I actually turned 21 after a couple years of pretending I already had. It feels good, I guess. It would have felt better if they hadn't have asked for an alternate form of identification when I showed them my REAL I.D. for once. I guess I've changed a little since I was 16 with a spray tan, chapel skirt and sweater vest. Actually, let me go ahead and take that as a compliment. Those were the days. So they say. I like to think these are the days though.
I woke up the next moring cozy in my bed with a nice suade Indiana Jones hat that I stole from a hat stand in a bar, bruises and a pizza in my fridge. I have great friends. I have yet to take another sip of alcohol since. But I'll be in Little Italy soon.
I refuse to think that this year was the last birthday milestone though...what about 22, my lucky number? Or 25, when I'm able to rent a car...
Rachel and I went on a grown up, best-friend dinner date the night after my birthday at the Belmont. It was complete with valet parking and champagne. What we didn't ask for was the dumb blonde in the cheetah sweater at the bar next to our table. Her voice voice was at least ten octaves higher than any normal human being and her IQ was at least 50 points lower than the average 7 year old. Rachel kindly asked our waitress if she could be removed from the restaurant when we just couldn't handle anymore "take a picture of me, take a picture of me, oh let me look at it". We sat on the same side of our booth starring at her with our mouths open, I'm pretty sure. Christmas Wish: Please God never let me be that girl. Thank you.
I was supposed to be in Cancun after my birthday with mom, but that didn't work out thanks to Mother Nature. She decided that the Northeast should get two feet of snow and the airports should get backed up. Our flights cancelled for two days, so we gave up on the beach and went shopping. I'm happy, though. Being home is a perfect birthday present and it makes going to New York that much more exciting...so be nice Mother Nature.
I can't wait to be back in my favorite place. It's all I can think about.
Merry Christmas y'all! Enjoy every second of the holidays.
Eat a cookie, hug your family extra tight, thank a soldier and see the Blind Side.
Page Thirty-Six: Finally Thankful
You learn a lot about yourself when you begin losing people you don't want to see go, I think. I learned that as comfortable as I am with myself, I still have missing pieces. I learned that I actually am capable of tears and have been on the fast and easy track my whole life without even realizing it. Maybe I'm coming off that track and maybe I'll have to work harder now for things I love. Maybe my life won't just work out perfectly like it always has. After almost 5 months, I think I'm finally OK with that.
Thanksgiving came at a perfect time. When someone goes away it's good to know you still have the ones you don't think about enough. Home felt good.
Sometimes there's no resolve, sometimes you just get tired of being sad. I got tired of it. So, I'm just going to stop. I remembered something called 'perspective' this Thanksgiving. I remembered that sometimes our own is the worst.
This year, Thanksgiving was so much more than being fat and happy for four days, guilt free.
Like I say, I don't know much but what I do know is that an hour of getting beat in tennis by your parents can almost delete a semester of sleepless nights, John Mayer speaks the truth, and it really is friends, lovers or nothing, there's no inbetween so give it up, and lastly, people change but New York City will always be the same.
Happy December Y'all
Thanksgiving came at a perfect time. When someone goes away it's good to know you still have the ones you don't think about enough. Home felt good.
Sometimes there's no resolve, sometimes you just get tired of being sad. I got tired of it. So, I'm just going to stop. I remembered something called 'perspective' this Thanksgiving. I remembered that sometimes our own is the worst.
This year, Thanksgiving was so much more than being fat and happy for four days, guilt free.
Like I say, I don't know much but what I do know is that an hour of getting beat in tennis by your parents can almost delete a semester of sleepless nights, John Mayer speaks the truth, and it really is friends, lovers or nothing, there's no inbetween so give it up, and lastly, people change but New York City will always be the same.
Happy December Y'all
Page Thirty-Five: I Want To Stay Hungry and Foolish
Steve Job's Commencement Speech at Stanford in 2005. My roommate made me sit down and watch it this morning in exchange for a grape. Well worth your time.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UF8uR6Z6KLc
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UF8uR6Z6KLc
Page Thirty-Four: My Kind of Current Events
Recently I found myself alone and stranded on the curb in a gas station parking lot at 3am wearing a perfect pink dress, new Steve Maddens and an employee of the gas station's wool coat, holding on to the bench portion of a pedi-cab for dear life...so no one would steal it?
It was my responsibility to guard the precious piece of equiptment, of course.
A typical end to a typical night in my world. If only that had been the end...we won't get into it.
With that being said, I naturally took a liking to this headline in USA Today.
http://www.usatoday.com/news/nation/2009-11-10-pedicabs_N.htm
Long live pedi-cabs. My preferred method of transportation. Aside from teleporting, that is. Nothing beats teleportation.
It was my responsibility to guard the precious piece of equiptment, of course.
A typical end to a typical night in my world. If only that had been the end...we won't get into it.
With that being said, I naturally took a liking to this headline in USA Today.
http://www.usatoday.com/news/nation/2009-11-10-pedicabs_N.htm
Long live pedi-cabs. My preferred method of transportation. Aside from teleporting, that is. Nothing beats teleportation.
Page Thirty-Three: Secrets
I'm not much of a complainer, I swear. Just this one time.
Don't tell anybody, but today I'm that girl that makes excuses for another person because it makes her feel better. I'm that awful girl who justifies actions because it's easier to pretend everything's the same than it is to accept what's real.
One time my fortune cookie told me that affection is never wasted. I hope that's true.
Today I'm antsy. I have a shorter than normal attention span and the urge to get in my car and drive to the beach and forget about my little babies in sparkly leotards or scheduling a time slot in the production studio or catching up on my current events for my quiz tomorrow. I hate the news lately, anyways.
I think the best times in our lives are a double-edged sword. Sometimes the best times in our lives make everyday life less satisfying.
I wish I could practice half of what I preach.
Today I'm accepting a theory as fact. Give someone the opportunity to let you down, and they will take it. I don't like that I believe this. It's not very me to think this way at all. It seems like the safer bet to swallow this understanding, though.
I'm scared for the next couple of months and I'm mad that losing people is a part of life. I've never wanted time to move slower and faster at the same time until now.
I took the bus home from campus today and a big part of me wanted to run away to a big city again, where I could ride on busses where no one knows me every single day.
I'm a chronic thinker. Even when I'm sleeping my mind goes crazy. I'd pay $100 dollars to have an on/off switch for it.
I pretend to care about a lot more things than I actually care about. I can fake enthusiasm and interest and concern really well.
I hate when I realize that the only times that I pray are when I'm sad or scared or needing or wanting.
Word vomit. I feel better know.
Don't tell anybody, but today I'm that girl that makes excuses for another person because it makes her feel better. I'm that awful girl who justifies actions because it's easier to pretend everything's the same than it is to accept what's real.
One time my fortune cookie told me that affection is never wasted. I hope that's true.
Today I'm antsy. I have a shorter than normal attention span and the urge to get in my car and drive to the beach and forget about my little babies in sparkly leotards or scheduling a time slot in the production studio or catching up on my current events for my quiz tomorrow. I hate the news lately, anyways.
I think the best times in our lives are a double-edged sword. Sometimes the best times in our lives make everyday life less satisfying.
I wish I could practice half of what I preach.
Today I'm accepting a theory as fact. Give someone the opportunity to let you down, and they will take it. I don't like that I believe this. It's not very me to think this way at all. It seems like the safer bet to swallow this understanding, though.
I'm scared for the next couple of months and I'm mad that losing people is a part of life. I've never wanted time to move slower and faster at the same time until now.
I took the bus home from campus today and a big part of me wanted to run away to a big city again, where I could ride on busses where no one knows me every single day.
I'm a chronic thinker. Even when I'm sleeping my mind goes crazy. I'd pay $100 dollars to have an on/off switch for it.
I pretend to care about a lot more things than I actually care about. I can fake enthusiasm and interest and concern really well.
I hate when I realize that the only times that I pray are when I'm sad or scared or needing or wanting.
Word vomit. I feel better know.
Page Thirty-Two: Whatcha Gonna Do
To catch up, I'm going to have to dig in my memory bank for the clutch stories over the past couple months. If not for your reading pleasures, than for my personal nostalgia years from now. Here's one for the books.
A normal Thursday night in college typically consists of dressing up like something or someone ridiculous, not because it's Halloween, but because it's Thursday. This particular Thursday was coined "Career Day" and my roommate Leigh had be scheming her perfect outfit for days. A wedding dress. M.R.S. Degree. Oh so clever. The stunning gown she found was off the racks at Goodwill and about three sizes too small, but she bought it anyways after much reassuring that it was nothing a hot glue gun and some scissors couldn't fix. It was God awful. The ugliest, snow-monster dress I've ever seen.
Anyways, after we doctored her dress up and literally tied and glued her in it, we were off. By the way, I was an E! News Red Carpet Correspondent, but...not important. She had two Miller High Life bottles and a fanny pack. Because it's true that wierd things happen to wierd people, a camera crew for a new COPS like show was patrolling with our city's policemen that night. Who better for an episode than a raging bride-to-be with a fanny pack, right? Little did she know that before the police busted the party they had been filming her for about 20 minutes. They saw her try to jump a fence with a 10 foot train and they saw her ditch her Forties in the bushes.
The cops ended up having to help Leigh up out of a mud puddle and preceded to film her for another 30 minutes. She was giving them good T.V. Really good T.V. Trust me, I saw it. After begging her to sign the dotted line and pleading with the reasoning that she would make an awesome episode, they left her with a pretty little ticket and an epic story.
So happy to be only a spectator for this one.
Check out Leigh's blog: http://high-waistedlife.blogspot.com/ and look out for the new Cops show. On the G4 channel, airing soon!Page Thirty-One: Do You Know Where I've Been?
Shame on me. My adventures have been stalled at page thirty since August and there is just no excuse for that. A quick update, then it's back to the regular scheduled story-telling.
New:
Apartment, roommates and job. I gave up on washing cars and I now coach gymnastics. It is the best and most rewarding job I've ever had. My little girls and boys are precious and make even the worst days wonderful.
Friends, hairstyle and method of organizing my closet. I color coordinate now.
Classes that challenge me, teachers, responsibilites and guilty pleasures.
and
Adventures, of course.
Same:
Bad study habits, best friend and favorite boy.
Poor budgeting skills, bumperless car and love of high heals.
Perpetually empty gas tank.
Craving for the big city, desire to dress fabulously and stay young at heart forever.
Magnetism to odd people and even odder situations.
Stay tuned...
New:
Apartment, roommates and job. I gave up on washing cars and I now coach gymnastics. It is the best and most rewarding job I've ever had. My little girls and boys are precious and make even the worst days wonderful.
Friends, hairstyle and method of organizing my closet. I color coordinate now.
Classes that challenge me, teachers, responsibilites and guilty pleasures.
and
Adventures, of course.
Same:
Bad study habits, best friend and favorite boy.
Poor budgeting skills, bumperless car and love of high heals.
Perpetually empty gas tank.
Craving for the big city, desire to dress fabulously and stay young at heart forever.
Magnetism to odd people and even odder situations.
Stay tuned...
Page Thirty: I Need To Buy A Welcome Mat
I thought that adjusting back to the Texan's lifestyle would be challenging. I guess there is nothing at all challenging about the routine I developed immediately upon returning home: wake up, remove PJ's, put on swim suit, grab iPod, cell phone, water bottle, towel, and lay in pool chair...continue laying in pool chair until you can't produce anymore sweat and you absolutely must jump in the pool...jump in pool. Repeat daily.
The only obstacle I've noticed is driving. I can't seem to get my car to go over 60 mph without feeling like I'm doing laps at Texas Motor Speedway. I'm getting there though...slowly.
I packed my life up once more and loaded it all into my car. My entire life fits into my maroon X-Terra, not at all comfortably or in a way that's really highway safe, but it fits. Getting back to school meant getting a good hug I'd been waiting a long time for. It meant two new roommates to share coffee with in the morning and closets with at night. It meant multiple "how are you's" and "did you have a good summer's?". I have already acquired new skills, like painting a kitchen orange in your underwear while drinking white wine, making sure to jump off the counter gracefully to skip the lame songs that come on the shuffle. I'm clearly a bonafide multi-tasker.
It's exciting to see my old friends in their new houses with their big smiles painted on their faces as they show me around. It seems we are all happy to be growing up. When are we supposed to stop being happy about getting older?
My thank you notes are written, addressed and stamped. They're starring in me in my face as we speak begging to be sent out. One for my boss at ABC, one for my boss at Haute PR, one full of thanks and promised prayers for Mary, and one for my dad's boss thanking him for the plane ride back home. Honestly, I'm not looking forward to sending them away. When they're gone, it means that it really is all over.
My bed is made, my clothes are hung and there are two boxes of Kashi in my pantry. So, this must be home.
The only obstacle I've noticed is driving. I can't seem to get my car to go over 60 mph without feeling like I'm doing laps at Texas Motor Speedway. I'm getting there though...slowly.
