since rolling back to Stonehill. As a member of the hoity-toity "Executive Board," I am privilege to moving in a week early, but I have got to say, moving in to an empty campus is not all it's cracked up to be. While lugging in (um...multiple) under-the-bed bins dedicated to shoes alone is a bit easier without a crowd competing for the single staircase, sitting alone in an empty house, bored to an extreme, neutralizes the situation. My house is normally loud, crazy, and full of personality -- but not when I'm here by my lonesome! I miss having a campus filled with smiling faces and friends! Here's what I've done to pass the time so far:
1. I ordered "wall decor" on allposters.com, where a $4.98 sale just had to be taken advantage of. I decided to depart from the traditional fashion advertisements that usually color my wall, and opted for a "metropolitan" theme. My walls need some lovin'. Pictures to follow when the posters are hung.
2. I ordered the hard-to-find recording of The Rocky Horror Show that JB, the other KR, and I have a crazy obsession with -- an obsession that's just about as strange as the show itself, "sweet transvestites" and all.
3. I ordered a CHI flat iron for my new 'do. I joke that my hair lady gave me a "boy" haircut, though it's really just a classic bob. She's fabulous, but went a little too enthusiastic with the shears. Oh well. It will grow!
4. I did my Student Government thang, socialized with whose around, and laid out to catch some rays.
In short, I've done just about nothing worth blogging about -- unless virtually swiping my credit card counts. Tonight, I plan to curl up with my Mad Men DVDs, which arrived at the most opportune moment yesterday afternoon! I miss NYC. I miss my job. I miss my friends. =(
All eyes on me, in the center of the ring... Tomorrow night, I'm going to the CIRCUS! The big girl kind, people -- I'm going to BRITNEY!!!!! The event officially ends my summer, as I leave for the Hill at a ripe 6 AM on Tuesday morning. Normally, I'd say ouch to that, but 6 AM was my normal wake-up call during this unbelievably fabulous summer. From the laughter to the tears, from the Meatpacking District to Murray Hill, from work to play, and from the lake to the Cape, the events of the past May, June, July, and August were nothing short of stellar. In no particular order, here is my TOP TEN OF SUMMER, 2009 Edition:
1. I loved my job more than Don Draper loves extramarital affairs and cigarettes. Combined. My coworkers were amazing and my boss was fabulous. My office was walking distance from metropolitan necessities such as Restaurant Row, Bryant Park, TKTS, Penn Station, and J. Crew. (That last one is especially necessary.)
2. Though I didn't take any extended trips, I had amazing mini-vacations to Falmouth, Harwichport, and Sleepy Hollow Lake. Long weekends are almost more refreshing than an all-out trip. After all the packing, I oftentimes feel as though I need a vacation to recover from my vacation.
3. My AZ (now TX!) relatives rolled into NY for a whole month. Their arrival brought my two favorite cherubs, a 12-hour R family happy hour, a slew of BBQs, and excitement for my upcoming trip to San Antonio! I leave in a little over a month, and am so ready to meet a cowboy.
4. I banked a sweet buck, which allowed me to make some AWEOSME purchases. Favorites included leopard-print Tory Burch Revas, Burberry rain boots, Dolce & Gabbana Light Blue perfume, tortoise shell Rayban wayfarers, and enough pints of Magners cider to keep the Galway Hooker in business for many recessions to come. (I love the Irish.)
5. I shacked up in NYC, on the 40th floor of the Marriott Marquis, on the last night of my internship, and got to view the most breathtaking sunset from my room's window. We exited the night sans-noise complaint... thankfully and surprisingly!
6. I made international friends! Branching out was necessary, considering my bubbletown and bubble school existence. I learned that there's nothing more amazing than the sound of a Russian accent...
7. I SAW JILL ZARIN!
8. I felt like I really took advantage of NYC, exploring new neighborhoods, boroughs, bars, restaurants, and shops whenever I could.
9. My blog reached over 10 followers. Ha. Puh-thet-ic -- but I still feel accomplished! Don't be a phantom follower! Maybe I will give away a FABULOUS prize to a lucky commenter once I hit 50 followers... I can be pretty generous!
