Murphy's Law, Or Something Like It...

I got my car washed today. Those of you familiar with the CRV know she gets pretty dirty and I generally wash her myself. Which of course means I wash my car about twice a year. Today, I finally took myself and the CRV on the adventure known as going through a car wash. I wasn't sure this was a fact until I actually got there but, I have definitely never ridden through a car wash before. It felt like Apocalypse Now in there. I was the worst person possible to be handling things like put the car in neutral! Hands off the wheel! Turn on your music so you aren't just hearing all those things (what are those things?) smack your car over and over again!

Anyway, I lived to tell the tale of the car wash so that's great. This was definitely a 'my car is covered in wintery grossness already, it would be nice to take a layer gross off' kind of wash. I had no expectations that my car would sparkle for days. Though the wash was very nice.

In an interesting plot twist I got home to my garage door being broken. It is currently stuck about 6 inches off the ground on its right side but is all the way to the ground on the left. Which means I had to park my very clean car in the driveway. The driveway that is out of doors. Where it rained for the better part of the evening.

I am now not only somewhat upset about my very clean car but I fear I will wake up to critters in the garage. Any number of things could squeeze through this opening and attack. Thus I will be up all night, worrying about the rabies.

The Story of the Bathroom Shelves

So I had this great post, in my head, about my recent home improvements. Notice I said home improvements and not crafting. Martha Stewart to Tim "The Tool Man" Taylor in like 24 hours flat.

So, this post was great, until my (mom's) camera stopped working. The Story of the Bathroom Shelves (as it shall hencetoforth be known) really only works with pictures. Pictures that won't upload to my computer.

So, maybe someday folks. Maybe someday you will hear The Story of the Bathroom Shelves, but today, is not that day.

Son of a bitch.

It's Like I'm Watching Animal Planet 24 Hours a Day

I have bad luck with animals. Household pets are not so bad but anything that comes from the outdoors I don't get along with very well. I pulled a blanket out from under my bed yesterday that has holes in it from being eaten through by a mouse. (The blanket has been super washed since this happened and it was like over a year ago so I figure it's safe now.) There have been deer tracks through our lawn (through the lawn, in the landscaping, they may as well pull up a chair on the deck and have a margarita) lately and I'm terrified of coming home some night, parking my car, getting out to get in the house and being face to face with effing rabid Bambi ready to eat my face off. This has yet to happen but I know it will based on today's little visitor.

I was driving down Heim Rd. in Getzville this evening when I saw a cat scampering across the road. Slowing down so I would not hit said cat I made a shocking discovery. What I thought was a poor little lost cat was actually a fox. A fox. A little red fox with a little black tail and pointy little teeth. Now Heim Rd. isn't exactly a freeway but it's also not surrounded by a national park. There are literally houses up and down every square inch of the street. There's a freaking middle school on it for God's sake. What is a fox doing just running around, across the street, from house to house like this is Animal Kingdom?

If anyone has an answer to this other than, "You're encroaching on their land and they have no place left to go so they just scamper around willy-nilly," I'd love to hear it.

Fun fact: If you Google Image search just the word 'fox' you'll mostly just end up with pictures of Megan Fox. In her underwear. Which would be great. If I were a 14 year old boy.

More Lessons in Homemaking

The Scene: My bedroom/My kitchen

The Players: Kristen and Georgie

Kristen, sitting quietly in her room, G-Chatting and job searching hears some mumbling from the first floor.

Me: What did you just say?

Mom: Hey Martha Stewart! Could you come down here for a minute and help me with something? (I kid you not, my mother actually shouted this up to me just to make fun of the fact that I had talked about feeling like I was 107 years old all week. She's a real spitfire.)

Me: I'm sorry; what did you say?

Mom: Seriously, I have a sh*tload of cinnamon sticks and cloves down here and I need you figure out what to do with all of them.

Yeah, that really happened. My Dad used to make tomato butter (I have no idea what tomato butter is as it always really grossed me out, but, I gather it involves tomatoes, cinnamon sticks, and cloves.) and hence we have piles of cinnamon sticks and cloves lying around and we have nothing to do with them. Georgie's way of fixing this problem: Call on me. Or Martha Stewart. Or po-tay-toe, po-ta-toe, as it were.

I spent the better part of my Friday night using said cloves and cinnamon sticks to make homemade teabags to use as Christmas gifts. Natch. This story has two points:

1. If you would like some homemade teabags for Christmas gifts, call me.

2. If you suddenly feel like you need someone to craft something for you, apparently, you can just shout at me whenever the mood suits you.

Do You Have A Better Method for Choosing A Team to Cheer For?

Yesterday was a college football lovers dream. I wish the Big Ten had a championship as I can only imagine how excited I would be. I planted myself sqaure in front of the television for hours yesterday watching the Big East, SEC, and Big 12 championships. It was delightful. Georgie has the same affinity for college football as I so she spent her day in the exact way. We were both cheering for Pitt as it is my Dad's alma mater (brutal loss BTW, really blew it). In the Big 12 game I was cheering for Texas as, I have a strange affinity for Texas football. (Georgie (who was cheering for the upset) explains to me that I like Texas football because I liked Vince Young. She says these feelings have transferred to Jordan Shipley and my like for Texas football is based solely on the fact that I'm boy crazy. So, I'm glad that's cleared up...)

The difficulty in this house lied in who to cheer for in the 'de facto national champoinship' (De facto national championship! Game within the game for the Heisman race! You would have thought it was the freaking Superbowl) SEC game. There are a lot of very good reasons to dislike both Alabama and Florida. Taking this into consideration I was really just looking for a great football game. Georgie, she felt differently.

The Scene: The second floor of my house
The Players: Do you need to ask?

Mom: Who are you going to cheer for in this game?! I don't know what to do?!

Me: I just want to watch a really good football game but, if you really want to cheer for someone; who do you hate less Urban Meyer or Nick Saban?

Mom: Ewwwwww, I can't pick that's a terrible question.

Me: OK, well, how much do you hate Tim Tebow?

Mom: I hope it is exposed that he is serial killer.

Me: ...Welp, I guess you're cheering for Alabama then....

That is an exact quote folks. If that's not hate, then frankley I don't know what is. She didn't even miss a beat. Just, BAM, serial killer. Then, this morning this little gem happened:

Mom: Urban Meyer was hospiltalized for dehydration because he cried so much last night! Hahahahahahahahahaha!

Me: Wait, what?

Mom: OK, I made the crying part up but he was treated for dehydration. But, the crying thing makes sense doesn't it? Hahahahahahahaha!

Me: Wait, what?

It's safe to say you can prepare for this to be updated after the bowl selection show. I can only imagine what kind of commentary is going to come out of that situation. If something goes horribly (horribly) awry and Florida goes to the National Championship, I'm pretty sure someone will turn into a serial killer and I'm guessing it won't be Tebow.