I packed my life up once more and loaded it all into my car. My entire life fits into my maroon X-Terra, not at all comfortably or in a way that's really highway safe, but it fits. Getting back to school meant getting a good hug I'd been waiting a long time for. It meant two new roommates to share coffee with in the morning and closets with at night. It meant multiple "how are you's" and "did you have a good summer's?". I have already acquired new skills, like painting a kitchen orange in your underwear while drinking white wine, making sure to jump off the counter gracefully to skip the lame songs that come on the shuffle. I'm clearly a bonafide multi-tasker.
It's exciting to see my old friends in their new houses with their big smiles painted on their faces as they show me around. It seems we are all happy to be growing up. When are we supposed to stop being happy about getting older?
My thank you notes are written, addressed and stamped. They're starring in me in my face as we speak begging to be sent out. One for my boss at ABC, one for my boss at Haute PR, one full of thanks and promised prayers for Mary, and one for my dad's boss thanking him for the plane ride back home. Honestly, I'm not looking forward to sending them away. When they're gone, it means that it really is all over.
My bed is made, my clothes are hung and there are two boxes of Kashi in my pantry. So, this must be home.
Page Twenty-Nine: Now What?
I ended my adventure viewing the city from Top of the Rock on one last adventure with the British boy, then looking out the window of a Challenger down at the place that I called home for three months. I was blessed with perfect timing and was able to ride in the back of an empty jet, non-stop to Texas with the pilot I trust the most...my dad. He had a trip to New Jersey and I met him at the airport, loaded my tons and tons of lugguge into the back of the plane and napped on a leather couch for the 2 hour and 52 minute ride to Fort Worth. I love sneaking into the life of luxury, even if only for a moment, even if it really is only a fluke. My dad let the other pilot take over for most of the flight so we could catch up on the happenings of an unforgetable summer in New York City. I shared my stories and relayed my adventures in a way that is suitable for the ears of parents. Have I mentioned how grateful I am to have parents like the ones I have?
I was lugging one of my bags up the stairs in my house to be greeted by a little fellow, an unexpected visitor, one that you would only find on your stairs in Texas. I screamed "Lizard in the house, lizard in the house" until my dad came and caught the little guy. This is why my mom yells at my dad when he leaves the door out to the pool open. The backyard and all of it's tropical rainforest-esque vegetation is a much more suitable habitat for creatures of his kind. His tail fell off when my dad caught him to put him back in his happy place.
So now I'm back. I'm back in Texas with more clothing than I came with, more shoes, more stuff in general. I also came back with more life experience, a few more friends, and an entirely new outlook on how I want to live, love and be loved. My world has been changed by a place, and now I find myself back where I started. I'm not writing from a cubicle on the 17th floor of 2 Penn Plaza or an upper eastside apartment. I'm back in my bedroom in Texas. I can't help but wonder, now what?
I guess these aren't the Intern's Confessions anymore, are they? I guess these are the Ex-Intern's Confessions, the Texan's Confessions, the College Student's Confessions. I don't know what's going to fill these pages from now on and I don't know how I will be organizing my thoughts from here on out. But if I know myself at all than I know that the adventures are nowhere near over.
I try not to live in the past. I try to make clean chapter breaks when it comes to life and I try to be the girl with the smooth transitions. There's only one last thing to do before I say goodbye to what was once The Intern's Confessions... my ode to New York City and what it's made me:
Thanks for terrifying me, smacking me in the face, bringing me to tears, making me feel lonely for the first time in my life, stealing all of my money, mutalating the bottom of my feet, ruining all of my high heels, destroying my once golden bronzed skin, introducing me to people I'll know for life, throwing me into jobs I was not quite ready for, helping me to master Microsoft Excel, showing me the hard life, letting me get a glimpse into the life of the man on the subway who never arrives at his stop because the subway is his refuge and his home, showing me what hungry, poor, hurting, tired, broken, defeated looks like, and thank you that I've never had to be this person.
Thanks for blinding me with the city lights, shutting me up when I wanted to complain, letting me feel the most free I've ever felt, allowing me to get lost, giving me the opportunity to figure things out on my own, for laughing, running, walking, shopping, drinking, singing, swimming, dancing, learning, growing, teaching, loving, hating, fearing, hoping, aching, smiling.
It's really good to be home.
Page Twenty-Eight: Hard Falls and Close Calls
First of all, please excuse the nerdiness of a rhyming page title. Not really my style, but it just worked to well to not use it.
While the previous page displayed my sentimental side, page twenty-eight will depict absolutely no sentiment whatsoever. After reading this you will only view this Texan as a clumsy idiot with an odd magnetism to strange situations and even stranger people.
Rachel and I, after much debate decided that not going out in the city one last time before she headed home would just be criminal. We raced back to Jersey, got ourselves as cute as a humid sticky basement will allow and then made our way back to the city. Note: don't even try to wear jeans or pants of any kind in humidity like that. There is no hope. You might as well not even straighten your hair or put on make-up.
We met up with the crew of interns that I found myself surrounded by all summer long, in the same booth that I have found myself sitting in all summer long. Like a typical Rach and the Texan night would go, we managed to find friends of the Italian descent. Go figure. Also remaining in perfect Rach and the Texan character, we managed to find a Duane Reade to satisfy our perpetual Goldfish and Trail-Mix craving.
Rach and two of the Italians waited outside while I went in with Nico, the third and most studly Italian, on a desperate search for crunchy goodness. I was wearing a pair of grey peak-toes that were my moms until she realized once and for all, after years of convincing, that she is not 26 anymore. They are out of this world high and are painful even to my completely numb feet.
I took about two steps down the flight of stairs before my big show. I missed a step or slipped or tripped or stumbled and found myself tumbling head-first to what I thought would be my inevitable demise. Nico grabbed my right foot trying to be a hero and thank God he did. Miraculously I was granted another chance at life.
The entire Duane Reade staff rushed to my rescue which makes me wonder how loud of a thud I made. They thought they were going to have to call an ambulance, I swear. I assured them I was fine in between my obnoxious and uncontrollable laughter. They quickly jumped on my dramatic plunge as the perfect opportunity to try to sell me every medicine, bangage, pair of flip-flops they had in that place. Somehow, I ended up standing at the register with a $17.00 total.
Excuse me Duane Reade, I don't have brain damage. I just want my Goldfish, Ok? (A new bag of course, because I crushed the first bag into crumbs.)
So I relay the tramatic experience to Rach wishing she had been there to see it. On to the next part of the adventure...the close call part.
We are standing outside talking to the Italians. I didn't take into much consideration that the particular corner we were standing on was strangely empty. One of the Italians threw out a generous cocain offer. This Texan has a strict no hard drugs policy so I politely said, no thank you, have a good night, we're going to head home. Rachel and I turned around to see about 8 NFL sized black boys surrounding us. We squeezed out of the not-so-friendly looking semi-circle as quickly as possible.
Rachel is convinced she has a guardian angel and judging by her track record, I believe her. An off-duty cab was sitting on the corner and for some reason signaled to me saying he would take us. We got in and Rach told him to not let anyone in the cab besides us. Just drive, just drive, mister. The group of guys that seemed to magically appear were trying to follow us into the cab, so miracle man sped off.
To make matters worse, in the all of the commotion and cab jumping, Rach lost her cell phone. Of course.
Is the moral of the story this summer to stay away from Italian boys? Wolf in sheeps clothing, perhaps?
Nah, too pretty.
While the previous page displayed my sentimental side, page twenty-eight will depict absolutely no sentiment whatsoever. After reading this you will only view this Texan as a clumsy idiot with an odd magnetism to strange situations and even stranger people.
Rachel and I, after much debate decided that not going out in the city one last time before she headed home would just be criminal. We raced back to Jersey, got ourselves as cute as a humid sticky basement will allow and then made our way back to the city. Note: don't even try to wear jeans or pants of any kind in humidity like that. There is no hope. You might as well not even straighten your hair or put on make-up.
We met up with the crew of interns that I found myself surrounded by all summer long, in the same booth that I have found myself sitting in all summer long. Like a typical Rach and the Texan night would go, we managed to find friends of the Italian descent. Go figure. Also remaining in perfect Rach and the Texan character, we managed to find a Duane Reade to satisfy our perpetual Goldfish and Trail-Mix craving.
Rach and two of the Italians waited outside while I went in with Nico, the third and most studly Italian, on a desperate search for crunchy goodness. I was wearing a pair of grey peak-toes that were my moms until she realized once and for all, after years of convincing, that she is not 26 anymore. They are out of this world high and are painful even to my completely numb feet.
I took about two steps down the flight of stairs before my big show. I missed a step or slipped or tripped or stumbled and found myself tumbling head-first to what I thought would be my inevitable demise. Nico grabbed my right foot trying to be a hero and thank God he did. Miraculously I was granted another chance at life.
The entire Duane Reade staff rushed to my rescue which makes me wonder how loud of a thud I made. They thought they were going to have to call an ambulance, I swear. I assured them I was fine in between my obnoxious and uncontrollable laughter. They quickly jumped on my dramatic plunge as the perfect opportunity to try to sell me every medicine, bangage, pair of flip-flops they had in that place. Somehow, I ended up standing at the register with a $17.00 total.
Excuse me Duane Reade, I don't have brain damage. I just want my Goldfish, Ok? (A new bag of course, because I crushed the first bag into crumbs.)
So I relay the tramatic experience to Rach wishing she had been there to see it. On to the next part of the adventure...the close call part.
We are standing outside talking to the Italians. I didn't take into much consideration that the particular corner we were standing on was strangely empty. One of the Italians threw out a generous cocain offer. This Texan has a strict no hard drugs policy so I politely said, no thank you, have a good night, we're going to head home. Rachel and I turned around to see about 8 NFL sized black boys surrounding us. We squeezed out of the not-so-friendly looking semi-circle as quickly as possible.
Rachel is convinced she has a guardian angel and judging by her track record, I believe her. An off-duty cab was sitting on the corner and for some reason signaled to me saying he would take us. We got in and Rach told him to not let anyone in the cab besides us. Just drive, just drive, mister. The group of guys that seemed to magically appear were trying to follow us into the cab, so miracle man sped off.
To make matters worse, in the all of the commotion and cab jumping, Rach lost her cell phone. Of course.
Is the moral of the story this summer to stay away from Italian boys? Wolf in sheeps clothing, perhaps?
Nah, too pretty.
Page Twenty-Seven: Affection Was Never Wasted
As my time here is running short I find myself writing less and living more. I'm soaking up every last drop of this city. I think I look at it's sky line through different eyes now. I honestly cannot express what this place has meant in my life. It's stupid to even try to put it into words because I would never do the impact it's made any justice at all.
I've found friends I will remember forever. The people I've developed relationships are one's with big dreams and big personalities and I'm dying to see what they will be up to a year from now. There's no doubt in my mind each of them will be diving deep into big things. With 5 days left in NYC, I can't help but get a little sappy. I came to the city to drown myself with the real world and I think I did just that.
I worked at a restaurant in Maine a couple summers back and my boss gave me a compliment I won't ever forget. "You know why I love you so much? Because you haven't been hardend by the world yet."
I didn't know what that meant. I didn't really know if that statement was even a compliment at all. Now I know that is. I hope I never become hardend by the world. I feel like I've lived in a place for the last 3 months, where everyone is a little hardened; a little tougher, a little meaner, a little colder and a little more worldly. I think I took from these people what I was meant to take. Caution, wisdom, stregnth, courage, selflessness, self-respect, desire, drive, a little fear even. I hope I rubbed off on this place a little, too.
My adventures in the city aren't over yet. I know what can happen in a short 5 days. In fact, my next page, page twenty-eight, will depict some of my most memorable adventures yet.
I'm so grateful for what this city has given me.
Page Twenty-Six: The Mafia Doesn't Exist
Thursday was bitter sweet. I sent Anna off and picked Rachel up. I wish I could put our vacation together into words. I'll start by saying the mafia does exist. Then I will tell you that we have befriended a few mobsters. Hopefully I won't regret saying any of this. Hopefully Don won't be sitting on my couch in a suit with a cigar tonight when I come home from work.
We have spent two of our evenings turned into nights on Mulberry St. drinking wine and having fake birthdays. After bottle number three, a version of the happy birthday song that had a raunchy, Italian undertone, and a free t-shirt, we headed with our new friends to the Mulberry St. Bar. There we taught the mafia men how to take a shot like a Texan and we snagged another free t-shirt. Rachel and I were wearing both of them by the end of the night.
The mafia does exist and they're a pretty rowdy crowd, if I do say so myself. Who knew people who looked just like my grandpa could be so much fun?
Later we met up with two of my friends and they came back to my apartment with us. I spent the rest of the night and into the morning searching Direct TV tirelessly for Family Guy, laughing with the Asian boy, Andrew, Rachel and a precious Turkish boy who ironically is named Turk.
