Last night, four nights after the Oscars and tucked in her bed, KR finally decided to admit that she still could not differentiate between 'No Country For Old Men' and 'There Will Be Blood'.
It came up because we had discussed the relative merits of the Some E-Cards website we have all recently frequented and circulated amongst our coworkers. They recently posted cards regarding Oscar favorites, and one said something about how the recipient should have won an award for pretending to understand the ending of the 'There Will Be Blood'... or maybe it was 'No Country For Old Men'. At one point KR even tried to blend them together and convince us they were the same movie.
Either way, clearly we did not see either.
There was enough press on both movies to warrant knowledge of the general subject matter of both movies, but they still seemed to be running together, so we came up with a way to distinguish them from one another:
'No Country for Old Men':
- Chili-bowl haircut
- Tommy Lee Jones (it helps everyone remember actors when they have three names)
'There Will Be Blood':
- Yelling about a milkshake
- Yelling about a boy
(AV tried to suggest "period piece on the oil industry", but it wasn't ringing any bells)
I know what you're thinking: it's a miracle we graduated college.
I should also mention that seeing Will Ferrell dressed as Ron Burgundy, interviewing Tom Brokaw at his comedy show on Sunday night was the highlight of my week. That or watching him sing Alicia Keys' "No One" while wearing Capezio dance pants and Uggs.
It was much more entertaining than the two award-winning movies we didn't bother to see.
"I must learn to love the fool in me- the one who feels too much, talks too much, takes too many chances, wins sometimes and loses often, lacks self-control, loves and hates, hurts and gets hurt, promises and breaks promises, laughs and cries. It alone protects me against that utterly self-controlled, masterful tyrant whom I also harbor and who would rob me of human aliveness, humility, and dignity but for my fool."
-Theodore I. Rubin, MD
Friday, February 29, 2008
Monday, February 25, 2008
Live From New York... It's Saturday Night
Another weekend spent with RM… another for the books.
He had us up late Thursday night; we ate pizza and relaxed Friday evening, which ultimately had to suffice the entire weekend as far as rest was concerned.
His one request was that we try for Saturday Night Live tickets, which included waking up at 4:30 Saturday morning. 4:30 came early, as it were, and we all got out of bed before we gave ourselves another moment to question our decision.
For two hours we waited as it snowed, waiting in line among other crazies who had slept outside all night on air mattresses and college students who had never gone to bed in the first place. AV and RM left in search of coffee soon after we arrived and found the businesses in Rockefeller Center to be lacking. They happened upon an establishment called Bagelfella Center, complete with bottom of the pot, burned coffee.
We grabbed our rehearsal tickets when they were released promptly at 7 AM, figuring we would have a better chance getting into that than the actual show, and were back home and settled in for a long winter’s nap by 7:15.
We awoke refreshed by 12:30 in the PM, and bopped around the stores on 34th for the remainder of the afternoon.
We returned to the scene of the standby ticket crime, 45 minutes early as per our tickets, only to hurry up and wait yet again. The NBC Pages were out in full-force, all of their blazers newly dry-cleaned to remove the writers’ strike mothballs, anal-retentive as ever as they attempted to manage the crowd.
We were four of the lucky 40 or so who actually got in to the show and see Tina Fey in all of her comedic glory. There was a lot of commotion as the elevator opened onto the floor, Pages throwing wristbands at us and literally telling us to run down the hall and get seated as quickly as possible.
We enjoyed two hours of SNL’s finest- Steve Martin and Mike Huckabee ever made appearances. They had plenty to throw in the way of Barack, Hillary and John, as well as Bret Michaels and the casts of all the ‘Sex and the City’ wannabe shows plaguing this season.
Brilliance. Worth every minute of our pre-sunrise wake up call.
The rest of the weekend will have to be recapped tomorrow, seeing we were all awake at 4:30 AM every morning for the past three days…
Including today.
Liz Lemon: Why are you wearing a tux?
Jack: It's after 6 o'clock Lemon. What am I, a farmer?
- Tina Fey and Alec Baldwin. ’30 Rock’
He had us up late Thursday night; we ate pizza and relaxed Friday evening, which ultimately had to suffice the entire weekend as far as rest was concerned.
His one request was that we try for Saturday Night Live tickets, which included waking up at 4:30 Saturday morning. 4:30 came early, as it were, and we all got out of bed before we gave ourselves another moment to question our decision.