The Soccer Momification of K. Fahn, Part Deux!

So... I posted about turning into a soccer mom and then I posted about doing very anti-Biggest Loser things while watching The Biggest Loser. I didn't realize until today how not only is it very not Biggest Loser-esque making Martha Stewart No Bake Chocolate Peanut Butter Oat Bars, but how very motherly it is. Later today I decided, what the hell, why not really take things to the next level.

And by next level I of course mean crafting.

Yeah, please refer to this link. The project named Mom's Magnetic Board was the project I did today. Because I'm kind of like a 12 year old (really oxymoronic isn't it?) and moved home with my mom, I lost my very well decorated refrigerator in Philadelphia. I loved my refrigerator. I realize that a weird thing to take the time to decorate in your apartment is a fridge but it was my thing; let it go. Realizing I wouldn't have a fridge in my bedroom I decided the only logical step to hanging onto all my awesome magnets was a magnetic dry erase board. However, the idea of a stark white board hanging on my very grown up golden walls made me want to cry. Yes, this is seriously how my mind works.

A little bit of Googling and a serious trip to Michael's later I created my very own Mom's Magnetic Board. Albeit she's a little fancier and a little less embellished than the example but realizing the name of the project, well. I. Wanted. To. Die.

Turns out we have a theme for the week ladies and gentlemen. Kristen is becoming an adult. And by adult I of course mean, your dessert making, hockey team supporting, Crafty McCrafterson Mom.

I Watched The Biggest Loser Tonight...

...And made Martha Stewart's No Bake Peanut Butter Chocolate Oatmeal Bars while I watched.

I also opened a bottle of 2009 Beaujolais Nouveau. But don't worry. I only drank half of it....

Cheers to weight loss!

The Soccer Momification of K. Fahn

I didn’t realize that moving back to the suburbs would make me a soccer mom. Apparently, it has. Fast. Let me start with the outfit I ran my errands in this afternoon. It included but was not limited to a zip up hoodie (Lion Ambassador Homecoming 2k6 whattttt!), jeans, sneakers, (like serious gym sneakers, though I don't exactly use them for the gym) and my Orange Bowl 2k6 hat (really went with the Penn State theme today). It may not sound like anything out of the ordinary but once I got out on my way and saw how many people (and by people I of course mean mother’s with 2 year olds) I was dressed like, I. Was. Mortified. That is literally the uniform of young mothers everywhere just in case you were wondering.

My day started with a trip to the supermarket to pick up dinner for the next two nights. Because, of course, what good mom doesn’t have dinner planned for more than one night? (Skirt steak and pork tenderloin, BTW.) On the way home I stopped by the local high school to support the Varsity hockey team fundraiser by buying a few Chiavetta’s chicken dinners. Had my pre-purchased tickets from the kid down the street and everything. By the time I got home I felt like I had aged about 30 years. I mean who comes home with three nights of dinner including one purchased to raise money for new uniforms for a high school freaking hockey team?

The one redeeming thing about this little adventure into motherhood (aside from the fact that there was no actual child involved, Thank God) was my choice of music as I pulled into the parking lot of the high school. If you’ve ever heard the song Shots by LMFAO (featuring Lil' Jon), you know what I’m talking about. If you haven’t heard it, it isn’t the type of music you want to be listening to as an adult pulling into buy chicken from a bunch of high schoolers and their parents. I realized perhaps I’m not as much like a mom as I feel if the first line of songs I’m listening to are, “Get ready to get f*cked up!” Don't worry, I turned it off as I actually handed the man my tickets and received my meals.

Ahhhh, feeling so my age right about now.

Lessons in Moving

Moving will take up all of your time. Moving over a major holiday will make it even worse. I've been noticiably absent around here as I (finally) offcially moved back to Buffalo. If I could give everyone who ever has to move a tip: Don't do it 3 days before Thanksgiving or else you and your entire family will be eating turkey next to large piles of your stuff which can be kind of embarassing.

On the other hand, watching marathons of this, has made me feel wayyyyyy better about the state of my stuff right now....

So a Happy belated Thanksgiving to all, get ready for serious excitement coming at you from the Queen City.

Really Wish I Had Thought About Live Blogging the CMA's

Because they are AWESOME. So many noteworthy things have happened in just the first hour and a half I can't even handle all the excitement. (Anyone who thinks I'm joking or being sarcastic, wrong again.) In case you don't believe me, my mom is pretty much the biggest country music hater of all time and in the 20 minutes I made her watch she had quite a bit to say. (Admittedly what she said is not necessarily kind but kind and noteworthy are two completely different things.)

1. "Why do all men in country music wear cowboy hats? Do they all share some kind hair problem the rest of us don't?"
2. "Who invited Charles Manson to the show?"

That second comment is in reference to Jamey Johnson. If you try to Google a picture of him right now this commentary might seem a bit extreme. I would recommend searching tomorrow for something like 'Jamey Johnson CMAs' because if you see what he looked like this evening you will realize how much sense she's actually making.

In other news, I don't really understand why everyone is wearing bodysuits these days. (See: Lady Gaga and Beyonce. Click on that Beyonce link as it only furthers my case. Justin Timberlake and Andy Samberg are there too. In the same outfits.) What's so wrong with pants? I love a good pair of jeans. Doesn't everyone else?

Then I was watching this awards show and saw Carrie Underwood. If I had her legs I would give up pants. For good.

Update: I actually cried when Taylor Swift won Entertainer of the Year. Something is clearly wrong with me. Clearly.

Experiment: Postponed

So I clearly had my experiment all laid out and I was ready and rarin' to go today until I got the world's largest distraction. Remember how yesterday I went on about Up like it was the second coming? Well today, it came to my house. That's right, Georgie purchased me the greatest animated film of the year. How could I possibly go see something else with that just sitting in my house waiting for me? The answer is I couldn't. So again, you're going to have to wait for updates on what I'm sure will be a fascinating scientific breakthrough.

Dating Yourself: An Experiment

I have no problem doing activities alone. Many times I'd rather have dinner with myself and a copy of New York Magazine than with another human. (No offense to all those other humans I ever have or may ever have a meal with.) Considering dinner is an event I'd rather do solo a movie is clearly something I don't mind doing alone. In fact when you think about it, what's the point of going to a movie with someone else? It's not like you can chat with that person while you're there. It's not like you can share popcorn and a soda with everyone you might go to the movies with. I mean, I guess I can see the benefits of having someone to discuss the movie with after but suppose you loved the movie and the other person hated it? How fun is that discussion going to be?