Let me set the scene:
Madison Ave. (a place where a girl like me really doesn't belong. I have a hard enough time purchasing trail-mix and Duane Reade.) The club was called Bruno and it was filled to the brim with people my parents age and older. Rachel and I ventured there with the mafia knowing that we live life like it's a movie script.
The man and the woman at the door knew that we were coming. The man greeted us and the woman said follow me. It didn't look like a club or a bar or a restaurant. It looked like an apartment building for the rich and famous. We walked down a hallway and then the woman pressed a button. The wall slid open and we walked inside to a table. Don handed the woman a roll of cash.
I learned to never walk in front of the boys in a place like this, because "you will get a better table if the men are in front". The mafia men didn't like our location. So with a raise of his hand and a whisper to our hostess, the woman found us a better table and kindly made the people sitting there move...so we could have it. Seriously?
Rachel and I danced the night away in a 45-year-old fashion.
Any description of my last couple of nights really do the real thing no justice at all. I have a funny life.
We have spent two of our evenings turned into nights on Mulberry St. drinking wine and having fake birthdays. After bottle number three, a version of the happy birthday song that had a raunchy, Italian undertone, and a free t-shirt, we headed with our new friends to the Mulberry St. Bar. There we taught the mafia men how to take a shot like a Texan and we snagged another free t-shirt. Rachel and I were wearing both of them by the end of the night.
The mafia does exist and they're a pretty rowdy crowd, if I do say so myself. Who knew people who looked just like my grandpa could be so much fun?
Later we met up with two of my friends and they came back to my apartment with us. I spent the rest of the night and into the morning searching Direct TV tirelessly for Family Guy, laughing with the Asian boy, Andrew, Rachel and a precious Turkish boy who ironically is named Turk.
Let me set the scene:
Madison Ave. (a place where a girl like me really doesn't belong. I have a hard enough time purchasing trail-mix and Duane Reade.) The club was called Bruno and it was filled to the brim with people my parents age and older. Rachel and I ventured there with the mafia knowing that we live life like it's a movie script.
The man and the woman at the door knew that we were coming. The man greeted us and the woman said follow me. It didn't look like a club or a bar or a restaurant. It looked like an apartment building for the rich and famous. We walked down a hallway and then the woman pressed a button. The wall slid open and we walked inside to a table. Don handed the woman a roll of cash.
I learned to never walk in front of the boys in a place like this, because "you will get a better table if the men are in front". The mafia men didn't like our location. So with a raise of his hand and a whisper to our hostess, the woman found us a better table and kindly made the people sitting there move...so we could have it. Seriously?
Rachel and I danced the night away in a 45-year-old fashion.
Any description of my last couple of nights really do the real thing no justice at all. I have a funny life.
Page Twenty-Five: The Chronicles of the Texans
I have had the most wonderful time with my little slice of Texas this past week. I send Anna off tomorrow morning just to see another smiling Texan come for a visit in the big city. I had no idea what it meant to have a visitor. Well, this is what it means...it means you go on a vacation yourself. When your supposed to be working/cleaning/slee
ping/saving money/etc...you're not.
When you're supposed to be tucked into bed before a big day at ABC you're standing in the pouring rain screaming your lungs out at a Dave Matthews concert.
When you're supposed to be eating a slice of cheese pizza for 2.75 for dinner, you're dishing out 15 bucks at a fancy italian place on 5th Ave.
When you're supposed to be dry cleaning all of the pencil skirts your mom let you borrow, you're stuffing one in a back pack with your wet swim suit and a tooth brush.
There are stories that will never be told and memories that will never be forgotten.
I played tour-guide like I'd lived here for years. She saw everything.
We made our commute everymorning and discovered a love for Dunkin Donuts coffee.
We went on a Coney Island adventure to meet up with Tom, the British boy. I'd never been there before and I loved it! We got food on the boardwalk and watched "Shoot the Freak" for a while. I will definately be making another day a Coney Island day.
It was absolutely gorgeous for her entire stay, until the day of the Dave Matthews concert. We didn't care though. We wore our swim suits anyways. As soon as we got to Long Island, we ran to the beach that was completely empty aside from the two life-guards, who I'm sure were annoyed to be working in the rain. We went swimming and dug up all the pretty shells we could find, then we finished off our box of Mike&Ikes so we could store them inside. Dave was simply amazing. The theater literally sits in the water. When the tide rose, people in the box seats were in water up to their ankles.
My mini-vacacation was wonderful and I'm sad to see Anna leave! It was so good to have a familiar face here for a while.
Safe travels Anna Banana, I hope you loved every second you spent in NYC...and Rach, I'll see you soon!
ping/saving money/etc...you're not.When you're supposed to be tucked into bed before a big day at ABC you're standing in the pouring rain screaming your lungs out at a Dave Matthews concert.
When you're supposed to be eating a slice of cheese pizza for 2.75 for dinner, you're dishing out 15 bucks at a fancy italian place on 5th Ave.
When you're supposed to be dry cleaning all of the pencil skirts your mom let you borrow, you're stuffing one in a back pack with your wet swim suit and a tooth brush.
There are stories that will never be told and memories that will never be forgotten.
I played tour-guide like I'd lived here for years. She saw everything.
We made our commute everymorning and discovered a love for Dunkin Donuts coffee.
We went on a Coney Island adventure to meet up with Tom, the British boy. I'd never been there before and I loved it! We got food on the boardwalk and watched "Shoot the Freak" for a while. I will definately be making another day a Coney Island day.
It was absolutely gorgeous for her entire stay, until the day of the Dave Matthews concert. We didn't care though. We wore our swim suits anyways. As soon as we got to Long Island, we ran to the beach that was completely empty aside from the two life-guards, who I'm sure were annoyed to be working in the rain. We went swimming and dug up all the pretty shells we could find, then we finished off our box of Mike&Ikes so we could store them inside. Dave was simply amazing. The theater literally sits in the water. When the tide rose, people in the box seats were in water up to their ankles.
My mini-vacacation was wonderful and I'm sad to see Anna leave! It was so good to have a familiar face here for a while.
Safe travels Anna Banana, I hope you loved every second you spent in NYC...and Rach, I'll see you soon!
Page Twenty-Four: The Homeland
The summer after my freshman year of college I headed up to our summer house like I have every year before. It was different that summer, though. For the first time in my life I was homesick and I felt like I had tasted real life and then got thrown back to pop-up-book land without any friends or cell phone service (Giant misconception, by the way. Bobcat Bucks and dorm life is not real life and 3 months without a cell phone actually does wonders for whiny little biotches like myself.)
I feel like I might be the most flexible, easily-assimilating person in the world. I don't meet too many strangers and chances are I will consider you a best friend within the first five minutes of our introduction. There are ups and downs to this, but I can't change it. I've tried.
My mom took me to the city at the end of my lonely, secluded summer to make up for my short-term depression. That's when I decided that I would spend every waking second of my sophomore year searching for an internship in New York City. I always knew I wanted to spend time here, so I googled and vault.com-ed it until my fingers fell off. I ended up with three interviews set-up for Christmas break. I knew I would work at Haute PR as soon as I met Robin. ABC didn't come until months later. I was lucky enough to get offered the job without even interviewing in person. Everything fell into place perfectly. I kept waiting for something to not work out...that kind of perfectly.
I never imagined that I would miss Texas in a place like this. How could I miss home in the center of world? I needed a new adventure and I was ready to get lost and be confused and broke and not have a mommy or daddy with a get-out-of-jail-free card. I got all of that and more.
I don't miss my parents too much. We talk all the time and I'm used to being away from them. I don't even miss my friends that much. I just miss home. I don't think I appreciated where I came from enough as I should have.
Nobody has a tattoo of Colorado or Kansas or New York, but everybody and their mother has a Texas tattoo. (Note: I'm not advocating or encouraging this. In fact, if you're considering paying respect to the homeland, for the love of God think of something a little less over-done and tacky.)
My Miss List:
1. My trusty Xterra, El Diablo.
2. Hot, summery, unbearable weather.
3. A tan.
4. Not having to wear heels and pencil skirts (Something I never thought I would say).
5. Commutes that take less than an hour.
6. Four drinks for the price of one NYC drink.
7. Jeans and boots.
8. MD20/20 with a straw.
9. The echo-spot by the library.
10. 7-11 cheese cubes and apples.
11. Mexican food.
12. The river.
13. Austin.
14. Wearing shorts.
15. 90's dance parties.
16. Pretending I know how to two-step.
17. Laughing at boys in Ed Hardy and Affliction shirts behind their backs.
18. Watching Cops.
19. Highway 35.
20. Big dogs.
21. Boys that love their big dogs and have good manners.
22. Sonic Diet Sprite with Sugar-free cherry.
23. Free Venti Un-sweetend Passion Tea when Anna's working at Starbucks.
24. The people who work the late shift at Dominoes.
25. Bringing a swim suit everywhere I go.
26. Doing push-ups in inappropriate places.
27. Nap time and playing outside.
28. Free Wi-Fi.
29. Quiet.
30. The less calm, less mature version of myself.
I feel like I might be the most flexible, easily-assimilating person in the world. I don't meet too many strangers and chances are I will consider you a best friend within the first five minutes of our introduction. There are ups and downs to this, but I can't change it. I've tried.
My mom took me to the city at the end of my lonely, secluded summer to make up for my short-term depression. That's when I decided that I would spend every waking second of my sophomore year searching for an internship in New York City. I always knew I wanted to spend time here, so I googled and vault.com-ed it until my fingers fell off. I ended up with three interviews set-up for Christmas break. I knew I would work at Haute PR as soon as I met Robin. ABC didn't come until months later. I was lucky enough to get offered the job without even interviewing in person. Everything fell into place perfectly. I kept waiting for something to not work out...that kind of perfectly.
I never imagined that I would miss Texas in a place like this. How could I miss home in the center of world? I needed a new adventure and I was ready to get lost and be confused and broke and not have a mommy or daddy with a get-out-of-jail-free card. I got all of that and more.
I don't miss my parents too much. We talk all the time and I'm used to being away from them. I don't even miss my friends that much. I just miss home. I don't think I appreciated where I came from enough as I should have.
Nobody has a tattoo of Colorado or Kansas or New York, but everybody and their mother has a Texas tattoo. (Note: I'm not advocating or encouraging this. In fact, if you're considering paying respect to the homeland, for the love of God think of something a little less over-done and tacky.)
My Miss List:
1. My trusty Xterra, El Diablo.
2. Hot, summery, unbearable weather.
3. A tan.
4. Not having to wear heels and pencil skirts (Something I never thought I would say).
5. Commutes that take less than an hour.
6. Four drinks for the price of one NYC drink.
7. Jeans and boots.
8. MD20/20 with a straw.
9. The echo-spot by the library.
10. 7-11 cheese cubes and apples.
11. Mexican food.
12. The river.
13. Austin.
14. Wearing shorts.
15. 90's dance parties.
16. Pretending I know how to two-step.
17. Laughing at boys in Ed Hardy and Affliction shirts behind their backs.
18. Watching Cops.
19. Highway 35.
20. Big dogs.
21. Boys that love their big dogs and have good manners.
22. Sonic Diet Sprite with Sugar-free cherry.
23. Free Venti Un-sweetend Passion Tea when Anna's working at Starbucks.
24. The people who work the late shift at Dominoes.
25. Bringing a swim suit everywhere I go.
26. Doing push-ups in inappropriate places.
27. Nap time and playing outside.
28. Free Wi-Fi.
29. Quiet.
30. The less calm, less mature version of myself.
Page Twenty-Three: Booked
Today's the big day! Anna made her first flight into Charlotte this morning, so now it's time to pray she makes it on to LaGuardia. I'm hoping my two bars of cell phone power last me the entire day. Anna and me at our finest-->
The PR girls (there's a new addition by the way, Daniela, from Canada. She's wonderful!) and I were in a cab running an errand for our boss. My ex-roommate and best friend, Rachel, called to tell me she bought a plane ticket to come see me...she arrives the day Anna leaves and she's staying until the day Charlie is supposed to come. Thus, page twenty-three's title. I'm booked. I can't stretch my smile wide enough.
Yesterday was spent at Haute PR, appeasing a client who seems to have bonded with me. The girls kept mentioning his name and their current task...the Business Plan...with a little bit of discouragment in their voices. I decided I was up for a challenge. We clicked. Now he won't work over the phone with anyone but me. To me, this is one of the funniest things that's transpired yet this summer. Old Richard. By the end of our third or fouth business call with each other, he was inserting jokes into the business plan when we were making updates.
I slept at Janes place again last night. I have the weirdest dreams when I sleep in that bunk bed for some reason. Weird, good though.
We met up with some friends at Van Diemens anniversary party. A night like that means Janie and the Texan eating pizza...getting in a cab...going somewhere...then realizing how dumb we are and returning to our comfort zone. The course of events typically look something like that. Throw in a creeper or two that we mistake for a trustworthy person we have known for years, and you've got the average New York City night with a group of interns playing grown-up in Manhattan for three months.
