To the women who drink wine alone at home

30 is a weird, in-between kind of age. Some people have stopped going out entirely, others still go out a fair amount, and I think we can all agree that none of us can drink like we're 21 anymore.

Among women, there seems to be a clear line in the sand between two camps: those who drink at bars and those who drink at home alone. People in the second group seem to be the most vocal, saying things like:

"Yeah I just can't do the bar scene anymore. Everyone is so immature."

"All my friends are going out and I'm at home with a bottle of wine. #fridaynightwin"

"Eh, I'm over bars, they're so boring. Give me my wine, my pajamas, and my Netflix."

As someone who still goes out to bars, albeit much less often than I used to, I'm a little tired of being made to feel like I'm some sort of child for still enjoying my alcohol in public, as if going out to bars is a phase we all just have to get through on our way to being a "real" adult. You know, like playing mind games with potential romantic partners, using text speak when we want 2 talk 2 our frenz lol, or wearing tube tops. Sure, going to bars is definitely a phase you can grow out of, but so is bikram yoga and I don't think I'm any more mature for having moved on from that part of my life.

When I go out to bars, 99% of the time this is what goes down:

- Arrive at bar
- Order a drink. Sometimes vodka soda. Sometimes beer. Sometimes maybe even something else. THE SUSPENSE.
- Talk to friends
- Order another drink
- More talking. "How's your job going?" "What else are you up to this weekend?" "Oh my goddddd let me tell you about the creepy message I got on OK Cupid."
- I love this song! Let me dance to it while shoutmangling the lyrics! (Shoutmangling: verb. To yell song lyrics incorrectly)
- But first, let me take a selfie
- Shall we have another beverage? We shall
- I'm tired. Time to go home. "Love you girl, bye!"

 It's all pretty harmless, and what it really boils down to is having some drinks while talking to friends and maybe shaking your shoulders and/or booty to that Jason Derulo song that you love too much to even be embarrassed about loving it. It's not getting wasted and doing stupid shit (most of the time) because it's not college. I'm almost ashamed to admit how low the ratio is of crazy-times-at-bars to regular-unmemorable-but-still-pretty-fun-times-at-bars.

So there are women out there who sit at home alone, drinking wine and feeling better about themselves because of it, and honestly, I'm not sure why.

Is it because of the quantity of alcohol consumed? Because a bottle of wine is a lot of wine, ladies.

Is it because they're alone and some of us like to hang out with friends? Unless today is opposite day, drinking alone is never going to be the most widely accepted alternative (though I pass no judgment. You do you).

Is it because wine is classier than beer? (And why is it always wine, anyway?) The boxes of wine I used to drink when I was 19 21 beg to differ.

As someone who still enjoys the occasional night out, I harbor no ill will towards women who drink wine alone at home (and flaunt it). I too love a good night in with sweatpants and Netflix (although I never drink at home for no reason other than I just don't feel like it). Is there an insecurity issue at work here? Are there feelings of, "Ack, I'm super old and instead of embracing it I'm just going to make those who act less old feel badly about themselves"? Whatever it is, I wish people would just admit that maybe they don't have the energy to go out, or just don't like the scene anymore, as opposed to trying to act like they're above it. Judge not lest ye be judged, amiright? Especially those of you ladies drinking alone with cats. Thank your lucky stars that we don't get on our high horses about that one.

Portrait of a hangover

Friday night was crazy, yo. This all went down Saturday morning.

I also texted my roommate, who is very aware of my hangover grilled cheese ritual: "I don't have any cheese. I don't even know how to live right now."

And then, a Facebook status: "I think this weather means it's officially the start of SNUGGIE SEASON. I'm going to rock that shit from now until March."

Yes, it's on backwards. WHAT OF IT?

There was also a conversation with Crapface about the fact that the only 2 places near me that would deliver scallion pancakes (the other hangover food of the gods) to my apartment were a crappy Chinese place and a vegan place and I was stuck between a rock and a hard place because WHAT DO I DOOOOOO. I really didn't want to support a place that had something called "General Tso's Soy Protein" on the menu. VOM.

