On the Road Again

We are safely in Illinois. After a 13 hour trek across four states, we have safely driven to my hometown in Illinois. Truth be told, we made much better time than I anticipated, and this included the time spent this afternoon when I had to pull over at a random exit in Paducah, Kentucky because Scott suddenly got the runs. Can someone please explain to me how you suddenly get the runs? Apparently, it's not a gradual build up. One second he's reading the paper while I'm driving. The next he's begging me to pull over so he can use the closest bathroom. Boys are gross.

What's amazing to me is that, while we traversed almost 900 miles in 13 hours, in the same amount of time, I could have flown to China. Literally. It's just mind boggling to see how fast planes can go.

I've also noticed that my family tends to drink when we're all in town together. For thirty years, my parents harbored fifths upon fifths of unopened alcohol in their cabinets. But yet in the time span that we'll be in town - about five days - we would have drained their reserve. I don't know if it's because my parents equate us being in town as a celebratory event or if it's a way to cope. For Scott and I, it's the latter. Did I mention that my grandmother and midget great-aunt are also staying with us this holiday season?

I'll drink to that. And to our own small 13 hour version of the westward expansion.

Prima Donna

I've made a big decision. It's not quite official, but my mind is made up, so it's almost official - I'm going to be a ballerina.

That's right. Starting in January, I'll be taking ballet lessons. Lest you be surprised, remember that I used to be a ballerina when I was four, five and six, so I have some experience and background in the art. This will probably mean lots of ballet recitals, so for those friends who live in the area, be prepared to get invitations to my ballerina re-debut. And for those friends who don't live in the area, feel free to send roses. I like the pink ones. They'll match my new tutu.

These lessons are for adults in teens, so forget those images of me taking lessons with a bunch of four, five and six-year-olds. I'll be in the good company of other experienced ballerinas like myself.

So let the pirouettes, arabesques, and promenades begin! I'll be a ballerina, yet!

A "Get Out of Shopping, Free" Card

As I was searching through Scott's pant pockets, making sure there wasn't loose change in them before I threw them into the laundry, I found a crumpled, yellow business card. I smoothed it open and on it was written "Get Out of Shopping, Free."

When I questioned Scott about this card, he says it was bestowed upon him on the day we got married. Unbeknownst to me, most guys get one when they get married. While the card is particularly relevant during the Christmas season, it's valid all year round, for any holiday in which gift-buying is necessary.

I've done a little research on the "Get Out of Shopping, Free" card. Apparently, it plays upon the myth that men become helpless after marriage and entitles him to never buy another gift for his mother, father, cousins, in-laws, aunts, uncles, or grandparents ever again. However, it does not relieve him of purchasing gifts for his wife.

Whoever is behind this "Get Out of Shopping, Free" conspiracy should be found and sentenced to year of forced gift-buying for everyone on his family's list for all holidays, birthdays, Mother's Days, Father's Days, and any other Days. Where is my "Get Out of Shopping, Free" card? Or better yet, where is my "Get Out of Cleaning the Apartment, Free" card?

Oh wait, I do have one of those...

What ever happened to Christmas?

I can say that I've done a fair bit of Christmas shopping this season. And I'm disappointed. Throughout the stores, on the storefronts, in the store windows, there just isn't much Christmas cheer. Sure, there are some glittery sparkles and greetings of "Happy Holidays" every now and again, but overall, just not much Christmas spirit is decking the halls of the retail stores.

It's not just me. In a recent report by Brandweek, consumers are noting the lack of Christmas decorations and are actually electing to take their business elsewhere, to those stores that do decorate for Christmas. The report didn't say why stores were decorating less this year, but I would guess it has to do with costs and politics. Funny thing is, when stores try to cut costs and try to become politically neutral, it may actually spell disaster.

It's Christmas. This is the season when Christians celebrate the birth of Christ. This is a big deal in the Christian religion, commercial or not. It's one of the biggest holidays of the Christian year. This time of year is also Hannakah, but Hannakah isn't a gift-giving season. It's not even a big Jewish holiday - it was just made that way because of the commercialization of Christmas. Even my Jewish friends get offended about the greeting "Happy Holidays". They feel that it's condescending because they recognize this as Christian feast, and that's fine with them. They don't need someone to pat them on the shoulder and make them feel included.

It's decent to be politically correct and we need to respect all peoples and all religions. But that doesn't mean that, to do so, we gloss over the important feasts of other religions. It's not just me - it's also consumers that are saying this now. Keep Christmas away, and the shoppers will stay away, too. So let's celebrate - commercialization and all - what this season is truly about.

Famous Celebrity Couples

Because I am officially done with my second term of school and I have nothing to do (except find a job, write Christmas cards, wrap presents, write an essay, clean the house...ok, I'm procrastinating), I have been having a little celebrity fun. Thanks to Jessica, I have found this website that matches celebrities that look like me. These don't even include the Asian actress and Beyonce.



And to have a little more fun, I did Scott, too. Admittingly, not the best picture of Scott, but basically, I'm married to either Bill Paxton or a vampire. I haven't decided which. When he was younger, Scott was told he looked like the lead singer from Smashing Pumpkins. I guess he's grown out of that phase.

A Bite of the Apple

Scott, me, Alison and James took a little trip to NYC this past weekend. Not only were Scott and I feeming for a little city-action to get us in the Christmas spirit, but we also wanted to show some of the sites to Alison, who had never been to the city before. She is now officially city-fied! A few highlights from our trip:

Thursday: Flew in (P.S. jetBlue may possibly be my new fave airline), had a few slices of pizza at 11:30 at night, and took a carriage ride through Central Park. Our "tour guide" was fantastic, pointing out certain attractions like the Trump Tower which is "owned by Donald Trump. He owns other buildings in the city." Looks like $50 in NYC just doesn't get you as far as it does down South.

