Emails from a crazy person

So I sort of predicted that the Bongo Jordy thing wasn't over. And..I was right.

Last time I wrote about him I had stopped responding to him and he had sent me a few more emails. Over 2 weeks later, I still haven't acknowledged him in any way, and the emails from him even stopped for about a week. But recently they've been back with a vengeance. So I'll post some here, summarize others, and ignore more. Whenever I start a new paragraph it means it's a new email. So, bask in the sheer volume, please.

For those of you on the official Bongo Jordy email list: there is a lot of new material here. Something for everyone!

OK you're mission if you choose to accept it is to make yourself into a human bomb and detonate yourself in a public place. And for your honourablity and bravery you will be rewarded with hundreds of virgins in a cloud like atmosphere. Good luck!

Last night (Monday) I screen a call from him. The voicemail says something to the effect of, "I'm so sorry about the messages. I want to get together with you. Sorry. Really sorry. Let's meet up. Call me. Sorry. Let me know. Sorry."

This morning when I woke up I had TWO more voicemails from him. The first one, in his words but shortened: "You talked to me before, you're rude not to answer my emails. I do not text. Texting is for teenagers. You're sexy, but this doesn't give you the right to not respond to my emails. I'm nice and I know what's up. If you're seeing some other dork, fuck that dork. I will give you Bahamas. I will give you love. Frankly, I just like you. I think it's fucked up that you're ignoring me. I'm the overall package."

The second: "Arielle, it's Jordan. Please call me back. I'm alone in the city and it sucks. I'm asking you for a little mercy. I'm a good guy. I'm smart. Call me. Bye."

Then when I got to work, a barrage of emails started. So yes, ALL of the emails below came TODAY. Also, one of my first orders of business at work today was to figure out how to block his number. This I did successfully.

I was really drunk I'm sorry about that, I went on a date, made out with her she drank to much, I drank to much she made me leave the bar after she came on to another Guy, and he started to hit on her, I got made, went outside slipped on my ass twice and spranged my ankle badly, then went home and called every girls number that I had(including the girl I went out with) and begged basically for theme to call me. Horrible night and Im sorry. But I sprang my ankle and fell on my ass twice, hard if its any consolation. Also I really think she took the Guy home,(he looked exactly like tiger woods) I swear he could have been his double, worse night I had in a long time.

And did you know Beethoven was deaf?

Also did you know that Jesus is the Messiah?

I don't drink too often, but when I do I tend to over indulge, which can send people the wrong message literally and figuratively. So I would like to apologize for my rash behavior and rather abrubt and random persistence which I'm sure you find unduly anoying and or frightening. I am a normal Guy before more than three drinks, tend to casually return into that state about 7 hours after initial consumption of the said alcohol in question. I would also like to note that I am nice person and very optimistic. I also feel I have a bright future that will be financially secure. I also plan to further my education by attending law school of which I am currently studying the pre-qualifing LSAT exam. Again sorry for abstrusive montage of letter, in which my hand though beligerant wrote. Thank you

So what I like the t.v show One Tree Hill, particularly the theme song, who doesn't right?

Back to Arielle talking! In this next email, Jordy tells me he's writing a screenplay called "The Lunch Club," and then proceeds to describe The Breakfast Club. FUNNY. Not.

And did you know Van Gough never sold a painting in his life.

Then he sent me another unsolicited picture (this is the 3rd) and GOD I AM SO NICE FOR NOT POSTING IT. I still think he's cute, actually. Too bad he's a crackhead/alcoholic.

I'm moving to Seattle if you want to come with me you can, we can get married, if not it was a pleasure not talking to you.

Ezra shmezra, he' a hypocrit Moses himself married an Ethiopian woman.

There's alot of oysters but no pearls.

Do you like the band third eye blind?

Then he sent me this picture, which I just don't get.


That was this afternoon. When I got home from work today I set up a filter on my Gmail account that not only sends his emails directly to my trash, but also sends him an auto-response saying that I'm no longer available at this email address.

Will he get the hint? Who knows. I used to be flattered by the attention but um...suffice to say I'm way past flattered and onto fully creeped out.

The twelve days of Chanukah

As I mentioned in my Santacon post, a ton of us Santa/elven folk were crowded onto a packed C train screaming the Twelve Days of Christmas at the top of our lungs. Now, I actually hate most things Christmas including Christmas music, but the drunkenness was upon me and I went with the moment. It got me thinking, however, about what a Twelve Days of Chanukah song might be like. So here's what I came up with. My fabulous friend Nancy helped me out with 3 and 4 when I got stuck. She is far wittier than I.

Before I begin, don't get all, "But there's only 8 days of Chanukah" up in my grill. I have yet to see anyone actually celebrate Christmas for 12 days. Between the song and those crazy advent calendars, this Jew thinks you people just made that shit up out of jealousy over our 8 crazy nights. "Oh yeah? 8 crazy nights? I'm going to tack 11 days on to Christmas right now! Take that! And you know what else? Let's extend it even further than 11 days and for every day you can eat a piece of chocolate! What up NOW, Jews!"

Anyway. The song.

On the first day of Chanukah my true love gave to me, a bottle of Manischewitz wine

On the second day of Chanukah my true love gave to me, two matzah balls
And a bottle of Manischewitz wine.

On the third day of Chanukah my true love gave to me, three guilt trips
Two matzah balls
And a bottle of Manischewitz wine.

On the fourth day of Chanukah my true love gave to me, four Loehmann's sales
Three guilt trips
Two matzah balls
And a bottle of Manischewitz wine.

On the fifth day of Chanukah my true love gave to me, fiiiiiiiive golden coins!
Four Loehmann's sales
Three guilt trips
Two matzah balls
And a bottle of Manischewitz wine.

On the sixth day of Chanukah my true love gave to me, six children kvetching
Fiiiiiiiive golden coins
Four Loehmann's sales
Three guilt trips
Two matzah balls
And a bottle of Manischewitz wine.

On the seventh day of Chanukah my true love gave to me, seven cantors singing
Six children kvetching
Fiiiiiiiive golden coins
Four Loehmann's sales
Three guilt trips
Two matzah balls
And a bottle of Manischewitz wine.

On the eighth day of Chanukah my true love gave to me, eight yentas talking
Seven cantors singing
Six children kvetching
Fiiiiiiiive golden coins
Four Loehmann's sales
Three guilt trips
Two matzah balls
And a bottle of Manischewitz wine.

On the ninth day of Chanukah my true love gave to me, nine candles burning
Eight yentas talking
Seven cantors singing
Six children kvetching
Fiiiiiiiive golden coins
Four Loehmann's sales
Three guilt trips
Two matzah balls
And a bottle of Manischewitz wine.

On the tenth day of Chanukah my true love gave to me, ten people noshing
Nine candles burning
Eight yentas talking
Seven cantors singing
Six children kvetching
Fiiiiiiiive golden coins
Four Loehmann's sales
Three guilt trips
Two matzah balls
And a bottle of Manischewitz wine.

On the eleventh day of Chanukah my true love gave to me, eleven latkes frying
Ten people noshing
Nine candles burning
Eight yentas talking
Seven cantors singing
Six children kvetching
Fiiiiiiiive golden coins
Four Loehmann's sales
Three guilt trips
Two matzah balls
And a bottle of Manischewitz wine.

On the twelfth day of Chanukah my true love gave to me, twelve dreidels spinning
Eleven latkes frying
Ten people noshing
Nine candles burning
Eight yentas talking
Seven cantors singing
Six children kvetching
Fiiiiiive golden coins!
Four Loehmann's sales
Three guilt trip
Two matzah balls
And a bottle of Manischewitz wine.

Let's make this happen, fellow chosen people. Just like fetch. Making it happen.

Bongo Jordy: the end of an era

If you haven't read part 1 of the Bongo Jordy story, read it here.

When we left off, Bongo Jordy was trying to tempt me over to his apartment on Saturday night by being creepy. Monday morning, I had this nice little apology email for all his cray cray:

Sorry about last night I was joking with you because you said you were drunk, I'm not some sexual pervert, tell you the truth I haven't done it in almost three years so I can manage it, just wanted to say I was joking and I'm sorry for being foolish. Really Im not one of those kinds of people, you know what I'm talking about nymphomaniacs or whatever. (SWOON CITY, obvi).