Anyway, the point is, I like going to the movies alone. It's how I ended up crying in my popcorn during Up all by myself. (If you have not seen this movie (The heartwarming story of a crotchety old balloon salesman, his 8 year old boy scout friend, and a dog named Dug.), it came out on DVD today. Go buy it, rent it, something. Disney/Pixar: They have done it again. And yes you will cry. You will also laugh and quote it to people who have no idea what you're talking about for weeks.) Yes, crying all alone in a movie theater is a little weird (read: embarrassing) but really, worse things have happened. Could one of those worse things be being terrified all alone in a movie theater?

I've been desperate to see Paranormal Activity and I'm thinking tomorrow is going to be the day to do it. However, I don't know too many other people who can just go see a movie at 1 o'clock on a Wednesday afternoon. This is where the question for my experiment comes in: I have no problem crying alone in a movie theater but will being scared alone in a movie theater keep me from sleeping at night?

Check back to find out what happens. Alternatively, if you do not hear from me I've probably frightened myself into some kind of institution. In that case, experiment FAILED.

Reason #1 I'm Still Unemployed

Despite it's inherent insanity and complete fakeness, Gossip Girl is definitely still in my top 5 favorite television shows. Since the move home I have even started to make my mom watch it. Not because I think it's appropriate to watch shows with your mom that involve lost weekends and queen bee's but because to watch it in HD (and in what other definition would you want to see Manhattan?) I have to watch it downstairs where she resides most of the day. I will not go to bed on a Monday until after I see the week's episode. Due to last night's impressive Monday Night Football game, Gossip Girl had to be DVR'd and not watched until 1 A.M.

You're probably saying, why does it matter if you watch it Monday night or Tuesday when you wake up? Its not like you have a job, you could watch it anytime of the day or night, right? Wrong.

The first thing I do on a Tuesday morning (well after the first cup of coffee is poured) is turn on my computer. Do I head straight to Career Builder or Monster? Nope. I head straight for this. Because it's pretty much the only thing that gets me out of bed on a Tuesday. And by that I of course mean, I live for it all week long. Super productive way to start the morning.

In other news:

Dear Gossip Girl;

Worst. Threesome. Ever.

xoxo

Anddddddd I wonder why the job hunt continues.

Drinking a glass of wine is relaxing. Right?

It takes the following things to open and consume a bottle of wine in my house. And by bottle I of course mean I'm only consuming a glass. Or two. Anyway:

• Set of Keys
• Spreadsheet
• A College Degree (Some kind of Doctorate might be helpful but I'll never know.)
• Google (This of course means you need a computer and a working Internet connection. Sometimes getting the Internet to work in this house requires an act of Congress.)
• Corkscrew
• Large Knife (A cutting board can be helpful so you don't chop up the kitchen counter.)
• Scissors
• Pliers
• One of those rubber things used to open jars (Do those have a technical name?)
• Decanter
• Funnel
• #4 Coffee Filter
• Coaster (And by coaster I of course mean a coaster that is made specifically for bottles or decanters of wine. No regular coasters will do in this house.)
• Plastic Wrap
• Hair Tie (Rubber bands will also work but hair accessories seem to be easier to find.)

I would explain why all of these things are necessary but frankly, I think that list tells you everything you need to know. The picture is of the finished product. I should have just stuck with Georgie's plan and learned to love Franzia.

My dad would be so proud.

This is Why I Don't Leave the House That Much

Job interviewing. Not the world’s least stressful task. This stress is generally made worse when you only operate like half a human which is apparently, the only way I operate. The following sequence of events all happened prior to 9:30am:

1. I purchased this shirt at Express to wear as part of my business professional wardrobe. Though mine is grey, you get the idea. A perfectly standard shirt for such purposes right? Wrong again Kristen, wrong again. It took me about 5-7 minutes to put this shirt on. To put a shirt on. That is because, inexplicably, this ‘button down (button up?) shirt’ does not unbutton. Alternatively, I had to shimmy it over my head. No one should do any shimmying at 8:30am unless it involves a night that has lasted wayyyyy too long. I later learned that said shirt actually (also inexplicably) has a zipper up the side to make it easier to put on. Lesson: Before purchasing a shirt make sure you are 100% aware of how it works. It’ll save boatloads of time in the morning.

2. It wound up being a wacky day of weather in Buffalo. The sun was shining, rain was falling, snow may have fallen from the sky, there was hail, it was nutty. As I woke up this morning there was a fairly steady rain. I gathered this information because I stood stared, stared, at the kids waiting for the bus across the street for at least another 5 minutes. Just stood at my window, drinking my coffee, watching the kids wait for the bus. Realizing this sort of made me a pedophile, I shut the blinds. And refused to open them the rest of the day. Lesson: The only kids you should ever watch waiting for the bus are your own. And even then, really, get a life.

3. Based on the above stalking I determined I needed to wear a coat this morning. I do not, however, have any coats in Buffalo. I realize how this sounds but like I said, I’m avoiding moving. My only option in this whole house was my Lion Ambassador jacket. Now, as a Penn State Lion Ambassador we were given a lot of ‘gear’ to wear. The ever embarrassing formal gear included a blazer, the casual gear included a sweater, a polo, and the jacket. I didn’t mind wearing said jacket while giving tours, at events, even to class…while I was still in college. Not 2 ½ years later. On my way to a job interview. It has my name stitched onto it... Lesson: Be a grown up. Own a coat.

Me in said jacket. At a more appropriate time. GTLS. Don't. Ask.

4. From this point I made it almost all the way to the interview. Almost. As I said it was raining. Hard. I had not one but two umbrellas in my car. In the trunk. Since the whole idea of an umbrella is not to get wet in the first place I decided the best possible plan would be to crawl through the car to get it. In my business suit. And four inch heels. Did I mention I did this all for the world's largest KPMG golf umbrella? Which later fell off of what it was leaning up against and onto my interviewer. I should let you know I had to walk maybe 20 feet. Umbrella: Totally. Not. Worth. It. Lesson: Keep your umbrella at an arm's length. Alternatively, screw the umbrella and run like hell.

In other news, I did get offered the job. So apparently having the maturity and intelligence of a 12 year old can still get you pretty far in this world.

Faux Live Blogging World Series Game 6

Donald Trump + Regis Philbin = OMG, how did all of that personality end up sitting together at a baseball game? My mind is literally blowing as we speak.

Also, where has K. Hud been? Did the wives win?

First Stop, Microsoft Outlook. Next Stop, The White House.

This afternoon I went on my second and a half job interview. I would explain the half but it would really take a lot out of me. Let’s just say it involved 3 hours I’ll never get back, a man named Hal, and not only one of the best moustaches I’ve seen in a long time but also one of the best mullets.

Today’s experience involved a popular furniture store and was not a complete and total waste of time (it did however lack all of the inappropriate hair) but felt like valuable job searching experience. That is, until this conversation took place:

Interviewer: “Do you have a good working knowledge of how to email?”
Me: “Yes, I do. I used email everyday at my last job and communicate with my friends via email all the time.”
Interviewer: “Oh great, then you really have a leg up on everyone here. I’m definitely going to pass your name to my regional manager for a second interview.”