10. I feel like this one should be the big cahoona (sp?) or something... In all honesty, though, my favorite part of summer was the realization that I have the absolute best friends in the world. Simple as that.
<3
Like most people, I am yet to stick to a New Year's Resolution. I think, however, that's because -- for students especially -- the year doesn't really start in January. It gears up in September, after going out with a bang in August (a.k.a. SWAGFEST!). So, as I enter my senior year of college (excuse me while I stifle tears...), I have 4 goals that I'd like to achieve:
1. Take advantage of Boston's proximity to Easton. Stonehill is a hop, skip, and T ride from Haaahvahhhd Yahhhddd, but I NEVER take advantage of that. I blame it on being the busiest girl on Easton, MA's gem of a campus, but in all honesty, despite participating in just about everything, majoring in two unrelated disciplines, and socializing more than I should, I do have a few pockets of free time to spare, despite what I say. My goal is to check out a different (non-ghetto) neighborhood of Boston once a month.
2. Pamper myself more! I work hard. I deserve it! Whether it's a monthly pedicure or an all-out spa extravaganza, a monthly indulgence seems about right. (Under this category is also the "stop biting my nails" goal (TMI?), but that's like asking me to never watch Legally Blonde again. It's just not going to happen.)
3. Run a 5k. And a 10K! Thanksgiving morning marks my hometown's annual Turkey Trot. The 5k run benefits a different cause each year, so it's a proactive effort that I think I can achieve. By next summer, I hope to be 10k ready. I know, I know. I'm all talk. We'll see what happens...
4. And my ultimate senior year goal... is to be the Class of 2010's commencement speaker. Lofty? Yes. Attainable? I like to think so! If Elle did it, so can I. I have my pink dress all ready!
1. I have some serious Olympics nostalgia. I was crazy for anything and everything Beijing last summer, hence the previous post's Chinese gymnast simile.
2. I am OBSESSED with this new background. The other one just wasn't doing it for me. Not enough green to offset the pink. Check out Aqua Poppy Designs for additional options!
3. I beat my high score on Brick Breaker while commuting home. It was the most accomplished thing I did all day.
4. For a girl who wears so little black, I chose to do so on the most humid day of the year. Very poor decision.
5. I got treated to a divine lunch at Osteria al Doge this afternoon. Expense accounts are the best invention.
One of my “professional” goals this summer was to perfect the perfect high-heeled strut… among other things. Three months and one broken pair of Mark Jacobs Mary Janes later, the mission was successfully accomplished. Pumping along in my pink pumps was only briefly daunting during lunchtime speedwalks to dine alfresco in Bryant Park. The magic of my now-perfect high heel strut was an accelerated accomplishment, however, due in a large part to the fact that I am essentially the only girl on my floor. Being surrounded by male co-workers means having to keep up with gentlemen who can tackle miles in their flat loafers. With each day that passed, I learned to ignore the blisters, push through the pain, and face my fears while traversing subway grates. Additionally, I find that with an extra three to four inches under my heels, I carry myself a little more confidently, and that is always a welcome trait in the corporate world. It also helps that heels make your legs appear skinnier. That is a diet I can see myself sticking to for a long time!
Unfortunately, my new love of heels comes at a high price… literally. The success of a strut only increases with the quality of the shoe. A wise woman and Thomson Reuters employee once told me, “Why buy 6 pairs of Nine West shoes when you can buy an amazing pair of Gucci boots that will last you forever and not cut up your feet in the process?” Despite the fact that this woman is a seasoned working girl with a bit more cash to burn on shoes, I took her advice to heart, and can’t imagine retreating back to the days of manmade leather. Ever. While Gucci boots aren’t in my near future, some high-quality heels definitely are: I eBay better than those “of age” Chinese gymnasts dominate on the uneven parallel bars.
Now, despite my newly shortened Achilles tendon that’s ready for action, there are days when ankle elevation makes me cringe. Cringe! This pair of Tory Burch “Amy” pumps is the solution. A chunky 2ish inch heel is the perfect limbo between flats and stilettos. No one will know that it 
was really a “flats day” when you sport these! When all else fails, though, and you do opt to keep you’re toes and heels on the same surface, just walk with a bout of confidence as if you were tittering on your toes. You’ll fool everyone.