When I read that email I knew (okay, I knew before this, let's be real) that Bongo Jordy may in fact be certifiable and that I should stop responding to him. So I haven't acknowledged him at all since Saturday night but still, he persists. He then decided to email me his thoughts on...well, lots of things pop culture. Examples:

(After asking me when i was free so he could buy me a margarita somewhere): I know I'm no Harry Potter, but dammit if I can't pretend to cast spells with my magical wand in times square!

Ok also what's up that stupid movie Twilight, some stupid skinny white chick can't decide either to pick some rich English vampire or some stupid Indian ware wolf, I mean really and Indian that turns into wolf, what are you going to do with that, 'honey I need to go to store, can you turn into a giant wolf so you can run down there." Whereas the cool vampire has a bitchen audio with a dope house. Come on seriously she can't decide?

Oh and another thing, what's up with Woopi Goldberg? - she looks like some kind of rastafarian Buddhist. Really people want her view?

Okay, the Twilight email (there was another one that I opted out of posting) was sort of hilarious. Indian "ware wolf, "bitchen audio," I mean, COME ON. But still. Bongo Jordy, you're donezo.

I hadn't heard from him in awhile, but then Wednesday night I got this one:

Hey those messages were quite dumb, and I know there's a lot of different guys in the sea, but is not a man with fidelity worth more than rubies?

I mean...just stop.

That's all....for now. I sort of have the feeling that I haven't heard the last from Bongo Jordy.

Crazy nonsense Santacon weekend

This weekend was one for the record books, if I do say so myself.

Friday night I went to Benihana for a friend's birthday. The awesomeness is self-explanatory here because...BENIHANA. Onion volcano! Wham.

Saturday was, as I mentioned in my Bongo Jordy post, Santacon. Essentially, Santacon is a gathering of hundreds of people who all dress like Santa. Or elves. Or anything else they feel like. There were people dressed like dreidels (repping the chosen peeps, aww yeah), Santas in prison suits, banana Santas, slutty Santas aplenty, reindeer, and lord knows what else.

The idea is, you dress up and wander around the city in a big Santatastic pack, singing and drinking and being merry. My friend Lauren and I managed to scramble together some last minute outfits.


We started Santacon pretty late, and finally met up with everyone in Central Park.


I saw some guys drinking Four Loko, and because I was drunk and Lauren and I were ALSO drinking Four Loko, I yelled, "FOUR LOKOOOOO" at them (so creative, I am). And then we became friends for the day. Which was good, seeing as we failed at meeting up with everyone else we had planned on seeing there.

We proceeded to have Central Park shenanigans, taking lots of pictures and watching our new friends trying to form a Santa pyramid. And then Santacon moved down to the West Village, so all million trillion of us piled on the subway, and on our ride down we sang a rousing version of the 12 Days of Christmas. I was pretty proud that I knew everything from 5 golden rings on. And if you don't need them in the correct order, I could probably get most of the other words too. Lords a leaping! Maids a milking! Geese a laying! Am I good or am I good?

At some point in one of our many West Village bars, one of our new friends demonstrated how he was drinking beer out of the children's boot that he had bought as an accessory for the day.


Let me tell you what it's like drinking from that thing. It tastes like a combination of rubber and sausage and beer. Totally vile. So we instituted the candy cane chaser. Which was surprisingly delicious. At some point we left our new friends and met up with someone else and ended up at some random apartment. All I really know is that I was wearing someone's white wig and some guy told me how he had lost his entire Santa costume over the course of Santacon and I could not comprehend how that was even possible.

I went home at around 11, deciding 13 hours of drinking was enough. This was a good idea, considering I had to play in a volleyball tournament on Sunday. For 7 hours. Ending my night early on Saturday was totally worth it because after playing 10 games of volleyball, my team emerged VICTORIOUSSSSS.


Check out our sweet trophies! Go us!

The. Freakin. End. Best weekend ever.

Bongo Jordy

AKA, the story of how one man embarrassed his way onto my blog. And my blocked list. Or something like that.

It all started about a month ago. Lacey, Nicole and I were meeting up for margaritas and tater tots at Trailer Park Lounge. I got there early so I stood outside waiting. There was a guy there smoking a cigarette, and I did what I always do: I ignored him. But then he started talking to me, and this is how it all went down. My internal comments are in italics. And because I'd rather not call him "BJ," let's just go with "J."

Bongo Jordy: Alicia?
Arielle: No.
J: ....Alicia.
A: No.
J: Alicia...the topless drummer from the nude beach?
A: What? No. (WHAT THE FUCKKKK)
J: Oh, sorry. You looked like someone I know from--
A: Yup, got it. Not her. Not Alicia. Not a topless drummer. Never been to a nude beach.

To be honest, I don't totally recall exactly how the rest of the conversation went. Some of it was more normal. Some of it involved this guy telling me that he grew up in Tahiti and learned to play the bongos and now he plays at a bar downtown and maybe I should come see him play sometime and seriously, ask anyone for Bongo Jordy and they'll know him. I didn't believe a word that came out of his mouth but I was sort of amused so I gave him my number when he asked. And then Lacey and Dave arrived and I went with them inside.

So of course, Nicole had been waiting inside the entire time and within about 3 seconds we got the full report of the weird guy creeping out every girl up in this place and yes, OF COURSE it was the same person that I just gave my number to. Nicole was all, RED FLAGS, SEE THEM WAVING and I was all, meh, the damage is done and he was funny. And kind of cute.

About a week later, the first text message came. Here are some highlights from the first few days:

J: Lady love don't turn on me. I'm just a student of your history. (umm)

A: You were pretty drunk when we met if I recall.
J: Kinda. But I climbed a mountain and I turned around.
A: Did you see your reflection in the snow covered hills? (Please. I know Fleetwood Mac when I see it)
J: A wee bit, but I mostly saw you.

J: Can I send a photo?
A: Maybe tomorrow, going to bed. Goodnight.

If you think I didn't have a picture in my text messages the next morning, you'd be wrong. He said it was a picture of him trying to be "sophistical." On a scale of 1 to 10, how much I want to post the picture here: 11. But I won't. Later that day...

J: I drowned then I found, it was a dream, I got lost in the frost that covered your window sill.
J: Crappy poetry, the window sell is metophoric, like looking in on a locked place, u know. [sic sic sic all up in this poorly written text]
A: Next time you can spare me the poetry (He later told me this line of poetry was inspired by the new Harry Potter movie. WHAT?!)

At some point after Thanksgiving, he asked if I was in school or work or whatever. He said when he was in school he "majored in bongo playing with a minor in salsa." I said I'm done with school.

J: Let me guess you majored in being beautiful and studied breaking hearts in your spare time. (Cringe)

There was some more awkward texting after that, and then I didn't hear from him for a week or 2. On Friday night, the plans I had ended early and I was bored, so I texted him, "Hey how are you?" No response. FINE.

Saturday at around 1 PM he called me. I normally don't think I would have answered except for the fact that I was already drunk (more on that later). So I talked to him briefly, and he told me that he disabled outgoing text messages (whaaat?) but we could email back and forth if that was cool. And I said it was which may have been the biggest mistake EVER.

The thing is, the reason I was drunk at 1 PM on Saturday is because it was Santacon. I was dressed like an elf, pounding Four Loko, in a cab with my friend Lauren on our way to meet up with a few hundred other people all dressed as Santa or other holiday characters. And despite having a smartphone, I had no intention of checking my email every 2 seconds or even really every 2 hours while I was out and about. This fact was apparently lost on Bongo Jordy. So while he said email was the same as texting to him, it most definitely was not to me.

By the time I checked my email a few hours later, I had 4 emails from him:

1) ok so this is mine, but I do like the sound of your voice maybe I can call instead? If yes, cirlce yes, or if no circle no in the below box, thanks.

Yes ( ) No ( )

2) The same email as number 1. Only sent an hour later and formatted differently which means he definitely rewrote it and resent it. Seriously.

3) Well I'm doing fine thanks for asking bye.

4) So I guess that is ya. (English???)

Eventually I responded and explained that I was out at Santacon.

J: Ok please don't sleep with anybody, one your drunk, two it make me jealous even though I don't know you that well it still would for some reason, o.k. thanks. (And this is where I mark the official turn for the worse)
J: I have a big bed you can sleep here if you like, no funny biz. I swear. (Just need to note that these are separate emails that he writes me WITHOUT ME RESPONDING. Oh, and I'm cutting out some of his emails too which means...STOP EMAILING ME)
A: Sorry, I'm staying on the UWS tonight.
J: Is UWS some kind of hotel?
A: Haha no, it's Upper West Side.
J: Yeah I know it was a joke, so ya that's fine go stay with another guy then on the UWS. (First of all, I don't get your joke. Second of all...aa;slkdnfvfaoiwefsd)
J: Ok pardon my petty jealousy, anyway have a big bed if you want to sleep in, thanks.