So based on this exchange I make the following inference: Being able to email equals being more qualified for a job than any of the people that already have jobs at said company so therefore if I put together all of my abilities that are similar (read: as simple or even just as this century) to this I am basically qualified to be President of the United States. Am I not?

Really Big Night

"It's either go home and watch basketball or another trip down Broad St." - Jimmy Rollins following the Phillies Game 5 victory over the New York Yankees which saved their back to back World Series hopes.

Here's to a game 7.

What? No one else ever took a 5 month vacation?

After a small hiatus/semi-retirement I have decided everyone probably missed me. A lot. Because I'm a people pleaser, I'm back. For real this time. Get ready for more fascinating stories about Buffalo (I've moved) (or I'm in the process of moving) (or I'm completely avoiding moving), trashy television shows (I've added like a lot more season passes to the Tivo this fall) (OK it's not a Tivo and actually I set it everyday based on what mood I may be in and/or what sporting events I may be watching), and my general disgruntlement's (that is seriously a word, I dictionary.com-ed it) with the world. Get ready to be dazzled.

I'm Baaaaaaaack

OK. My deepest apologies for my little breakski from the blog world. The traveling is not always conducive to sitting down and spilling your deepest, darkest thoughts on to the Internet. So get ready for some serious updates as to what you've missed since Monday May 11. OMG, can you believe it's Memorial Day already? I'm so stunned that I actually typed out OMG if that's any kind of bench mark for you.

Anyway, here starts the update, going all the way back to San Francisco. After the driving an hour out the way excursion, we arrived at dinner at The Fish Market in San Mateo. My review is good not great. Fabulous views, right next to the water, wonderful wait staff. Wonderful wait staff except it took until I ordered my dinner to be asked if I would like to order an alcoholic beverage. Apparently I don't look 21? Or I look like the type of girl who just wants water with her dinner? (Let it be noted I'm actually the kind of girl who wants vodka with her dinner. Lots of vodka.) The problem was the food wasn't the best food I've ever had. Not that everything is going to be the best food I've ever had but if you name yourself The Fish Market, my tuna better not be cooked medium. If you found yourself there I would recommend sitting at the bar and ordering some appetizers. Our appetizers were hands down more enjoyed than anyone's entrees. We had the crab cake, calamari, and some ahi that was melt in your mouth fresh. Obviously this is not the same tuna I was served for dinner. My serious recommendation would be, try another restaurant. I've been to better in San Mateo including but not limited to Left Bank for dinner, Shiki for sushi, or Specialtys for lunch. And by lunch I mean fresh, hot cookies.

While in San Francisco we also attended a Giants baseball game as a team bonding event. This was probably the most boring baseball game of all time, but great fun nonetheless. (For the sports fans out there it was the Giants v. Nationals. This was the biggest story of the day. Not at all entertaining.) If you ever find yourself up there and have the opportunity to go to a game at AT&T Park you must do it. It is a beautiful ball park and there are great views of downtown San Francisco throughout. If you're looking for something to eat there I definitely suggest the garlic fries. I'm not sure what it is about that city and garlic on french fries but they are all over that town and they are delicious. While it isn't so baseball-y I also suggest the Ghiradelli hot fudge sundaes. That is what heaven is like. I'm 100% sure of it. Also, that giant Coke bottle has dueling slides in it. Not that I've ever raced anyone down them. At the age of 22.

So that was my quick stop in San Francisco and the activities that came out of it. The trip home was not nearly as exciting as the trip there which was a welcome break. Except for the almost missing my connection thing. Which of course meant me, running through an airport. Anyone who knows me knows how often I run so this was a big deal for me. Like, a really big deal. So yes, I ran, looking like an idiot but I didn't miss my flight so looking like an idiot was totally worth it. Which leads me to a quick stop in Buffalo before moving on to the next.

Sometimes Travel is NOT So Cool.

My trip to San Francisco starts with a flight at 6:20am from Buffalo to Dulles. Dulles as in D.C. not Dallas as in Texas. I specify only because I've found it helps a lot. People always think you're talking about Dallas. Dulles never occurs to anyone. This trip involved but was not limited to the women directly behind me throwing up into multiple vomit bags. Like had to ask for extra bags as the ones in the seat back pockets in front of her and her husband were not enough. Once on the ground, said vomiter put all her paper vom bags into a plastic garbage bag which was then collected by the flight attendant only to have the woman's husband call the flight attendant back to ask for the plastic bag back as "her eyeglasses might be in it." They weren't. They were on the floor.

After that came a generally peaceful flight from Dulles to San Francisco after which I was 100% sure my bag my was lost. Everyone from my flight got their bag but me and the flight number disappeared from the very informative screen near Baggage Claim Area 1. So as I'm waiting in line at the Baggage Service area (cursing myself for wearing sweatpants as I was on my way to an afternoon of business meetings) there it comes slowly spinning around the carousel. That beautiful Vera duffel bag. God bless you.

An afternoon of meetings led to a sales team dinner. I got put in charge of driving a rental car. Admittedly, I am a slave to my GPS. Being that I didn't think I would be driving a car while out for business, said GPS did not make the trip with me. Which led to driving across what may be the world's longest bridge. Which took us to a completely different town. We then had to drive back over the bridge to get where we were trying to go. Which involved paying a toll. Did I mention the restaurant was pretty much within walking distance from the office? Not cool at all.

So really this is not that great of a story but some things must be talked about. Like vomiting on planes. And hour long trips to restaurants that are literally five minutes from your jump off point. You know, the important stuff.

Shoutout To All The Moms Out There

A very Happy Mother's Day to all the Moms out there. Since sooooo many Moms read this blog I figured it was important to give them their due. The point is: make sure to give Mom a call, send her a card, or cook her dinner. I will be making a fabulous feast of crab cakes, wedge fries, (seasoned with Parmesan cheese and parsley and baked until golden and delicious) and asparagus. I am probably more excited for this meal than she is.

In other news, my time in Buffalo is coming to an end (yes, I'll be hitting up The Station again tonight) so tomorrow brings us adventures in San Francisco. Get ready for really exciting stories about hour, after hour, after hour of meetings. Also, long naps on planes. There will be lots of stories about that.

Home is the Best.

This weekend starts a(nother) marathon of travel for me. We're talking one end of the country to the other, 3 states in 12 days, planes, trains, and automobiles here. The jump off point for this one is Buffalo, NY.

The best place in the world is home. I subscribe to theory that one can have multiple places they call home, especially if you've taken the time to make more than one place your home. Home in this instance is Buffalo, NY. More specifically the rocking suburbs of Buffalo, NY. If you've ever wondered what it was like to live in a bubble I would suggest moving to the towns of Williamsville/East Amherst/Getzville/Clarence, NY. Did I mention how much I love bubbles? Anyway, if you happen to find yourself up here, just North of the city, a few recommendations for you to chew on.

