A Winter Miracle (aka Snow Day) Haiku

Snow days as grown-ups

Even better than I thought 

As a kid, let's play! 

Tradition, tradition! Tradition!

It's funny how traditions begin, continually morph, and then wind up becoming something which almost imperceivably reflects its origins. Growing up Jewish, we celebrated Hanukkah. We did the whole shebang. 8 nights of presents, 17 or so menorahs (a combination of silver and gold classy ones, and those we made in the first grade out of a log, some popsicle sticks and glue). Which if you do the math amounts to 153 lit candles by the last night. We weren't messing around.

As time has gone on though, our Hanukkah traditions have lost some momentum and new Christmas ones have seeped their way in.  Hannukah rarely coincides with Christmas day, as any good Jew will tell you, there are only 2 things to do on this most holy of Christian holidays, which happen to be the only two things open. Go out to the movies (and OH are there choices of Oscar nominated flicks galore!), followed by a Chinese restaurant. I promise you that you'll bump into your (Jewish) childhood friends, cousins, ex-boyfriends parents and your elementary school English teacher all in one trip.

Since my dad got remarried though, we have also adopted a Christmas tree with ornaments, traditional Christmas Eve dinner and breakfast (my step-mom likes to serve our favorite, "Heart Attack on a Plate,"), and stockings (or random tchatchkes you never knew you wanted but are pretty damn awesome in their randomness).

These days we have the best of both worlds. We've created one monster holiday: Chistmukkah. It is Christmas Eve dinner, followed by stockings, presents, Heart Attack on a Plate, a nap, movies, culminating in a Chinese food feast. It doesn't get much better than that.

And since Jesus probably celebrated Hanukkah anyway, I'm sure that's the way he would have wanted it.  

Pug Shot: Christmas Edition

overheard on the subway...

Girl #1: Her album is bad
Girl #2: Bad or bad?
Girl #1: Bad
Girl #2: But bad or baaad?
Girl #1: Bad like good

"New Year's is a harmless annual institution, of no particular use to anybody save as a scapegoat for promiscuous drunks, and friendly calls and humbug resolutions."

What is it about New Year's Eve and the PRESSURE of making plans? I think the reason New Year's Eve is SO much more stressful than every other special occassion (aside from say, your wedding) is because it boils down to ONE important minute. Where will you be at exactly 12 am? Because clearly that one single 60 seconds will dictate the entire next year of your liiiiife, everyone knows that. Take 4th of July for example - you can celebrate during the day, or the night, or the whole weekend, or even week before of after. Thanksgiving is always on a Thursday and always spent with your family, there's not much decision making in where you go, but NYE is a breed all its own.

You want to be with friends, in a place that's guarenteed to be fun, and importantly it has to be accessible (especially in NYC where cabs are close to impossible that night - actually that's true for most big cities. I had the same cab problem last year in Buenos Aires - although the time restriction wasn't as much of a big deal because people go out AFTER 12 and stay out until 9 am-ish). Everyone has their idea of what "fun" is, who they want to be with, low-key, high-maintanence, expensive, cheap, in-town, out-of-town, friends with priorities of being with bfs/gfs/other friends, or friends who just want to get laid. It all boils down to a whole lotta scramble with a side of stress, for a generally not-that-memorable night.

Let's be honest for a second here - how many years do you actually remember the ball dropping at midnight vs. how many years were you so drunk you could've been stuck in a dark closet alone with a blow up doll and been having the time of your life? Yeah I thought so.

I've come to terms with the fact that New Year's Eve is just not that big of a deal, and while it's of utmost importance to me to be with some good friends to ring in the New Year, it doesn't really matter where that is. In the past few years I didn't go in with a game plan, and came out with the most success so I figure that's the way to do it. Wing and ding it and move it all around. So cheers to being flexible and come what mayhem may!

In the Spirit of the Holidays!

A Holiday Message from Ricky Gervais: Why I'm an Atheist

Happy Shortest Day of the Year!

(Which means starting tomorrow it's all downhill from here....)

OMG BTW WTF is HMU? IDK STFU, TTYL!

If you understood that title, as many of you did I'm sure, kudos. Isn't it somewhat bizzarre how present acronyms are in our lives these days? I recently read that HMU was the top status trend of 2010 on Facebook, reaching 80,000 mentions per day by the end of summer! Pretty incredible really, especially considering I had never even heard the term until I read that article. For my readers who are in the even slower lane than I am, HMU stands for Hit Me Up. As I wrote a few weeks ago, ZOMG is an acronym that's also new to me. Essentially meaning the same thing as OMG but an exaggerated version that was created by accident. It makes me wonder why certain acronyms appear in our vernacular and actually stick. I'm also curious how people first learn what these acronyms mean? Do they ask their friends? Look them up on the internet? Guess?

It's particularly amusing when someone you know thinks the term means something completely different from what it actually means. E.g. my brother thought LOL meant Lots Of Love for the first two years he was using it. Kinda cute huh? But also rather embarassing. I can't blame him, how would one know laughing out loud would become such a commonplace phrase (and one that I STILL won't get on board with). I just don't think that if you're actually laughing out loud, you would only write LOL - it seems a little timid. If I'm really howling, I'm clearly going to type out hahahahahaha, to display my enthusiasm. Or, if you're like a friend of mine, you could add an extra letter "R" in front of "LOL" to signify REALLY Laughing Out Loud, as opposed to faking it.

I took about 2 minutes to write down the acronyms I use on a semi-frequent basis (or at least am aware of what they mean) and the list is considerable:

LOL
LMAO

WTF
MILF
ROFL

OMG

ZOMG

ASAP
RSVP

FML

HU

WWJD
STFU
BTW
BRB
IDK
JK
TTYL
BFF
MO
NSFW

DTF (thank you Jersey Shore)

...and now let's add HMU to the list for good measure! What do you think the next popular acronym should be?

Is it a Bad sign when...