Okay, this post is getting way too long but let's just say he reminded me that he has a big bed to sleep in, then called me a binge drinker for being drunk by 10 PM (er, I started drinking at 10 AM Saturday but WHATEVS), then told me he really is a "caring and gentle lover." To this I said, "haha."

J: Glad you think that my pasionate embrace is a joke, but trust me all the women who I have made sweet love too have said repeatedly, sometimes even in police reports, that it was something they cannot forget. So you be be the judge.

And I need to stop this super long post now. But OH GOD, BONGO JORDY WILL NOT GO AWAY. So I'm going to have a Bongo Jordy post part 2. Because this is ridiculous.

This is a post about the "n" word

Yes, THAT one.

This is not a post about race relations or racism or really, anything of the sort.

This is a post about why I don't like the use of the "n" word in rap music.

Now, before you go doubting what I said about this post not being about race, hear me out. The reason I don't like the presence of the "n" word in rap music is because it interrupts my flow when I sing along.

I AM SERIOUS. Shut up.

You see, even in the context of song lyrics I still don't feel comfortable saying the "n" word because I neither a) want to offend anyone nor b) want to get punched. And thus, when I'm rapping along to any one of the many songs out there that have that word in it, it produces awkward pauses and throws me off and otherwise detracts from my rapping experience.

If people would stop putting that word in songs I wouldn't have this problem. I'm looking at you, Busta/Kanye/Dre/Snoop/Biggie/Lil Wayne/2Pac etc etc ET FREAKIN CETERA. I don't care if you're dead. Have your estate take care of it. There are many of us aspiring rappers out there who will thank you...by yelling your songs in the shower, at parties, or even while walking down the street, butchering them with our suburban ways.

Cross-pollination

On Saturday night, which probably (definitely) deserves its own blog post, a bunch of us were sitting around wearing snuggies, drinking Four Loko and shooting alcohol-infused whipped cream into our mouths (see: Saturday night deserving its own post), when somehow it came up to discuss how we all knew each other. And so we started along the lovely road of, “Well, I know so and so from college, and then X and Y met through a mutual friend but then we became friends, and then there are high school friends and roommates of ex-boyfriends,” and on and on and on.

And then my friend’s boyfriend said, “I don’t think guys do this cross-pollinating thing with all their friends.”

It’s funny he said that because I’ve been meaning to write a post about this “cross-pollinating thing” for about a month now. I always thought it was more of a New York thing than a girl thing but maybe it’s a little of column A and a little of column B.

Ever since I graduated college and moved to NYC I’ve loved the fact that seemingly everyone here becomes friends with everyone else’s friends. Some people don’t like the blending of their worlds and there’s certainly a benefit to being able to occasionally compartmentalize the people you hang out with in different situations, but most of the time I’m all, “HOORAY WE ARE ONE BIG HAPPY FAMILY.”

There’s a point where “friends by association” becomes just “friends,” when you no longer need the middleman (or I suppose woman, most of the time?) there for you to hang out. And while our insane mix of people on Saturday night definitely involved a lot of what used to be friends-of-friends, for the most part that’s not how we think of it anymore. Everyone is just friends. You certainly could have taken any 2 people from the room and put them off by themselves and they would have had more than enough to talk about, Four Loko-induced craziness or not.

Over the summer, I went to the NYU cafeteria to try Chick Fil-A for the first time. The person I went with was someone my [male] high school friend met in an acting class. Afterwards, he told me that he was slightly bothered by the fact that his friend and I went together, partially because we didn’t invite him (sorry!) but mostly because we were his friends from 2 separate circumstances and he didn’t like us being friends with each other. This certainly supports the prior assertion that men don’t like cross-pollinating their friends, though aside from us neglecting to tell him the date and time we were planning on consuming delicious chicken sandwiches, I don’t see the harm. You can never really have too many friends in this city, and why bother trying to stake your claim on someone by saying, “I saw her first! She’s MY FRIEND AND NOT YOURS!” Cool people are friends with other cool people and every new cool person helps make your life that much more awesome. And I am pro-awesomeness. And also, when people know and are comfortable with each other, there’s no sense of having to babysit the more shy friends. When everyone feels comfortable enough to participate in a snuggie-couture fashion show complete with Michael Kors-style commentary, it makes the night that much better.

I have a problem

But before I get to my problem, I'm going to briefly summarize the 2 blog posts that have been floating around in my head recently but that I never got around to actually writing in full:

1) If you're going to see the new Harry Potter movie, see it twice. For realz. I was able to pick up on so much more the second time.

2) I have a crush on my volleyball coach, Mark. (not his real name) (obviously his real name) He is tall and hot and foreign and I get excited whenever he comes over to tell me what mistakes I'm making. Also, one time we were playing a game and I took my place by the net and he was standing right opposite me on the other side of the net, and he was smiling as a residual from some conversation he had just ended with a teammate and then he directed his smile at me and I melted. Good story.

Okay, my problem.

Ever since I reformatted my computer a few months ago (lies, I had my more tech-savvy friend do it for me, whatevs), for some reason the album artwork for 2 of the Glee albums does not show up correctly on my iPod. This is weird because a) the artwork is correct in iTunes, and b) no other albums, to my knowledge anyway, have mixed up artwork.

Glee volume 2, instead of the nice happy picture of all the Glee kids, shows up as Ben Kweller, Sundress. Which is cool, I suppose. I'm down with Ben Kweller.

Glee volume 1, however, shows up as the album cover from Ashley Parker Angel. And this is simply not acceptable.

I listen to Glee songs quite often, which means this album artwork shows up frequently on my iPod. I have no qualms about accidentally displaying Ben Kweller but the world does not need to know that I have any Ashley Park Angel music (whatever, it's one song. So fun and upbeat! Let U Go! Yeah!).

I have no idea how to fix this. But seriously, um...how do I fix it? Ashley Park Angel is a secret between me and you guys and NO ONE ELSE. And no, I am not willing to delete my Ashley Parker Angel song in order to hope that it removes the album artwork from iTunes. Because...no.

I'm thankful for...

In keeping with the theme of the holiday and seemingly everyone's blog/twitter/facebook, here is a list of things for which I am thankful on this, our lovely Thanksgiving day:

- The health of my family. Some members of my extended family aren't as lucky right now, and it's in times when people are sick that you realize just how amazing it is to wake up in the morning and feel..fine.

- My dad and I both getting jobs in the last few months. Unemployment sucks and is depressing. Money for all!

- Glee, Harry Potter, book club, and all things nerdy and delightful.

- All the lovely friends, from kindergarten to high school to college to blogging and beyond, who drink with me, gchat with me, entertain me to no end, and keep me sane.

- Groupon and all of its offshoots, for providing me with massages and manicures and burgers and headbands and Indian food and scavenger hunts and everything else that I've been able to get on the cheap.

- New York City, the breath of fresh air only a 45 minute train ride away when I get fed up with living in the suburbs, forever reminding me that I'm 27 and my whole life is still ahead of me.

- Being Jewish. Listening to everyone talk about all the Christmas presents they have to buy makes me want to break out in hives. I'm buying exactly ONE present this year and it's for my Secret insert-some-PC-Santa-replacement here exchange with the besties.

- The internet, where I can find pretty much any item or any piece of info I ever need, for its endless ability to stalk people about whom I wouldn't normally give a crap if I didn't have open access to their wedding pictures, and for allowing people to post things like this, which will make me laugh so hard that tears run down my face and my nose starts running in the middle of Starbucks.

- College. Even though I graduated over 5 years ago, I'm still grateful for my entire college experience. Between reminiscing about crazy nights with sorority sisters, finding out last week that a dodgeball opponent is a fellow Jumbo, supporting our a cappella program at The Sing Off (and in Glee!!!! Btw the Bubs will be singing Hey Soul Sister on next week's ep, yo) and hearing that Tufts came in second at the Quidditch World Cup, not a week goes by that I don't express my insane Tufts pride at least once.