Anyway. It was a good day.

The best drinking game in the history of drinking games

Once a week, I play volleyball with New York Social Sports Club. Perhaps the best thing about NYSSC is that, more than any other league I've played in, they really want you to go the bar and drink after.

I mean, they take the social part VERY seriously.

And so on Tuesday or Wednesday each week, I end my day with countless games of flip cup, survivor flip cup, and some beer pong thrown in for good measure. And then more flip cup. And if we're lucky, some shots.

This week, I was introduced to a magical new game: beer dueling.

The game is simple. You grab a cup of beer and a partner. You stand back to back. When told to start, you walk a designated number of paces. You chug your beer as quickly as possible. And then you turn around and PELT YOUR OPPONENT WITH YOUR CUP. The first person to do so wins.

Sadly, the staff shut down our beer dueling pretty early on. Yet my fabulous friend Ian luckily had someone take this video of us beer dueling while the festivities were still in full swing. Enjoy.

The day of the free bra, the unlimited vodka shots, and everything in between

Also known as, #laceyandarielle'smostfundayinNYCeverevereverrrrr. Or something like that.

As much as I hate the deathly heat that sometimes comes with an NYC summer, I LOVE SUMMER IN NYC. This is an example of why.

Weekend recap:

Thursday: open bar happy hour to support the charity of 2 friends who are running triathlons this summer. Too many drinks.

Friday: Museum of Sex, followed by delicious Korean fried chicken at Bon Chon, followed by overpriced drinks at swanky, way-too-trendy for me rooftop bar 230 Fifth.

Saturday: CRAZY AWESOME LACEYANDARIELLE FUN DAYYYYYY

- Started off with the Perfect Cup event, where we ate free cups of Skinny Cow ice cream, got fitted for bras (get the cup theme?) and received a coupon for a free bra. We also got goody bags, wine, and took pictures with silly props. ALL FOR FREE. I love free.

- Walked the High Line, what used to be ugly elevated train tracks and is now this gorgeously unique park.

- Saw an inflatable park for kids with this AMAZING MUSHROOM BOUNCY CASTLE!!! Don't pretend you don't want to jump in this thing.


- Delicious slushy drinks from the Kelvin Slush truck.

- The richest, most intense pizza I've ever eaten at Artichoke.

- To digest the insanely delicious but filling pizza, we went to one of my favorite NYC summer staples, a street fair. And sadly could not eat any yummy street fair food. Next time, Gadget. Next time.

- We still had a ton of time to kill before the rest of our day, so we ended up at the Manhattan Mall, trying on ugly dresses.


Unfortunately you can't see the full awesome extent of the leopard print BUTT CAPE attached to the back of this dress. BUTT CAPE!!

- We sat outside at the lovely Beerparc, drinking...iced coffee. Not beer. Whatever.

- Went back to the street fair where I bought this fedora. I am probably never going to wear it because I'm not cool enough. Seriously, can someone come over and dress me in a fedora-appropriate outfit? I really want to wear this thing but I AM NOT TRENDY and have no sense of style. HELP.


- Met up with 2 more people for dinner at Vanessa's Dumpling House. Cheap and delicious.

- Then...DUN DUN DUN. Mehanata, a Bulgarian themed bar, for the ICE CAGE. They dress you in Russian military outfits, give you a shot glass made of ice, put you in a cold room with about 20 bottles of vodka, and let you go to town for 2 minutes. It is frantic. But it is fun. And then maybe you do 4 shots before you run out of time. Which is probably for the better because I won't pretend I needed more than 4 shots.

You can sort of see the ice cage on the right (not really), and the weird naked mannequin things that were sprinkled throughout this winter wonderland themed floor of the bar. It was the weirdest ish ever.

- After this bar, Lacey left (BOO) and the rest of us went to find somewhere else to go. We were stopped on the street by a woman handing out buy one get one free drink fliers for a bar down the street, and thus we spent the rest of the our night at that bar.