In recent purchase news, I opted to return the Pocahontas Booties. Upon trying them on yesterday night, I couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous they looked. (Honestly, KR: When it comes to risky footwear, stick to a pair of men’s Topsiders!) I also successfully flirted my way out of an expired receipt at Loehmann’s so I could receive some store credit, which I then used to buy a bottle of Dolce & Gabbana Light Blue eau de toilette and a no-name grey dress that I plan to wear to tomorrow’s intern reception… with the highest pair of black pumps I own! I like to think I’m channeling the ginger-haired secretary from Mad Men, the show whose DVDs I just purchased on Amazon. I’m such a sucker for unavoidable critical acclaim! I won’t be rocking any garters, though. That’s just a little too ‘60s for me.
I don’t even know how it started but I, KR, girl known for an exclusive musical relationship with the stylings of Billy and Lily, am a huge fan of Soulja Boy Tell ‘em. That’s right. I crank it. I kiss through the phone. I TURN MY SWAG ON. Once upon a graduation party, while jamming along with whatever iPod set the soundtrack for the evening, I invented a silly dance move to the southern rapper’s newest (?) hit. Now, it must be duly noted that I am neither Shakira, Beyonce, GaGa, J.Lo (pre-preggers), Britney (in her hey day), nor anyone of the Pussycat Dolls (rawr!). However, this dance move has caught on faster than both the “Shopping Cart” and the “Superman that Ho.” Basically, it involves pretending your hand is a mirror, looking in said glass, saying “Whassup,” and preparing to “get money.” Simple, right? Definitely. When this dance move crossed state lines and traversed the Borne Bridge, it only seemed appropriate that it get its own holiday. Alas, SWAGFEST was born.
If you haven’t caught on by now, I’m slightly off my rocker. It’s all in good fun, though. I like any excuse to celebrate, so this Friday, in honor of the conclusion of my internship (which, let’s be real, is more like a mourning. I love this place!), the first annual SWAGFEST is taking place. After a post-work, thirty-minute, FREE facial at Origins (No joke! Check it out!), I’ll move into a Manhattan hotel for the evening, ready to wine, dine, and go crazy. So, yes. I actually invented my own holiday. I’m more stoked that a Californian surfer on the day before a hurricane hits – but instead of a binding wetsuit, I get to twist and twirl in a pink ball of Rugby ruffles!
It's 10:29 PM. For a lazy bones like me, it's quite late for a weeknight. Though I think that makes my "midnighting" as a temporary fashion blogger a little more valid. Plus, it's my last week of work, and "tying up loose ends" takes little to no effort. Saying good-bye to my summer family will be the hardest chore of all. But let's get down to business here. With Swagfest approaching shortly (stay posted!), I need to build up a bank of sleep and an 11 PM entry to dreamland is the latest I can handle.
This evening, in between a train ride to Mineola and a scrumptious salad from La Bottega (it's Long Island's Sicilian gem!), AC, KW, and I attempted "mission: dress" at Coquette and Bloomingdales. I've always enjoyed the trendy dresses and boutique feel of Coquette, despite never having swiped my credit card. Tonight, however, all previous window-shopping-only habits changed when I couldn't help but indulge in this color block dress. It's casual enough to wear to class, dressy enough to wear to a nice dinner, and comfortable enough to nap in. My newest closet addition is this pictured dress' white-topped sister. I love me some NYC, but when it comes to wearing black, I do so as infrequently as Blair Waldorf exits her mansion without wearing a headband.
The color blocking trend, which I first read about in Cosmopolitan this morning, while hiding the girlie mag's raunchy headlines from my fellow commuters on the LIRR (don't judge me!), continued into our soirée at Bloomingdales, where the lovely KW settled for an Aqua dress in the style of this number right here. Her selection is much nicer, though, pairing a dark navy with a crazy printed skirt that would make Jackson Pollack proud. I'm a definite fan of this trend and can't wait to pair some cute ballet flats with my new little lady!
And the winner of the 2009 Thomson Reuters video competition is...