For two hours we waited as it snowed, waiting in line among other crazies who had slept outside all night on air mattresses and college students who had never gone to bed in the first place. AV and RM left in search of coffee soon after we arrived and found the businesses in Rockefeller Center to be lacking. They happened upon an establishment called Bagelfella Center, complete with bottom of the pot, burned coffee.
We grabbed our rehearsal tickets when they were released promptly at 7 AM, figuring we would have a better chance getting into that than the actual show, and were back home and settled in for a long winter’s nap by 7:15.
We awoke refreshed by 12:30 in the PM, and bopped around the stores on 34th for the remainder of the afternoon.
We returned to the scene of the standby ticket crime, 45 minutes early as per our tickets, only to hurry up and wait yet again. The NBC Pages were out in full-force, all of their blazers newly dry-cleaned to remove the writers’ strike mothballs, anal-retentive as ever as they attempted to manage the crowd.
We were four of the lucky 40 or so who actually got in to the show and see Tina Fey in all of her comedic glory. There was a lot of commotion as the elevator opened onto the floor, Pages throwing wristbands at us and literally telling us to run down the hall and get seated as quickly as possible.
We enjoyed two hours of SNL’s finest- Steve Martin and Mike Huckabee ever made appearances. They had plenty to throw in the way of Barack, Hillary and John, as well as Bret Michaels and the casts of all the ‘Sex and the City’ wannabe shows plaguing this season.
Brilliance. Worth every minute of our pre-sunrise wake up call.
The rest of the weekend will have to be recapped tomorrow, seeing we were all awake at 4:30 AM every morning for the past three days…
Including today.
Liz Lemon: Why are you wearing a tux?
Jack: It's after 6 o'clock Lemon. What am I, a farmer?
- Tina Fey and Alec Baldwin. ’30 Rock’
Thursday, February 21, 2008
The Simple Life
Figure I: Day off at the Met
Figure II: AV's birthday snow
Figure III: Jersey, as viewed from Manhattan
"Rest and be thankful"
-William Wordsworth
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Tuesday is the new Monday
Can I first point out that American Idol will be on T.V. no fewer than THREE NIGHTS this week? Yeah, we’re totally on board for that.
The writers’ strike may be over, but I’m not about to watch Lipstick Jungle, which is just white noise next to Cashmere Mafia, nor will I stoop to watching Real World/Road Rules Gauntlet, which allows random 30-year-olds to somehow have a career based on doing absolutely nothing of value. I’m not saying everything I watch on T.V. has merit, but I have to draw the line SOMEWHERE.
Remember when I said I wasn’t considering going home this weekend? That was a big fat lie. I spoke with my mother on Saturday morning, she had found an inexpensive flight leaving Saturday evening, and we booked it. I was perusing Barnes & Noble when I received the telltale call from the airline, telling me my flight would be delayed three hours. We quickly cancelled it and decided we would try another weekend.
I should have had a premonition when my mother sent me pictures of golf ball sized hail along with my flight confirmation Saturday morning that the plans would not bode well. I’m not great with spontaneity, and the delays take the fun out of it. I’ve spent many a late night at JFK, and I’ve learned my lesson.
We dragged ourselves out of bed for a pre-noon showing of ‘Definitely Maybe’, having been in the midst of not only a T.V. drought but a movie one as well. AV’s mom even got up and joined us as well.
One thing we did while AV’s family was here was a cupcake sampling, if you will. We went to Crumbs on Friday night and they stopped by Magnolia on Saturday to get the best of both worlds. Struggling with my decision, I had to go with the vanilla on vanilla cupcake from Crumbs as my favorite. It’s a bold claim; this I know for sure.
Our three-day weekend in the city continued with an unseasonably warm 60-degree day yesterday. I took my free day and walked to the Met, getting in for free with my I.D. from work. Ever the nerd, I had seen that there would be some new exhibits and that the new galleries for the European paintings, and wanted to check things out for myself.
I have a penchant for getting lost in museums- the time I visited the Louvre I wandered off to find The Coronation of Napoleon and ended up looking at an upside-down French map of the building, running frantically through the Egyptian Antiquities trying to find the inverted pyramid. Much like something out of a Dan Brown novel I’ve read before…
I digress.
So I found myself in a room with a huge formaldehyde-preserved shark, suspended in glass in attack-mode. Lucky for me I’ve never seen ‘Jaws’, so I ventured over to the front of the tank and looked at the shark dead-on.
I. Who knew sharks had that many teeth?
II. I don’t care if it WAS dead, I stared at it for about five seconds before I felt completely unnerved and moved on.
III. Formaldehyde still reeks as bad as it did in freshman-year biology.
IV. I’ll be hard-pressed to step one big toe in the ocean ever again.
"Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear."