I just got a text from Anna saying that LaGuardia was looking good for her. My family flies for free so we gave her a buddy-pass to save her some moolah. That means she has to fly stand-by and play the waiting game that I grew accustom to by the age of 2. It's a fun game when it works.
She deserves to get here, though. She works harder than I ever have.
The money-saving/I'm-really-cheap-diet is going well. I still have $7.00, so things are looking up! I'm wearing my favorite scarf today. It's a pretty periwinkle that looks surprisingly good with red lipstick, something I wear when I'm feeling a little daring. I have the rest of my summer filling up nicely, doing things I never thought I would get to do with people I never thought would be here with me, yet I'm really most excited for the simple things.
Example: riding the bus over GW with Anna later today, making sure we get a seat on the left side so we can watch the city go by. It's my favorite part of everyday. I like to get sappy with it and listen to songs like Beautiful Mess by Jason Mraz. Too far, I know.
Today's Confession: Sorry, to guilty to fess up. You'll never know. It's a little combo. Half success, half mistake. Actually, let's go ahead and make that 40/60, success to mistake.
THIS JUST IN: ANNA MADE THE NYC FLIGHT! Told you she deserved this. That plane just can't fly fast enough!
Page Twenty-Two: My Big Debut
The other day I got to spend the night with my friend Jane who I hadn't seen in a while. Besides the good quality time spent with a lovely lady I discovered that she has an extra bed, complete with sheets, a comforter and a pillow in her NYU summer housing dorm. A miraculous find that I will continue to take advantage of...tonight, in fact.
We went to a favorite bar of ours and I was introduced to one of Janes new friends, Morgan. She's a California girl, vegetarian since birth, who wears necklaces with leaves on them. She is 10 on the fun scale.
A couple weeks ago, my friend Janie and I fell into a trap that some studly boys set out just for us. They had some pro-basketball player alter-ego's that worked like a charm. One of them, Shav (Marc) turned out to be a pretty swell guy. The other one, Gerald Henderson (Justin), turned out to be a male stripper. Luckily, the relationships formed were not ones that required 100% honesty or anything, so the joke-gone-to-far was laughed off over drinks.
Yesterday was a good one. A great day. I woke up early to meet the PR girls at the premier of the Wendy Williams show. One of our girls, got to ask a question on-air. Katie, Janie and I were front and center and got way too much air-time. I haven't seen the show yet, but rumor has it I got my fifteen minutes of fame. Wendy had Vanessa Williams on the show. She's beautiful. I would trade faces with her any day.
The whole experience made me realize that the dream I have is the dream I want to stick with. I want to have a set and a couch and a tag-line. I want to do promo's at the end of the show and I want to have guys with spiked hair and a v-neck touch up my lipgloss during commercial breaks. This summer is turning into one big validation for the Texan. Everything I thought that I wanted, really really is what I want.
The downside to yesterday was that I realized how little money I have in my wallet. I think it has something to do with the 24-hour diner Jane, Morgan and I went to. Anyways, I'm going to stretch the last 7 dollars in my wallet as far as I possibly can. I'll use this inconvenience as the start of my back to school diet...something I created with the sole purpose of tricking myself into saving money with a little skinny incentive.
Big News: One of my best friends in the world, Anna, is coming tomorrow! I can't wait to hug my little piece of Texas! She's going to put my ashy, pasty white legs to shame.
Today's Confession: I've paid my last couple bus rides over GW with change and I've shamefully, purposely handed the driver my fare with a little less than I owe knowing that he wouldn't count it. I really don't feel good about this.
We went to a favorite bar of ours and I was introduced to one of Janes new friends, Morgan. She's a California girl, vegetarian since birth, who wears necklaces with leaves on them. She is 10 on the fun scale.
A couple weeks ago, my friend Janie and I fell into a trap that some studly boys set out just for us. They had some pro-basketball player alter-ego's that worked like a charm. One of them, Shav (Marc) turned out to be a pretty swell guy. The other one, Gerald Henderson (Justin), turned out to be a male stripper. Luckily, the relationships formed were not ones that required 100% honesty or anything, so the joke-gone-to-far was laughed off over drinks.
Yesterday was a good one. A great day. I woke up early to meet the PR girls at the premier of the Wendy Williams show. One of our girls, got to ask a question on-air. Katie, Janie and I were front and center and got way too much air-time. I haven't seen the show yet, but rumor has it I got my fifteen minutes of fame. Wendy had Vanessa Williams on the show. She's beautiful. I would trade faces with her any day.
The whole experience made me realize that the dream I have is the dream I want to stick with. I want to have a set and a couch and a tag-line. I want to do promo's at the end of the show and I want to have guys with spiked hair and a v-neck touch up my lipgloss during commercial breaks. This summer is turning into one big validation for the Texan. Everything I thought that I wanted, really really is what I want.
The downside to yesterday was that I realized how little money I have in my wallet. I think it has something to do with the 24-hour diner Jane, Morgan and I went to. Anyways, I'm going to stretch the last 7 dollars in my wallet as far as I possibly can. I'll use this inconvenience as the start of my back to school diet...something I created with the sole purpose of tricking myself into saving money with a little skinny incentive.
Big News: One of my best friends in the world, Anna, is coming tomorrow! I can't wait to hug my little piece of Texas! She's going to put my ashy, pasty white legs to shame.
Today's Confession: I've paid my last couple bus rides over GW with change and I've shamefully, purposely handed the driver my fare with a little less than I owe knowing that he wouldn't count it. I really don't feel good about this.
Page Twenty-One: The A Train Observer
I decided to walk the 20 blocks to Columbus Circle before I started my commute home. It was a pretty day and with sunshine being such a rarity I felt like it would be criminal to waste it underground right away.
The seat next to me was filled with the most precious 3-year-old, turning 4 on her burfday, with fluffy pigtails. She plopped herself down and started a conversation about my pants and 'why are your jeans ripped?' and 'why are you readin?' and 'you have red lipstick.' We were instant friends. Her mom tried picking her up to take her to her daddy and she screamed her best 3-year-old scream. So, she remained being my seat companion and my entertainment.
We turned the pages of my new My Subway Ride book. She loved it and my true identity became clear to me yet again when I realized that I actually spent money on that. We chatted the rest of our journey away like we were long lost friends.
I still feel like I'm 3 years old.
This morning when I walked down the stairs at the 178th St. stop, my ears were immediately drawn to the boy/man/somewhere in between rapping along to whatever was playing on his ipod. Something about how the bank can't hold all his money, blah blah blah. He was wearing a khaki pin-stripe suit with a paisly tie. As you know, I'm quick to judge an outfit. He did OK, though.
He tapped on my shoulder and asked me how to get to Wall St.
Later, during our ride we chatted about work and internships and making it to the top. He told me the top is lonely, so lonely there's an echo.
I told him that if that's the case than I don't want to be there.
He said it's the best place on earth.
Agree to disagree, I guess.
If I had to pick the mindset of one of my two subjects, I would definately pick the one who still believes in Santa and takes naps.
Until next time, A Train. See you on my way back to Dirty Jersey.
The seat next to me was filled with the most precious 3-year-old, turning 4 on her burfday, with fluffy pigtails. She plopped herself down and started a conversation about my pants and 'why are your jeans ripped?' and 'why are you readin?' and 'you have red lipstick.' We were instant friends. Her mom tried picking her up to take her to her daddy and she screamed her best 3-year-old scream. So, she remained being my seat companion and my entertainment.
We turned the pages of my new My Subway Ride book. She loved it and my true identity became clear to me yet again when I realized that I actually spent money on that. We chatted the rest of our journey away like we were long lost friends.
I still feel like I'm 3 years old.
This morning when I walked down the stairs at the 178th St. stop, my ears were immediately drawn to the boy/man/somewhere in between rapping along to whatever was playing on his ipod. Something about how the bank can't hold all his money, blah blah blah. He was wearing a khaki pin-stripe suit with a paisly tie. As you know, I'm quick to judge an outfit. He did OK, though.
He tapped on my shoulder and asked me how to get to Wall St.
Later, during our ride we chatted about work and internships and making it to the top. He told me the top is lonely, so lonely there's an echo.
I told him that if that's the case than I don't want to be there.
He said it's the best place on earth.
Agree to disagree, I guess.
If I had to pick the mindset of one of my two subjects, I would definately pick the one who still believes in Santa and takes naps.
Until next time, A Train. See you on my way back to Dirty Jersey.
Page Twenty: Taxi Cab Confessions
A giant, gaping lull in the work day turns me into a computer hog for purposes 1000% unrelated to anything to do with selling air time to advertising agencgies. In reality though, this blog could mean more to my internship then we realize. At the end of the summer I'm supposed to present some kind of journal to my internship coordinator to ensure that I earned my wopping 1 hour of college credit. I'm sure they will be pleased to know that my time is being used wisely.
This morning I got dressed in an outfit that would make my mommy proud. A black and white Lily-esque dress, a white trench, flats and my hair pulled back just like she likes it. I'm in uncharted waters in an outfit like this. It's my alter-ego attire. I can't take this dress from day to night which is always a subconscious goal of mine when I get ready in the morning.
I bought myself the best NYC souvenir this morning at Borders. It's a big old picture book called My Subway Ride. I knew I had to have it the moment I laid my eyes on it's colorful cover, sitting next to all the other books intended for 5-year-olds. (Check out my appropriate AP Style!)
"The city is the body, the subway is the blood, running through tunnel veins.
It is sound and rhythm,
a pulse, the pulse,
a heartbeat,
a jazz riff,
a constant sea."
A little bit of a drama-mama interpretation of public transportation, but My Subway Ride will have a special shelf in my apartment next semester all the same.
I've always been real into calling shot-gun first. I get legitimately upset when I'm beat to it. I've discovered that the front seat of a cab is just as thrilling. The front seat puts a whole new spin on the whole taxi thing.
Last night, I gave our cab driver the grand inquisition, completely against his will. I got the low-down on the taxi system and the inside scoop on drivers and the unwritten laws that you just kinda know if you spend your days and nights driving a bright yellow car.
Cab drivers keep their cars at there homes. There's no cab barn like there's a bus barn for school districts in the suburbs. Sometimes two guys share a car and they come pick it up at the other guys house before their shift. There are two shifts, day and night. Sometimes they do both. They make their own hours and to my suprise there is no master cab driver who tells them when to start and stop. My interviewee has never given anyone a ride for free or discounted anyone, but he has also never overcharged anyone because he didn't like them or thought they were annoying. He has been puked on and he didn't like it. I asked him if there is some kind of cab drivers alliance or if they have a union or if they wave to each other like mid-life crisis men in corvettes do. He said no. He only waves if he sees a cab driver he knows, which typically is a once daily occurence.
I managed to find myself singing karaoke last night. Man in the Mirror, I believe. Go figure. It was a duet with my North Carolina friend and apparently it was painful. The mics got pulled from our hands toward the end of it because the Karaoke Diva in charge confused Tuesday's at Van Diemens for American Idol finals. She made sure to make an announcement after our disaster performance saying that only people who are serious need to sing, oh, and no screaming. Chill out lady. I thought we were fabulous!
Correction: We didn't sing Man in the Mirror. It was just confirmed. It was actually All For You, or You Are the Only One...? Something like that.
This morning I got dressed in an outfit that would make my mommy proud. A black and white Lily-esque dress, a white trench, flats and my hair pulled back just like she likes it. I'm in uncharted waters in an outfit like this. It's my alter-ego attire. I can't take this dress from day to night which is always a subconscious goal of mine when I get ready in the morning.
I bought myself the best NYC souvenir this morning at Borders. It's a big old picture book called My Subway Ride. I knew I had to have it the moment I laid my eyes on it's colorful cover, sitting next to all the other books intended for 5-year-olds. (Check out my appropriate AP Style!)
"The city is the body, the subway is the blood, running through tunnel veins.
It is sound and rhythm,
a pulse, the pulse,
a heartbeat,
a jazz riff,
a constant sea."
A little bit of a drama-mama interpretation of public transportation, but My Subway Ride will have a special shelf in my apartment next semester all the same.
I've always been real into calling shot-gun first. I get legitimately upset when I'm beat to it. I've discovered that the front seat of a cab is just as thrilling. The front seat puts a whole new spin on the whole taxi thing.
Last night, I gave our cab driver the grand inquisition, completely against his will. I got the low-down on the taxi system and the inside scoop on drivers and the unwritten laws that you just kinda know if you spend your days and nights driving a bright yellow car.