- Dogs. Between Daily Puppy, Fuck Yeah Puppies, Hipster Puppies and LOL Dogs, heading over to my friend Lauren's house to play video games and see her 2 awesome puppies, exchanging dog-related youtube videos with Crapface, and playing with my own dog, I spend a lot of time thinking about dogs and HOW GREAT THEY ARE.

With that, I'll end with a photo of my totally awesome dog, Roxy. This was taken today on my fancy new phone which I am slowly getting used to (thankful for that too, check).

ROXYYYYYY

I hope all of you lovely bloggies are appreciating all the fabulous things in your lives as well. =) Either that or currently passed out from overconsumption of tryptophan.

FIRST PAYCHECK FRIDAY

It's a holiday up in these parts!!!

After more than 2 years without a full-time paycheck, accepting measly amounts of money for working 60 hours a week as a caterer or for sitting at a reception desk doing nothing, I finally received a paycheck for a real job that pays real money.

It's only for 4 days worth of work since last week was my first week and I didn't go in Friday because I had a lovely flight to Tampa, FL for my cousin's bar-mitzvah (another post all its own), but still. I'M SO HAPPY I WANT TO MAKE OUT WITH ALL OF YOU.

Except those of you who may for whatever reason be under 18. Or married. I don't want to get in trouble here.

Now I need to decide what I should buy myself in celebration. But if you're thinking, "Why don't you buy yourself that smartphone you've been talking about?" then I say, "Been there, done that."

I am now the proud owner of an HTC Incredible. This, too, is another post all its own. It's quite an adjustment from my flip phone and not a 100% positive one either.

But for now, I celebrate. But seriously - what should I buy myself?

Rethinking the Guinness World Records

This morning, I read this article about the man who holds the Guinness world record for holding the most Guinness world records (how meta!).

I have no problem with the idea of world records. Fastest 100 meter dash? Tallest building? Sure, why not.

The thing that bothers me, though, is the creation of records for the sake of creating records. The pride and glory that people apparently get from holding Guinness records make them do things that no one would ever bother doing in real life.

For example, a few of the records that Mr. Furman, the ultimate record holder, has are: clapping his hands for the longest period of time (50 hours), longest distance covered by continuous somersaulting (12 miles), and the most apples thrown in the air and sliced with a Samurai sword in one minute (27 - okay, that's kind of awesome, but only because I wish I could slice even ONE airborne apple with a sword).

If people can think of the most arbitrary things in which to hold records, doesn't this diminish the importance of the Guinness institution? Am I the only person that thinks so? I know that Guinness doesn't accept every record application it gets, but still. Largest gathering of people dressed like characters from the Wizard of Oz? WHERE DOES THE MADNESS END?

All of this being said, I actually helped set 2 Guinness world records during my semester abroad in Sydney - the largest gathering of blondes in one place, and the world's longest tequila slam (a line of people all taking a shot one after the other). Both are pretty amusing stories, but I realize how utterly dumb they are, even as I feel some sort of solidarity with my tequila-guzzling peers. The blonde thing was a little bit of a stretch, even though I AM a natural dirty blonde. In more ways than one! HIYOOOO.

For all I know, one or both of those records have been broken by other groups in the 7 years since they've been set. I wouldn't be sad about it, to be honest. Until I can do something meaningful better or faster than the rest of the 6 billion people on this planet, I don't think I really deserve any recognition.

Finding a challenge

For a long time I used to say that I'm the kind of person who thrives on being busy. While that is definitely true, it's not the full picture. What really excites me isn't so much having things to do, but being challenged while I'm doing them.

I think for a long time I didn't really recognize that distinction. Just because you're busy, even if it's to the point of being stressed because there aren't enough hours in the day to accomplish everything on the to-do list, doesn't really mean there's a challenge involved. Time management is a fact of life, not an activity in its own right.

What I've also come to realize is that, while I love a challenge, I'm terrible at challenging myself. I need to be accountable to someone or something, or at least have someone pushing me.

This is why I loved being in school. Aside from the obvious fact that I wouldn't have been able to teach myself all the things I learned, I wouldn't have had the motivation to do it anyway. Having to study to pass tests and be prepared for class discussions was just the kind of external push I need in my life.

This is also why I love playing in a volleyball clinic every Tuesday night. After 13 years of playing there's still a ton I have left to learn, both strategically and physically. Getting to work with a coach and a ton of other really talented players makes me become better at the game because I have no choice. This week we focused on diving. While I certainly could have looked up instructional Youtube videos on how to dive for a volleyball and started rolling around on my kitchen floor, there's no way I realistically ever would have done that. There's also something really gratifying about getting banged up from launching yourself at the ground in a sport that's usually pretty contact-free.

It doesn't even have to be anything big. There was a period of about 2 weeks when Dan used to email me links to Wall Street Journal articles and asked me what I thought of the issues at hand. Even though I still don't know why he started doing that (or why he stopped? What happened, yo), I liked that I was being forced to think critically and even do some research about topics ranging from free trade to Sun Chips. This is also why I'm happy that I now have a book club in my life. Ordinarily I would just read a book, finish it, and move on. But having to discuss it with Lacey and others makes me take the time to think it through a little more and to develop opinions beyond "I liked it" or "I hated it."

As examples of how much I suck at motivating myself, things I have been terrible at following through on in the past include: learning to speak Spanish, learning to play the guitar, learning to solve a Rubik's cube. And probably a million other things.

The question now is how I go about incorporating more people into my life who challenge me and help me grow as a person. Thoughts?

Lair of awesomeness

Though I usually post in my other blog about things I find in the Wall Street Journal, this article about man caves seemed more appropriate here.

Yeah, sometimes I have no idea why the WSJ reports on certain things. Whatevs.

Reading about man caves made me think about what I would put in a woman cave if I had one.

First off, I wouldn't call it a woman cave, because that sounds like a weird euphemism for..well, you all know what it sounds like a euphemism for. Feel free to send me your clever suggestions.

In my lair of awesomeness I would include:

- Movies, of course. A healthy mix of chick flicks (only the ones I like) , 80s movies (Brat Pack!), Harry Potter, and other nerdy and/or girly and/or awesome movies.

- Lots of DVDs of TV shows. Glee, Project Runway (so Lacey and I can watch Santino singing in season 2 over and over and over), and anything involving dancing or modeling.

- Video games. Old school NES so I can play Super Mario 3, and a Wii with full Guitar Hero setup, Rapstar (my new obsession), and any form of Mario Party.

- Beer fridge. Multiple. Plus, full bar for martinis, margaritas, mojitos, and any other delicious drink that starts with "M." Or even those that don't. And Andre. Plenty of it.

- Snacks. Including hint of lime Tostitos, regular Tostitos to be dipped into queso, an endless supply of buffalo wings, Trader Joe's honey wheat pretzels, pita and hummus, and some kind of chocolatey deliciousness. This is a not-so-healthy lair.

- Posters of hot men to look at. Anyone from Cory Monteith to Eminem. And maybe the occasional hot woman (because whatever, women like looking at hot girls too), like Nicole Scherzinger.

- A playlist of awesome and ever-updating top 40 music to which we can have rockin dance parties.

- A huge nail polish selection. Because people always need to touch up their manis, yo.

What am I missing???

The anti-chivalry stance

When I was in Chicago, I got into a nearly-heated discussion with Dan and my friend Anna about chivalry.

Dan and Anna are in the pro-chivalry camp. I am not.

Dan says he was raised to act like a gentleman and treat women well. I say that sometimes, chivalrous acts are really just a way for a man to help me do things that I can do more efficiently myself.

Do I want you to pull out my chair for me? No, because in all honesty I find that annoying. I'm going to have to adjust my chair after I sit down anyway, so your efforts are totally wasted. Just like the unnecessary bathroom attendant who insists of handing me my paper towel, I simply prefer to do it myself.

Another reason why I sometimes find chivalry off-putting is because I have no desire to be in any kind of relationship where I'm not viewed as an equal. And hello, chivalry kinda sorta originated in a time where women weren't viewed as equals.

This doesn't mean I want to be treated like crap, of course. If a guy insisted on paying for the first date (or the fiftieth) I would certainly let him, but I will always offer to pay my half, and unlike most women, I actually mean it (frankly, I think the game that women play where they pretend to take out their wallets but really don't want to pay is bullshit. If you don't want to pay, own it).

Similarly, if a guy opens a door for me, I'm cool with that, but only because I think it's a nice gesture to do for another person regardless of their gender. I open doors for everyone.