-Ambrose Redmoon
The writers’ strike may be over, but I’m not about to watch Lipstick Jungle, which is just white noise next to Cashmere Mafia, nor will I stoop to watching Real World/Road Rules Gauntlet, which allows random 30-year-olds to somehow have a career based on doing absolutely nothing of value. I’m not saying everything I watch on T.V. has merit, but I have to draw the line SOMEWHERE.
Remember when I said I wasn’t considering going home this weekend? That was a big fat lie. I spoke with my mother on Saturday morning, she had found an inexpensive flight leaving Saturday evening, and we booked it. I was perusing Barnes & Noble when I received the telltale call from the airline, telling me my flight would be delayed three hours. We quickly cancelled it and decided we would try another weekend.
I should have had a premonition when my mother sent me pictures of golf ball sized hail along with my flight confirmation Saturday morning that the plans would not bode well. I’m not great with spontaneity, and the delays take the fun out of it. I’ve spent many a late night at JFK, and I’ve learned my lesson.
We dragged ourselves out of bed for a pre-noon showing of ‘Definitely Maybe’, having been in the midst of not only a T.V. drought but a movie one as well. AV’s mom even got up and joined us as well.
One thing we did while AV’s family was here was a cupcake sampling, if you will. We went to Crumbs on Friday night and they stopped by Magnolia on Saturday to get the best of both worlds. Struggling with my decision, I had to go with the vanilla on vanilla cupcake from Crumbs as my favorite. It’s a bold claim; this I know for sure.
Our three-day weekend in the city continued with an unseasonably warm 60-degree day yesterday. I took my free day and walked to the Met, getting in for free with my I.D. from work. Ever the nerd, I had seen that there would be some new exhibits and that the new galleries for the European paintings, and wanted to check things out for myself.
I have a penchant for getting lost in museums- the time I visited the Louvre I wandered off to find The Coronation of Napoleon and ended up looking at an upside-down French map of the building, running frantically through the Egyptian Antiquities trying to find the inverted pyramid. Much like something out of a Dan Brown novel I’ve read before…
I digress.
So I found myself in a room with a huge formaldehyde-preserved shark, suspended in glass in attack-mode. Lucky for me I’ve never seen ‘Jaws’, so I ventured over to the front of the tank and looked at the shark dead-on.
I. Who knew sharks had that many teeth?
II. I don’t care if it WAS dead, I stared at it for about five seconds before I felt completely unnerved and moved on.
III. Formaldehyde still reeks as bad as it did in freshman-year biology.
IV. I’ll be hard-pressed to step one big toe in the ocean ever again.
"Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear."
-Ambrose Redmoon
Friday, February 15, 2008
Spice Up Your Life
Happy belated Valentine’s Day, all. Or Singles Awareness Day, unofficially, depending on how empty or full your love glass is this February.
Hope everyone got to spend their day watching deliveryman after messenger deliver blooming bouquets and sweets to your building of primarily females, as I did. And then to walk home alongside every Joe hurrying home with said flowers and candy, obviously coming up with some ploy as to come across as “not forgetting” the occasion.
My parents actually sent me a Valentine’s Day care package and cookies from a bakery in our hometown. Delicious, if not nutritious.
The roommates and I celebrated by trying out a hot dog place on the UWS called Gray’s Papaya. They serve hot dogs and different types of juice and sodas. That’s it. They had a sign for a “Recession Special” which was two hotdogs and a beverage for $3.50. I can say with certain confidence that it’s the cheapest meal we’ve eaten here. I can definitely envision stopping there on our way to Riverside Park for a lazy Saturday afternoon in the spring.
We also stopped by a place in our neighborhood to get manicures and pedicures for the very appealing price of $19.95. Few things are less expensive in New York than in Texas, but frankfurters and French nails are two of them.
I got on the subway the other night, and at the stop after mine an entire gaggle of British students and their chaperones got on the same car as me. They were all dressed in their Euro-hipster garb, chatting away about teenage shenanigans, and that’s when it hit me.
The Spice Girls were in town.
And by “town” I mean they came to New Jersey. My friend MT at work got to go see them and reported back that they were just as awesome as my middle-school self remembered them to be. You start feeling old when bands (okay Posh & Co. aren’t so much a band as a “group”) you once enjoyed start having kids and doing reunion tours.