Cab drivers keep their cars at there homes. There's no cab barn like there's a bus barn for school districts in the suburbs. Sometimes two guys share a car and they come pick it up at the other guys house before their shift. There are two shifts, day and night. Sometimes they do both. They make their own hours and to my suprise there is no master cab driver who tells them when to start and stop. My interviewee has never given anyone a ride for free or discounted anyone, but he has also never overcharged anyone because he didn't like them or thought they were annoying. He has been puked on and he didn't like it. I asked him if there is some kind of cab drivers alliance or if they have a union or if they wave to each other like mid-life crisis men in corvettes do. He said no. He only waves if he sees a cab driver he knows, which typically is a once daily occurence.
I managed to find myself singing karaoke last night. Man in the Mirror, I believe. Go figure. It was a duet with my North Carolina friend and apparently it was painful. The mics got pulled from our hands toward the end of it because the Karaoke Diva in charge confused Tuesday's at Van Diemens for American Idol finals. She made sure to make an announcement after our disaster performance saying that only people who are serious need to sing, oh, and no screaming. Chill out lady. I thought we were fabulous!
Correction: We didn't sing Man in the Mirror. It was just confirmed. It was actually All For You, or You Are the Only One...? Something like that.
Page Nineteen: The Simple Life
I left the bright lights of the city and made my way to a town that really is unlike any other, in my opinion anyways. Boothbay Harbor Maine is where I've spent my summers since 7th grade. I drank for the first time there, learned to drive there, fell in love with a silly boy there, had my first job there...a lot of really good, important firsts. The best way to describe the quaint fairy-tale town is to compare it to a pop-up book. In my mind, no one really exists there, it's a setting from a story that comes to life from the months of June to August. It's that kind of place.
I surprised my Dad and his face was priceless. I spent good quality time with my parents complete with fireworks and cookouts. And the destruction of a poor bikers brand new Harley, but I'm going to leave that one a mystery.
The only downside to the weekend was that I had to look out of our dining room window into the backyard to see an empty yard where my beloved trampoline once stood. My mom decided to give it away and I'm still deciding if I will ever be able to forgive her. I probably wont. It was my pride and joy and I spent more time bouncing on it than I ever did inside the house. I've fallen off it more times than I can count and I became a master of creating the perfect rainbow with the hose underneath.
I realized that people have the potential to be happy anywhere they are. I realized this weekend that I miss so many different places and so many different people all at once. When I was in Texas I cried before I left, then I craved my old wooden house in Maine. Then, this weekend, I was itching to get back to New York, a place I've called my home for just over a month. I guess what I'm trying to say is that sometimes, the excitement of life literally overwhealms me.
I wish I could be everywhere at once and see everything at once and meet every person at once. Maybe I got sappy this weekend. Or maybe I learned something.
I finished reading The Middle Place by Kelly Corrigan, which could have something to do with my sudden, intense appreciation for life and everything that defines it. Read it. It taught me things, made me laugh and even earned a couple spots in my quote journal...not an easy task.
Finally, July is here and that means visitors from the homeland. I cannot put into words how excited I am to see both (maybe even three) of my anticipated guests. I'm ready to show them what the life according to the Texan looks like now. I want to show them how well I know how to navigate my way around the concrete jungle and I want them to see how tough I can be. I want to take them to my favorite bar and I want to lay out on the Statue of Liberty lawn. I want to be a tourist and get sketched for 5 dollars in Times Square. That's a must.
It's time to get back to work.
Our current task: verbally bashing boys without brains who are intimidated by cute girls who know how to talk and think for themselves.
Current conflict: tell a boy whats up, or ignore them completely? I vote ignore them, it's more painful, cuts to the core of their ego and drives them up the wall. It's a winning solution 87% of the time.
Page Eighteen: Once Weekly Madness
Good morning from 2 Penn Plaza! I decided that I deserve a couple minutes to sneak in a blog after stuffing a box full of invoices into envelopes.
I woke up this morning on a tile floor in a student housing room at the New Yorker hotel. Never fear, I was in good hands. Needless to say last night was a good night in the city. Until I got stranded with only my bag of trailmix to comfort me. As luck, or utter misfortune that only seems to find me, would have it, a creepy 49-year-old man in a snazzy suit managed to surface. I explained my predicament to him at the hotel diner until my friends finally arrived and relieved me. After some pointless conversation and pretend intrest in anything he said, I left with some free food in my tummy. Worth it.
When I was getting ready for work I was excited to slip my feet into some new, teal flats that I hadn't worn yet. Naturally, the left shoe is a size bigger than the right. I solved the problem by shoving a napkin I found in the kitchen area of the ABC office into the toe. All better!
Haute PR had a meeting with Rich Baretta Private Training yesterday. He is a personal trainer to the stars and is looking for some representation. I fell in love with the dynamic of this place and would love to see it all grow. We met David Blaine while he was there working out. This is exciting of course, but I have to admit that I was more excited about the fact that John Mayer had been trained in the very room I was standing in. I threw my hands over my heart and asked if I could kiss the floor. Dramatic, I know, but I love him.
I had another promising e-mail come in from a man in Isreal who has created an olive oil based skin care line. He is looking for some rep in the U.S. and my plan is to repeatedly and passionately convince him that we're the firm for the job. Cross your fingers for me, again.
I'm looking forward to the simplicity of Boothbay Harbor, Maine this weekend. I'm also looking forward to seeing my daddy. I'm also looking forward to not having to go to work on Friday. I would hate to see a summer pass without spending some time in the odd, little town that helped to grow me up. This is my first summer that I haven't spent there so I can't wait to see it and all the colorful, grumpy people that I love.
The big city and all it's adventures will have to take a weekend break. It might need a break from me just as much as I need a break from it.
Today's Confession: Sometimes I nod my head in agreement at meetings even when I have never in my life heard of the person they're talking about or the publication they would like to see their brand name in, and I have a small bottle of left over vodka in purse underneath my umbrella.
This JUST in...I don't have work the next two days. Miracle?
I woke up this morning on a tile floor in a student housing room at the New Yorker hotel. Never fear, I was in good hands. Needless to say last night was a good night in the city. Until I got stranded with only my bag of trailmix to comfort me. As luck, or utter misfortune that only seems to find me, would have it, a creepy 49-year-old man in a snazzy suit managed to surface. I explained my predicament to him at the hotel diner until my friends finally arrived and relieved me. After some pointless conversation and pretend intrest in anything he said, I left with some free food in my tummy. Worth it.
When I was getting ready for work I was excited to slip my feet into some new, teal flats that I hadn't worn yet. Naturally, the left shoe is a size bigger than the right. I solved the problem by shoving a napkin I found in the kitchen area of the ABC office into the toe. All better!
Haute PR had a meeting with Rich Baretta Private Training yesterday. He is a personal trainer to the stars and is looking for some representation. I fell in love with the dynamic of this place and would love to see it all grow. We met David Blaine while he was there working out. This is exciting of course, but I have to admit that I was more excited about the fact that John Mayer had been trained in the very room I was standing in. I threw my hands over my heart and asked if I could kiss the floor. Dramatic, I know, but I love him.
I had another promising e-mail come in from a man in Isreal who has created an olive oil based skin care line. He is looking for some rep in the U.S. and my plan is to repeatedly and passionately convince him that we're the firm for the job. Cross your fingers for me, again.
I'm looking forward to the simplicity of Boothbay Harbor, Maine this weekend. I'm also looking forward to seeing my daddy. I'm also looking forward to not having to go to work on Friday. I would hate to see a summer pass without spending some time in the odd, little town that helped to grow me up. This is my first summer that I haven't spent there so I can't wait to see it and all the colorful, grumpy people that I love.
The big city and all it's adventures will have to take a weekend break. It might need a break from me just as much as I need a break from it.
Today's Confession: Sometimes I nod my head in agreement at meetings even when I have never in my life heard of the person they're talking about or the publication they would like to see their brand name in, and I have a small bottle of left over vodka in purse underneath my umbrella.
This JUST in...I don't have work the next two days. Miracle?
Page Seventeen: Looks Like the Good Lord Sent Me a Conversation Starter
I'm seeing dollar signs today. I'm about to (hopefully) sign my first client. The sun is shining. I'm also wearing one of my favorite dresses, my trusty cowboy boots, and I found a great quote in the book I'm reading. I didn't have to wait for a single bus or train today either. We have a meeting with a celeb personal trainer at 3 and I have a night of fun to look forward to.
I love days like these.
Today's blank page is going to be filled with a list of conversation topics that I can't wait to have with Charlie whenever I see him again.
1. The black smudges that fill sidewalks really are gum...my mom told me.
2. I see an electronic sign on the subway everyday that says 'Ozone Park', where Jack Kerouac lived.
3. I updated my quote journal last night and have a couple new, good ones.
4. Writers block is kicking in and I haven't gotten as far as I would've liked on my book. I need inspiration.
5. There is a big poster that says 'Subways are meant to take you home, not be your home', and I think that's mean. A homeless person shouldn't have to get anymore shit than they already do...shouldn't they be free from ridicule UNDER GROUND?
6. If you come here, I'm taking you to O Mango to get green tea frozen yogurt.
7. And I'm taking you to The Room
8. And Little Italy
9. And The American Museum of Natural History to see the space thing with all the fake stars.
10. I gave a lady 80 cents yesterday and this old guy told me I was 'a good woman'.
11. I ate really hot soup the other day before it cooled down because I was in a rush, and now my whole mouth is burned and it hurts to brush my teeth.
12. I'm flying to our Maine house on Friday to surprise my dad.
13. The NYAC has a rugby team.
14. I forgot Anna's birthday.
15. My boss has a law degree but stopped praciticing because she didn't like it. She should give you LSAT tips.
16. Does it feel like everyone's dying?
17. Do you think Michael Jackson was on Adderall? Do you think it's a killer?
18. I'm glad you don't like little dogs.
19. How come planes keep crashing?
20. I like Mary Ho much more now. Sometimes she brings me fruit, which is really nice.
21. Did I tell you I saw Mary Poppins on Broadway? I think I did. It was AMAZING!
22. I haven't fallen once since I've been in New York. A record.
23. I saw fake nerd glasses yesterday, like the ones in the outlets, and I thought about getting them for you but they were kinda girly.
24. You will never believe this! The 4th roommate in my apartment next semester all of sudden decided she doesn't wanna come to Texas State anymore...aka Rach and I could have lived together after all. You can imagine my fury.
25. Did you hear about that guy from Brooklyn who dress
ed up like his dead grandma and collected her social security for 7 years? Crazy.
26. I know I already told you to youtube it (but I bet you didn't), but the little boy in the Hallmark Fathers Day commercial looks JUST like you. And his name is Charlie and he dances.
That's all for now.
Today's Confession: I singed up on iVillage.com so I could upload my picture and see what I would look like with blond hair. It's disgusting.
I love days like these.
Today's blank page is going to be filled with a list of conversation topics that I can't wait to have with Charlie whenever I see him again.
1. The black smudges that fill sidewalks really are gum...my mom told me.
2. I see an electronic sign on the subway everyday that says 'Ozone Park', where Jack Kerouac lived.
3. I updated my quote journal last night and have a couple new, good ones.
4. Writers block is kicking in and I haven't gotten as far as I would've liked on my book. I need inspiration.
5. There is a big poster that says 'Subways are meant to take you home, not be your home', and I think that's mean. A homeless person shouldn't have to get anymore shit than they already do...shouldn't they be free from ridicule UNDER GROUND?
6. If you come here, I'm taking you to O Mango to get green tea frozen yogurt.
7. And I'm taking you to The Room
8. And Little Italy
9. And The American Museum of Natural History to see the space thing with all the fake stars.
10. I gave a lady 80 cents yesterday and this old guy told me I was 'a good woman'.
11. I ate really hot soup the other day before it cooled down because I was in a rush, and now my whole mouth is burned and it hurts to brush my teeth.
12. I'm flying to our Maine house on Friday to surprise my dad.
13. The NYAC has a rugby team.
14. I forgot Anna's birthday.
15. My boss has a law degree but stopped praciticing because she didn't like it. She should give you LSAT tips.
16. Does it feel like everyone's dying?
17. Do you think Michael Jackson was on Adderall? Do you think it's a killer?
18. I'm glad you don't like little dogs.
19. How come planes keep crashing?
20. I like Mary Ho much more now. Sometimes she brings me fruit, which is really nice.
21. Did I tell you I saw Mary Poppins on Broadway? I think I did. It was AMAZING!
22. I haven't fallen once since I've been in New York. A record.
23. I saw fake nerd glasses yesterday, like the ones in the outlets, and I thought about getting them for you but they were kinda girly.
24. You will never believe this! The 4th roommate in my apartment next semester all of sudden decided she doesn't wanna come to Texas State anymore...aka Rach and I could have lived together after all. You can imagine my fury.
25. Did you hear about that guy from Brooklyn who dress
ed up like his dead grandma and collected her social security for 7 years? Crazy.26. I know I already told you to youtube it (but I bet you didn't), but the little boy in the Hallmark Fathers Day commercial looks JUST like you. And his name is Charlie and he dances.
That's all for now.