A subtle change on Facebook can actually really and truly startle you and shake you to the core (a bit)? Well, that just happened to me, and I'm sorry to say it's not the first time (It happened when they reduced the font size last month from a 12 to an 11 or something terrifying like that). Change is never something that's easy to take, but unexpected change is even harder. And when it comes from such a reliable steady source, it's just downright scary. I know during big website remodelings, Facebook sends out warnings weeks in advance and tutorials the instant you sign in. But for every smaller change, of which have appeared ad infinitum over the past 5 years, there's no such warning. And every time it's just as jarring as the time before. A few minutes ago I found myself browsing a friend's recent uploads, when the screen turned BLACK and the picture popped up. Immediately I thought I've caught a virus! I clicked on the wrong button! I downloaded something weird by accident! BY GOD, WHAT HAS HAPPENED? It turns out that Facebook has just decided to implement a new picture platform. And 5 mintues later (after restarting facebook, and checking with friends to assure myself  that it's not just my computer, I have screwed up nothing) I actually kinda really like it! It's more appealing to the eye for picture browsing. And just like last time, and the time before that, I take a deep breath, and embrace change. It will be okay.

Did this Santa just come from popping ecstasy at Pacha?

Bed Intruder Christmas Carol

And the Golden Globe SHOULD go to....

It's that time of the year again, AWARDS SEASON! Let's be real, The Golden Globes and Academy Awards are my Superbowl. The celebs, the gowns, the hype! And all culminating in a HUGE moment for the actors, writers, directors who regularly bring so much joy into my life. Based on The Golden Globe Nominee list which was released today, and the movies/tv shows I saw (or read reviews about), which granted, wasn't ALL of them, but a vast majority, here is my list of who I think most deserves to take home the awards:

• Best Motion Picture - Drama- The Social Netowrk
• Best Performance by an Actress in a Motion Picture - Drama- Natalie Portman - Black Swan
• Best Performance by an Actor in a Motion Picture - Drama- Colin Firth - The King's Speech
• Best Motion Picture - Comedy or Musical - The Kids Are All Right 
• Best Performance by an Actress in a Motion Picture - Comedy or Musical - Annette Bening - The Kids Are All Right 
• Best Performance by an Actor in a Motion Picture- Comedy or Musical -Johnny Depp - Alice in Wonderland
• Best Performance by an Actress in a Supporting Role in a Motion Picture - Helena Bonham Carter - The King's Speech
• Best Performance by an Actor in a Supporting Role in a Motion Picture - Christian Bale - The Fighter
• Best Animated Feature Film- Toy Story 3
• Best Foreign Language FIlm - Biutiful
• Best Director - Motion Picture - Darren Aronofsky- Black Swan
• Best Screenplay - Aaron Sorkin - The Social Network
• Best Television Series - Drama - Mad Men
• Best Perfomance by an Actress in a Television Series- Drama - Julianna Marguiles - The Good Wife
• Best Perfomance by an Actor in a Television Series- Drama - Bryan Cranston - Breaking Bad
• Best Television Series - Comedy or Musical - Glee
• Best Performance by an Actress in a Television Series - Comedy or Musical  - Laura Linney - The Big C
• Best Performance by an Actor in a Television Series - Comedy or Musical - Steve Carell - The Office

You know it was a good office holiday party when your boss riding the mechanical bull wasn't the most eventful thing that happened....

Dwight: Yankee Swap is like Machiavelli meets Christmas.

Goodbye caveman cell phone, HELLO smartphone!

After my return to the US this past Spring, overwhelmed by the prospect of smartphones that became omnipresent during my stint in South America, I decided to opt for a standard flip-phone. When I went into Verizon, I was shocked that there were literally 2 models of flip-phones, and 83 bajillion models of smartphones. 6 months later and I couldn't take it anymoreee. I was the only person I knew who couldn't connect to the internet at all times, and mockery from friends aside (of which there was plenty), I knew it was time to get with the program. After taking the (very late) plunge, I know now I can never ever go back to a simpler time. A time when you could say, "Oh, I wasn't by my computer, I didn't see that email," "I don't know the answer to that question because I don't have google in my pocket," etc. A few of the changes that I'm oh-so-happy about are as follows:  

• The map and gps feature - Before this I would literally hand draw maps onto a napkin to show me where I was going, especially when I first moved to NY. And I constantly was texting myself addresses filling up my inbox (there was an inbox capacity of 100 texts, and when I forgot to delete texts and my inbox became full, incoming texts were rejected taking up to hours to resend on occassion).
• I no longer have to flip back and forth between my text inbox and outbox to see a flow of a conversation. Before I had to scroll through my inbox and see what someone said last before I could respond, eating probably dozens of hours.
• A keyboard: goodbye t-9 word.
• EMAIL (facebook, weather, games, etc).
• Things to read on long subway rides, aka NYTimes and my blogs of choice.
• Mobile uploads! Now I too can share all the pointless "funny" things I see and do with acquaintances near and far!
• And last but certainly not least, having something to hold to stave off awkwardness with while every person around me is incessentaly playing on their phone.

TMI Taxi

We all know how miserable hailing a taxi is in the rain. So it comes as no shock that during a rainstorm this past weekend, I was pretty psyched to get in a taxi that wasn't even lit up in the first place (what a feat!). I thanked the driver profusely and he in turn took that as a cue to dish about anything and everything. He started off by telling me he's such a handsome man, especially for a cab driver, and even more so in the rain. As we were stopped at the next red light a girl ran up to the cab hoping to get in but then saw that it was occupied. To him that was proof that everyone wants to ride in his cab. "See! I'm so handsome, she can't resist!" I asked if maybe it's just because it's raining and people are desperate, but he told me "No! I'm just very very handsome." He also told me that sometimes partons are disappointed when they get in the cab because they expect it to smell nice like an air freshener, but instead it smells of farts. This was the first time I considered hopping out (but thought better of it because god knows another cab would be near impossible to come by). He proceeded to launch into a diatribe about how today was a very rough day as a cab driver because of SantaCon. (For those who don't know, SantaCon is an all day pub crawl with a mandatory dress code of a full Santa Suit, and mandatory inebriation level of incoherent, wreckless and generally stupid). He told me how he drove Santas around from early this morning through the evening, many of whom were puking in the back of the cab "Where I'm sitting?!" I asked, "Yes, of course!" (Second time I considered getting out). They were also having sex, and lots of it, in the back of the cab, "WHERE I'M SITTING?" I shouted, "Yes yes of course! They can't control themselves, horny Santas!!" (Time to get out now). It's one thing to have some sort of idea of the things that go on in a NYC taxi, it's another to have your driver tell you in detail that they went on mere minutes before right where you're sitting. Needless to say, when I got out of the cab and back to my apartment I took a lengthy hot shower, rubbing off the grime of many dirty Santas.  