Well, this post is getting long but let's just briefly recap Sunday: went to a beer tasting, then partied it up for NYC pride which is the most amazing, celebratory, no-judgment-even-if-you-wear-a-thong-as-pants (not me, obviously) party. Tried to go to a gay club and the bouncer said he could reduce the obscene $25 cover for the 3 guys in our party, but not for the 2 girls. I couldn't even be mad considering how many times the reverse has happened.

The end.

I love New York. And I don't understand why, with summer weekends like these, more people don't come visit. Ahem, everyone.

The Sake Bomb/Friday song

You know how sometimes you just drink SO MUCH ALCOHOL in the span of a few days where all you want to do is detox? I'm right there.

My weekend looked something like this, starting on Thursday night: bar - concert that ended up being canceled - bar - bar - sleep - work - sake bombing - bar - bar - sleep - hangover - pub crawl - housewarming party - beer garden - sleep - hangover - bar - dinner with unlimited sangria.

I would say that I didn't do anything really productive this weekend, but in fact, I did. You see, over drinks on Thursday night, my friends and I discussed our sake bombing adventures that were coming the next day. We were trying to think of some new chants to yell to add to our repertoire, which currently consists of "SAKE SAKE SAKE BOMB" and "WHEN I SAY 'SAKE' YOU SAY 'BOMB'!!"

Someone had the brilliant idea of writing a song to the tune of Rebecca Black's Friday, and commissioned me to write it. Except then Friday happened and I was busy with work and I didn't. Until today, when I had a long subway ride and no book to read. Ahem.

7pm at the end of the work day
Gotta get drunk gotta go downtown
Gotta have some food gotta have sake bombs
Drinking everything, the beer is spilling
Chanting on and on everybody’s chugging
Gotta get down to Ashiya
Gotta catch my train, I see my friends

Feelin’ kinda buzzy
Thoughts are getting fuzzy
Gotta make my mind up
How much can I take?

It’s sake, sake
Everyone drink some sake
Everybody’s getting crunked up on the weekend, weekend
Sake, sake
Better drink your sake
Everybody’s getting crunked up on the weekend

Sake bomb, sake bomb (yeah)
Sake bomb, sake bomb (yeah)
Chug, chug, chug, chug
Getting crunked up on the weekend

7:45 we’re setting up the chopsticks
Having such fun don’t want time to fly
Yum, yum, sushi’s so yum
Don’t know what this is
I drink this you drink this
Drop sake in the beer, ayyy
I drink this you drink this
Now you know it

Feelin’ kinda buzzy
Thoughts are getting fuzzy
Gotta make my mind up
How much can I take?

It’s sake, sake
Everyone drink some sake
Everybody’s getting crunked up on the weekend, weekend
Sake, sake
Better drink your sake
Everybody’s getting crunked up on the weekend

Sake bomb, sake bomb (yeah)
Sake bomb, sake bomb (yeah)
Chug, chug, chug, chug
Getting crunked up on the weekend

Yesterday was okay, okay
Today is the best day, best day
We-we-we so excited
We so excited
We gonna have a bomb today

Today we all feel great but
Hangover comes afterwards
I don’t want this weekend to end

E-V, in NYC
We’re banging on the table
We are able
To yell and scream and
Drink beer, sake clear
With some sushi on the side
All I need is some sake in front of me
With some beer more beer wanna scream
Check my time, we count down to the next bomb
We gonna get drunk, come on come on y’all

It’s sake, sake
Everyone drink some sake
Everybody’s getting crunked up on the weekend, weekend
Sake, sake
Better drink your sake
Everybody’s getting crunked up on the weekend

Sake bomb, sake bomb (yeah)
Sake bomb, sake bomb (yeah)
Chug, chug, chug, chug
Getting crunked up on the weekend

It’s sake, sake
Everyone drink some sake
Everybody’s getting crunked up on the weekend, weekend
Sake, sake
Better drink your sake
Everybody’s getting crunked up on the weekend

Sake bomb, sake bomb (yeah)
Sake bomb, sake bomb (yeah)
Chug, chug, chug, chug
Getting crunked up on the weekend

I am presently taking orders. I will write one of these awesome songs for any occasion you may have. Don't miss out. I am clearly very talented.