Today's Confession: I singed up on iVillage.com so I could upload my picture and see what I would look like with blond hair. It's disgusting.
Page Sixteen: Mommy Dearest and Mary Poppins
My night at the New York Athletic Club was simply smashing darling. I heard all about the club and the exclusiveness and ritzyness of it. I answered the normal questions that adults never seem to stray far from. Kevin ate very slow. By the time he was on his second cup of coffee it was close to midnight and I was practically falling asleep at the table.
It was delish though. I value food in mass quantities like that much more than I did before I moved here. I got the vibe that my landlords, who have been a devoted couple for over 30 years, really don't like each other at all. At two different times, when they each had me alone, they apologized for the other one. Regardless of their feelings toward the other, I liked the food and I took full advantage of being a one-night-only member of the NYAC.
I finally got the mommy hug I had been needing on Saturday. She flew in from our house in Maine, where she spends the summer reading books on rocks by the ocean and going to cocktail parties. Real tough. I met her at Penn Station and we explored the Village together, did some junk shopping and ate too much. I love that lady more than life and it was wonderful to see her.
The sun is finally shining in the city. I got the white converse high-tops I'd been needing and I figured out the trick to not getting stalked...WEAR YOUR HAIR UP! It's a miracle worker and my best piece of advise that I have acquired yet.
My mom and I saw Mary Poppins on Broadway yesterday. It was, hands down, my favorite show. I want to be Mary. I want to dress like her, I want to sing like her, I want to be allusive and mysterious like her, and most of all I want her umbrella. She is my current icon.
The mother and I went to Cafe del Mare on her first day here. Good food but terrible view...let me explain...We sit down at our table outside in a wonderful, sunny, good for people watching spot. We're both loving life until I spy a butt. A totally out butt...one that you don't want to see, ever. You don't want to see this butt even if you've been stranded on an island with only old ladies for ten years.
He was leaning over a payphone with his hiney so in my face I couldn't help but look. I had no choice. I took 3 pictures and then the funniness faded. Finally a cop came and told him to leave, just in time for our food to arrive, thank God.
It was just nasty.
It was delish though. I value food in mass quantities like that much more than I did before I moved here. I got the vibe that my landlords, who have been a devoted couple for over 30 years, really don't like each other at all. At two different times, when they each had me alone, they apologized for the other one. Regardless of their feelings toward the other, I liked the food and I took full advantage of being a one-night-only member of the NYAC.
I finally got the mommy hug I had been needing on Saturday. She flew in from our house in Maine, where she spends the summer reading books on rocks by the ocean and going to cocktail parties. Real tough. I met her at Penn Station and we explored the Village together, did some junk shopping and ate too much. I love that lady more than life and it was wonderful to see her.
The sun is finally shining in the city. I got the white converse high-tops I'd been needing and I figured out the trick to not getting stalked...WEAR YOUR HAIR UP! It's a miracle worker and my best piece of advise that I have acquired yet.
My mom and I saw Mary Poppins on Broadway yesterday. It was, hands down, my favorite show. I want to be Mary. I want to dress like her, I want to sing like her, I want to be allusive and mysterious like her, and most of all I want her umbrella. She is my current icon.
The mother and I went to Cafe del Mare on her first day here. Good food but terrible view...let me explain...We sit down at our table outside in a wonderful, sunny, good for people watching spot. We're both loving life until I spy a butt. A totally out butt...one that you don't want to see, ever. You don't want to see this butt even if you've been stranded on an island with only old ladies for ten years.
He was leaning over a payphone with his hiney so in my face I couldn't help but look. I had no choice. I took 3 pictures and then the funniness faded. Finally a cop came and told him to leave, just in time for our food to arrive, thank God.
It was just nasty.
Page Fifteen: The A Train Observer
Don't get me wrong, I still love subways. I love riding on them and I love watching people go their one million different ways everyday. I don't like subways when they're on fire though.
It started off like a normal ride from Harlem to Midtown. I was in my own world with a book and an ipod. We stopped for a while and I didn't pay any attention to it until I started to get grumbly because I realized I was going to be late. So, I took off my ipod and asked what the deal was. The announcements started coming that there was a fire at 59th and that we could not continue our ride. That would have been fine if we were stopped at a station, but we were stopped in the middle of concrete.
So, I sat there like a scared Texan pretending to only be worried about what my boss would say when I was late to work (even though I knew none of my bosses would realize I wasn't there on account of my intern-status and my home in the last cubicle in the far back corner).
We finally started moving...slowly. Then the lady came back on the speaker with the words, "Advise, smoke may be entering the cabin". I did not like this.
They opened the doors at the first stop they could, 72nd. I didn't care that I worked 40 blocks away and I didn't care that I was late. I walked the 40 blocks to Penn Station and could smell smoke at least 20 blocks of the way. I didn't stick around long enough to find the cause of the fire and it was probably nothing but I couldn't sit there one second longer. I'm a big baby, I guess.
It started off like a normal ride from Harlem to Midtown. I was in my own world with a book and an ipod. We stopped for a while and I didn't pay any attention to it until I started to get grumbly because I realized I was going to be late. So, I took off my ipod and asked what the deal was. The announcements started coming that there was a fire at 59th and that we could not continue our ride. That would have been fine if we were stopped at a station, but we were stopped in the middle of concrete.
So, I sat there like a scared Texan pretending to only be worried about what my boss would say when I was late to work (even though I knew none of my bosses would realize I wasn't there on account of my intern-status and my home in the last cubicle in the far back corner).
We finally started moving...slowly. Then the lady came back on the speaker with the words, "Advise, smoke may be entering the cabin". I did not like this.
They opened the doors at the first stop they could, 72nd. I didn't care that I worked 40 blocks away and I didn't care that I was late. I walked the 40 blocks to Penn Station and could smell smoke at least 20 blocks of the way. I didn't stick around long enough to find the cause of the fire and it was probably nothing but I couldn't sit there one second longer. I'm a big baby, I guess.
Page Forteen: I'm Only a Pretend Grown Up
It's a day of firsts for the Texan. Today was my first day to take the F train to 63rd and Lex for work. Today's the first day to wear this leopard pencil skirt (it isn't tacky, I promise). And, most excitingly, today is my first day to go to a client meeting in the Park Ave. office. Well, actually this is my first client meeting anywhere. What a grown up lady I am.
The potential client we're meeting with today, if I was listening, is a man who is trying to create the next Ebay. Not our typical demographic so our goal is to convince h
im we're not all just beauty and frou-frou stuff.The PR interns are taking pictures today. These will go on various media packets for potential clients, I guess. All I know is, I'm wearing brown and hot orange and the other girls are wearing black and gray. I clash.
I saw Kevin, my landlord, last night for the first time since I moved in almost a month ago. They invited me to a big seafood buffet at the New York Health and Racquet Club on Friday. It's a fancy-schmancy, stuffy, suit and tie kind of place but I never really sensed much of an option with the invitation. So I'm going. I'm pretty broke this week so I figure by Friday, I just might be hungry enough to be really excited about this little adventure. What in the world will we talk about?
Probably the normal questions that college kids get asked by adults so many times the answers come out automatically.
The Grown Up- "Now, where do you go to school?"
Me- Texas State, it's outside of Austin in San Marcos. It has a river running through it. I love it.
The Grown Up- "Wonderful! What are you studying?"
Me- Electronic Media for TV broadcasting and Spanish
The Grown Up- "That's just great, college is a very important time. What are you planning on doing with that?"
Me- Yes, college is an insane, wild, wonderfully sinful and selfish life that lasts for four years and then leaves us forever and we spend the rest of our lives wondering where it went and thinking about how great it felt to be on the other side of this conversation... and I plan on becoming the next Kelly Ripa.
I have terribly average grades, I go out way more than I should, and I tend to skip class on good river days. My room is always messy and I will most likely throw a sink full of dishes away before I get around to washing them. I text during class and I've bribed a teacher an entire letter grade with candy. Anything else?
Page Thirteen: The A Train Observer
The observer is getting sick and tired of being stalked and followed and creeped on and starred at. The latest observation was not so much who I observed...but who I observed observing me.
He followed me step for step, every move I made, from Penn Station to 145th street. If I went to check out some magazines to get my gossip (aka escape his laser beam eyes), he also went. When the seat next to me became available, he made sure to plop himself down.
We finally parted ways after the train left him standing there blowing me kisses and begging that I would get off the train with him.
I would rather have 10,000 more Subway Studs that don't call than one more Subway Stalker. I can't seem to avoid them regardless of my tactics.
I asked the lady sitting next to me how to look like a tough girl so creepy men will stop talking to me. She told me to bring a book. A book? Really, a book? I was thinking more like a knife in my pocket or one of those dog collar necklaces with spikes on them, but if a book works...OK.
On a less creepy note, I witnessed the best break dancer yet. I'm not sure how much spare change he collected, but he definitely received more claps from the commuters than anyone else I've seen yet.
And lastly, the observation that is hard to write about. I don't know if I can do it politely.
The Odd Couple. She was a rough and tumble New Yorker with frizzy red hair and gaudy jewelry. He was a teeny-tiny man with a cane who literally couldn't walk without her help. He loved the Yankees...and her. She took care of him like he was her child.
I spent the whole ride trying to figure out if they were a couple or if she was getting paid to take care of him. Then they started making out and I got the message. L-O-V-E-R-S.
It gave me a lot of hope for marriage. If they can handle each other, someone out there can definitely handle my weirdness.
He followed me step for step, every move I made, from Penn Station to 145th street. If I went to check out some magazines to get my gossip (aka escape his laser beam eyes), he also went. When the seat next to me became available, he made sure to plop himself down.
We finally parted ways after the train left him standing there blowing me kisses and begging that I would get off the train with him.
I would rather have 10,000 more Subway Studs that don't call than one more Subway Stalker. I can't seem to avoid them regardless of my tactics.
I asked the lady sitting next to me how to look like a tough girl so creepy men will stop talking to me. She told me to bring a book. A book? Really, a book? I was thinking more like a knife in my pocket or one of those dog collar necklaces with spikes on them, but if a book works...OK.
On a less creepy note, I witnessed the best break dancer yet. I'm not sure how much spare change he collected, but he definitely received more claps from the commuters than anyone else I've seen yet.
And lastly, the observation that is hard to write about. I don't know if I can do it politely.
The Odd Couple. She was a rough and tumble New Yorker with frizzy red hair and gaudy jewelry. He was a teeny-tiny man with a cane who literally couldn't walk without her help. He loved the Yankees...and her. She took care of him like he was her child.
I spent the whole ride trying to figure out if they were a couple or if she was getting paid to take care of him. Then they started making out and I got the message. L-O-V-E-R-S.
It gave me a lot of hope for marriage. If they can handle each other, someone out there can definitely handle my weirdness.
Page Twelve: Day at the Museum
After grueling hours of doing less than nothing, if that's even possible, at ABC, the weekend came. The moral of the story this weekend was to pretend that my financial status is better than it really is, and to pretend that my alcohol tolerance is better than it really is. I was a big success. I've developed the ability to scope out pizza places in areas that I've never been before at the wee hours of the morning. I will find one.
Since the "semi-legal" bus system that I use to go to and from New Jersey stops running at 11pm, I have to find alternate accommodations on the nights I feel like being a downtown diva. I stay at the New Yorker Hotel with wonderful people who help to sneak me in and beat the system.
On Saturday morning I woke up to the sound of two of my new French friends talking...in French. Even though I was woke up in my clothes from the night before in a bunk bed that looks shockingly similar to the one I slept in my freshman year of college, and even though I banged my head on the ceiling before venturing down the ladder, I still felt cultured.
Yesterday was Sunday and that meant another adventure with the British boy. The American Museum of Natural History was our destination of choice. We wondered until the announcements came that the museum was closing. We saw an IMAX about wild oceans and walked a journey through time and space. Anything concerning space and the milky way and the atmosphere is beyond me and I've decided that the mystery of it all is more satisfying than pretending to understand. I did, however, take a lot of interest in the fountains outside that the little kids were playing in. Next museum adventure day, I won't be able to be stopped from joining in on their fun.
We went to a Cuban restaurant after that called Havana which made me want to sing all of the songs I learned in high school to memorize the Latin American countries and capitals. I silenced my inwardly desires though. On the way to the restaurant, we saw a mass yoga session in the middle of Times Square. Yoga is funny in a dark studio at LifeTime Fitness. It's even funnier outside in New York City.
To all the daddies, I hope y'alls Father's Day was special and filled with hugs.
New York City is beautiful today (for now anyways)! I hope the sun is shining where you are too!
Page Eleven: That Girl
I'm sneaking this in fast before I get started with the daily tasks that will most likely consist of spread sheets and binder dividers. There are a lot of binder dividers at the ABC office.
I started out here laying low I think. Living in a basement doesn't mean fast friends and weekends like those back in school. Basement life makes you have to work a little harder for social life. But I think I may have found it.