I just don't think chivalry is necessary in order to be said that you're treating a woman well. Dan gave an example of wanting to come home and talk about his day with his girlfriend while rubbing her feet. That's not chivalry in my eyes, that's just a normal level of affection between significant others. Do I want a future boyfriend to massage my feet? Certainly. But why shouldn't I do the same for him? Unless he has gross boy feet. Then he has to wear socks while I massage them. But, you get the idea.

There's just something about helping a perfectly capable woman put her coat on that screams to me, "SECOND CLASS CITIZEN." I mean, I can put on my own damn coat, and someone trying to help me implies that I can't. I wasn't swayed even when Dan and Anna made a dramatic display of Dan helping Anna put her jacket on when we left the bar. I responded with my own dramatic display of how well I've learned to put on my own coat after 27 years on this planet.

What it all boils down to is that I want to be with someone who enjoys my company, thinks of me as an intellectual equal, and expects the same out of me as he does out of himself. Sure, he can take care of me and do nice things for me at times, but I will always return the favor. I want a guy to feel like he's with a strong, independent, capable woman (and if that's not what he wants, he's barking up the wrong tree, yo), not someone who needs to be coddled and can't pay for anything or even get out of the car without his assistance.

Is that so wrong?

Adventures in the Windy City

I had this whole post planned to talk about my trip to Chicago this weekend. And then life (and my first week of work!!!) happened. So instead, here's a little comparison of the Windy City and NYC:

Cleanliness
I mean, duh. Chicago wins. New York is down and dirty.

Cost of living
Chicago wins again. Things are cheap (except the taxis, apparently). I saw 3 friends' apartments and HOLY JESUS ARE THEY HUGE. And they cost a fraction of the tiny cramped things we New Yorkers like to call our humble abodes.

Public transportation
No one beats NYC in the train department. Though when we were on the L and it took the loop in the opposite direction from where it was supposed to go, it made me feel like home. Anyone who has ever taken the New York subway on weekends knows that it never does anything correctly. Glad it's not an NYC-only problem.

Public art
Chicago has awesome art all over the place. New York, not nearly as much.

Brunch
New York has some of the best brunches ever, but I have to say I had one sick ass time at Duffy's in Chitown. 16 bucks for unlimited buffet and unlimited mimosas, plus a DJ and a completely rowdy dance party starting at 10 AM. Best. Time. Ever. I mean, total and complete insanity. This is a toss up because NYC definitely has far more unlimited drink brunches, but I have yet to go to a brunch where we dance to DMX. New York has quantity, but Chicago wins out for quality for just this one place.

Nightlife
People in Chicago do NOT party like New Yorkers. End of story. Though my friends and I did randomly end up at a salsa club one night, which I have to say, has never happened to me at home.

Overall sense of adventure
I felt comfortable in downtown Chicago after about 3 hours. Which isn't necessarily a bad thing, but it's not totally ideal. Where's the mystery?

In general, my trip was super fun. Chicago is a cute city with some cool people, but I have no idea what I would have done with my time there if I had stayed more than 3 days. In that sense, Chicago is sort of like Boston - a great place to visit, but it doesn't excite me enough to make me want to live there (also, it's COLD). It does, however, make me look forward to going back in November 2011 for my friend's wedding - and for Duffy's. Seriously.

My civic blonde moment

When I woke up yesterday, after completing my Tuesday morning ritual of catching up on Google reader, email, Facebook and the previous night's Dancing With the Stars, I buckled down to do my voting research.

You see, there weren't any races here in my part of NJ that were particularly publicized. I wanted to do my civic duty but I wanted to know what I was doing. So I used the old Google to find out what was up with the candidates and made my choices. I felt like a good person. A good, patriotic, educated person.

Imagine my surprise when I walked into the little voting booth, pulled the curtain closed behind me, and didn't recognize any names.

Apparently I had done all my research for the wrong district.

WOH WOHHHHHHHHHH

So I did the only thing I could really do in that situation - I voted along party lines. I mean, there's a good chance I would have ended up voting for those people anyway. But I still felt like a traitor to my own ideals because I would never advise someone to vote blindly by party affiliation and nothing else.

And I mean, there was no way I was going to...NOT vote. I'm like a 4 year old. Must! Press! Buttons!

At least I was ready to rock NJ's one state ballot question.

They didn't have any "I voted!" stickers at my polling place. I was a little sad about it (because, again, 4 year old - STICKERS!), but I realized that considering my idiocy, I didn't totally deserve one.

Next time, Gadget. Next time.

Arielle's Halloween rules

Happy November, everyone! As you are all aware, the end of October means Halloween, and even though I rarely celebrated as a child (Jew school frowns upon that sort of thing), as an adult it quickly became one of my favorite holidays. Candy? Parades? Parties? Costumes? Parties in costumes? FOR. THE. WIN.

This brings me to my few very simple rules for partaking in the wonder that is dressing up on Halloween:

1. If you are going to dress up, DRESS UP. If you're not dressing up, own it. To the person who walked into the party on Friday night in totally normal clothes and devil horns: I hate you. Don't even bother with the damn horns. Just tell people you're too lame or too lazy or just hate costumes. Go big or go home!

2. If you're going to bother putting effort into a costume, you should probably do something that will be recognized by...someone. If someone out there doesn't watch Jersey Shore and thus has no idea who you are with your poof and fuzzy slippers, that's cool. But if your costume is too conceptual, no one is going to be impressed. And by "no one" I refer to myself. I am not impressed.

In any case, repeating Halloween costumes is thankfully NOT against my rules, since this year was the second time I repeated a costume. I recycled 2004's mildly slutty Santa Claus outfit in 2005, and on Saturday and Sunday I revisited last year's Little Mermaid outfit. For Friday night, though, Lacey and I did this:


BLUE BARRACUDAS! Freaking amazing. We even had homemade name tags and pendants of life! We are so insanely excited about these costumes that we're going to try to find some scavenger hunts to do in NYC (I did 2 this summer/fall) where we can wear these again. Because Legends of the Hidden Temple is SO worthy of recycling.

I love birthdays

As some of you know, I turned 27 on Sunday. Despite the fact that I'm pretty much done with all significant birthdays aside from the depressing milestones like 30 and 40, I still love my birthday.

Many of my contemporaries have ceased to care about birthdays. This makes no sense to me. As introverted as I am, I love my friends with a passion and find no greater joy in the one day of the year where I hear from seemingly all of them at once. I love the outpouring of well wishes that come in the form of emails, calls, texts, and Facebook wall posts (big emphasis on that last one, people blew up my wall like crazy this year and I LOVE EVERYONE SO MUCH FOR IT YOU MAKE MY COLD-HEARTED SELF FEEL ALL WARM AND FUZZY INSIDE).

More importantly, I love that my birthday brings the one day a year where I can actually motivate a large group of people to all assemble in the same place (if I could do this normally, my birthday wouldn't mean nearly as much to me). Everywhere I turn it's a new person I wish I spent more time with: High school friends! College friends! Sorority friends! (Who are also college friends, but whatevs) Friends by association that I also love spending time with but with whom I'm not close enough to spend time without incorporating that middle man/woman!

This brings me to the birthday celebration. I have been fortunate to be able to share my birthday party with my good friend and ex-Facebook wife Julie for the past 5 years, and between her friends and my friends (which obviously overlap quite a bit) we always get a fun (understatement!) group together.

This year, in the cab on the way to the bar, 45 minutes late to our own party as usual, someone asked me which of our birthday parties was my favorite. And so I've decided to rank them (FYI I have consulted with Julie and we agree on this ranking).

In last place by quite a long shot, still a fun night but the least fun by far, was double birthday party #3, our 25th birthday:


In 4th place, the very first party, our 23rd (I think this picture is totally adorable):


In 3rd, this year's party, our 27th (Julie looks super cute. I do not):


In second place is our 26th birthday (if you look closely you can spot my friend Anna, Crapface, and Nicole in the background):


While it's hard to top a mechanical bull and copious amounts of sweet tea vodka, the only thing that could possibly overtake it is our 24th birthday COSTUME PARTY. I like this picture because you can see that Julie and I decided to go in a cop/criminal couples costume, but Julie is clearly not wearing her own hat, my hat is on wrong, and of course, Lacey and Dave make an appearance! I should also mention that this is my favorite party despite the fact that it resulted in me vomiting for about 5 hours. So that's saying a lot.