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.

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 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?

Lacey's Pole Patrol

Did you miss me? You probably even forgot I was gone since I had all those awesome Ghost of Arielle Past posts put up. I am finally back from my Mardi Gras/NYC adventure and while I will hopefully get around to sharing the madness that is New Orleans, I wanted to give some photo highlights of Lacey's bridal shower and bachelorette party. I'm sure she is planning her own awesome photo recap blog post as well.

First, the bridal shower.

This is my mom with her photo bingo cards. You can't really see but there are different pictures of Lacey in each space, and a picture of Dave as the free space.

Lacey is adorning the fabulous ribbon crown that I made her with skillz I never knew I had. I like that we're both wearing wedding purple.

And now, the more exciting stuff. The bachelorette party!

Customized cupcakes thanks to Sugar Sweet Sunshine. They're supposed to be "L"s but they sort of look like "1"s. Which is okay. LACEY IS NUMBER 1! These cupcakes match our...

T-SHIRTS! Lacey's Pole Patrol! If you don't think this is the f'ing most hilarious thing to ever go on a t-shirt, then..you stink. Trying to make sure Lacey wore jeans to the bachelorette without telling her we had t-shirts made was a lot more difficult than I expected. Oy.

So we went to a pole dancing class, obviously. I'm not sure why I always make that face or why I think it looks good. It doesn't.

Here we are learning to spin.

About to leave pole dancing class to head to the bar.

And of course, I had to make Lacey drink out of her bachelorette shot glass necklace. You can also see her huge blingy fake light up engagement ring on the other hand.

All in all it was a fabulous day/night (with a LOT more pictures) and now that it's over it's time to start gearing up for the wedding! WOOHOO!

Proud to be a mutt

I am a mutt. Not in the genetic sense, seeing as my parents are both white-as-the-part-of-the-Israeli-flag-that-isn't-blue Jews, but in the sense that I am half Uber Responsible and On Top of Her Shit Goody Two Shoes, and half It's Five O'clock Somewhere Get Me a Ketel One Dirty Martini Extra Dirty Please Party Animal.

Look at the facts: I've always gotten good grades. I wore a suit every day to work for 3 years. I pay my credit card bill in full every month and have been doing my own taxes for years. I don't have a tattoo and don't want one. I don't even have second holes pierced in my ears. On the other hand, I can think of only 2 people in the world who are less likely to turn down a night of boozing than I am. I like to go out, meet new people, and make the occasional bad decision (my responsible half ensures the "occasional" part). This side of me is to blame for doing things like funneling beers at 5 AM the night before Thanksgiving or dancing on bars in Cancun.

Finding a balance between the two is delicate art. Because more often than not, partying comes at a price. Literally. And it pains me to the depths of my soul when my responsible half makes me turn down trips to Vegas (June 09) or the Dominican (August 09) or spring break (ALL FOUR YEARS OF COLLEGE) because it knows I can't pay for it. It sucked this past semester knowing that my classmates were all out partying and I was stuck passing hors d'oeuvres (I just double checked my spelling of that and for the first time ever I GOT IT RIGHT. BOOYAH) at some fancy function making way too little per hour because yo, I need that cash money.

Sometimes, even my responsible side acknowledges that there is going to come a day when my party side has to be put away. When it will no longer be socially acceptable to act the drunken fool in public. And though I'm only 26 and thus that time is NOWHERE NEAR, I can't deny that it's approaching. I need to get it all out of my system so that when the time comes for my better but less fun half to take over full-time, I can hold a proper funeral for the vodka-guzzling half, knowing that it led a full life and that I can always remember it with pictures and stories.