Once upon a Friday, four enthusiastic Application Support interns made their way from the 3rd floor of their Times Square office complex, ready to join 150 other hopeful interns for the unveiling of the company's summer intern video competition winners. Judged by the Thomson Reuters Markets CEO, the contest boasts some serious swaggar in the form of Flip video cameras, AmEx gift certificates, and most importantly, a lunch with the aforementioned executive. In the awards ceremony that began with a feast of cold pizza, Coca-Cola, and nerves, the four interns sat together, surrounded by two of their mentors, anxious for the third, second, and first place clips to play, thus revealing the results of their summer-long creative project. The third and second place clips were viewed with no problem; the respective teams were rewarded accordingly. As the first place film was about to be revealed, however, the four App Support interns' pending prizes on the line, technology intervened, shutting down the live feed of the laptop to the "Millennium Room" wall of HD TVs. The female intern amongst the other three males started tapping her pink stiletto like there was no tomorrow, while the three gents shook their knees in the most frustrated of manners. In a span of five minutes that seemed to last longer than back-to-back viewings of Gone with the Wind, the technological snafu was repaired, giving the interns a hot second to regroup before the first place film's unveiling. And what happens next?
THEY REVEAL MY NAME! ME! I WON THE MAJOR PRIZE! Sometime in the next three months, I will get flown from Boston to New York for a lunch at the restaurant of my choice where I will get to wine and dine with the brains behind the bucks of Thomson Reuters. I also get a sa-weet bit of ca$h money, which I plan on using to buy something ultra fabulous. My boss was on vacation at the time, so after calling and e-mailing him the good news, he made a really bright statement: "When good people come together, great things happen." I couldn't appreciate his comment more, as I would not have been able to complete the winning movie without his guidance, and of course the help, ideas, and amusing banter of my fellow interns and teammates CA, JN, and VK. I was never much of an athlete, but I must say, teamwork is seriously the best way to go!
Now all I have to do is plan an AMAZING ensemble for the November lunch...
1. This picture. I like to think of my cousins LM and (another!) KR -- the absolutely precious duo to my left and right -- as KRs in Training. They already know that pink and green ensembles are the no-fail way to dress for any occasion. On another note, this dress, which Uncle M teased me for wearing due to its "Easter egg adornment," and which Mother Hen calls a muumuu, is the previously discussed vintage find at Cheap Jack's. Muumuu or not, I love love love it and always enjoy wondering which fabulous female brought life to it before I did.
2. The ruffles! The pink! The sash! The silk! The brightness! The ruffles (again)! The fact that this dress has shipped! Impulse buy or not, this pink number from Rugby caught my eye long before it graced the sale section, which makes the purchase that much sweeter. Though I go bananas for just about every combination of pink and green, I can't say these espadrilles do it for me, exactly. I think some black pumps and minimal jewelery would suffice instead.
3. The fact that my weekend will be spent lakeside, tanning (burning?) on a dock, listening to throwback tunes, sipping cocktails, flipping cups, riding in tubes, and relaxing like it's my cushy job.
4. My pending departure from New York to Massachusetts. While I will forever prefer the Empire State to the land of the Red Sox and their obsessive fans, Stonehill is my second home. Despite the far too amazing summer that's beginning to reach its final chapter, I've begun to long for my alternative residence, and look forward to my final year as a college student.
What would Uncle Jesse do on a rainy New York Thursday? Why, he would stand in the rain and snap pictures of his alter ego, John Stamos, of course! After a summer of celebrity sightings ranging from Chet of the Real World Brooklyn to my girl Jill Zarin, spotting John Stamos in Bryant Park this afternoon was the icing on the cake. Granted, it wasn’t a coincidental run in; rather, he was promoting his role as Albert in the upcoming “Bye, Bye Birdie” as a part of Broadway in Bryant Park. (Make sure to check out the broadway.com interview. There’s a good chance my frizzy hair may pop into a few shots.) While squeezing into the press area, cramming myself in amongst other 20- and 30-something digicam-snapping women, I couldn’t help but feel like a legitimate groupie. (An impromptu chorus of “We love you Conrad, oh yes we do…” would have been the perfect audition for “Teenage Girl #3” in the musical itself!) I am certainly no John Stamos groupie. However, the man was ATTRACTIVE, despite being the size of my pinky! His famous hair is also THAT GOOD in person. (He had a personal entourage of umbrella holders. God forbid he frizzes!)