I throw my latkas in the air sometimes, saying ay-oh, spin the dreidel!

Happy Hannukah to all my fellow members of the tribe!

I got myself as Secret Santa. I was supposed to tell somebody...but I didn't.

'Tis that time of year again, gift-giving time! A blessing and a curse really. Nothing's better than getting presents (I don't care what you say, no one really believes "It's better to give than to receive" pshaw), but nothing is worse than seeing an empty bank account come January 1. Hence the creation of Secret Santa. In some contexts, this gift swap is a great idea. With friends for example; you only have to buy 1 person a present, not 10 (assuming you actually have 10 friends) and everyone feels included, part of the holiday spirit, blah blah blah. In other situations however, it's kinda a whack idea. Like when instituted at work. 

Today at my office we picked co-workers names out of a bucket who we're assigned to buy a present for. First of all, a job is a place I come to MAKE money, not spend money. Secondly, I picked a name of a co-worker who is a complete stranger. Not only have I never spoken to this person, I don't even know what she looks like. She works on a different floor than me, and I looked her up on the company website and sure enough, her picture is missing. When it's my turn to give her a gift, I'm gonna be all like, uhhhh who does this go to?! And awkwardly wait for people to look in her direction. Which is kinda like when you're introducing two people and you forget the name of one, and so you wait around silently like a dumbass for them to introduce themselves, that's always rather uncomfortable. 

And I just KNOW that I'm gonna wish I could keep the gift I give more than the one I receive. I know this because it's common sense. The person giving me a gift clearly doesn't know me but at all, especially but not limited to my interests, hobbies, where I like to shop, etc. I keep my work life separate from my real personal life and I intend to keep it that way. I also have experience in the regrettable "swap" realm as I've been involved in mandatory swaps of one kind or another my whole life. Throughout my childhood we'd exchange "psych boxes" before big sports games, which consisted of candy in a gift-wrapped shoe box. I always spent about $30 on mine, and filled it to the brim with chocolate! Reeses, M&Ms, Snickers, Twix, Whatchamacallit, you name it. And then I'd get a box in return that had like a tootsie pop, an apple, and a carton of animal crackers. The BEST year was the year when the girl I was supposed to exchange psych boxes with was out sick with chickenpox so I got to keep my own. I was happy as a lark belieeeeeve me (why are larks even considered happy by the way, is it because of their melodious song? aaand I digress)

I'm just sayin' I'm all for giving gifts when it means something. As Michael Scott so wisely once said, "Presents are the best way to show someone how much you care. It's a tangible thing that you can point to and say, 'I love you this many dollars worth.'" But what happens when you don't particularly care about the person you're giving a gift to (*cough* coworkers). This happens: 

How to make $3000 FAST!

I just had one of those "Why didn't I think of this?!" moments, like I so often do. I'm sure you're all familiar with Groupon, the deal-of-the-day website, that sometimes offers sweet deals, like discount plastic surgery (because I clearly want to go to a surgeon who performs for half-off on Tuesdays), but sometimes offers wtf mind-boggling deals, like $3 hand drawn cats (marked down from $10!). Not only did this guy actually sell these awesome cat drawings pictured above, but he SOLD OUT of them. In the last few days he sold 1,000 CAT DRAWINGS. Who buys these things? Really?! At least he looks like an cool dude who really knows how to work it:

It makes me wonder what I could sell for a quick profit. Personally chewed on pen caps?  Doodles in my legal pad? Half used stick of deodorant? People will buy anything if it's on sale. Hell, we're willing to trample each other to death if it's a "to die for" Black Friday Sale, for example.  

Reunions in the Age of the Interwebz

Thanksgiving is a wonderful holiday because not only do you get more than your fill of family and feasting, but you also see friends and acquaintances you haven't seen in a very long time. It's the one time of year everyone goes out to the "popping" bars around your hometown, which are normally vacant but now magically there's a long line to get in. I hadn't been home around this time for a few years so the experience was magnified. 

On the Wednesday before Thanksgiving I met some friends at a local bar. It was so great to see and talk to a handful of people who I care about and live in different cities all over the country. However, the extreme comedy and awkwardness arises when you see the rest of your hometowners who you totally forgot about and didn't necessarily have any intention of bumping into. There's always the few girls who are dressed in ridiculously short dresses and impossibly high heels who are clearly trying way too hard for a Connecticut suburb. There's the geek who became muscular with his 5x weekly gym visits and is now infinitely hotter than the last time you saw him 3 years ago, and the cheerleader who gained 30 pounds and isn't so cute anymore. The jock who's now a baby daddy. The girl from science class whose name you can't remember but she somehow remembers every little thing about you. 

And then there are the dozens of people you're facebook friends with, who you know threw an awesome halloween party last month and stayed home and cooked a traditional Italian meal last night with their significant other, yet you don't have anything to talk about in real life. That's pretty uncomfortable. You make eye contact, giving each other that nod of acknowledgment that you have a not-so-secret window into their personal lives yet you don't actually know them. "Hey, how's it going?" is code for I know the sweater you're wearing was purchased today at the mall sale cause you tweeted a picture of it earlier. A friend turned to me at one point and said "Ugh, I hate that girl, I'd punch her in the face if I could." I didn't even know they knew each other, and it turns out they don't. When I asked why, she told me "Because she inappropriately "likes" everything my boyfriend posts on facebook and I've had enough. If I could "DISLIKE" her right now I would. Gotta love when reality and the internet actually intersect.  