I talked to my Mom last night and she didn’t realize I had a three-day weekend for President’s Day. She suggested plugging some numbers into flight websites and trying to find a random, inexpensive flight to get me home for the weekend, which seemed like a good idea when I was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at 8:30 this morning.
The plan lost its’ luster when 5:00 rolled around and all the flights I was pulling up were minimum $800 and would require me to have layovers all day Monday and possibly sleep in the Atlanta airport. I gave up and went to the gym.
AV’s Mom (JV) and younger brother (DV) arrived this evening in the city for a weekend visit. DV has never been here, and as JV treated us to dinner tonight and DV laid out his plan for his first trip to the Big Apple, we watched AV’s eyes got bigger with every mention of the Empire State Building and Yankee Stadium.
‘Empire State Building’ translates to “Herald Square Hell”, and “Yankee Stadium” means, “who even knows how long it will take to get up to the Bronx on a Saturday on the A train”.
I’m sure she will do it all, because she’s great like that. In the meantime, KR and I have big plans for an all-weekend sleepover and probably a lot of sleeping in and hopefully a movie, if there’s time. We have a lot of sleeping to do.
Goodnight, cyberspace.
"Love wins. Love always wins."
-Morrie; "Tuesdays With Morrie"
Hope everyone got to spend their day watching deliveryman after messenger deliver blooming bouquets and sweets to your building of primarily females, as I did. And then to walk home alongside every Joe hurrying home with said flowers and candy, obviously coming up with some ploy as to come across as “not forgetting” the occasion.
My parents actually sent me a Valentine’s Day care package and cookies from a bakery in our hometown. Delicious, if not nutritious.
The roommates and I celebrated by trying out a hot dog place on the UWS called Gray’s Papaya. They serve hot dogs and different types of juice and sodas. That’s it. They had a sign for a “Recession Special” which was two hotdogs and a beverage for $3.50. I can say with certain confidence that it’s the cheapest meal we’ve eaten here. I can definitely envision stopping there on our way to Riverside Park for a lazy Saturday afternoon in the spring.
We also stopped by a place in our neighborhood to get manicures and pedicures for the very appealing price of $19.95. Few things are less expensive in New York than in Texas, but frankfurters and French nails are two of them.
I got on the subway the other night, and at the stop after mine an entire gaggle of British students and their chaperones got on the same car as me. They were all dressed in their Euro-hipster garb, chatting away about teenage shenanigans, and that’s when it hit me.
The Spice Girls were in town.
And by “town” I mean they came to New Jersey. My friend MT at work got to go see them and reported back that they were just as awesome as my middle-school self remembered them to be. You start feeling old when bands (okay Posh & Co. aren’t so much a band as a “group”) you once enjoyed start having kids and doing reunion tours.
I talked to my Mom last night and she didn’t realize I had a three-day weekend for President’s Day. She suggested plugging some numbers into flight websites and trying to find a random, inexpensive flight to get me home for the weekend, which seemed like a good idea when I was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at 8:30 this morning.
The plan lost its’ luster when 5:00 rolled around and all the flights I was pulling up were minimum $800 and would require me to have layovers all day Monday and possibly sleep in the Atlanta airport. I gave up and went to the gym.
AV’s Mom (JV) and younger brother (DV) arrived this evening in the city for a weekend visit. DV has never been here, and as JV treated us to dinner tonight and DV laid out his plan for his first trip to the Big Apple, we watched AV’s eyes got bigger with every mention of the Empire State Building and Yankee Stadium.
‘Empire State Building’ translates to “Herald Square Hell”, and “Yankee Stadium” means, “who even knows how long it will take to get up to the Bronx on a Saturday on the A train”.
I’m sure she will do it all, because she’s great like that. In the meantime, KR and I have big plans for an all-weekend sleepover and probably a lot of sleeping in and hopefully a movie, if there’s time. We have a lot of sleeping to do.
Goodnight, cyberspace.
"Love wins. Love always wins."
-Morrie; "Tuesdays With Morrie"
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Dreaming of a White Birthday
AV joins our ranks today, as a 23-year-old adult. As her friend and roommate, and most importantly, being 27 days her senior, I feel it my duty to impart my knowledge and wisdom to her. Who am I kidding? AV is way more of an adult than KR and I put TOGETHER.