And so I had an internal debate today.
Smart half: "You may have some leftover cash from working last semester, but you'll soon have to start paying back your student loans. DUN DUN DUUUUUN!"
Crazy half: "But...but...vacations! Fun ones!"
Smart half: "But nothing!"
Crazy half: "Come on, I can't do this without you. Even YOU like to have a little fun."
Smart half: "Oh, you're right. I'll pack the patron and the low-cut shirts."

And that, my friends, is how and why I booked my plane tickets to go to NEW ORLEANS FOR MARDI GRAS. THE MECCA OF RIDICULOUSNESS AND FUN.

For 4 days I will do nothing but drink hand grenades and hurricanes while stuffing my face with beignets and po'boys and pralines. And then some more hand grenades.

DID I MENTION THAT I'M GOING TO NEW ORLEANS FOR MARDI GRAS?

I can feel my liver gearing itself up already. This is one excited mutt.

Birthday weekend extravaganza!

Well, it's official. I have been 26 for exactly 2 days. The transition has been a little weird, as I think 26 sounds WAY older than 25. Yuck. But anyhoo.

I went to New York to celebrate because celebrating in Boston just doesn't cut it (even though I will be having the Boston version of my birthday on November 7th).

On Friday, Lacey and I went to Shecky's Girls Night Out (for free! Booyah!), where we enjoyed free drinks, free cupcakes, and some awesome goody bags. We then had a delicious dinner and drinks with our friend Anna at Mary Ann's.

On Saturday, my actual birthday (woohoo!) I had an A. MA. ZING. lunch with my friend Crapface at Bobby Flay's Bar Americain. Holy Jesus, it was good. Go there. Eat the burgers. Pay no mind to the overdressed tourists. Make room for dessert. DO IT.

After lunch, I got a mani/pedi with my wifer and birthday partner in crime Julie (HAPPY BIRTHDAY WIFER, I LOVE YOU!!!). Then I headed to ANOTHER BOROUGH (I know, what?!?) to visit my friend Rebekah in Brooklyn. She's a fabulous bartender and I've been promising forever that I'd go visit her while she was working at The Brazen Head. Since my bartending resume has this bar on it, I figured it's about time I stepped inside (don't hate on me for lying, every bartender I've met, including my bartending school teachers, said you can't get a job unless you flat out lie the first few times).

I returned from Brooklyn and got ready for my TRIPLE BIRTHDAY PARTY EXTRAVAGANZA, as I was celebrating with Julie and my high school friend Devika. I got sexified, pregamed with some lovely ladies, and headed to Mason Dixon. I enjoyed some Jager shots, too many sweet tea vodkas, and of course, some good old fashioned mechanical bull riding. For pictures and video of Lacey (and thankfully not me) riding the bull, go here. I know someone out there has pictures of me, but I have yet to see them. Maybe that's a good thing.

We left the bar when it closed at 4 AM, and on our way to catch a cab Anna spotted Maks from Dancing With the Stars. She flipped out. He waved. I was, as usual, amazed at Anna's ability to find celebrities I wouldn't otherwise have noticed.

On Sunday morning I somehow miraculously managed to drag my hungover ass to the bus back to Boston, on which I accomplished an astonishing amount of homework and received text messages from Nicole about what a champ I was for getting on the bus (WIN).

I went straight from the bus to volleyball, then dinner with vball peeps at Boston Beer Works, and finally back home.

Fabulous motherf'ing weekend. Good food, good drinks, and most importantly, surrounding myself with good people. I heart my birthday.

Independence Dizzle

Happy belated July 4th, my kiddies!

I spent the weekend in my favorite drive-through state, Connecticut. It was a weekend filled with boozing, beaching, and all other sorts of nonsense. Though I almost didn't go, in the end, I'm glad I did because sometimes, you just need to get away from the bars and party at a house in the boonies with tons of other crazy people and no cell phone reception.

