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 dressed 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.

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.

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 him 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.

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.

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.

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.

Page Eight: Subway Stud Update

Once upon a time...

The Subway Stud did not call.

The End.

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!

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

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.

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.

Page Three: A Little Publicity...

http://hautpr.com/index.html


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?