I first met AV prior to our freshman year of college at Fish Camp. I was introduced to she and her BFF4L- JS (now JP) one “theme night” by my friend and roommate ES (now EL). Bear with me, people. I know I lost most of you at BFF4L. Anyway- we were reunited on move-in day on the steps of Mosher, our dorm and home for our first year of college. And the rest is basically history. Not even the fact that she lived in the basement, and I lived on the fourth floor of our building would keep us from becoming friends. It was a LOT of stairs- I had great calves that year…
AV and I lived in the same apartments sophomore year, one building away from each other. I distinctly remember calling her, needing a breather after a long day and finding her outside 10 minutes later, sneakers on and ready to walk lap after lap around the complex parking lot while I vented.
I recall watching the “Felicity” DVDs AV “borrowed” from her sister during the dead days leading up to our midterms junior year. We had heated ‘Ben or Noel’ debates- talking about how many misconceptions of college life we had derived from that show. I don’t particularly recall how we did on those exams, though.
When we came to New York to visit before last Christmas, AV, JP and I went roaming one morning while the other girls went to see ‘The View’. After seeing the Brooklyn Bridge and going to the top of the Empire State Building, we found ourselves in my least favorite part of Manhattan: Canal Street. Wanting to leave as quickly as possible, JP and I followed AV and a tiny foreign woman as she led us down a street off next to a basketball court. JP and I literally watched AV climb into a VAN with STRANGERS, violating every rule elementary school safety patrol ever taught us. She emerged victorious, carrying knock-off purses and wallets and ready for anything else New York had to offer.
I have fond memories of our last semester of college spent suffering through Math 141, studying at Starbucks everyday after class until I would entice her to either start chatting and abandon her calculator or go next door to Potbelly to get an Italian on wheat.
I remember knowing the day JP was getting engaged, and wondering what took her so long to call with the good news, only to find out that she had not been able to get in touch with AV to tell her first, and she refused to call anyone else until she got to talk to her. Unbeknownst to JP, AV had flown to Phoenix to surprise her for the weekend. I also remember flying home to Texas for JP’s wedding, listing off everything that would contribute to AV’s emotional weekend: seeing her new baby nephew HV for the first time, seeing her grandmother in the hospital and watching her best friend get married.
“Thanks a lot, I hadn’t thought about it,” she said.
“Don’t worry, I’ve been anticipating it for you,” I replied.
I’ve admired AV since I met her, but never more than moving to New York with her. I’ve grown accustomed to her acute dislike of foods that mix salty with sweet, her classic Jennifer-Aniston-esque style that fits her quite nicely into the Manhattan landscape, and she has also been so kind as to adopt me under her wing for my lack of music foresight and knowledge. She would be an official member of the Lyrics Police if they would just hurry up and mail her a badge already.
For all of these reasons and many more intangible ones that go almost unnoticed in our day-to-day lives, AV is a dear friend. Her determination to move to New York and succeed here has been as much a part of her since the day I met her as it remains today. She takes nothing for granted and people fortunate to know her well are blessed by her reassuring presence and warmth. The beauty of our friendship is that it has never been forced or uncomfortable, it just happened naturally.
I know that a large part of our success here has been our ability to laugh about everything, and I never let myself miss Texas that much because I have you and KR here with me. Being in the presence of both of you daily gives me a piece of home I cherish daily. Happy 23rd, AV!
"So scared of getting older
I'm only good at being young
So I play the numbers game to find away to say that life has just begun"
- John Mayer "Stop This Train"
"Milk was a bad choice..."
- Will Ferrell as Ron Burgundy, "Anchorman"
"I felt it shelter to speak to you."
- Emily Dickinson
Friday, February 8, 2008
Grin and Bear It
I bit the bullet on Wednesday and joined the gym in my building. I spent all four years of college with a set routine, adapted to fit my class schedule each semester but always keeping a consistent regimen. Even going home for the summer I made the effort.
Then I moved to New York.
Living with MK in Murray Hill, we would make a half-hearted effort every once in awhile to take the elevator to the fifth floor and screw around on the elliptical machines while watching “She’s the Man”. Yeah- not our finest hour.
After the other girls had started working I still did some exercising, but the seriousness was never there. When we moved, things did not change much either. I think part of me has always made the excuse that we walk everywhere, so as to justify the lack of further physical activity. That all ended today.
Today I entered a new gym, dusted off my running shoes and got back on the horse, so to speak. I’m convinced that going back for the first time was the hardest thing to do, even if I’m sadly already feeling the ache of it.
We finally got AV back tonight- she has been waking up early and staying late at work this week because of meetings going on with her company. It’s a good thing, too, because if she would not have been here tonight, she would not have been able to see my dramatic reenactment of my morning.