A Tasteless Thanksgiving

In my days as a wee undergrad, I wrote a weekly column for my school newspaper. I wanted to call it "Jumbo Droppings: Little Nuggets of Wisdom," as our mascot was Jumbo the Elephant. The title was gently reworked into "Campus Comment." That pretty much summarizes what the editors did to my column. Watered it down, butchered it, a lot, a lot, a lot. To the point of not-so-clever-or-fun-in-the-slightest. Ya know, it was a straight laced organization and all. Well, most of the time this really made me mad. Anything out of step with the general "reputable" articles alongside "Campus Comment" were changed to better suit the sophisticated tone of the paper (can you hear my snooty voice as I say it?). However, one time, one such editor did indeed save my ass.

It was exactly this time of year, and my weekly column was fittingly about Thanksgiving. I would write 500 words on the topic and then quote other students (generally the funniest quotes were the ones I chose to include next to their picture). So that week I wrote about what students were looking forward to the most about Turkey Day, what they would do over their 4 day respite from college, so on and so forth. And I decided to collect some of my quotes while out at a college bar night. I got a golden quote from this one lacrosse player I was friendly with who said "I enjoy getting wasted with my cousins, because the drunker I get the hotter they get. And then I can stuff their turkey." I took his picture, and being drunk and goofy, he did look more than a little like he belonged on the short bus, fitting with the quote. It was totally inappropriate but I figured that other college kids would find it disturbing in a funny way, so I threw it in the column.

Flash forward one week. I see this guy out at a party and I tell him, "Guess what? You'll be so excited! Your quote made my column tomorrow!" He stared back at me blankly, clearly having no idea what quote I was referring to. I reminded him and he immediately FREAKED the F OUT. "I don't even remember saying that! You can't quote me when I'm black out drunk! That's totally illegal! How could you? My coach is going to kill me..."

Needless to say, my discretion was not at its best. I genuinely thought lax dude would think that was funny. He did NOT. I ran back to my room, mortified, woke up my roommate in a panic, and started scheming about how to collect all of the newspapers before they were distributed to the dorms the next morning (this wasn't that long ago, but apparently before we regularly looked online at the school newspaper). A plan was in place, I set my alarm for 6 am, ran downstairs, located the article, and found that the editor had taken out the quote and replaced it with something muchhhh tamer. I guess editors are really there for a reason, in some cases....

So, what are YOU excited about for this Thanksgiving? Your hot cousins?

Snoop's Stabbing and Stampede

I was jamming to my ipod today, zoning out the endless commotion of the city around me - when none other than snoop d o double g came on. You know those particular songs or artists that so vividly bring you back to one memory or point in time? Well Snoop does that for me. A couple of years ago I went to a music festival in Buenos Aires where the headliner was Snoop. My friends and I were so pumped, rapping lyrics to each other for weeks beforehand - Laaaaid back, got my mind on my money and my money on my mind. We got to the concert, SHOCKED that they didn't sell alcohol. How could that be at a festival of 55,000 people? They seemed to have the security down pat in that respect. We quickly left the concert premises, sprinted to a nearby pizza joint, chugged a couple of litros of quilmes (mmhm quilmes), and headed back in. We heard some good music, but mostly we were just waiting for Snoop.

And waited we did! Our initial excitement turned into annoyance and then exhaustion. After a while we had lost most of our steam and were sitting on the ground. 

People were continually shouting Snoop, Snoop! but he was still nowhere to be found. All of a sudden we heard footsteps, thousands of footsteps! We looked up to see the entire audience racing away from the stage and toward us. We jumped up as fast as humanly (tipsily) possible and joined the stampede so as not to be trampled to death. It felt remarkably like the scene from The Lion King when Mufasa dies *tear*. I didn't want that to be my fate. 

I practically had a heart attack. Once the crowd slowed, I noticed that my wallet miraculously went missing (the first of MANY pickpocketing incidents, 6 but who's counting?). My friend lost her cell phone and a sandal in the commotion, but picked up a stray converse sneaker, wrong foot, no problem.

Turns out the cause for the commotion was actually a gunshot and a STABBING. We decided not to risk it by staying for Snoop's performance but apparently he came out minutes later, and put on quite a show, not phased in the slightest, in true gangsta' fashion. I'm sooo glad that they were cautious enough to monitor drinking, but allowed guns and knives into the concert no problem. This incident was not reported in the media, part of a publicity cover-up which was perhaps the most disturbing part of the whole thing. It is with regret and nostalgia that I now listen to Snoop, bringing me back to my first South American brush with death. I kid...sort of....  

Pug Shot: Thanksgiving Edition

Holiday Travel: How far will you let the airport all-body pat-down go?

Don't touch my junk! With airport security reaching all new levels of insanity - I wonder how many outraged travelers will be shouting this catchy phrase over the upcoming holiday week. I thought it was intrusive enough to have to take off my shoes and walk barefoot through security at the airport. Then came the bursts of air they spray into your face (what are they checking for exactly, a microscopic explosive devise, reallllllly?) and then the no liquids rule (forget sabers, box cutters, or ski poles) - enough's enough! Stop stealing my perfume and shampoo, that ain't cheap! But now, fully body scanners and inappropriate pat-downs? No, I say! Do your part, be proud and sing aloud "don't touch my junk!"

Why did I not get tickets to see Oprah today?