As I stood less than an arm’s length away from the man made famous for Elvis impersonations and Uncle-ly advice to the Olsen Twins, I couldn’t help but think back on how “Full House” really defined my childhood TV experiences -- from Michelle’s “Flintstone’s” themed birthday party that got spoiled by the birth of her twin cousins, to Stephanie’s first make-out soiree, to DJ’s rejection from Stamford, and of course, to Uncle Jesse’s famous cries of “Have Mercy!” Years later, with reruns that are yet to stop, “Full House” never fails to amuse me – though for new reasons now. Witnessing actresses in the prime of their innocence – before bouts with anorexia, methamphetamine addictions, and radical evangelist commentary on Christian websites – while knowing where they end up makes sitting back with San Francisco’s famous family all the more enjoyable. I kind of hope ABC Family will marathon all 193 episodes sometime soon… That was some quality TV!
Swine is to Mexico as blogging is to my friends: contagious. Yesterday evening, while chowing down on Long Island’s best Sicilian pizza known to hungry man, amidst discussions of frozen cocktails, ruffly dresses (to buy or not to buy?), and boots that would make John Smith swoon, the island crew and I constantly retreated to the topic of blogging. Blog reading extraordinaire ML is set to go once she finds a title that speaks to her. RJ’s musings on life as a teacher in NYC’s public school system (Read: “Today, I dodged three bullets while making the three-block sprint from school to the L train. Oh, Bushwick! You never fail to keep me on my toes.”) are a work in progress. Fashionista AC will keep us all fierce, ferosh, and fabulous with the fashion blog she should have been keeping long before she debuted this necklace that is way too wonderful for words.
After mulling over Monday’s post on the importance of keeping in touch, I couldn’t help but throw some props at myself for my way of maintaining contact. Despite addictions to Gmail, BBM, texting, phone calls, and Facebook, blogging has become the perfect way for me to add my own flair to communication in our current world that’s flooded by impersonal social networking. On a more academic note, blogging helps to maintain the steady flow of creative expression that is so crucial for English majors such as myself. Banging out a 12-pager come Fall doesn’t sound so daunting after my summer of – albeit fluffy, mindless, and sometimes unintelligent – prose. Professionally speaking, the CEO of Thomson Reuters keeps a blog (at his own domain, of course), so I like to think I have something in common with a man whose yearly income could buy me all the Brooklyn brownstones in the borough. His posts, though infrequent, allow amazing insight into the mind of truly powerful man, while showcasing his other roles of husband, father, and friend. It makes the man with the corner office seem like a “real person,” which is hard to grasp sometimes in Corporate America.
I highly recommend starting a blog. Aside from gaining personal satisfaction at your cyber accomplishment, you’ll improve your writing, strengthen your relationships, and enjoy the cathartic experience of “bearing all.”
From library stacks to rock concerts by way of Broadway we go to my next topic of conversation on this exceedingly verbal day: embracing your inner Native American. (Say whattttt!?) Though most of my readers know me in the flesh (ha, all 9 of you… technically!), those who are mere passersby in the world of web surfing have probably come to know that my daily ensembles combine traces of J.Crew, Lilly, Vineyard Vines, Polo, and whatever else I can scrounge up at Marshalls to create a look that’s not necessarily original, but one that is certainly my own (Read: I wear more fluorescent pink in winter than Elle Woods and I am completely fine with that!). Maybe it was my summer in the city, or maybe it’s just the heat (made ever worse by Times Square’s breeze-crippling buildings), but I am SO drawn to the following two Minnetonka items: 
I can already hear my dear roomie, JT, making fun of me for donning this pair of calf booties. There’s just something about these fringy ladies that makes me want to embrace my inner Pocahontas, sing about the colors of the wind, and rescue a John Smith of my own. 
While these mocs don’t make me want to stand on the edge of a Virginia cliff wondering how high a Sycamore can grow or what’s around the river bend, they do make me ponder the extra oomph they’d give a pair of skinny jeans!
