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.