Merle Norman 7870 Transit Rd. Williamsville, NY: I know Merle Norman is a chain. I know that they sell pillows that say things like, "I'll take a mocha vodka xanax latte please!" I know the women who work there look like they applied their makeup with brushes I use to paint my walls. BUT, I have gotten my eyebrows waxed here for a decade (I just figured out today it has literally been a decade and almost had a heart attack in the parking lot) and I hate going anywhere else. If I know I have a trip home scheduled I will allow my eyebrows to get unruly (perhaps even offensive) in order to wait to go here. They always do a great job and they always stroke the ego by telling me how nice my eyebrows are. Dynamite combo. I realize boys don't understand the eyebrow waxing thing but trust me, finding a good, reliable place to get them done is just as important as just about anything I can think of. Seriously

Bocce's Club Pizza 1614 Hopkins Rd. East Amherst, NY (The Original Shop's Address is 4174 N. Bailey Ave. Amherst, NY but the East Amherst location is my jam): This place is right across the street from my old high school. I used to walk over and buy $2 orders of fries to snack on before field hockey practice. Every time I come home we always order at least once. Generally we always get a pizza and wings (double order, half hot, half barbecue) and if I'm in the mood, I'll order some chicken fingers, medium. I have never eaten anything from here that I haven't liked and it's usually just as good reheated the next day. We always over order so we know we'll have some for lunch for the next few days. Buffalo doesn't have much but it does have excellent food and for Friday night pizza and wings this is 100% the place to order from. Oh and you have to order (at least from the East Amherst locale) as there is nothing but a counter where you pick up your order in the store.

Libation Station 124 Plaza Dr. Williamsville, NY: If you are looking to put your drinking face on, Libation Station is the place to do it. I will go ahead and dub it the 'Best Bar in a Strip Mall Ever'. Yes, 'The Station' is located between a grocery store and a Chinese takeout spot but that does not make it any less awesome. There is nothing fabulous about this place, one might even call it a dive (though since its fresh coat of paint and few wall sconces it's not so much of a dive) but you can always get a cold, cheap beer. And lots of shots. And these are the reasons we go to bars are they not?

So that's a little look at what my Friday in Buffalo looks like. And it may seem short and simple but: grooming, food, drink. What more is there to life?

What Is This Country Thinking?

OK, I'm not one to get on her soapbox very often. I find it usually gets me in a spot of trouble so I try to focus on the lighter side of life. To quote the fabulous Samantha from Sex and The City, "I don't believe in the Republican party or the Democratic party. I just believe in parties." That being said, I am going to hoist myself up there real quick.

My mom asked me today what I thought about Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt's recent wedding. Had I seen any pictures? Do I think they're really married this time? Which got me thinking: Really married? This time? A timeline of events for those of you who don't eat US Weekly for breakfast like I do.

• The second episode of season 3 of 'reality' TV show The Hills entitled Big Girls Don't Cry (I am not sure on dates here. I never claimed to be a journalist.): Spencer proposes to Heidi for the first time, with possibly the ugliest ring ever. Seriously, never propose to me with a purple ring, I don't care how great an idea it seems because you are daring to be different. Dare to be different when you cook me dinner, not with my engagement ring.


• December 19, 2007: US Weekly publishes a cover story about why Heidi called off her wedding. We watched her do this at the end of the third season of The Hills. You know she flies off to Colorado to see her mom, drink hot cocoa, recover from more plastic surgery...but I digress.


• November 19, 2008: Heidi and Spencer 'elope' in Mexico after he gets her drunk. Alright to be fair, she was drunk when he asked her to elope, not during the actual ceremony. And I'm not sure it counts as eloping if you have a white, floor length dress you just happened to pack, flower arrangements, and the crew of US already there to do a cover story. But again, I digress.


• Sometime between then and the December 23, 2008 season 4 finale of The Hills: Heidi and Spencer go to a Los Angeles courtroom to make aforementioned elopement legal. And besides the fact that he stopped her part way through so she 'could have the wedding she always wanted' blah, sh*t, blah, the whole thing was a setup. A Los Angeles Superior Court official came out to say that MTV used the facilities after hours and whomever was sitting behind the bench was not one of their judges. So even if it had gone through, it wouldn't have been a real, official, legally recognized marriage.


• April 25, 2009: Heidi and Spencer actually get married. I would still like to see a marriage certificate but, yes, they actually tied the knot. A white dress, big church and Lauren Conrad in attendance? It had to be real.
  

So am I embarrassed at the amount of research I just did on this subject? Of course. But it brings me to my point: Have these two (yes these two making out in the surgical masks) not made a complete and total mockery of the sacrament of marriage? Have they not been engaged, unengaged, married, not really married, and married again just for the tabloid press?

Just wanting to be clear here: because they are a man and a woman they can do all of this (which basically makes marriage mean nothing if you ask me) to simply become more famous. Yet, we are worried that allowing same sex couples to get married might ruin the integrity of our country? Same sex couples who do not want more press but simply want to have the same rights as my mom and dad did or me and my future husband will have. It's all the gays and lesbians who are going to make a mockery of the sacrament of marriage?

Hmmm. OK. Great work America. Glad our priorities are straight here.

So to answer your question Mom: I don't think much of anything about this wedding. It just makes my heart hurt a little for all the people out there who actually deserve the right to be married. Oh and my stomach is turning a little.

Stepping off the soapbox now and returning you to your regularly scheduled programming.

Am I the Only One Who LOVED Analogies on the SATs?

Analogies. One of life's simpler pleasures. Also, a very simple way to break down not only last night's episode of The Real Housewives of New York City but really, the whole season. The following analogies work on a few levels. One, as a breakdown of the dichotemy of Manhattan society and two, as a simple way of explaining these crazies to your boyfriend.

Let it be noted that the 'We' here is me and people of my class and/or position in New York society. (Incase that's unclear, I lived in Harlem in a studio apartment. On a $25,000 a year salary. I ate nothing but Chicken of the Sea. Let it be noted however: Best. Closet. Ever.) The 'They' in these scenarios are the lovely ladies who star in this show and people within the circle they run. (Incase that is unclear, LuAnn only goes out below 14th St. with her 20 something niece. And gets scared of the sex toys. What is that? Isn't that the point of below 14th St?) So, with all that noted, last night my boo (yeah, I said it) was trying to figure out...well I think he was just trying to figure out what the eff these ladies are up to and I perfectly explained it all with what comes next.

Are you serious? They don't just hop on the subway.

We take the subway like they take cabs.

Oh, and we take cabs like they take town cars.

Me and my brains will be patting ourselves on the back for the remainder of the evening. Thank you.