I’m really going to miss these scrumptious paychecks come September. My spending habits need some serious reevaluation...
EDIT: Get ready, Squanto. In 3-9 days, I'll have my fringy footwear, fit for no one but an Indian princess!
Though I now refer to it as the dungeon, back in high school, the local library was home to several three-hour-long chunks of my week. As a seasoned “page,” which is just fancy library speak for “librarian’s assistant,” I answered phones, shelved books, organized materials, and, generally fought for my sanity between the stacks of silence. If not for my amazing coworkers, KW and KR, I would have jumped off the 2nd floor balcony into a pile of oversized non-fiction. No joke. Libraries, as public domains, are serious free-for-alls; the crazies call it home. In the way too many years I was employed there, I witnessed a man with cotton in his ears bathe in the bathroom; a woman scream about the Nazis capturing her children, whose pictures were silkscreened on her oversized beach cover-up, by the way; a man taller than that Asian dude in the NBA scare little children; and a grown Hispanic parade around in a bright pink bicycle helmet. And that’s just a sprinkling of stories!
Anyhow, the point of this library-heavy post is to introduce the evening I had yesterday. Despite our high school and summer jobs in the dungeon known for mousy types and boring people, we definitely know how to have nothing but a good time. And that is exactly what KW, KR, and I did last night while literally rocking out at the Brooks Atkinson Theatre to “Rock of Ages,” the Broadway musical set to 80s glam rock. I jumped out of my chair when Poison’s power party anthem opened the show, ex-American Idol finalist Constantine Maroulis’ sexy voice and killer charm booming throughout the theatre. I swayed my usher-provided lighter (a.k.a. laser pointer) to “Can You Take Me High Enough,” and danced in my chair to “Any Way You Want It.” I sang along with “We Built This City,” and fought from joining the chorus of scantily clad performers during “Wanted Dead or Alive.”
“Rock of Ages” wasn’t the type of show that would leave you speechless; it doesn’t scream Tony and it has very little substance (read: you don't have to think). However, with a few good friends in tow and ushers who deliver cans of Coors Light directly to your seats, it’s by far the most fun way to experience Broadway. If you wanna ROCK, do it up. Tease your hair. Wear spandex. Shed your morals. YEAH!
In my experiences, I’ve witnessed that, ever so sadly, a lot of people tend to lose touch with their high school friends as they move on to the bigger and the better. This occurrence, luckily for me, is pretty unimaginable, as I have only grown closer to my oldest pals as we’ve grown up. Despite moving on in our lives to careers, to medical schools, to Europe, to unemployment, to boyfriends, to graduate school, to the GREs, and to Upper West Side duplexes, we’ve managed to stay in touch through it all (God bless the Blackberry!). Losing touch with people is unavoidable; sometimes, your imminent life paths just aren’t destined to converge. However, staying in touch takes a well worth it effort. Like any relationship, maintaining contact is a two-way street. So, in an effort to urge you all to stay in touch with everyone you can, I’ve going to showcase a few of my friends who are total champs at maintaining their social networks, despite moving on and moving out:
The curly haired blondie who can make me laugh like no other, the glittering [other] KR (big sis to my favorite papillon, Ladybug) lived in Germany for a whopping 11 months. 11 months! I could barely handle three while drinking tea and eating scones for a living last Fall. She traveled the globe, she drank lost of Belgian and German beer, she took lots of pictures, and she made lots of new friends. However, despite the oversized pond separating KR from her home at home and her home at college, I still felt like she was right there with me, watching “The Soup” and cracking clever puns. Admittedly, KR kept in touch with the use of bumper stickers. Remember those? As with all fads, this Facebook variety was short-lived, but it was the perfect way for KR to send images of love across the ocean. When she arrived back in the US, far more cultured than any of us could ever hope to be, it was like she never left. I’m not arguing bringing back the Bumper Sticker. Like Pogs, Beanie Babies, Yo-Yos, Pokemon, Milky Pens, and Tamigatchis, the Bumper Sticker has sailed its course. Someecards, however, has not. To me, someecards will never get old. They just have a way of speaking to me in a way unlike any other mode of communication. So, have an old friend with home you haven’t chatted in a while? Send him or her a sassy saying and thank me later for the rekindled bond.