The weekend also returned some of my faith in people's desire to party. While I'm usually of the opinion that people become lame when they get in relationships and extra lame when they get married, such was not the case. There were very few of us single folk around but the partying was by no means hampered because of it. Somewhere around midnight last night, I was sitting in a chair on the top floor of a 2 story barn, watching 4 ex-fraternity brothers play the most heavily regimented version of beirut I've ever seen. I was alternating between waving an American flag and dancing in my seat with a croquet mallet, the guy sitting next to me had located a fake Christmas tree and plugged in the lights attached to it, the 4 beer pongers were beyond inappropriate in their trash talking and attempts to distract each other, and a 4 month old puppy was running around.

Downstairs, our ice luge 3.0, which had gone through multiple phases over the prior 24 hours and which ended in an engineered funnel and straw system that ran through what was left of the ice block, had melted away from too many Patron shots running down it. An hour earlier, as I rummaged through a cooler of Miller High Life screaming something I never thought I would hear myself say ("WHY IS THERE NO NATTY LIGHT LEFT!?!?"), one of the partygoers, a married man whose poor pregnant wife was sleeping at a bed and breakfast, was drunkenly trying to scale the outside of the barn and climb into the second floor. He slipped, fell flat on his back, then got up and rejoined the party, unscathed. The point is, it was a good time.

When we weren't partying in the barn, we were at the beach, both at night to watch fireworks and during the day to swim, kayak, and, if you're me, get a horrible sunburn despite multiple sunblock applications.

Despite my 3 hour nap when I got home today, I'm still exhausted from the overall too much partying, too much sun, and my few precious moments of sleep being interrupted by other forms of drunken hilarity that I won't go into. Tomorrow, my life of leisure goes away temporarily as I actually have a temp assignment to go to for the next 2 days. Wa. Hoo.

I LOVE MY LIFE

Two days ago I made the move from being at home with my parents to being back in my beloved NYC. A friend of mine is away for a month and he so graciously offered to let me sublet his studio for the duration. And let me tell you - living on my own is as wonderful as I had always imagined it. This studio is P-I-M-P, my area of New York (Union Square) is amazing and HOLY CRAP I LOVE LIFE AND EVERYTHING ABOUT IT.

Now, instead of bumming around the house in NJ with all my free time, I can go exploring and experience all the things I love about New York and missed SO F'ING MUCH over the 10 months I was gone.

Tonight, I'm using my wonderful new digs and my wonderful new bartending skills to make some delicious martinis as a way to pregame before we head out for the ever-fabulous Lacey's 26th birthday (HAPPY BIRTHDAY BODEEEEEEEE). Since I am a very responsible bartender and I'm working with new equipment, I had to give everything a test drive before I served it to anyone else. I am now 2 martinis in and feeling fabulous.

OH!

PLUS, I recently accepted an internship (!!!) with an internet startup that involves me going to bars on weekends and writing reviews. It doesn't pay anything, but I can put it on my resume and...oh hello, going to bars and writing reviews. For an internship. DONE AND DONE.

I'm kind of buzzy.

Best week(end) ever!

This past weekend was super duper fabulous. Friends and fun galore!

There were super cheap drinks, 2 yummy brunches (including one unlimited mimosa brunch), dinner party on the Upper East, delicious comfort food dinner the next night, dancing up a storm, the heavenly smell of BBQ and outdoor drinking, beer and super spicy mustard, french fries, and oh so much more. I didn't even realize how much I accomplished (if you call tons of day drinking an accomplishment) this weekend until i laid it all out there. And I definitely let a number of establishments off this list.

On Monday, thanks to Lacey I got to go to an awesome conference where I listened to a business school hero and watched Martha Stewart reapply her lipstick in the bathroom.

And thennnn I started my bartending classes. And I. LOVE. IT. I'm having so much f'in fun learning to make drinks, how to set up a bar, the histories of different liquors, and so on and so on. It's only been 2 of 10 days and I'm already super pumped to put my skills to use (dear friends: please have parties. I will make all the drinks).

Despite the fact that I wish my temp agencies would call me a bit more often (read: EVER) with jobs, life right now is oh so delightful.