There's No Way This Happens To Other People

So in honor of it being Tuesday this would normally be a frothy, delicious Gossip Girl update. But due to extrenuating circumstances this is going to be a little different. OK, real quick because I can't resist. Chuck Bass taught us about Ponzi schemes and broke mine and Blair's hearts, Nate stood around like an idiot for 42 minutes, and Serena elevated the meaning of dumb blonde to new heights. No offense to all the blondes out there, I know there are plenty of highly intellignet ones but seriously, what is the matter with that girl? All in all a great episode to lead us into the finale. Also, God Bless Daily Intel for bringing the word lacrosstitute into the conversation. Or at least into my conversations.

But on to the real story.

The Scene: Suburban Station, Philadelphia, PA

The Players: Me, A fairly large group of people trying to get on a train, An ananoymous Septa worker, An R7 train

As I am following a line of people walking off the train, minding my business, I somehow get stuck in the door of the train. The person in front of me walked out just fine but as I am exiting the door begins to close and those suckers do not joke around when they are closing. The door hit me squarely in the arm leaving my back half and the backpack on my back in the train and one foot and my front half on the platform. I am inappropriately and uncontrollably laughing at this point and also trying to push the door open but seriously, those doors are not kidding around when they are trying to close. As I am standing there literally stuck:

Little Old Woman: Wow. You're really actually stuck in there. She's stuck in the door.

Me: Sure am.

At this point a Septa employee notices that there is a crowd gathering at the door where people should be boarding a train. Said Septa employee then notices me stuck in the door completely paralyzed and thusly comes running over to push the door open for me. But the door doesn't just push open so it's more him using every ounce of strength to try to pry the door out of my arm and me trying to wiggle out. Eventually I did work my way out.

Me: Thank you!

Septa Employee: OK, he didn't actually say anything he just stood there with an incredulous look on his face.

I then tried to walk off through the station like that didn't actually just happen but it did, so then I was the girl walking through Suburban Station laughing out loud. At myself. And if I could have had someone take a picture of this just so it was documented I totally would have but I wasn't really in the situation to be pulling out my Nikon to dedicate the moment.

Also, on an escalator yesterday in 30th Street Station I almost had to catch a nun to keep her from tumbling down the moving stairs. I don't think she had ever used an escalator before. I also had to stop myself from trampling her when she was unable to get off said escalator. I would have had to sacrifice a 6 piece chicken nugget meal for this and I wouldn't have been happy. Luckily she never actually fell she just came damn close. Just the getting stuck in the train door thing. So that's good. Right?

This Love/Hate Relationship is Really Leaning Toward Hate

Sunday night has always been one of my favorite nights. Even though it means Monday is imminent there is always fabulous television to be watching. However, I'm starting to realize that I'm either watching not so good (read: awful) television or my standards are ridiculously high. I'm guessing it is probably a healthy mix of both. Probably more of the latter. Whatever.

Desperate Housewives: You desperately (pun intended) need to wrap up this Dave storyline. I know, I know; every season you have a mystery that runs from season open to season finale but we know that Edie just died like a minute ago so clearly he's not going to killing Susan. He's going to get caught for starting the fire, killing his shrink, etc. And then what? Then all we have is no more Edie and another gathering of neighbors watching cops and ambulances, (ambuli? What's the plural here?) gossiping, and acting like they are cold. (Please see the Dane Cook Retaliation show in which he was "In his kitchen cleaning a dish so he came out!)

Also, when did Jackson become Canadian? Was there evidence of this before he was forced on hiatus or are we grappling for plot points here? Also if she confessed her love for you would you even bother telling the woman you were marrying her for citizenship? Wouldn't avoiding it, mean you steer clear of not only some awkwardness but also the chances of her saying no, as well as create more stories later when they are married and she finds out why he really proposed? These seems like Storyline Writing 101 to me.

On the plus side (since I really am being Negative Nelly here) Gaby, I love you and your vanity. She is the reason I should never have children. If I'm going to some ball where my husband is being honored, I'm wearing makeup. How else am I supposed to be socially acceptable? And not scare small children and full grown men alike? I don't care what lesson my daughter needs to learn, I'll find another way to teach it to her. Yes, this is shallow. But I'm not this shallow about everything. I don't think.

This one isn't to all of Brothers & Sisters but mostly just to Calista Flockhart: If you have a role where you get to be married to Rob Lowe, you have it written into your contract that no matter what you will never break up with him. You will never have a trial separation, you will never fall in love with some dude from the park. You will have it written into your contract that you guys will make out all the time. Also you will be gazing into his eyes as much as you can. You never, ever agree to a storyline where you are ending it with Rob Lowe. That is just crazy. And incredibly stupid.

This Week in the Kitchen Has Been Dynamite.

I, am a chef. Not in a CIA trained kind of way, more in a all up in my own head kind of way, but, I am a chef nonetheless. My kitchen is like the inside of a Williams-Sonoma. (If you're wondering how I knew it was - and not &, I simply peered out my bedroom window and looked. Also, gazed longingly at Tiffany's. I love my view.) I will buy a kitchen tool to make one dish even if I know it will be relegated to a drawer until the end of enternity. I am the only 24 year old I know who owns a Kitchen Aid Stand Mixer. I am a chef.

That being said this week I made chili out of a mix that came out of a box. Not very chef like at all. But seriously, I have spent a good amount of time trying to make chili at home that I really, really like. I can never find a recipe (or variation on a theme) that has the right amount of spice, heat, kick; all the good stuff that makes chili, chili. But Wick Fowler's 2 Alarm Chili Kit is so awesome I can't believe it comes out of a box. All the spice comes in little packets in the package all you do is add ground beef, tomato sauce, and a little water. You can buy it online or in your everyday grocery store. The package looks a little different now than it does in the pictures in the website but it's the same delicious taste. My only recommendation is instead of the one 8 ounce can of tomato sauce and two 8 ounce cans of water, use one 28 ounce can of tomato sauce and then enough water to just rinse out that can. Also, throw in the entire packet of red pepper. Even if you're a little b*tch when it comes to spice, it isn't that hot. Serve with rice, shredded cheddar cheese, and tortilla chips. Has provided me with lunch for days and I couldnt' be happier. Or fatter.

I also brined and roasted a turkey breast this week from Ted Allen's The Food You Want To Eat. If you do not own this cookbook, buy it. If you have never brined and roasted a turkey breast, do it. I've liked about 90% of the things I've made out of this book and a turkey breast is so much easier (and smaller) than a whole turkey. Almost makes Thanksgiving seem like a waste.

On tap for Sunday, a roasted pork shoulder. Suck it swine flu.

If You Don't Aspire to Be These Women, You Are Nuts

The Real Housewives of New York are what I dream of becoming. They are a brillant mix of fabulous and completely insane. If I could be that self-involved and get away with it, I totally would. Seriously. What's so wrong about not just thinking but knowing how much better you are than everyone else?