JEALOUS

As Rihanna so eloquently states, Cheers to the Freakin' Weekend

How much of human life is lost in waiting

If there’s something I have little to no patience for, it’s a long line. Unfortunately, as a New Yorker, lines are as much a part of life as the tutu-wearing homeless man on your corner, or bedbugs.  There are just so many freakin’ people everywhere you go – especially if you go somewhere new/cool/cheap/fun/famous/touristy/the-list-goes-on-and-on-and-on. Today I experienced the hell that is the supermarket line. The Trader Joes in Union Square (I know you’re sighing if you’ve ever been there) is literally unlike anything I’ve seen before. It’s known for its very high quality food at very low prices, but as a result the line is INSANE. I’ve walked in and walked out numerous times in the past, after catching a glimpse of the path of people snaking in and out of aisles throughout the entire store. You literally have to shop while you are waiting in line. 

I just wanted a pie. One pie. I could’ve made one, but a store bought one is so much easier and quicker (wrong!).  I decided to grin and bear it and wait in the infinite procession to the checkout. It took 17 minutes, but who’s counting? I could’ve literally baked a pie in 17 minutes. OK not quite, but at least prepared it and put it in the oven in that time.  Personally, I rather splurge for a more expensive pie than wait interminably.  That got me thinking, what would I wait in line for? The answer is pretty much nothing for more than ten minutes. That’s my limit. But then again, I have a patience problem. 

Walk 2800 miles in this guys shoes...

Will you cut the fat?

It's National Unfriend Day on Facebook. Who will cut the mustard from your friends list? Will YOU get the axe? The worst part about getting unsuspectingly unfriended is that you generally don't notice for a while, because let's face it, if you're being unfriended you're probably not actually friends. But then 6 months down the road it just feels like a big ol' sucker punch. Did Jessica unfriend me? OMG she did! Seriously? WTF? WHAT DID I DO TO THAT BIT*H?! Until the pain subsides about 10 seconds later when you come to terms with the fact that it took you 6 months to notice her absence from your life in the first place. Oh, it's not so bad.

Do you swing Left or Right with your TV choices?

Hmm in this interesting article, a study shows the 15 most popular democratic and republican television shows. Admittedly, I watch a considerable amount of tv, but from this particular list I watch 8 democratic shows and only 1 republican show. The study points out that democrats tend to favor damanged people. Maybe so - I happen to think damaged characters are the far more interesting and complex ones. Happy and normal = boring tv. To me, a few of the most fascinating characters on tv these days are Dexter (a serial killer), Don Draper (a womanizer with a deeply haunted past), Walter White (a meth manufacturer dying of cancer), etc. What does this say about me? Well...that I'm interesting - obviously! That, or I like killer womanzing druggy-type men - let's hope it's the former.

One surprising show on the democratic list however is Kourtney and Khloe Take Miami - coming in at a whopping #4! I wonder what's up with the democratic obsession with the Kardashians?

Salud to Fall! (while we still have it...)

HAIKU FOR FOUR LOKO

Farewell, hyper booze
Back to Mountain Dew and gin
In a Solo cup.

I finally looked up what ZOMG stands for, and it turns out the Z stands for nothing. It was accidentally invented by users intending to hit the Shift Key instead of Z. HUH!?

Blowing Up Your Own Spot

A Lesson to the Boys: Do not trust a girl's close friend to not to tell her incriminating information about you. She will tell. I didn't make up the rules, it's just the way it is, so deal with it. You've gotta be a little thick in the head to think that Sally is not going to tell Julie what you said about her. Especially if you don't preface it with "Don't tell Julie." If there's no warning of privacy, it is public knowledge. And even if there is warning of privacy, it will most likely become public knowledge. Girls like (LOVE) to talk.

So with that being said, I'd like to share with you a story about what NOT to do after your first date with a girl you really like.

Some time ago in Argentina, a friend of the guy I was dating began crushing on my friend. Let's call him Marcus and her Rachel. I knew they were supposed to meet up that night at an after-office club (a really popular activity in Buenos Aires, where you go clubbing directly after work, usually on a Wednesday or Thursday). On this particular night I decided to stay in and was on my computer when all of a sudden I received a stream of IM's from a very distraught Marcus. Before I even had the chance to respond to a single one, he had had an entire conversation with himself:

*Names have been changed to protect the innocent

*Translations have been provided as some of it was written in Spanish

Hi Lindsay,

I'm sorry for writing you in this way. It's just that tonight before I went to the club for after-office I was working late until it was time to go to the club.  I was drinking tea, one after the other to stay awake and keep working. After that I got to (the club), and I sent a message to Rachel for us to meet. She was hanging out with friends in a pub in San Telmo. So I went to meet her. As soon as my foot reached the door outside the club, something felt wrong. My intestines were begging for a bathroom. I couldnt return into the club,  so I asked the guy at the garage around the corner to please let me use the bathroom. I had diarrea. Then I realized how much tea I drank to keep me awake at the office until 9 PM. After that I said thanks to the guy from the garage and I was on my way to meet Rachel.  Some how a little odor was left and there was no way to make it go away, no matter haw clean I was. I noticed that Rachel noticed it too and she covered her nose with her scarf to talk to me. I was hoping that the smell wouldn't go far from me, but I was wrong. It seems that the smell was stronger than what I hoped.  I didn't want to cancel to on Rachel at our first date. even though I wasn't on my best day. The unpredicted arrived had fun with Murphys Laws. First night, First impression???  ....FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!

Yeah, so the poor guy. This type of stuff happens from time to time, but his mistake was telling me about it, without any prodding on my part mind you, (was I really supposed to not ask Rachel how the meet up went?) and going into such graphic detail. It really wasn't necessary. And the irony of the whole thing is that Rachel hadn't noticed the smell at all. She was just cold. He totally blew up his own spot. If you're hoping for date number 2 fellas, don't follow Marcus' example.

Facebook's "Modern Messaging System"

Soon we can skip all real life interactions! FB taking over the world, 1 computer at a time

The Impossible Quest for Change

I was in a cab home last night, when I pulled up to my block and looked in my wallet only to see that I had no cash. I panicked for a second until i realized that I could pay with a credit card. The credit card machines in taxis in New York are one of the coolest things to have happened in recent history. This was something that was put into place while I was living in Argentina, and it still boggles my mind a little bit. I've grown very accustomed to walking around cashless in NY, because you can use cards everywhere, literally! What's the point of taking an extra trip to the ATM when I can charge a banana and there's no additional fee?