Unfortunately, I think I've kept up with the Texas name even in a city where I'm pretty positive you're supposed to be classy and fabulous. I might officially be the girl who takes her shoes off and puts her hair in a pony-tail and sits criss-cross-apple-sauce style at the bar. I hope that's OK.
I love the people here...minus the subway creepers of course who will be mentioned further in another edition of The A Train Observer... The best part is meeting people from all over the place. I have an obsession with all things foreign and I get a taste of it every single day here. You have to wonder whether the person you ask for directions will speak your language and I love that.
Last night I snuck away from my friends for a couple minutes and went to check out another bar that was less crowded. A better pizza eating atmosphere, which was what I was on a quest for. I went to the right place because within ten minutes of being there I was listening to Rock Me Mama Like a Wagon Wheel feeling like I was back home.
When I arrived at the office today in another day or so old, make-shift outfit, I was certain that I would be faking my smiles until 5pm. Then I read a message my friend Anna left me comparing me to a drowning 6-year-old in a yellow swim suit and pigtails. It made my day and now there are no chances of pretend smiles.
Today's confession: I'm a bonafide tough girl now, something I have never been, and I put my newly developed powers to work last night. I told the Italian Stallion that he needs to learn that one of these days, someone will tell him no. He said in his decreasingly desirable accent that no one has ever told him no before, and no one will ever tell him no later. So I said no and hung up the phone.
I know this didn't phase him in the slightest, but I'm a strong believer that everyone needs to find the person that lets them know they're not as cool as they think they are. I had mine last September and I'm forever indebted to this person.
Happy Friday y'all.
I started out here laying low I think. Living in a basement doesn't mean fast friends and weekends like those back in school. Basement life makes you have to work a little harder for social life. But I think I may have found it.
Unfortunately, I think I've kept up with the Texas name even in a city where I'm pretty positive you're supposed to be classy and fabulous. I might officially be the girl who takes her shoes off and puts her hair in a pony-tail and sits criss-cross-apple-sauce style at the bar. I hope that's OK.
I love the people here...minus the subway creepers of course who will be mentioned further in another edition of The A Train Observer... The best part is meeting people from all over the place. I have an obsession with all things foreign and I get a taste of it every single day here. You have to wonder whether the person you ask for directions will speak your language and I love that.
Last night I snuck away from my friends for a couple minutes and went to check out another bar that was less crowded. A better pizza eating atmosphere, which was what I was on a quest for. I went to the right place because within ten minutes of being there I was listening to Rock Me Mama Like a Wagon Wheel feeling like I was back home.
When I arrived at the office today in another day or so old, make-shift outfit, I was certain that I would be faking my smiles until 5pm. Then I read a message my friend Anna left me comparing me to a drowning 6-year-old in a yellow swim suit and pigtails. It made my day and now there are no chances of pretend smiles.
Today's confession: I'm a bonafide tough girl now, something I have never been, and I put my newly developed powers to work last night. I told the Italian Stallion that he needs to learn that one of these days, someone will tell him no. He said in his decreasingly desirable accent that no one has ever told him no before, and no one will ever tell him no later. So I said no and hung up the phone.
I know this didn't phase him in the slightest, but I'm a strong believer that everyone needs to find the person that lets them know they're not as cool as they think they are. I had mine last September and I'm forever indebted to this person.
Happy Friday y'all.
Page Ten: Different Worlds, Same Outfit
After a day of emailing potential clients and looking at business plans, my Haute PR boss, Robin, and I went to a couple of book signings. We've decided that pictures with famous people are clutch in this day and age. We're out to conquer all of New York City's summer book signings.
By the means of a brief side note, I would like to mention that I have NEVER seen so much rain fall from the sky in my 20 years of life. It doesn't rain like this back in Texas. I can't take it anymore. I blame my entire week-long hacking episode on lack of sunshine. I haven't worn a swim suit in well over a month and there is just something very wrong with that in my opinion. I get grumpy when the sun's not out. It never ends in this place.
The first celebrity encounter was Wendy Williams at the Borders Book Store at the Time Warner building. I knew who she was and all, but I won't lie, I've never watched her show. You would have never known it though. We bought her book, got a snazzy personalized message from the diva herself, and we even made our way on camera. I gave my best smile and my best "How You Doin'?" and talked about how much I loved her. I had no idea that was her slogan until I got there and all of the star struck women in line were screaming it in high-pitched voices. I think I pulled off my biggest-fan-hoax pretty flawlessly. This is my boss Robin with our new pal Wendy Williams.
In my same zebra print dress and black patent pumps, we headed to the next location. Barnes & Noble. Joe Scarborough was there to talk about his book and answer those burning political questions that are plaguing the American public. He is one studly man. I ran into every single one of my ABC bosses there. I felt like a girl about town or something. I actually know people here! I stood out like a sore thumb though. Everyone else was wearing suits and ties and the color pallet consisted of gray, light gray and charcoal. I liked him though. He is a balanced man, I think and I'm all about balance these days.
I left a little early, mainly because my feet were hurting, but also because I was hungry. I'm not sure which is the better reason. I stopped at this place in the West Village for dinner that is my equivalent to a college dining hall. Finally. I've been missing that kind of familiarity.
My Monday Funday ended with a little over-due attention to my "baby", aka, my fingers crossed book-summer project-ode to the fairy tale and the average girl, some crunches on my fuzzy red rug, and a phone call from a person that I miss way too much.
Today's Confession:
I plan on going out tonight, spending the night in the city, and wearing my same clothes to work tomorrow. The beauty of having two internships on two different sides of town.
By the means of a brief side note, I would like to mention that I have NEVER seen so much rain fall from the sky in my 20 years of life. It doesn't rain like this back in Texas. I can't take it anymore. I blame my entire week-long hacking episode on lack of sunshine. I haven't worn a swim suit in well over a month and there is just something very wrong with that in my opinion. I get grumpy when the sun's not out. It never ends in this place.
The first celebrity encounter was Wendy Williams at the Borders Book Store at the Time Warner building. I knew who she was and all, but I won't lie, I've never watched her show. You would have never known it though. We bought her book, got a snazzy personalized message from the diva herself, and we even made our way on camera. I gave my best smile and my best "How You Doin'?" and talked about how much I loved her. I had no idea that was her slogan until I got there and all of the star struck women in line were screaming it in high-pitched voices. I think I pulled off my biggest-fan-hoax pretty flawlessly. This is my boss Robin with our new pal Wendy Williams.
In my same zebra print dress and black patent pumps, we headed to the next location. Barnes & Noble. Joe Scarborough was there to talk about his book and answer those burning political questions that are plaguing the American public. He is one studly man. I ran into every single one of my ABC bosses there. I felt like a girl about town or something. I actually know people here! I stood out like a sore thumb though. Everyone else was wearing suits and ties and the color pallet consisted of gray, light gray and charcoal. I liked him though. He is a balanced man, I think and I'm all about balance these days.
I left a little early, mainly because my feet were hurting, but also because I was hungry. I'm not sure which is the better reason. I stopped at this place in the West Village for dinner that is my equivalent to a college dining hall. Finally. I've been missing that kind of familiarity.
My Monday Funday ended with a little over-due attention to my "baby", aka, my fingers crossed book-summer project-ode to the fairy tale and the average girl, some crunches on my fuzzy red rug, and a phone call from a person that I miss way too much.
Today's Confession:
I plan on going out tonight, spending the night in the city, and wearing my same clothes to work tomorrow. The beauty of having two internships on two different sides of town.
Page Nine: The Birth of the A Train Observer
This Texan has too many ideas.
I could write an entire book about daily subway sightings. "Today on the subway..."
I would never run out of material. Ever. Thus, dun dun dun dunnn....
The A Train Observer.
My standing favorites are the little city boys who bring on their boom box and their flat bill's full of change. They walk on, get situated with head nods and whispers to one another, then one of them screams (normally the tallest and oldest) "It's SHOW TIME everybody!" Then they do their break dance thing and clap and scream and have a grand ole time. I'm of course the only one on the train that turns off my ipod and is legitimately enthralled by what's happening in front of my very eyes.
One time I heard one of them say, "Ok, let's get off at the next stop and go to McDonalds."
Maybe it's just me and my Texan self that thinks there's just nothing more precious or more wonderful than this. I want to get that excited about McDonalds. I want to know what it's like to break dance on a moving train for fast food.
My latest subway observation came yesterday. We shared the commute all the way across the George Washington Bridge and onto the uptown train. She was a little Asian woman with one goal in mind. Mastering the Yo-Yo.
She whipped that little, red Y0-Yo out the second she sat down and didn't stop until she got off...or until I got off and couldn't watch her anymore.
She tried tirelessly, over and over and over again. Roll it up...watch it fall...a few weak tugs...and another failed attempt. Her perseverance was incredible. I never sensed any aggravation on her face or distress in her eyes.
She just wanted to Yo-Yo. And she had about 7 stops to get it down.
I wish her the best of luck in her Yo-Yo-ing endeavors. I have nothin' but faith.
I could write an entire book about daily subway sightings. "Today on the subway..."
I would never run out of material. Ever. Thus, dun dun dun dunnn....
The A Train Observer.
My standing favorites are the little city boys who bring on their boom box and their flat bill's full of change. They walk on, get situated with head nods and whispers to one another, then one of them screams (normally the tallest and oldest) "It's SHOW TIME everybody!" Then they do their break dance thing and clap and scream and have a grand ole time. I'm of course the only one on the train that turns off my ipod and is legitimately enthralled by what's happening in front of my very eyes.
One time I heard one of them say, "Ok, let's get off at the next stop and go to McDonalds."
Maybe it's just me and my Texan self that thinks there's just nothing more precious or more wonderful than this. I want to get that excited about McDonalds. I want to know what it's like to break dance on a moving train for fast food.
My latest subway observation came yesterday. We shared the commute all the way across the George Washington Bridge and onto the uptown train. She was a little Asian woman with one goal in mind. Mastering the Yo-Yo.
She whipped that little, red Y0-Yo out the second she sat down and didn't stop until she got off...or until I got off and couldn't watch her anymore.
She tried tirelessly, over and over and over again. Roll it up...watch it fall...a few weak tugs...and another failed attempt. Her perseverance was incredible. I never sensed any aggravation on her face or distress in her eyes.
She just wanted to Yo-Yo. And she had about 7 stops to get it down.
I wish her the best of luck in her Yo-Yo-ing endeavors. I have nothin' but faith.
Page Seven: The Sisterhood of the Traveling Bracelet
My best friends and I are ripping off the books and movies about young girls finding adventures all over the world. We searched high and low for magic jeans but unfortunately they were no where to be found. We settled on a bracelet.
It's a black, rubber-band bracelet with a circular charm that says "The Oceans". That touching phrase is symbolic of the oceans the bracelet will be crossing in an attempt to unite and bind us over the long and grueling summer months. I even bought an I Heart NY charm for it. We are oh so sentimental.
I started off with the bracelet in New York. Today, I'll be shipping it back to Austin, TX to see what kind of trouble Anna can get into with it on her wrist.
To be honest, I'm happy to see it go. It has the tendency to attract adventure in the form of boy, and I'm ready for a break.
The bracelet has been everywhere with me.
Harlem, the Village, NJ, of course, the ABC studios, the PR firm, the Italian Stallions apartment in Brooklyn, the Statue of Liberty, the Empire State Building.
It's been on the wrist that's held the phone during conversations that resulted in tear soaked pillows, and it's been on the wrist that held wine glasses on Mulberry St.
The bracelet shook the hands of important, fancy-schmancy people and even saw Paula Abdul.
The bracelet has been there to purchase fake Chanel on Canal Street, and it's held on for dear life on crowded subways.
Anna, you're next, sister! I hope the bracelet is ready for TX!
It's a black, rubber-band bracelet with a circular charm that says "The Oceans". That touching phrase is symbolic of the oceans the bracelet will be crossing in an attempt to unite and bind us over the long and grueling summer months. I even bought an I Heart NY charm for it. We are oh so sentimental.
I started off with the bracelet in New York. Today, I'll be shipping it back to Austin, TX to see what kind of trouble Anna can get into with it on her wrist.
To be honest, I'm happy to see it go. It has the tendency to attract adventure in the form of boy, and I'm ready for a break.
The bracelet has been everywhere with me.
Harlem, the Village, NJ, of course, the ABC studios, the PR firm, the Italian Stallions apartment in Brooklyn, the Statue of Liberty, the Empire State Building.
It's been on the wrist that's held the phone during conversations that resulted in tear soaked pillows, and it's been on the wrist that held wine glasses on Mulberry St.
The bracelet shook the hands of important, fancy-schmancy people and even saw Paula Abdul.
The bracelet has been there to purchase fake Chanel on Canal Street, and it's held on for dear life on crowded subways.
Anna, you're next, sister! I hope the bracelet is ready for TX!