So there you have it. 5 years of birthday parties and some of my favorite memories pretty much ever. And if you haven't ever experienced the wonder that is JULIE AND ARIELLE'S ANNUAL SUPERMEGAAWESOME BIRTHDAY EXTRAVAGANZA, get on it.

And of course, today is my wifer's actual birthday, so, HAPPY BIRTHDAY JULIE!! Can't wait for the sixth annual!

Anyone else still have a huge, insane, unabashed love for their birthday?

And then I got a job

Yup.

I still haven't seen my actual offer letter despite the fact that they have managed to send me all my other new hire paperwork, but...EMPLOYMENT!

I'm a little excited and a little nervous and mostly, drooling at the thought of getting a paycheck and being able to a) put money towards my student loans, b) stop panicking any time I spend any money, c) MOVE BACK INTO THE CITY.

Though I'm going to hold off on that last one probably until early-ish 2011. Gotta see how much money I actually end up taking home after taxes before I can make a decision as to where I'm financially able to live.

Even though this wasn't the kind of job I thought I would end up in, I'm still pretty pumped that someone actually wanted to hire me.

Plus, my favorite day of the year, my annual double birthday extravaganza party that I share with my wifer (5th year running!) is in TWO DAYS.

Win!

Some suburban awfulness for you

I've noticed recently that 2 of my neighbors display the following sign in their yards:


One sign looks just like this one, the other says "NO POOPING!" instead of just the "NO." As if, you know, the little piece of crap hanging out of this dog's ass isn't enough for you to get what the sign is going for.

Look, I get it. My parents live in the suburbs and with the suburbs come a LOT of dogs, and with dogs come the occasional inconsiderate owner who doesn't pick up afterwards. But this, my friends, is capital T Tacky.

Dear neighbors: when people drive or walk by your house, instead of seeing a nice house and a manicured lawn (which may or may not have dog poop in it, I guess), they are going to see this sign. And nothing else. They will pay no attention to what your property looks like because all they can look at is this dog sign and the ACTUAL POOP COMING OUT OF ITS BUTT.

That is all.

No, I will not donate to your marathon

This morning I was having a lovely gchat with my friend Anny. We were discussing an issue that I'm certain most if not all of you have come across at least once since you graduated college.

That issue, my friends, is being asked to donate to someone's marathon.

While I certainly support charitable giving, and I support my friends in pursuing their interests, there are a few things about being asked to donate to a road race that really annoy me.

1. There is no real relationship between running and charity. People run marathons because they like running and want to set some kind of personal goal for themselves, and to get the bragging rights that come with having completed a marathon. No one goes, "Hey, I want to raise money for charity, what's the most efficient way for me to do that? Oh I know! I'll train for months and months to run a long race and raise a few thousand dollars along the way." If they did think that, they'd be morons because running a race is far from the most efficient way of raising money. I put this reason in bold because this one is always in my head even while considering the other reasons.

1a. I would rather give my money to someone who I know is wholly committed to their cause as opposed to partially committed to their cause and partially committed to running a race. For example, to an awesome friend who puts a ton of time and effort into maintaining the non-profit that she started (though I haven't donated to that charity either recently, sorry P! Ha).

2. Not giving money to a friend or coworker's marathon makes you look like a jerk even if you really don't have the money to donate.

2a. People running marathons will always have a few friends who willingly part with $50. As Anny pointed out, $50 is a lot of money for some people, but sometimes those people would in theory be okay shelling out $1, $5 or $10. However, going to someone's donation page and seeing that everyone else is giving the big bucks might make some people balk at the thought of giving a significantly lower amount because, yet again, they'll seem like a jerk. I know that I'd rather give zero than give $1 for fear of having people see my donation and think, "Why did she even bother?" This is terrible because when charity is concerned, every dollar counts (right?).

3. Personally, I make a point of giving to charitable causes when I'm able to do so and in ways in which I feel comfortable. I gave money to my alma mater this year (undergrad, not grad school - they will never see a dime of mine) even though I'm not exactly financially stable right now; it was something I wanted to do at the time. Just because I sometimes have charitable tendencies does not mean I want to donate to your cause of choice at the moment. If we all gave money every time we were asked to do so, we'd all be broke. You have to pick and choose.

4. Running marathons isn't exactly great for your health. Yes, I know that runners are sort of by definition in shape, but marathoning is really hard on your body in more ways than one (or five). If I emailed my peeps and asked for money because I wanted to undertake an endeavor where I drank a shot for every year old I am (26!), no one would do it. But just as sure as I would end up in the hospital long before I reached my 26 shots, some marathoner running in NYC next month is going to end up there too.

I'm wondering if there are other people out there who secretly (or not so secretly) resent being asked to donate to road races (but, I might add, still sometimes do it anyway).

Jury duty is totally underrated

I had jury duty for the first time last week. Though it wasn't the first time I was called, it was the first time I was actually able to go. Frankly, after having been through the process, I don't know why everyone hates jury duty so much.

I checked in at 8:15 AM, and wasn't actually called to do anything until about 2:45 PM. In those 6 and a half hours, I checked email and applied for jobs with the help of my laptop and the free wi-fi, drank complementary coffee, and read my Time Out New York magazine.

And people get upset about having to do this? Friends, it's like Starbucks only the coffee is free, the wi-fi is functional, there is ample seating for everyone AND you get paid 5 dollars!

I was joking to my brother that if I had a car at my disposal all the time, I would drive myself to the courthouse and just sit there to get work done. Seriously. Too bad that I have to wait 3 years before being called again (in this county, anyway).

Glee for all, take 2

We're well-rested and ready for Glee For All day 2!

10:49 AM: Our day so far has consisted of watching Dave move some stuff around while I play DJ. Update forthcoming when we actually get our Glee on.

10:59 AM: Starting the day off with MADONNA. Oh yes.

11:24 AM: Dave doesn't believe that Sue is actually singing during Vogue. Boo non-believers.

11:52 AM: Kristin Chenoweth is back! Yesssss. Does anyone else want to go to a roller rink? I do. Do those still exist?

12:25 PM: We have decided to make a drinking game out of Glee. Take a shot every time someone is creepily watching someone else. We'd get shwasted.

12:48 PM: Can't Touch This!! So adorable.

1:02 PM: Run Joey Run is the most awful thing to come out of Glee. I am not unhappy about the fact that they didn't include that song on any of the albums.

1:11 PM: Listening to Total Eclipse of the Heart makes me think of college when Crapface and I used to write out all the lyrics to this song on each other's whiteboards. No easy task, my friends. Quite time consuming. I miss college.

1:33 PM: I think I'm the only person who really likes Kurt singing Mellencamp. Sure it's not him but it sounds kickass.

2:33 PM: NPH practicing his one line in Les Mis ("Hooray!...Hooooorayyy!") has inspired Lacey and me to go through another round of being Pauly D. Oh yeeeeeah! T-shirt tiiiiiime!

3:00 PM: I absolutely adore this performance of Bad Romance.

3:20 PM: The Glee version of Poker Face has seriously grown on me. Also, it is sort of freakish how much Lea and Idina actually really look like each other. How conveeeenient.

4:22 PM: We took a break for Wendy's and are back with our final 2 episodes. HOME STRETCH.

4:37 PM: I want to cry for Rachel when she gets egged.

4:45 PM: LAST EPISODE! Ack.

5:04 PM: Between this week's episode of Project Runway and the last episode of Glee season 1, the last few days have been SO EMOTIONAL.

5:30 PM: IT'S OVER! What a long, strange trip it's been.

Glee For All Free-for-all, day 1

This weekend, Lacey and I decided to take on a challenge. Do you remember Harry Potter Festathon? Well this is like that, only..with Glee.

Introducing, the GLEE FOR ALL FREE FOR ALL! Twitter hashtag: Gleeforall

2 girls, 2 days, 15 hours of of Gleeful musical cheesy awesome goodness. Plus snacks, OMGLEE t-shirts, and a husband who is very tolerant of our nerd-dom.

1:31 PM: We have been experiencing technical difficulties with trying to get Gleeforall started.

1:42 PM: Sue's hair was totally longer in the beginning of the season. Almost feminine!

2:04 PM: Glee has changed a LOT in only one season. Lea Michele has lost a ton of weight and the little a cappella interludes are gone.

2:13 PM: Rachel is sort of creepy in early Glee. I mean, we all know she's always kind of annoying but here she's just frightening.