Well that was definitely not the case in Argentina. Not the case at all. In fact, the monetary system there is something I never stopped getting angry about. The ATMs charge a big fee to take out any amount of cash, because as expats we don't have accounts at their banks (and you can't get an account unless you're a citizen). The ATMs also dispense $100 pesos at a time, and it is almost impossible to break an $100 peso bill, no one accepts them. The most practical way to do this is to go out to a group dinner and pay with the $100 and have your friends give you their cash. Actually, that's not the most practical way, that's the ONLY way.

On top of that, there's a very well known coin shortage. It's extraordinarly hard to acquire change because everyone claims to be out of coins or "monedas." The stores that do have them tend to stock pile them for fear of running out. So often times if you don't have exact change, stores (especially smaller ones or bodegas) would prefer not to sell you your purchase than make you change. And the thing is, buses require change. And buses (unlike in NYC where you CAN swipe a bus card) are the main mode of transportion. Their bus system is actually pretty great and fast! But only if you have the change to get on the bus in the first place. I can't tell you how many times I bought unnecessary chocolates or chewing gum just so I could take the bus.

I went to a party at someone's campo (or estate) outside Buenos Aires a little while after I arrived in Argentina. Two friends and I took a long bus ride to get there, and were very prepared as we knew it would cost $3.00 pesos in coins. Unfortunately for us, we didn't think about having enough coins for the trip back to the city. As the sun was rising and the party was coming to an end, we started going around the party, asking people for spare change, feeling as close to a beggar as one could possibly feel. Clearly, everyone at the party denied having change (liars).

FINALLY we found a guy with space in his car for us, but only if my friend agreed to give him a kiss. He was insistent on this stipulation, and being drunk and tired, my friend finally agreed, ONE kiss. We got in the car and all was fine, until the driver continued to try to kiss my friend (who was literally shielding her face) the entire ride back to the city. He didn't take a (not so subtle) hint. As soon as we got to the city limits, we yelled for him to stop the car, and hopped out. We clung to each other in a dear embrace for a few minutes, sighing in relief. Awkwardly, the car was still sitting there, stopped at a red light and witnessed that scene go down.

Now, every time I swipe my card, I can't help but smile and think about how easy we've got it here...at least in the change department.

What's the point of Quidditch if humans can't fly?

Quidditch World Cup IV, seriously...

The Face of Mediocrity

A friend of mine recently regaled me with an unfortunate experience she had with an online dating site a few months back. She was using the site pretty regularly, and after a while of hit-or-miss dates, she received the following email from the site's blog author: 

"We're doing a feature on attractiveness and users think you're attractive. We want to feature your profile in our blog which discusses how to make your profile more attractive to other users. It will probably peak a lot of interest in your profile, do you agree? May we feature you?" 

After reading the email and feeling pretty damn good about herself, my friend thought why not? So she granted them permission and thought nothing of it. Fast forward to three weeks later - she then receives a facebook message from a random guy she went to high school with and has not seen or talked to since (gotta love those out-of-the-blue messages), saying "I stumbled upon a link to a dating blog that you happened to be pictured in.  Your initials confirmed it and your facebook picture looks kinda familiar. Did you contribute to this blog in any way other than providing your photo?" and attached the article to the message. The article, as it turns out, was indeed about attractiveness. 

Unfortunately for my friend, she was misled, and not labeled as an example of attractive users but rather as an "average" looking user. They were kind enough to say "As for the photos at the bottom of the curve, it didn't feel right to write someone and say 'can I use you to illustrate the concept of ugliness on my blog?' so you'll just have to extrapolate." The article continued on about how important looks are on these sites, and that beautiful people are more successful daters. They gave graphs and stats and advice about how to go from being average to above-average in the looks department. Needless to say, my friend was not all that enthused that she was now the famous face of mediocrity for online dating. 

To add insult to injury, sure enough some other people we know also saw the article. Dating sites can be cruel. 

Recently, she received yet another email from the site informing her that the scales have tipped in her favor and she is now in the top half of the most attractive users and as a result of her new elite status, she'll see more attractive people in her match results. Phew, what a relief that is!

If this bird doesn't make you laugh, we can't be friends

WARNING: Do not watch before bed, you will NOT be able to sleep.

Watch the Incredible Original here! God it would be cool to have Will Smith as a dad.

Monday is a lame way to spend 1/7th of your life...

There's nothing quite like that first Sext

Sexting is a term that came into use a couple of years ago, but was made really famous this year (enough so that my parents know what it is), by a couple of celebrity “incidents.” Hmm hmm hmm, Brett Favre, Tiger Woods, Kayne West, the list goes on. I myself had never received a graphic picture sext until a few months ago. I was sitting in the reception area of an office building, feeling a little jittery as I was waiting to go into a job interview, when my phone started vibrating in my pocket. I thought for sure it must be a “good luck, go get ‘em tiger!” type text from a friend or family member. Boy was I dead wrong. I flipped open my phone (that’s right, I still have a flip phone, but that’s a discussion for another time), when I saw a woman (or her ass rather), dressed in lingerie, taking a self-photo in the mirror. A second later I hear my name called “We’re ready for you, please come this way.” I was so startled and thrown off my game, I jumped a little and immediately shoved my phone in my bag.

The entire interview the sext was running through my head, how could it not? I couldn’t help it! Who was she? Why was she sexting me? It was hilarious and unnerving at the same time. Once I left, I looked again at this scantily clad, not so classy looking broad, and scrolled down to find a message which said, “Hi, I’ll be at the Honeyspot Motel room 322, Friday 2 pm to late, hope you can cum. Text me if you want to have sum fun, Jenna.” No shame at all! I wrote it off as a one-time wrong number, after clearly sharing it with some friends. But sure enough, like clockwork, every Friday I received one of Jenna’s messages, usually with a different motel, always with the same picture (talk about an utter lack of creativity). I initially didn’t want to engage with this stranger, but after about a month of this, I thought enough’s enough and I simply wrote her back, “Wrong number, please don’t sext me again.”