Page Six: Back to Life Again
Last week started perfectly and ended with me sick in bed watching The King of Queens and The Real Housewives of New Jersey. I went through a bottle of cough medicine like it was water and practically bathed myself in hand sanitizer. I was going crazy in my little cave of a basement.
By Thursday I was feeling brave and met my friend Jane for drinks at Blockheads. It smelled like home...Mexican food. I was the only girl on the outside patio with a beer in my hands. Literally. I was curious about this. My Dos XX quenched my thirst better than any fruity, sissy beverage. Girls of New York...get over it, beer is not just for boys.
I, of course, regretted my going out decision the next morning and shamefully called into ABC one more time. Lisa is wonderful and understood my plea in between my deadly hacking.
Saturday night was Jane's birthday dinner. It consisted of sushi in the village, a canolli for me, of course, and a downtown hookah bar filled with men from other countries. They bought a bottle of Absolute and insisted on a prolonged birthday toast...times 3 or 4.
We met up with my new friend Tom and a bar called Van Diemens (or something like that) afterward. Tom is from England and needs to be added to my
character list.
Yesterday, Tom took me to the "cinema" in Time Square to see the "film" The Hangover. We both "fancied" it. Then we had to "que" for a little while to make our way to the 86th floor of the Empire State building. I "fancied" that, too.
British Boy Lingo 101:
Cinema = movie theater
Film = movie
Fancy = to like something
Que = to wait in line
By Thursday I was feeling brave and met my friend Jane for drinks at Blockheads. It smelled like home...Mexican food. I was the only girl on the outside patio with a beer in my hands. Literally. I was curious about this. My Dos XX quenched my thirst better than any fruity, sissy beverage. Girls of New York...get over it, beer is not just for boys.
I, of course, regretted my going out decision the next morning and shamefully called into ABC one more time. Lisa is wonderful and understood my plea in between my deadly hacking.
Saturday night was Jane's birthday dinner. It consisted of sushi in the village, a canolli for me, of course, and a downtown hookah bar filled with men from other countries. They bought a bottle of Absolute and insisted on a prolonged birthday toast...times 3 or 4.
We met up with my new friend Tom and a bar called Van Diemens (or something like that) afterward. Tom is from England and needs to be added to my
character list.Yesterday, Tom took me to the "cinema" in Time Square to see the "film" The Hangover. We both "fancied" it. Then we had to "que" for a little while to make our way to the 86th floor of the Empire State building. I "fancied" that, too.
British Boy Lingo 101:
Cinema = movie theater
Film = movie
Fancy = to like something
Que = to wait in line
Page Five: The Subway Stud
I made it a personal goal to wedge myself into the same car of the A train as the Subway Stud. I made sure to sit across from him and I made sure to be careful to not stare too much. Good grief, this was the first normal looking subway riding boy I'd seen yet...obviously I had to meet him.
I don't know, maybe my glance-sneaking was too much or maybe it was just right. I haven't really figured out the subway etiquette yet. Do you sit in between two people? They're obviously not wanting to be up close and personal or they wouldn't be seat-splitting, right? Do you talk to people? Do you say hello to whoever you sit next to? Do you actually have to save the front seats for the disabled? Do people think you're selfish if you don't give any change to the Mariachi guys or the kids that break dance?
All of this is to be determined, I guess.
Anyways, after 3 intentionally missed Central Park stops of awkward starring, I got off at Port Authority...and so did he. And his name is Derrick and he is, in fact, normal and he walked me all the way to my destination (that I had to pull out of thin-air pretty quickly).
He told me he knew that I wasn't from the city because I didn't look mad or like I wanted to kill someone. I'll take that as a compliment. I never want to look mad. Besides, subways are still a novelty to me. Actually, public transportation of any kind is a novelty to me. It took about 7 trips on the cross town bus before I figured out how to put my metro card in the slot without any help from the bus driver.
I haven't decided if giving your number to a person you meet on the subway is an OK thing to do...
I guess I'll find out if he calls.
I don't know, maybe my glance-sneaking was too much or maybe it was just right. I haven't really figured out the subway etiquette yet. Do you sit in between two people? They're obviously not wanting to be up close and personal or they wouldn't be seat-splitting, right? Do you talk to people? Do you say hello to whoever you sit next to? Do you actually have to save the front seats for the disabled? Do people think you're selfish if you don't give any change to the Mariachi guys or the kids that break dance?
All of this is to be determined, I guess.
Anyways, after 3 intentionally missed Central Park stops of awkward starring, I got off at Port Authority...and so did he. And his name is Derrick and he is, in fact, normal and he walked me all the way to my destination (that I had to pull out of thin-air pretty quickly).
He told me he knew that I wasn't from the city because I didn't look mad or like I wanted to kill someone. I'll take that as a compliment. I never want to look mad. Besides, subways are still a novelty to me. Actually, public transportation of any kind is a novelty to me. It took about 7 trips on the cross town bus before I figured out how to put my metro card in the slot without any help from the bus driver.
I haven't decided if giving your number to a person you meet on the subway is an OK thing to do...
I guess I'll find out if he calls.
Page Four: Character List
...thus far, anyways.
Mary Ho and Kevin: Meet my landlords. They are an unmarried couple of 30 years. Mary is Korean, I believe and has breast cancer and you can always find her in her garden. She is way too kind to me. I've seen Kevin one time, the day I moved in.
Robin: My boss at the PR firm. A wonderful lady with an eye for anything beautiful and glamorous.
Bruiser: Robin's white Pomeranian. Half dog, half gremlin. Precious all the same.
Paris Hilton: Not the person, but just as spoiled. Robin's other Pomeranian. Half dog, half celebrity.
Margo: A Haute PR employee. She does the writing on the blog. Check it out!
Rebecca: aka Parker. A fellow PR intern from Long Island.
Jane: Parker's friend who's interning at Ralph Lauren.
Katie Garner: Another PR intern from across the Mason-Dixon line. She's from
North Carolina.
Amanda Long: Another PR intern. This girl knows her PR stuff.
Katy: The other Katie's roommate and best friend. Also another girl from the South.
Lisa: National Sales Manager at WABC. She hired me.
Kevin: Another National Sales Manager at WABC. I have helped him discover that he actually has a desk underneath all of his paperwork.
Gladyss: A very friendly sales woman at WABC.
Kailee: WABC Intern from Maryland.
Jim: The boy intern at WABC. He's from the Bronx and likes hot chocolate.
The Italian Stallion: aka Benny, although I only refer to him as that to his face. He is a way-to-gorgeous-for-his-own-good waiter who I befriended about a year ago after too much wine.
Derrick: The mega-stud I met on the A train the other day. So far, he has only made a camio appearance, but perhaps the plot will thicken.
Mary Ho and Kevin: Meet my landlords. They are an unmarried couple of 30 years. Mary is Korean, I believe and has breast cancer and you can always find her in her garden. She is way too kind to me. I've seen Kevin one time, the day I moved in.
Robin: My boss at the PR firm. A wonderful lady with an eye for anything beautiful and glamorous.
Bruiser: Robin's white Pomeranian. Half dog, half gremlin. Precious all the same.
Paris Hilton: Not the person, but just as spoiled. Robin's other Pomeranian. Half dog, half celebrity.
Margo: A Haute PR employee. She does the writing on the blog. Check it out!
Rebecca: aka Parker. A fellow PR intern from Long Island.
Jane: Parker's friend who's interning at Ralph Lauren.
Katie Garner: Another PR intern from across the Mason-Dixon line. She's from
North Carolina.Amanda Long: Another PR intern. This girl knows her PR stuff.
Katy: The other Katie's roommate and best friend. Also another girl from the South.
Lisa: National Sales Manager at WABC. She hired me.
Kevin: Another National Sales Manager at WABC. I have helped him discover that he actually has a desk underneath all of his paperwork.
Gladyss: A very friendly sales woman at WABC.
Kailee: WABC Intern from Maryland.
Jim: The boy intern at WABC. He's from the Bronx and likes hot chocolate.
The Italian Stallion: aka Benny, although I only refer to him as that to his face. He is a way-to-gorgeous-for-his-own-good waiter who I befriended about a year ago after too much wine.
Derrick: The mega-stud I met on the A train the other day. So far, he has only made a camio appearance, but perhaps the plot will thicken.
Page Three: A Little Publicity...
http://hautpr.com/index.html
http://www.wabcradio.com/
I'm a good little intern, aren't I?
http://www.wabcradio.com/
I'm a good little intern, aren't I?
Page Two: A Rare Breed
So I've made a discovery.
I've discovered a new breed of human being, and I found them on 1st Ave. and 62nd St.
The Upper East Sider.
These people are unlike any that I have ever come in contact with before. They are proper and they are dripping in jewels and they drink champagne like it's water. They say things like "how do you know the designer" and "let me give you my card" and "is this a vintage collection?"
I spent an evening with my PR team, a number of gay men in pastel ties, a never ending "flute" of champagne and millions of dollars worth of jewels.
I must be an actress because I held my own in my $5 black button down from the clearance rack. You would have never known that the last party I went to most likely consisted of a keg and a swimming pool.
In an ongoing message thread full of 'the secrets of summer' between my best friends and I, I told them, much to their approval, that I had my bikini on underneath my pencil skirt...just in case there happened to be a slip n' slide.
Guess y'all aren't into slip n' slides up here?
(just kidding)
Page One: So Long Texas
I think I packed more for my three months in the big city than I did for an entire school year in Texas. In my mind, New York City is the place for shoes. At home I can get away with a pair of boots in a nice camel color that can be worn with both black and brown...but not here. I need every pair of heels I've collected over the years and stocked in my closet. I need every stiletto that's patiently waiting for that perfect occasion.
My new home is a basement in New Jersey. I've never lived in a basement before. I have yellow cabinets and a make-shift kitchen table that doubles as a broken dishwasher. It's a lonely place, but I suppose that lonely is a signiture charictaristic of a new city. It seems that internet and ATM machines aren't a staple in Jersey...I've since discovered ways around these small inconveniences. For example, the hotel concierge won't say a word to you if you sit in the lobby for an hour and use their internet. I'm too cheap to pay the $3.99 at Starbucks.
New York City surprised the Texan. I'm impressed with myself and my new found navigational skills. I find myself repeating the mnemonic device "Never Eat Soggy Watermelons" more than I did back in Texas. I am a subway champion and have no problem helping even the most local-new yorker-looking person find their way.
I finally started working which put some much need purpose to my mindless wondering around Manhattan. I work Mondays and Tuesdays at Haute PR and Wednesdays, Thursdays and Fridays at News TALKRADIO-WABC. And I just wouldn't be a good intern if I didn't tell you to Google them both...
Haute PR is a beauty firm working on a couple of top secret products. I would go into detail but I have been sworn to secrecy and fear the consequences.
The first day at ABC started out with a live viewing of the IMUS show. Very cool. The rest of the day was spent mutilating my feet moving boxes out of the IMUS in the Morning car, back down to the office at 2 Penn Plaza, up the freight elevator and into the storage room...for hours. Since then, I have been promoted to professional-salesman-organizer and ancient-paperwork-filer-er.
If it's not sniffing fragrances or looking at label designs, it's getting the low-down on the broadcast industry...and if it's none of that, than what else would a summer intern in New York City concern herself with than new friends, good wine and Italians?
My new home is a basement in New Jersey. I've never lived in a basement before. I have yellow cabinets and a make-shift kitchen table that doubles as a broken dishwasher. It's a lonely place, but I suppose that lonely is a signiture charictaristic of a new city. It seems that internet and ATM machines aren't a staple in Jersey...I've since discovered ways around these small inconveniences. For example, the hotel concierge won't say a word to you if you sit in the lobby for an hour and use their internet. I'm too cheap to pay the $3.99 at Starbucks.
New York City surprised the Texan. I'm impressed with myself and my new found navigational skills. I find myself repeating the mnemonic device "Never Eat Soggy Watermelons" more than I did back in Texas. I am a subway champion and have no problem helping even the most local-new yorker-looking person find their way.
I finally started working which put some much need purpose to my mindless wondering around Manhattan. I work Mondays and Tuesdays at Haute PR and Wednesdays, Thursdays and Fridays at News TALKRADIO-WABC. And I just wouldn't be a good intern if I didn't tell you to Google them both...
Haute PR is a beauty firm working on a couple of top secret products. I would go into detail but I have been sworn to secrecy and fear the consequences.
The first day at ABC started out with a live viewing of the IMUS show. Very cool. The rest of the day was spent mutilating my feet moving boxes out of the IMUS in the Morning car, back down to the office at 2 Penn Plaza, up the freight elevator and into the storage room...for hours. Since then, I have been promoted to professional-salesman-organizer and ancient-paperwork-filer-er.
If it's not sniffing fragrances or looking at label designs, it's getting the low-down on the broadcast industry...and if it's none of that, than what else would a summer intern in New York City concern herself with than new friends, good wine and Italians?
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