Last night's episode taught us a few things.

1. Ramona officially admitted to having plastic surgery. Sort of. But there wasn't any actual cutting. OK I don't really know what she admitted to but I know that her eyes are definitely like that for a reason. And that reason is Botox.


2. LuAnn gets more boring by the minute. Either more boring or more condescending. It tends to switch by the week. This week I think it was boring with the "I have to go 'downtown' with the girls" faux-tine. Which week was it when she called the little girl fat? That would have been a condescending week.


3. Alex (or Silex depending on whether you subscribe to the theory that Simon is the seventh housewife. Personally, I subscribe to theory that he's really the sixth thus making Kelly, who only came along this season the seventh but, I digress) has a new house! Finally they and their children no longer live in a home that is literally falling apart. While this home now looks like some kind of cabaret at least it has floors. And walls. And no exposed wires.


4. Jill is the Yenta I've always wanted. I'm not sure she has ever done anything to really piss me off. Her gay husband Brad, his skill with pillows, and his awesome blazers do not hurt her case either. Last night particularly, she flawlessly helped Simon with that GE Monogram appliance product placement. Even though we are well aware she has something Viking-esque in her kitchen.


5. Bethenny, Bethenny, Bethenny. Your wit and one liners are what I really wish I had. Or your writers. Whatever it is, I want it. Watching you aruge with people dumber than you are makes me giggle with delight. It gives me ammunition to put in my pocket for future use against mortal enemies. Whoever you may be, get ready, I will be armed and I will be fabulous. (Was that the title of a Jessica Simpson straight to DVD movie? Umm....)


6. Kelly Killeron Bensimon. You may very well be the dumbest person I have ever watched on television. You are not only stupid but you are also so self-involved that I will refuse to dedicate anymore words to you as I am afraid what they might do to your ego. Except, being once married to someone famous does not, in fact, make you famous. Especially now that you are no longer together. Oh, and may God have mercy on your soul.
   

OK so the original 5 of these women pretty much make up the most fantastic show on television. Yes the ladies of Orange County started it but I still don't think it gets better than the ladies of New York. That is until me and my boobies go to New Jersey. Which could be better, but I doubt it.

There is NO Way This Would Happen in Real Life

We all know Gossip Girl is a somewhat satirical (but totally accurate) look into the world of the extraordinarily fabulous Manhattan elite. Which is what made last night kind of difficult for me. I believe this show to be more of window into what people's actual lives are like and not so much a TV show that is completely fake. Like, I think Gossip Girl is less scripted than The Hills. Diluted? Yes. Can I help it? Negative.

So Nate buys an apartment in Murray Hill. The very idea that someone raised in his world would buy an apartment in Murray Hill (despite where is pot dealer lives) is arguably the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. The absolute most ridiculous thing I've ever heard is that living in the Village and Morningside Heights is basically like a long distance relationship. Most definitely. Is. Not.

Living apart from your significant other in Philadelphia and New York, that's long distance. Living apart in New York and Chicago, that's long distance. Living in the Village and Morningside Heights; that's not only the same state, it's the same freaking island. Give me a break you two, you don't even like each other. How are you going to live together in a neighborhood that is basically the Frat Row of New York? With your headbands and your Brooks Brothers suits. Puh-lease.

Neither of them would last a minute in Murray Hill. Or the Village. Or Morningside Heights. You can trust me on the last one. 113th and Manhattan Avenue will crush you Nate Archibald. Crush you.

I Guess Now It's Official.

I am freaking old. Today marks the second day I've been 24. The second whole day. I'm told that this officially makes me a respectable human. Apparently at 23 you are still a child. Only being a year out of college and having a real job and paying real bills and living on your own does not make you an adult. The only thing that makes you an adult is adding a 4 onto the end of your 2 instead of a 3. So I welcome myself to adulthood now for real. Since apparently the last two years didn't really count.

Also, yes, I picked a picture of a High School Musical themed birthday cake. I actually searched the Internet for this. Because since I've only been an adult for the last 2 days and not 2 years, I'm totally allowed to be a huge HSM (yeah that's what the real fans refer to it as) fan. Maybe if I had been an adult I wouldn't have spent my time in Harlem dedicated to dancing. I know the whole thing. I'm really good at it too. Really good.

Thursday through Sunday just get busier and busier.

This weekend (yes, my birthday weekend. Go ahead, shower me with praise.) makes it a proven fact that things do not slow down unless it is entirely inappropriate and unnecessary. All of you driving to State College this Friday were horrible drivers. If there is a fiery car accident that is literally in your way stop, slow down, whatever makes you happy or keeps you safe. If there is an old man getting pulled over there is NO reason you have to slow down and look. You are ruining my weekend and making my trip incredibly difficult. Traffic also makes me quite salty. It's just generally unpleasant.

This weekend also brings us game 6 of the Pens - Flyers series, the Blue-White game at Penn State, and the NFL draft. After being a huge loser on Thursday there is also plenty of TV to be catching up on. So with all the wonderful happening this weekend I guess I can get over the really bad driving but seriously? You. Nearly. Killed Me.

Fine, you're right; the traffic was not as bad as this picture is. But in my head, it was worse.

Buh.

Things That Are Not Awesome:

• Locking yourself out of your apartment when all you want to do is buy meat for taco night. OK, there isn't really an official taco night but I had taco stuff and was going to make tacos for dinner and locked myself out leaving to buy ground beef.


• Pens fans pouring out of Mellon Arena with 4:05 left in the game. Yes, we were losing in a miserable fashion but I expected more from you.


• Trying to treat yourself to a six-pack of Corona for your birthday (while you're out buying the ground beef you locked yourself out of the apartment for; the keys in question are to the right) and finding out that it costs $13.00. Thirteen Dollars. I should have just treated myself to the freaking pony instead.

Things That Are Awesome:

• The weather report for State College this weekend. God Bless heat waves.


• Still trying to come up with a #2 & #3 for this but it really isn't going well.

TGTomorrowisF.

I think I'm in the middle of some kind of geographical quarter life crisis...

Hands down the best part of my job is the travel. Even when it's to places that are not exactly bustling with activity. Even when it causes serious considerations of where I am and what I'm doing there.

The Scene: Todd Conner's in Baltimore, MD.

The Players: Me, The bartender, The part owner of the bar

Me: Can I have a Bud Light please?

Bartender: Sure, can I see your ID?

Bar Owner: So who are you cheering for?

Me: The Penguins.

Bartender and Owner pretty simultaneously: Ohhhhhh...Hahahahahahaha...I guess we can forgive you.

*At the next commercial break*

Bartender: So wait a minute, let me get this straight, you have a New York ID, you're cheering for the Penguins, and you're in Baltimore. What's up with that?

Me: You want the kicker? I live in Philadelphia.