Suffice it to say, no sooner had I removed my coat this morning that I became painfully aware of the fact that I was wearing the same shirt as a male superior in my office. And no, it wasn’t just some green sweater or blue polo, it was a purple gingham button-down. Just in case you were wondering- there is nothing more obvious in all of fashion than PURPLE GINGHAM.
KR made a remark about us having similar shirts once, and suggested how hilarious it would be if we matched, but what were the chances that we would wear them the same day? “Slim to none” I thought, as I grabbed it from my closet this morning. Thank goodness I had the sense in the my early morning brain to buffer it with a long-sleeved khaki sweater, or else it would have looked like we tried to coordinate some sort of Twin Day on our floor. When KR arrived at work a few minutes after me this morning, I bee-lined to her desk and asked: “what would make today perfect for you?” Her little Sherlock mind saw what I was wearing and figured it out in a split-second. She loved every awkward minute of it.
My co-worker and I acknowledged each other’s keen fashion sense and I made the executive decision that MY shirt will now be relegated to nights and weekends.
"Experience is a hard teacher because she gives the test first, the lesson afterward."
-Vernon Law
Then I moved to New York.
Living with MK in Murray Hill, we would make a half-hearted effort every once in awhile to take the elevator to the fifth floor and screw around on the elliptical machines while watching “She’s the Man”. Yeah- not our finest hour.
After the other girls had started working I still did some exercising, but the seriousness was never there. When we moved, things did not change much either. I think part of me has always made the excuse that we walk everywhere, so as to justify the lack of further physical activity. That all ended today.
Today I entered a new gym, dusted off my running shoes and got back on the horse, so to speak. I’m convinced that going back for the first time was the hardest thing to do, even if I’m sadly already feeling the ache of it.
We finally got AV back tonight- she has been waking up early and staying late at work this week because of meetings going on with her company. It’s a good thing, too, because if she would not have been here tonight, she would not have been able to see my dramatic reenactment of my morning.
Suffice it to say, no sooner had I removed my coat this morning that I became painfully aware of the fact that I was wearing the same shirt as a male superior in my office. And no, it wasn’t just some green sweater or blue polo, it was a purple gingham button-down. Just in case you were wondering- there is nothing more obvious in all of fashion than PURPLE GINGHAM.
KR made a remark about us having similar shirts once, and suggested how hilarious it would be if we matched, but what were the chances that we would wear them the same day? “Slim to none” I thought, as I grabbed it from my closet this morning. Thank goodness I had the sense in the my early morning brain to buffer it with a long-sleeved khaki sweater, or else it would have looked like we tried to coordinate some sort of Twin Day on our floor. When KR arrived at work a few minutes after me this morning, I bee-lined to her desk and asked: “what would make today perfect for you?” Her little Sherlock mind saw what I was wearing and figured it out in a split-second. She loved every awkward minute of it.
My co-worker and I acknowledged each other’s keen fashion sense and I made the executive decision that MY shirt will now be relegated to nights and weekends.
"Experience is a hard teacher because she gives the test first, the lesson afterward."
-Vernon Law
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
The Wedding Diaries
Someone asked me the other day about when I plan to go home next. At a loss, I did not have an answer other than the end of June, for a friend's wedding, which is five months from now. I think I need to plan better.
It certainly got me thinking that this time last year I had just finished my first winter tour on the wedding circuit. In mid-January of 2007, I attended three weddings in eight days. First was my friend EL, my freshman year roommate and friend from high school, who got married on a freezing cold Friday night in January in our hometown.
After a late night out with friends, a group of us woke up early the next morning and drove down to Austin for KR’s sister’s wedding.
Five in tow, we headed southbound on 35, and about halfway there we realized we did not actually know what time the wedding started. We didn’t want to call KR or her family to bother them, so we tried calling everyone we could think of, even checking theknot.com, but ended up as clueless as we had started. Throwing on our black dresses and heels once we got to Austin, we also argued back and forth as to whether weddings started on the hour or the half hour.
We made it to the church, thinking we were early because no one was outside, and opened the doors to see the backs of KR and her brother, a quarter of the way down the aisle. So that meant- yes- there were her father and sister, having a Kodak moment before walking down the aisle. We explained to her what had happened later- and we were forgiven. Talk about wedding crashers.
I spent the night by myself in my brother’s freezing cold apartment in Austin and woke up at 3 AM to meet my family to go skiing. We returned Thursday; I threw my bags down and was out the door, and then had a whirlwind three days surrounding my friend MD’s wedding.
Three different black dresses, several sparklers and rose petals and different versions of the electric-slide later, I had three newly married friends and returned to college for my spring semester, exhausted. My first busy wedding season was nothing if not absolutely great and absolutely tiring.