Don’t let my favorite ginger’s red hair and freckles fool you – CO’s brain is better than Cam Jansen’s. (Remember those books? She was the kid detective with a photographic memory.) CO’s life, as she likes to remind us, is in constant shambles. Always straining to empty her gmail inbox of requests, plans, stories, and spam, CO manages to get it all done simply, due in a large part to the fact that the girl doesn’t sleep -- which will be especially useful when she starts medical school this fall in the Windy City. Need a ride from a remote train station at 4 in the morning? Call CO. Need to vent while munching down on a midnight snack? CO will answer. Want to stay out a few hours later than the rest of your entourage? CO will open a new tab and “Cheers!” to an extended evening. Now, as someone who absolutely cherishes her shut-eye, I could never condone a lifestyle that’s not sleep-resplendent. I must, however, highlight two staying-in-touch methods that are the product of the genius’s mind: firstly, mass e-mails. A literal gift from god, the mass e-mail system that’s been in effect since my group of friends hopped from our island at home to our colleges of choice has been the saving grace of many of my high school friendships. Sending an e-mail to a huge group and receiving responses replied to all is the Internet equivalent of sitting on a couch, eating Smartfood popcorn and extra chocolatey brownies, and listening to MTV hits. It brings us all back to our high school hang out -- the living room sectional couch of JT -- though without removing us from our desks, beds, floors, library nooks, or wherever we have managed to prop our MacBook Pros. The idea is almost more genius than CO herself. Almost. The girl is untouchable.
Secondly, CO is the proud organizer of a little thing we like to call Lakeside. This concept is a common one, but to me, it will never get old and will always feel unique. With each new memory made, Lakeside will always remain near and dear to my heart. There’s just something about escaping for a weekend with your entire group of friends that takes you to a totally different world – one in which all drinks come with umbrellas, in which all orange juice is spiked with champagne, in which all trampolines float, in which time stops. This upcoming Friday marks the umpteenth version of Lakeside, and I am absolutely stoked to lie on CO’s refurbished backyard dock without a care in the world. The idea of a weekend trip always reassures the fact that touch will be restored with new things to laugh about once the weekend passes. The pictures, of course, are always priceless. Below is a group shot taken during our last debaucherous trip to dear Athens, NY in 2007. (The summer '08 extravaganza was a bit of a fail -- schedules colided and exploded.) After our one-year hiatus, I'm excited for our tradition to reinstate. The umbrella drinks are a-calling...
KR is rocking the Mickey t-shirt, Ginger is the ginger all the way on the top right, and I, of course, am the one posing in a pink dress. =)
Despite hailing from Long Island, home of mean girls more vile than Regina George, I like to consider myself a pretty sweet girl – though not as sweet as the batch of cookies I baked last night could have been! I am far from skilled in the kitchen. While I dabble in sautéing, since its more of a creative art than an exact procedure (I hate the idea of measuring and always opt for extra garlic), I never dare attempt the science known as baking. Until now. As a part of my internship, I had to create a movie outlining my experiences. Along with a team of an Indian, a Sri Lankan, an Italian, and me, the Irish, we created what was a pretty fantabulous film, made all the more better due to some minor assistance from the Reuters news team. Working their magic with their fancy FinalCut software, they took our collection of clips to the next level, making my team and I very pleased with the end product. So, I thought there was no better way to thank the duo than by whipping up a yummilicious batch of oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. From scratch.
What was I thinking? I can barely handle slice and bake! (RIP Tollhouse? I do hope we can all bask in the glory of raw cookie dough again some day, sans salmonella.) Upon arriving home, the mother hen and I trekked out to load up on ingredients and bonded over Brooklyn real estate while we shopped for vanilla extract, light brown sugar, and other cookie staples. When I finally got home to begin the baking process, I was dangerously close to mistaking powdered sugar for flour, and was about to add the fine powder to my pasty mixture of butter and regular sugar before my baketress of a sister literally pulled my hand away from the bowl, just seconds before I would have make the cookies far too sweet for their own good. Thankfully, they came out in delicious chunks of oatmeal chocolate chip goodness, making me a true hit at the office today!