The above caused such whooping from the Bartender and the Owner that the cook actually came out of the kitchen just to hear the story and make sure he got a few jabs in at me as well.



So the story goes like this: I have a New York ID that I will not give up because some sort of weird malfunction in my brain that says "You must always be a resident of New York State."

I was born and raised in Pittsburgh and would be literally disowned if I cheered for anyone but the Pens. No seriously, I think my mom would kick me out of the family. I've been convinced for years the only man who could destroy my family was Mario Lemuiex. And of course, it's fun to be a winner. (And yes I know the chances of us being winners overall are slim, but a girl can dream can't she?)

I'm in Baltimore because work has beckoned me down for my monthly visit. If you ever find yourself near Fells Point get yourself to Todd Conner's. Good atmosphere, great people, delicious food. I dominated a pound of shrimp like there wouldn't be anymore shrimp ever again in the whole wide world. The people who worked for the bar were nice, the people at the bar were nice, both things very important to a gal who's going to sit alone at a bar. They didn't even make fun of me when I started screaming during the first period. Screaming followed by yelling, "Oh my God, I've turned into my mom! I'm so sorry!" (REALLY embarrassing)

I live in Philadelphia because... Well, I'm still not sure how to finish that sentence, not to strangers at a bar anyway. So yes, it is some kind of crisis I didn't know about until last night. Maybe its time to become a resident of Pennsylvania, maybe it's time to shuffle back to Buffalo, Lord only knows. But if all this mess will continue providing stories like the aforementioned, then I suppose I can let the crisis continue.

Gossip Girl, You're Killing Me and MTV, You Are No Better.

TV: You are my favorite. You've known this for years. From 8 pm to about 11 pm every night you can find me parked very comfortably in front of my TV eating up my favorite shows. I have no shame in this. You love music? I love TV.

First up on Mondays, the ever wonderful Gossip Girl.

Dear Gossip Girl,

While your 73 week hiatus this season almost drove me to the edge, I can forgive you because somehow, against all odds, you manage to take my breathe away.

Serena got married in Spain. Sort of. Maybe. Please. Not only are you torturing poor Dan but you are KILLING ME. The last scene shows us she's inevitably going to be stuck in some weirdo three way plot line that will do nothing but make not an ounce of logical sense.

Also, I have never liked Blair and Nate together. Obviously, Blair and Chuck are 100% perfect for each other. (Insert Blair and Chuck! Blair and Chuck! chants here.) Those eyes would sweep me off my feet too, but Chuck needs some loving. The kid has had a really rough year kind of needs a break. Which brings me to my next point:

Little J, why are we bringing up the Kiss On The Lips party? That was so long ago its like it never even happened. Oh, I guess since you're no longer throwing renegade fashion shows or using a whole tube of eyeliner everyday you just needed some attention? Got it. This in no way means I approve of Chuck's attempt at sexual assault, I'm just saying, that was like the third episode of last season and you're not bringing it up until now. Doubt it.

Next week, who knows what that preview was trying to tell me but at least you'll be on again. Right?

Love,
Kristen

P.S. Seriously? Who plays Flo Rida during a Seder meal scene? I may not be Jewish but I know no one is listening to a song with the words "You spin my head right round when you go down," during a holy meal. Take a page from the book of just about any other program on television and talk to the person who selects the music for your show. Better yet, fire them.

The later part of my evening brought me to old faithful, MTV.

Dear MTV,

I am less than a week away from being 24 and you've got me again. Every time I try to run away you somehow reel me in again. The Hills has always had me. I think pseudo reality is just dynamite. Couples counseling in your twenties? Ex-boyfriends who don't shower? Impromptu trips to Hawaii? Perfect. (I think as long as you are willing to accept that none of what you are watching is reality, there is absolutely no problem enjoying this show.)

My problem with you my non-music playing friend is that you have captured me for yet another half-hour a week with the new show College Life. I have officially been out of college for about two years now and here I am knee deep in the freshman year of four students. They're at the University of Wisconsin and I'm still enthralled. (I'm a Penn State Alum. I'm genetically predisposed to hate anything that may pose a threat come football season.)

Is it my sad want to relive my glory days? Is it that I simply enjoy watching young kids making bad decisions? I have no idea but congratulations, you got me.

Love,
Kristen

So while you college freshmen enjoy your Monday night beer pong, this old timer is heading to bed. In a Baltimore Best Western. At a bus stop.

Yes. It is wanting to relive the glory days. Yes. That is the corner of my old beer pong table.

I'm 23. This is the first time I've been on a train.

So I guess it starts here. I’ve been told I should write a blog (you know seeing as I’m so witty and smart, right?) and today I have been pushed to the limit of things that get on my nerves that I’m fairly certain piss others off too. So, here goes.

While I spend a decent amount of time traveling to New York City I generally do it from the comfort of my best friend, my Honda CRV. Leave at the right time of day, with the right set of tunes (from here and here the first half of New Jersey and here and here the second half) and you are there in two hours flat. This trip, however, has been slightly altered due to the incident that took place on 8th St. between Avenues B and C earlier this week. Please see pictures of how cool broken car windows are. (Don’t worry, nothing was taken from the car, not even my dazzling collection of show tunes.)

This has lead me to making my maiden voyage on the Septa/NJ Transit train tracks. While my Septa train smelled slightly of burnt rubber and was possibly the sweatiest place I’ve ever been in April, it was a delightfully peaceful ride. As I boarded my NJ Transit train I was quite excited at first glance. Double decker! Whose ever seen a train with two floors!? But it became apparent rather quickly that this was not going to be quite as peaceful a ride.

As an avid Pittsburgh Penguins fan and Slingbox user, I was excited to get on the train to watch game 2 of the Eastern Conference Quarterfinals. Upon leaving my apartment I realized my headphones had been stolen (by my boyfriend, not whatever idiot smashed my window) so while I would have all the live TV I wanted I would have no sound. Things I can deal with include but are not limited to watching a sporting event without the sound. Is it the same? No. Is it tolerable? Of course. I’m just not one to put the sound on my computer while in a public place where I might be bothering those around me who are, presumably, trying to have a peaceful train ride themselves.

This brings me to my point. Things I cannot deal with include but are not limited to: You sitting across the aisle and one back, I love Taylor Swift too, but I don’t need to hear her new album from your iPod. Behind me, I don’t care if you’re boyfriend isn’t coming to New Jersey again tonight, I’m guessing there’s a reason. And finally, guy with the four year old, there is absolutely no need for you both to *shout* “CHOO-CHOO” every time the train leaves a stop. I know trains are cool and I’m aware that is the noise they make but take a page from the book of me and shut it. Just like no one cares about my hockey game no one cares that your son can say “choo-choo”.

So, normally I’m not so bitter. OK, I am, but not all of me is bitter all the time. So expect more rants and raves but not necessarily a constant flow of them. Especially if I never take the train again.