Now all of those people have celebrated their one-year anniversaries, and AV, KR and I continued on to travel to weddings during the other respective seasons, and now find ourselves living in a city where people scoff at the idea of marriage before 30. People in New York also live without central air-conditioning and eat things involving sheep tongues and squid ink, so I don’t think anyone should be pointing any fingers in the ‘weird and ridiculous’ category.
And I should hope there isn't anyone who doesn't love wedding cake. Surely anyone who will eat something raw with tentacles would enjoy some vanilla and buttercream every once in awhile.
"Someday somebody's going to ask you
A question that you should say 'yes' to..."
- Old 97's
It certainly got me thinking that this time last year I had just finished my first winter tour on the wedding circuit. In mid-January of 2007, I attended three weddings in eight days. First was my friend EL, my freshman year roommate and friend from high school, who got married on a freezing cold Friday night in January in our hometown.
After a late night out with friends, a group of us woke up early the next morning and drove down to Austin for KR’s sister’s wedding.
Five in tow, we headed southbound on 35, and about halfway there we realized we did not actually know what time the wedding started. We didn’t want to call KR or her family to bother them, so we tried calling everyone we could think of, even checking theknot.com, but ended up as clueless as we had started. Throwing on our black dresses and heels once we got to Austin, we also argued back and forth as to whether weddings started on the hour or the half hour.
We made it to the church, thinking we were early because no one was outside, and opened the doors to see the backs of KR and her brother, a quarter of the way down the aisle. So that meant- yes- there were her father and sister, having a Kodak moment before walking down the aisle. We explained to her what had happened later- and we were forgiven. Talk about wedding crashers.
I spent the night by myself in my brother’s freezing cold apartment in Austin and woke up at 3 AM to meet my family to go skiing. We returned Thursday; I threw my bags down and was out the door, and then had a whirlwind three days surrounding my friend MD’s wedding.
Three different black dresses, several sparklers and rose petals and different versions of the electric-slide later, I had three newly married friends and returned to college for my spring semester, exhausted. My first busy wedding season was nothing if not absolutely great and absolutely tiring.
Now all of those people have celebrated their one-year anniversaries, and AV, KR and I continued on to travel to weddings during the other respective seasons, and now find ourselves living in a city where people scoff at the idea of marriage before 30. People in New York also live without central air-conditioning and eat things involving sheep tongues and squid ink, so I don’t think anyone should be pointing any fingers in the ‘weird and ridiculous’ category.
And I should hope there isn't anyone who doesn't love wedding cake. Surely anyone who will eat something raw with tentacles would enjoy some vanilla and buttercream every once in awhile.
"Someday somebody's going to ask you
A question that you should say 'yes' to..."
- Old 97's
Monday, February 4, 2008
Maybe Next Year
Happy Super bowl Sunday, all. Hope everyone is enjoyed their evening of deliciously guilty bite-sized food and “the best” commercials of the year. I, for one, will be looking forward to the parade later this week.
While I don’t claim to be a big Giants fan, I think Boston has had their fair share of sports victories this season (the Red Sox winning the World Series and the Celtics who have the best record in the NBA).
I took a gander over to the East side this afternoon and all the Maclaren strollers were out in the sunshine in full-force, touting small children decked out in Giants paraphernalia. Little do their parents know they will one day grow up and decide to attend the rival of their parents’ Alma Mater. THEN they’ll get ambitious and decide they want to strike out on their own and move thousands of miles away to be “independent”, all the while keeping their Dad’s Mastercard number, security code and expiration date memorized for safe-keeping.
No? Maybe that’s just me.
KR and AV are now in their room, cooing over something on Animal Planet called the “Puppy Bowl”, which is basically a bunch of tiny mutts running around on a mini football field, wagging their tails and trying to look as precious as possible. Did the SPCA sponsor this or what? I think if I gave any indication of being okay with having a dog in our apartment, we would have one here by the end of the day. My main problem is leaving one alone all day, along with the cost of keeping dogs in general and the ever-present lack of grass in Manhattan. Not to mention I won’t let myself love anything enough to follow it around multiple times a day with a plastic bag.
Just call me Cruella DeVille.
Mike Ditka: [to the Tigers team] This is gonna be the hardest thing you've ever done in your whole lives. But when it's over…
Phil Weston: Don't get emotional.
Mike Ditka: When it's over…
Phil Weston: When it's over...
Mike Ditka: You guys are gonna be champions!