No such luck! I still continued to receive the sexts, sometimes a few times a week. It was no longer funny or cute, now it was just annoying. On one such occasion, I was with a few friends when I received one. They couldn’t believe it. “We have to call her!” the guys shouted in unison. I agreed, so long as it wasn’t from my phone. She demanded for my friend to send both a picture of his, you know, junk, as well as a face shot. He obliged, pulling an image of the former off the internet, and an image of David Bowie for the latter (Why Bowie? Why not Bowie?). She texted him back almost immediately with a time and a rate, clearly she's unfamiliar with the Musician/Actor/Record Producer, that or she thought he was the real thing. He never went through with it (as far as I know), but it did give the group a hearty laugh. What I want to know is, how did a prostitute get my phone number? Talk about having a privacy complaint! So far, I’m the only person I know who’s gotten a wrong number sext. Have you?

YO-GAta be kidding me

After months of friends trying to convince me to try yoga, this week I finally did. I spent the day thinking of excuses to get out of it, headache, oops I was napping, I have to go grocery shopping, my dog ate my homework, but in the end I decided to give in and give it a go. It was a lot like I expected, 95% of the class was females clad in black leggings, in a dimly lit room with candles and meditation mixes playing. I did not, however, expect for it to be as difficult as it was. First of all, this was not a beginners class. I went with my friend who is quite advanced (maybe that was my mistake). And the instructor was this 4’10” athletic pod of a woman, who was spitting a succession of poses in both English and Sanskrit in rapid fire. Downward Facing Dog, Chaturanga, Warrior 2, Reverse Warrior, Baby Cobra, Savasana! Say what?? One of the instructor’s helpers came over to try to correct my Chaturanga. I think after a couple of minutes she realized I just wasn’t going to get it anytime soon, and sweetly patted my back and said “nice job,” as she moved on to the woman doing a one-armed handstand.  

As this was my first time, and I had no idea what any of the poses were, I had to look around the room to follow what my classmates were doing. Unfortunately, by the time I caught on they were already onto the next pose. At one point I distinctly felt like I was playing a game of twister. “Place your right leg over your left arm and your right arm behind your head and under your armpit.” I can run no problem, put me on a machine in the gym and I can handle it, but when it comes to exercise that requires strength, flexibility and balance, not so much. Those are not necessarily my strong suits. People were turning themselves into pretzels, putting one leg up on their inner thigh, and bending to the side 90 degrees, and still balancing. I could barely lift one leg a foot off the ground standing still without toppling over. I realize this was my first time and it takes practice to become skillful at anything, let alone something that combines exercise and a foreign language, but I did feel like a fish fresh out of water.

There are moments of activation and moments of relaxation in yoga. The relaxation bits were my favorite. I can easily curl up in a ball and listen to my breathing for a while. The soothing music makes lovely background noise for my brief catnap. Napping, NAPPING I am good at. Anytime, anywhere, I can challenge you to a nap-off. But to snap out of the blissful relaxation into a Reverse Triangle Vashistasana, no thanks. I think next time I’ll sign up for a meditation class, it’s more aligned with my likes and abilities.

First Impressions: The Good, The Bad, and the Downright Crazy

I decided to join a dating website, as much for experimentation as anything else, like so many of my twenty-something single peers in NYC. And thus far, I have learned a great many things. I had heard both fairytales and horror stories, and I wanted to see for myself what all of the hype was about. I jumped in feet first, and was surprised at what I saw. In general, I’ve found that the first contact that is made on one of these sites is through a personal message (forget the IM, I will not respond, it's too rushed and feels intrusive). In general, I think the short and to the point messages are the most effective. You’re reaching out and giving me the chance to check out your profile without scaring me off. Also, forget the uber corny, self-deprecating, or extremely bizarre, why set yourself up for instant failure? While I'm not claiming to be an expert by any means, I think the good vs. the bad is glaringly obvious. I did receive some charming messages, but the majority were not-so-successful attempts at online dating. I decided to illustrate some examples below of the humorous mistakes some made that scream "stay away!" The comments in the parenthesis are my feedback:  

Cheesier than a New York pizza pie

• Nice smiles are hard to come by. Lucky me, I came across yours. Can you read that and make it sound endearing? Cause that's how its meant to come off...not like a cheese ball pick-up line!
• You seem like a bright little slice of sunshine! Too cheesy? probably. Kind of the impression I got though.

(If you have to point out it’s not a cheese ball pick-up line it probably is)

• happy friday. yes, it's cold. yes it's rainy. yes it's just plain sucky. but seeing your smile in your photos....if you're even 1/10th of that in real life, you'll be having a great day :)

(TOO MUCH, when you give a compliment that’s so extravagant its hard to take it seriously)

I can smell the desperation a mile away

• Fifth times the charm, maybe?

(After ignoring his first four messages, apparently this young man did not get the hint – I guess persistence pays off from time to time, just not in this case…)

• LIKE ME! VALIDATE ME! BE MY FRIEND! (This was the actual message title, RED FLAG) I swear that's what writing these messages is like. I'm tempted to give up on the whole online dating thing and just continue meeting people in bars and bookshops; I'm not sure  the continual validation exercise that simply saying 'Hello' should bridge is particularly good for the spirit. Anyway, hello, nice pics, blah blah blah ... Like me, like me, please ... Yeuch. PS - Not sure why I decided you would appreciate my rant against the inequity of actually rating and being rated by other human beings for the sole purpose of self-selecting someone enough like you (not YOU, but 'you') that you justify hiding away from the fear of just being your own self. You just looked like a real person who might be frustrated by it too. Hmm, *SPOILER* I may have some hidden relationship baggage. I'm not normally this ranty, I blame my addiction to Rohypnol. I think the odds of you replying are nowhere near the 90%+ match that o/c gave us ... Oh that's another topic right there.