2:57 PM: Umm, Mr. Schue is singing Leaving On A Jet Plane. This did not happen on the televised version. What the eff.

3:19 PM: God I hate Terri AND her sister. Punch kick taser.

3:38 PM: Push It! How did this not inspire a sex riot but Britney Spears did? This is way dirtier.

4:01 PM: Acafellas!! YES.

4:10 PM: Sandy is wonderful. "Who is Josh Groban? KILL YOURSELF!"

4:24 PM: I'm saying it now. Mercedes is the only one who consistently makes all her songs as good as (or better than) the original. ALL OF THEM.

4:31 PM: I don't think I'd know who Josh Groban was if not for Glee. Is that a problem?

5:07 PM: More technical difficulties. WHY DOES NO ONE WANT US TO SUCCESSFULLY HAVE A GLEEFORALL MARATHON?

5:19 PM: Does anyone know what a "lime a loser" is? Why do they keep calling each other that?

5:33 PM: Lacey has determined that apparently they live in the town of Lima. Hence "Lima Loser." ENLIGHTENMENT ABOUNDS.

5:45 PM: I kind of want Puck and April to get together. He likes older women. Idea for best ever future episode? I think so.

5:50 PM: Oh, apparently they do and I forgot about it. Bwa ha ha.

6:15 PM: Lacey and I are having a rousing singalong to Somebody to Love. I don't understand why no one has given us a record deal.

6:16 PM: Arielle singing: "Day is donnnnnnne..." Lacey: "SHUT UP!" Arielle: ~horrified~ Lacey: "Oh...sorry not you."

7:58 PM: Lacey apparently cannot do the running man, though she won't show me to prove it. Friends for 22 years and I'm still learning new things about her.

8:03 PM: Yesss the Glee secret Jew joke!

8:06 PM: "We're a couple of good-looking Jews." If I ever date a Jewish guy I'm going to say this to him at least 6 times a day. I mean, hour.

8:13 PM: Will and Sue swing dancing? Definitely one of my favorite non-singing Glee moments.

8:53 PM: Wheels is by far my favorite episode. The bake sale, Sue's sister, Artie and Tina getting together, Defying Gravity, Proud Mary in wheelchairs. LOVE LOVE LOVE.

9:35 PM: Lacey and I are discussing how there's a lot of creepy activity in this show. Someone is always lurking in the shadows staring at someone else singing or otherwise giving someone the crazy stalker eye.

10:34 PM: Papa Don't Preach is way better than the song Quinn sings later on when she's so pregnant that she's about to pop.

11:21 PM: Will finds out that Terri isn't pregnant!! On the angry scale of 1 to 10, he is totally Incredible Hulk and yet he is still super sexy right now.

12:23 AM: I feel like I'm actually losing my mind. Lacey and I are quoting Pauly D: "Oh YEAAAAAH! T-shirt tiiiiiiiime!" Normal.

1:16 AM: We are tired. 14 episodes, time to call it a day.

One of THOSE people

This past weekend I found myself in Brooklyn not once, but twice. I KNOW, I know.

On Saturday I went to the BK to take, and subsequently pass, my project management certification exam. Booyah! I finished around noon, and it just so happened that my good friend Rebekah was bartending a few blocks away, and so I stopped by for a visit and a celebratory cocktail that ended up turning into 3 celebratory cocktails due to some peer pressure from a few of her regulars. Which was followed by a pub crawl and me passing out at 9:45 PM but that is neither here nor there.

On Sunday I was back in Brooklyn to attend the Atlantic Antic, a big ol' street festival drinktasticathon where you walk around and listen to live music and eat street fair food and drink sangria and then go back to Rebekah's bar for free beer and to embarrass yourself in front of a guy who you thought would maybe be willing to make out with you in the future by talking about dodgeball and having him laugh at your excessive use of the word "balls" (Seriously, try talking about dodgeball without using the word "balls" - not easy).

At some point in one of the 2 days of drunken daytime revelry, Rebekah mentioned to me that in the next 6 months there will possibly be a room opening up in the apartment she shares with our other friend Marissa. It's a super cheap yet cute apartment, the roommates would obviously be fabulous as both Rebekah and Marissa fall into the category of friends that I like to call "people who are awesome but who I don't see nearly as often as I would like," and it's far enough in the future that I could seriously consider it because, fingers crossed, maybe I'll have a job by then.

Which leads me to think: could I ever be one of THOSE people? You know, THOSE people. The ones that..don't live in Manhattan.

Despite the fact that I spent the first 8 years of my life in Queens, thereby proving that I have actually already been one of THOSE people, ever since graduating college I've always just considered myself a tried and true Manhattan snob. I've lived there and worked there and played there and even though I now live in New Jersey, more of my life is in Manhattan than in the Jerz.

The thing that really intrigues me about the prospect of living in Brooklyn (aside from how cheap it is) is that it's so new to me. I don't know much about the BK's unique little neighborhoods, or how to get from one place to the other without HopStopping it first. The people are different and so is the vibe. While there are many MANY things I still don't know about Manhattan, I long ago achieved a level of comfort there that dissipates when I leave the borough. The times over the years that I've been to Brooklyn and Queens (the only parts of the Bronx that I know are Yankee Stadium and Lacey's apartment, and Staten Island can take Angelina and go far, far away as far as I'm concerned - please leave Vinny here though, love him) have shown me that, *gasp*, there's so much more to learn and see and experience in my beloved city that maybe, just maybe, I could get used to something else.

So...we shall see. Will I defy my Manhattan-is-the-best-place-ever ideals and consider living in a different borough? Only time will tell.

"It just takes some time, little girl you're in the middle of the ride"

I am in a constant state of WHAT AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE?

I spend way too much time and way too much money commuting into New York to go to a temp job that I'm pretty sure a 14 year-old could do. I don't read because I don't have time to go to the library, I don't go to the gym because my gym membership is in New York where I don't even freaking live, I don't devote the kind of attention to either of my blogs as I would like because the only writing time I have is during the day when I'm doing this receptionist thing and every train of thought gets interrupted by a Constantly. Ringing. Phone. I can't even make it to half the networking meetings I sign up for (remember that whole job search?) because I'm desperately trying to fit in the few remnants of normal life that I have right now - a rushed dinner with friends, a dodgeball game, catching up on TV shows - and I can't fully commit to anything so instead I end up half-assing everything. I feel like I'm always running for a train, and then when I get to where I'm going I turn right back around because it's time to go somewhere else and I end up not spending any quality time in either place.

There isn't much that's more hurtful to one's self esteem than looking for a job. Every day that goes by without so much as a prospect of an interview makes me feel that much more inadequate, that much more annoyed that many of my classmates are out using their brains and making 4 times what I'm making at this temp job. I'm missing the constant intellectual challenge of business school, and while I started my business blog as a way of keeping myself interested in business issues, there's really no match for being in a classroom and having a free exchange of ideas between professor and students. I know somewhere out there is a job opportunity that will challenge me and make me feel like a real, intelligent person again, but how to find it and how to convince someone that I'm worth taking a chance on is beyond me.

Because I live at home it's hard for me to make last minute plans. While I'm never opposed to planning in advance, I pride myself on being someone who will pick up and go to drinks/dinner/whatever NYC has to offer with almost no notice. Knowing that I can't stay anywhere too late because I have to go home in New Jersey puts a damper on being able to do things that I didn't know about at least a day in advance. Because even while I have many couches to crash on even at the last minute, it's always, "oh, I don't have a toothbrush/pajamas/clothes to wear to work tomorrow, but thanks anyway."

Forget about personal relationships. Many of my friendships have been relegated to some quick emails or gchats during the day. Meaningful conversation is limited and while I relish my weekends, which have somehow turned into a weekly episode of getting drunk before 3, it's just not enough. I don't get enough social time yet I also don't get enough personal time and how is that even possible?

Yesterday my friend asked me if I would play volleyball with her because her friend's team needed more women for a game that night. I already had gym clothes with me because of a dodgeball game so I thought, "HELL YES," because playing volleyball makes me feel like a real live person who has interests and who is good at something (I am not good at dodgeball, not even a little bit). And so I ran out at the end of my temp job to catch the train uptown, only to find that more than one subway line was completely f'ed up. 45 minutes later I was still wandering around the financial district, soaked due to a broken umbrella, trying to get uptown. I barely made it on time to my dodgeball game, which was an hour after volleyball was supposed to happen. Though it wasn't a big deal that I missed out, I had had this tiny morsel of being a fun, normal person dangling in front of me and the subway messed it up for me and I was crushed.