Phil Weston: Champions!
Mike Ditka: Now let's get out there and kick some butt!
Phil Weston: On three, 'let's have fun'
The Tigers: One, two, three, Let's Have Fun!
Mike Ditka: ‘Let’s have fun’? What’s THAT?
- Will Ferrell and Mike Ditka, “Kicking and Screaming”
While I don’t claim to be a big Giants fan, I think Boston has had their fair share of sports victories this season (the Red Sox winning the World Series and the Celtics who have the best record in the NBA).
I took a gander over to the East side this afternoon and all the Maclaren strollers were out in the sunshine in full-force, touting small children decked out in Giants paraphernalia. Little do their parents know they will one day grow up and decide to attend the rival of their parents’ Alma Mater. THEN they’ll get ambitious and decide they want to strike out on their own and move thousands of miles away to be “independent”, all the while keeping their Dad’s Mastercard number, security code and expiration date memorized for safe-keeping.
No? Maybe that’s just me.
KR and AV are now in their room, cooing over something on Animal Planet called the “Puppy Bowl”, which is basically a bunch of tiny mutts running around on a mini football field, wagging their tails and trying to look as precious as possible. Did the SPCA sponsor this or what? I think if I gave any indication of being okay with having a dog in our apartment, we would have one here by the end of the day. My main problem is leaving one alone all day, along with the cost of keeping dogs in general and the ever-present lack of grass in Manhattan. Not to mention I won’t let myself love anything enough to follow it around multiple times a day with a plastic bag.
Just call me Cruella DeVille.
Mike Ditka: [to the Tigers team] This is gonna be the hardest thing you've ever done in your whole lives. But when it's over…
Phil Weston: Don't get emotional.
Mike Ditka: When it's over…
Phil Weston: When it's over...
Mike Ditka: You guys are gonna be champions!
Phil Weston: Champions!
Mike Ditka: Now let's get out there and kick some butt!
Phil Weston: On three, 'let's have fun'
The Tigers: One, two, three, Let's Have Fun!
Mike Ditka: ‘Let’s have fun’? What’s THAT?
- Will Ferrell and Mike Ditka, “Kicking and Screaming”
Friday, February 1, 2008
My Thoughts Exactly
My day at work on Tuesday made me feel more like a second grader, and less like a young professional than usual. I was greeted in the morning by big red signs on easels that read “FIRE DRILL TODAY”. I thought fire drills were supposed to be unexpected, but apparently when you work in a building housing 40 floors of employees in the middle of Manhattan, you give people some notice.
Then I clicked open an e-mail in my Outlook regarding a mandatory employee-review demonstration. So after lunch I sat with about 50 other people, watching a presentation in a dimly-lit auditorium. Instead of reprimanding children for smacking gum, the woman leading the presentation was giving the stink-eye to everyone who spent the hour clicking around on their Blackberry.
The fire drill on our floor was announced by a bunch of men in suits with earpieces. Apparently they are responsible for the security in our building or something. All we did was walk around to the other side of our floor and listen to a man with the same last name as a pizza place on my block talk about safety procedures. The only things I could focus on were how much my feet hurt from standing in my heels for more than ten minutes and the fire drill man’s ridiculously Long Island accent.
The other night AV and I settled in and watched the Texas A&M/UT basketball game. It was so strange to look at all of the baby-faced freshmen in the stands- whooping and sawing off horns and what not, and to think we were sitting where they were this time last year. So unreal. Then I read an article about A&M on ESPN.com today, which explained the lack of understanding the outside world has of our school. It was clever and light-hearted and I thought it captured my view of A&M so fully.
What I wouldn’t give to be the Erin Roberts of the NCAA Men’s Basketball circuit. She’s got the best gig in town.
We might be a bunch of crazies- but I would bet that not one of those little engineers painted maroon and white, skipping studying physics for the night for sake of good seats and a chance to see school rivalry in action regretted time not spent in front of their TI-82 calculators.
I feel like my fellow assistant-pals and I spent an inordinate amount of time talking about college this week- trying to figure out some way to swing a spring break next month to no avail.
Half of me would give anything to be back in the stands in my white t-shirt, yelling my heart out with 13,000 other students, and the other half you couldn’t pay to be anywhere but here- in the 30-degree cold listening to my recently purchased tunes on my iPod in the mornings on my walk to work and glancing down Central Park South to steal a glance at the sun pouring over the trees in the park lining the street as far as the eye can see.
"Zeroes are important. A million seconds ago was last week."
- Denis Hayes
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