(If you immediately suggest I won’t reply to your message, I probably won’t. Hidden relationship baggage? Really? In the first message? NOT CUTE. Also, thanks for letting me know about your prescription drug use, that really shouts not crazy)

• Hi :) Happy Halloween !!! I hope u're not angry to me :( Bc I'm bothering u again again. I'm sooooo persistent to get to know u...Please Really so sorry for that. But I'm really want to get to know u. U look so real. U look so different..Please just give me 5 minutes. I see I'm not too handsome :( but i can make u laugh. I'm funny and silly lol

(Abbreviations are okay in moderation, but PLEASE, for the love of god, try not to use them every other word, it makes me think you have the intelligence of a third grader, especially when spelling also comes into question. Don’t point out you’re not good looking. If you’re not, fine, let me judge for myself, but pointing out that fact right off the bat makes it that much worse) 

The Simply Insulting

• You seem cool from your profile, but most girls on here are a little weird. Is there anything wrong with you, like a fake leg or tourette syndrome? C'mon... you can be honest with me.
• hi there :) you seem... nice and (perhaps?) normal :). welcome to nyc!

(Thank you for grouping me with “weird” girls, and glad I seem, “perhaps” normal)

• Do you have siblings? If so, are you the favorite child? You're not! Well, I am terribly sorry to hear that. Why?

(Maybe I am, maybe I’m not, but don’t assume the worst of me right away, it’s just rude!)

• You wanted to surround yourself with good people so you came to New York? You know, this city invented the middle finger.

(mmhm positive energy is radiating from this one)

• Hey, I couldn't find anything we have in common based on what you wrote. But, I'd like to get to know you better. How would you like that?

(GREAT, I’d love wasting my time getting to know someone who so astutely pointed out I have nothing in common with, ‘cause that makes so much sense)

• There's nothing like a good glass of Malbec and a steak dinner to get the evening started....unless you over do it, and end up with a food baby.

 (This message started out okay – picked up on my interest in Argentina, except I really don’t feel like discussing food babies with you, that’s just gross)

If you come off this crazy online, I’m not gonna risk my life meeting you in person

• Allow me to introduce myself. I am Z, my true name is unpronounceable. I love space (random huh?), and my secret dream (I wish I was born 2000 years later) was to be a spaceship designer. I can tell you all about the supernovas and dark matter. Besides starstuff, I've grown up in a foreign country, saw sea turtle twice at Hawaii, worked in a farm where I crashed a farm vehicle (I wooffed there), drove around in a volcano field, been to death valley, almost got thunderstroke on Yosemite, got into medical school, and survived medical school. I enjoy museums like PS1 and watching documentary films, but now i am mostly swamped by brain related stuff (and I am not a zombie!). Also I can make delicious chocolate balls.

(This guy knows where most girls interests lie – space! It’s as if he thought of the most random, disconnected facts from his life and threw them all in the message, hoping that one would stick. Now, if he had just led with the chocolate balls – maybe I would’ve considered!)

• I'm in a good mood, and then I see you. Double good mood. I forgot that it was possible to stumble upon somebody; not just here, but anywhere, that generates genuine enthusiasm in me. You are so gorgeous to me, and I simply like the vibe you are giving off...alright, I've already said too much haha. It is imposable to not come off corny here, I can only assure you that I am being sincere. Actually I'll go one step further, I will swear on my cat Quinton's grave [he was my Maine Coon who died of Leukemia, and I buried him myself in Coldwater Canyon...CA...I'm from LA]. Some random facts about me: I must admit to you that my last loving relationship had us making love while i watched hockey. Oh & no Fatties. No offense! ..It's a lifestyle thing.On a typical Friday night I am - slurring to the oldies, doing splits-to-twerks combos, wearing a dress I nicknamed the fuckfest, putzing around the local 24/7 Walmart buying random things that usually include Cheezits. You can be unstable as long as you dance well.

(The message starts off okay, very complimentary, until we get to the part where he talks about his dead cat’s grave, how romantic! He likes watching sports while having sex, good to know! I don’t even understand most of what he likes to do on a Friday night, and am a bit curious about what "split-to-twerks combos" are, not gonna lie. But I sure as hell don’t want to putz around Walmart stuffing my face with Cheezits. And it’s always nice when someone has their priorities straight, placing more importance on dancing abilities than mental stableness.)

And then there are the poems (At least wait until message 3!)

• from state 2 state, city 2 city, all girls do is drink, where is the part of having fun without a drink, huh!

(Hey! What’s wrong with drinking?! Don't insult one of my favorite pastimes!)

• From Out of Law to Law: Since I don't drink at a bar, I have to wink from afar. You are a law person. I struggle to transcend the law person. We both smile a lot without a pot. How about having puns for funs together? Or perhaps a dance perchance if you have a penchance for dance? Summer is still sauntering above our heads. Before it ends, shall we dance?

(Um, say What?)

And So It Begins

As I sit here, in my office on the 37th floor of a non-descript law firm in mid-town Manhattan, I wonder - how much longer can I navigate the interwebs for useless information before I get a phone call telling me to make pages upon pages of photocopies? Said photocopies will inevitably give me countless papercuts, making me bleed onto legal documents - whiteout! Or the copy machine will get jammed, and I'll get worked up until I am once again asking (or screaming to) myself, what exactly am I doing here? And what do I want to be doing? Surely this is just a transient stop between my adventures living in South America and my next real life destination.

And THAT, my dearly beloved friends and followers (of which I can probably count on one hand at this point, gotta start somewhere) is where you come in! I want to be writing! I want to be sharing my funny happenings with you, and contributing to your procrastination and hopefully, sometimes, even making you smile, or better yet - LAUGH! If this blog gets picked up and turned into a book, which then undoubtedly will be made into a movie starring say, Rachel McAdams, then so be it (a girl can dream can't she?). But for now let's begin one step at a time, and write....