Right now I'm annoyed at myself for whining and annoyed at myself for this post which did not come out even remotely close to the eloquent thing I had planned in my head. I am not by any means miserable even though it might seem this way. I just want something to be FIGURED OUT. I want a job on the horizon, an apartment that maybe isn't mine yet but I know I'll be moving in soon, or a day where I can sit with my computer and write all the blog posts in my head with no interruptions, then watch all the TV I haven't caught up on and read a book. I'd also accept getting drinks with my friends without worrying about when the next train is or really any kind of activity that makes me feel like I am a smart, fun person who is in control of her time. Because right now I'm in the middle of all these places but I'm not fully anywhere, and somewhere on one of my many NJ Transit trips between states, I lost myself.

Dropping that third grade knowledge

I am giving you all a grammar lesson. Remember when I taught you all how to use the STRIKE? This is like that, only...not.

The following is a general rule. Many of you will say, "Oh pish posh, Arielle. We don't do that silly thing." And I say: "YES YOU DO." Ready?

DO NOT USE MOTHERF'ING APOSTROPHES WHEN PLURALIZING THINGS.

See what I did there? "Things." Not "Thing's."

WHO TAUGHT YOU CRETINS TO DO THAT?

I realize that my grammar is far from perfect and you are more than welcome to hate over on this way if your pet peeve involves ending sentences with prepositions because I love doing that even though I know better.

Seriously, though. Why has the apostrophe managed to sneak its way into our plurals the way that "LOL" has snuck into the lexicons of wayyyy too many people my age. (P.S. if you are a dude who says "LOL," I will never date you. Truth.)

Here are some examples of how to properly pluralize:

Machete --> Machetes
Popsicle --> Popsicles
Mojito --> Mojitos
Deer --> Deer (tricky, that one!)

Do you see any apostrophes? NO YOU DO NOT.

The only time where it is maybe acceptable to use them is where it would otherwise be confusing.

Instead of...

I got straight As.

It is okay if you say...

I got straight A's.

One reason why this is okay is because you might get confused otherwise and be all, "Girlfriend, straight as what? First of all you don't know when to capitalize letters, and second of all you didn't finish your sentence."

You call me "Girlfriend" because you're sassy.

The other reason why this is okay is because Wikipedia says so.

Okay, everyone. You have been schooled. Go forth and make me happy.

Why I don't like job hunting

I am still job hunting. And could be for awhile. Now that I'm on the cusp of reaching the 250 job applications mark (!!!), I've gotten all too familiar with some aspects of the job search that I don't like. Here goes!

1) When people tell me, "Don't worry, it's going to be fine." Yes, this is very easy for you to say when you have a cushy job and parents who still pay your cell phone bill. Talk to me when you have student loan debt going into repayment, health insurance to pay for (as in, the entire thing) and no job.

1a) Don't act like I'm disappointing you when I say I can't go on elaborate vacations. I'm really sorry that you want to go to Europe this fall and I can't join you. TOTAL BUMMER FOR YOU. Not.

2) I don't really ask for help with my job search. It's my own problem and no one else's. However, if you shove your business card down my throat and insist I send you my resume, I certainly don't expect you to find a job for me, but at least do me the favor of responding to my email. I probably spent a fair amount of time researching the company you work for and the available positions, and it's really a waste of my time if I never hear from you again.

3) Why the stigma about not finding out what a job pays until an offer is made? Let's be honest here - salary is one of the most important deciding factors for most people. I don't want to go through the effort of applying for a job that only pays half of what I want to make, and if companies would openly advertise that a position pays $150,000 a year, I'll know better than to apply for it because I'm clearly way too junior.

3a) For the hypothetical job above, if the (unmentioned) salary is the only way for me to know that I'm not qualified for this job, you wrote a job description that was either a) vague b) flat-out wrong or c) a magical mix of the two.

4) Just as I am supposed to be prepared for any conversation, so should you. If you say, "Why don't you have any employment on your resume after 2008?" you clearly didn't read the thing at the top of my resume that says, in bold, EDUCATION - MASTER OF BUSINESS ADMINISTRATION, MAY 2010. Similarly, if you select me for an interview and then ask me if I have experience with a slew of fun acronyms that appear nowhere on my resume and then mention that this experience is absolutely required for the job in a non-negotiable way, you really should have paid closer attention to my resume before deciding to interview me.

Phew, that's it. For now.

My irrational fear

Friends, I have a fear.

You know those people who, despite the clear use of headphones, still somehow manage to broadcast their music to everyone around them?

I'm afraid I'm one of them.

Now, I have no real reason to believe that I'm one of those people. I don't listen to my music at a particularly high volume, and no one has ever told me that they can hear what is supposed to be my own personal life soundtrack. But still, I worry. Especially when I hear others' music. Doubly especially now that I just bought new headphones (RIP white earbuds that came with my iTouch). Are these new headphones the kind that fail to keep the music confined to just MY ears? I have no idea.

The thing is, while I love my music and am not ashamed to admit to the wonderful people in my life about all the wealth of embarrassing material on my iPod, this isn't something I necessarily want random strangers to know.

99% of the time I listen to my music on shuffle. For whatever reason I never seemed to be able to get into playlists, mostly because I'd get bored of them too quickly. This means that at any given moment during my daily subway commute, I could be rocking out to more commonly accepted tunes like Paul Simon, Lady Gaga, or Green Day.

However, I could also be listening to "Uncle Fucker" from the South Park movie, the opening number from Bring It On (We cheer and we lead! We act like we're on speed! Hate us 'cause we're beautiful well we don't like you either!), Sandstorm by Darude (if you don't know what this is off the top of your head, Youtube it and have your subsequent "Oh yeaaah this song from high school" moment), or "Seize the Day" from Newsies.

Okay, I can't even pretend to be ashamed about that last one. That song is so uplifting! And..Newsies! Adorable.

This fear of my music being overheard is probably irrational. But I still worry. And will continue to do so.

A little Emmy's snark for you

As you know, last night we had the joy of watching Glee get robbed of most of the Emmys for which it was nominated. Though I wasn't even planning on watching because the vast majority of the TV I watch is by no means Emmy-worthy (Real World/Road Rules challenges what WHAT), I got a last minute call to liveblog from Dan who, as you may remember, was my partner in liveblogging the Oscars earlier this year. We were joined this time by the fabulous Jess, and even though the Emmys weren't all that exciting after the first 10 minutes (I even abandoned the last hour to watch Mad Men), we still managed to squeeze in a few gems. Here are my favorites:


Jess: God I hate Seacrest. It's like watching a man's soul leaving his body on live TV.


Jess: Is it my TV or is Guiliana orange?


Arielle: ...not that i follow any of the glee cast on twitter or anything
Jess: I've @ replied Corey Montieth like three times


Arielle: the top of her dress looks like spray-painted seashells
Arielle: like an art project i would have done at sleepaway camp



Arielle: oh no
Arielle: naya rivera has a pineapple on her head

(Ed note: HELLLOOOOOO Mark Salling)

Jess: Oh my god Billy Bush and the chick on NBC doing the fashion stuff is awful
Jess: and she's a raging bitch
Dan: love it when you get mad jess
Dan: you go big


On Lost:
Jess: Yeah there was stuff unanswered
Jess: But the finale was so emotional
Jess: Bawled off all my make up


Jess: if you don't cry in Up, dead inside
Jess: fact
Dan: well I didn't cry
Dan: but I DID feel bad
Dan: (I felt bad because I spilled my Mr Pibb)


Arielle: this chick needs a bra
Arielle: or some chicken cutlets
Jess: for real
Jess: no free boobing it


Arielle: can i just put Hugh Laurie, Jon Hamm, Joel McHale and Cory Monteith in a room together?
Jess: Can I put Kyle Chandler, John Krasinski, Cory, Mark Salling and Matthew Morrison in mine?
Dan: my room would just be scarlett j
Dan: mila kunis would be in line to get in the room
Dan: then diane lane
Arielle: betty white
Jess: Good call
Jess: betty white, I'm sure she knows her way around a....
Arielle: nursing home?


On the Oscars winning an Emmy:
Arielle: an awards show winning an award at an awards show?
Arielle: how meta

That's it for now. See you all at the...whatever the next good awards show is.