Have a splendid weekend, everyone! I'll be BBQing poolside with my shades on!
How it happened, I do not know. They may have been victim to my marathon Wednesday evening in the Meatpacking district, or they may have been killed on my commute. As I sit here at my cube, watching the last 45 minutes of my corporate Thursday tick by, I am terribly heartbroken: my favorite pair of summer pumps, a gorgeous set of nude-colored Marc Jacobs Mary Janes, round toed to perfection, fell victim to a stiletto’s nightmare. Those dreaded subway grates are EVERYWHERE, and as a ferosh female who has finally perfected her high heel strut (ow ow!), I am so sad to see my patent leather ladies retire to my closet. I’ll never give them away. They’re far too cute. Anyone know of a good shoemaker? Maybe he can breathe some life back into these babies…
No, not my parents. Mine are definitely of the Irish-American persuasion. However, if you’re in the market for another blog to add to your reel of daily procrastination and relaxed perusal, check out “Pieces,” a recent creation of the sassy SA, the Indo-Rican princess who wants you to “forgive [her] for…fragments and run-on sentences. [She doesn’t] know any better; [her] parents are immigrants.” (Excuse the brackets.) I’ve known SA for many moons, and let me tell you a-something: modeled around the idea that its author can provide “pieces” of her life, rather than the whole cake (since, like eating an entire cake, that would just make you sick), this online musing will sate your blog-reading appetite with hearty scoops of blunt commentary, iced with rants and sprinkled with stream of consciousness. Enjoy!
I figured that an afternoon stroll through the Brooklyn neighborhoods I hope to call home mere months from now was the perfect way to christen my bodacious new rain boots, so Sunday afternoon, without a care in the world, I armed myself with an umbrella and took on the monsoon for a hike through Fort Greene, Boerum Hill, Downtown Brooklyn, Cobble Hill, and Brooklyn Heights. With no map in hand, I relied on my non-existent fear of talking to strangers for directions, and made may way to Fort Green Park, my first destination, in no time. Stopping in an indie artist’s outdoor art show that was unfortunately rained out (there was supposed to be live music!) before making my way in and out of the side streets, I snapped too many pictures of the beautiful brownstones that dot the neighborhood. I have a serious obsession with the charming and character-filled houses, and would potentially sacrifice a healthy lifestyle for a diet exclusively of Cup o’ Noodles if it meant I could boast a brownstone address.
Moving on from Fort Greene, I powerwalked through Boerum Hill and Downtown Brooklyn (eh…), bound for more brownstones. Taking a break to dine at Osaka, the Cobble Hill sushi eatery that is usually packed due to its gorgeous outdoor seating and to die for lunch special, I recharged, dried off, chowed down, and prepared for more mindless wandering through the bricks. Somehow, five hours had already passed when I found myself on the Columbia Waterfront, gazing off at the Statue of Liberty, totally envious of the property that borders it. What a life… Best of all, after I got over my jealousy, I booked it to Clark St., where a 12 minute subway ride wizzed me back to Penn Station as I prepared to re-enter reality. I can only handle so much mindlessness!
While my Brooklyn extravaganza took up an entire lazy Sunday, the rest of my weekend was also of the relaxing variety. In need of some detox, I spent my Friday night doing some friendly bonding without ever leaving CO’s life-altering recliner. No joke. Despite the packed room, I could feel my eyes start to close before 11 PM, and for the first time in what has to be years, I was in bed before midnight on a Friday. After relishing in my surplus of sleep, I spent my Saturday sun-soaking in H-Ton with BT before KR’s BBQ. We flipped some cups like the champs that we are before making it another early night. After this non-stop summer, I really needed some extra time to get my life back in order. With just three short weeks to go before I bid farewell to Thomson Reuters, it's hard to believe how much I need to squeeze into the next few days of summer: morning mimosas in Upstate New York, kayaking off the coast of B-Port, an evening performance of "Rock of Ages," thrice-weekly happy hours, hotel stays in the heart of the city...
Oy.