Friday: Found a cute place for breakfast, hit Fifth Avenue, oggled at Tiffany's (where my classy husband yells out "Oh my God! This necklace costs $715,000!), ate dinner at Thalia's and then saw Martin Short's Fame Become Me, which was hilarious. I never knew Martin Short was such a talented person. He had a guest star show up - Goldie Hawn, who looks fabulous. I guess that's what a little surgery can do. Met some friends out at a bar after the show.

Saturday: Despite the line that literally wrapped around the Empire State Building, James' friend, who works in the building, was able to get us past the lines and right to the top! Talk about celebrity status! The view was amazing. Ate lunch in the West Village at Chat 'n Chew and then hit Rockefeller Center to see the Christmas tree and skaters. Very charming. For dinner, met up with Elizabeth, Chris, Carson, and Christine at Tao (alas, no celebrity sitings), had a few too many mojitos and grapefruit martinis and hit a little of the NYC scene.

Sunday: Brunched in SoHo and did a little shopping. Got a cool necklace at one of the sidewalk vendors. Took a harrowing cab ride to JFK and said our goodbyes.

It was a great trip (when is a trip to NYC not?). Now I'm trying to convince Scott to buy a small little apartment in the city - our "city" escape, if you will. Still working on that...

Someone! Just give me a job! (please)

I'm a nice person. I work hard. I'm average intelligence, but I have a lot of motivation. Can someone just give me a job? Why does this have to be so hard?

I never knew looking for a job would be so much of a, well, job. It takes up most of my day and the added pressure comes from fellow students who are in the frenzy of interviewing and snatching up offers. Because I'm so geographically focused (damn you, American Bar Association and your stupid bar rules), things are a little slower for me. First, I'm trying to vet out all the possible job options here. Then, I'm trying to figure out if these businesses are offering jobs. And then I have to actually interview for the jobs. I'm still doing #1 and #2.

Let me tell you, the offer I do get better be good. It better be something I'm going to want to do for at least 30 years, because I ain't doing this job search again.

I Heart James Bond

I have seen the advertisements since May, and halfway around the world, at that. In Hong Kong, city buses roared by, covered in "Casino Royale" movie posters. There, blown up to 137 times his original size was Daniel Craig.

There wasn't a whole lot to him, then. In our own group, the guys talked about how this was the new James Bond and there were skeptical remarks about his ability in this role. Everyone said that they wanted to see the new movie, but weren't sure if this Daniel Craig would really be that good of a Bond character.

That was May. I had almost forgotten about Daniel and his Hong Kong advertisements. Now in November, I was dragged to the movies to see just another Bond movie.

But this was NOT just another Bond movie, and it was because of my dear, sweet Daniel. Those piercing blue eyes. Those perfectly formed biceps. That crooked smile. I am in love with the new Bond. He's rugged, he's human. And he's hot. I'm sure the movie studios knew what they were doing. For years and years, the guys had all the fun - their fantasy Bond with the cool gadgets, the cool car, and the easy women. What did we have? Nothing. But now, we have Daniel. The guys can take their cool car and their cool gadget. Heck, I'll even give them the beautiful, easy women. But just give me my Bond!

A Turkey of a Relief

It's been a few weeks since my last post, but so many things have been going on since then. Thankfully, one of the things taking the most time is finally over, for the most part. The Brand Challenge happened last Friday and I think it was a success! So one event down, so now all that's left is just school, exams, job search, Conservation Week....

The Southern traditions here continue to amaze me. This Thanksgiving, I was introduced to the deep-fat fried turkey. For those not familiar with the south, this consists of pouring about 4-5 gallons of oil (peanut, in this case) in a big pot, heating it to a toasty 400 degrees, and dunking an entire turkey into the oil. The amazing thing is that it only takes about an hour to cook an 18 pound turkey. At first, I had a physical aversion to this kind of cooked turkey - after all, 5 gallons of peanut oil is enough to make anyone yack a bit. But I have to admit that the turkey was pretty darn good. Juicy and tender. While I don't see deep-fat fried turkey again in my future (I hope), I will say that I enjoyed this little tradition.

Hope you all had a great Thanksgiving and enjoyed your turkey - no matter in what tradition it was prepared.

Globalization is cool

I'm all about globalization. I'm globalization's biggest fan. I say open the borders. Let's offshore and outsource. Let information flow freely. Globalization will be what fights poverty and terrorism and ultimately bring equality among the nations. Don't believe it? Read The World is Flat, and you'll be a believer.

One of the things I hate about Americans is that 99.8% of us only know one language - English. And sometimes even that is questionable. So I love globalization and I hate that we only know one language. So why do my feathers get ruffled when students come to a graduate program in this country and can't speak English?

If I was going to school in France (here I go on the French, again), you could bet your bottom dollar that not only would there be sunshine tomorrow, but I would learn French hard and fast before I set foot upon the tiled floors of their MBA school. And I would bet another dollar that those French bastards wouldn't admit me unless I could prove that I learned French hard and fast.

So why does Duke - and most other American b-schools, for that matter - proceed to admit students who can't speak English? Not only do they suffer, but so do we. And because we can't communicate, we regulate ourselves to our own ethnic enclaves and don't learn from each other. It's painful to hold a conversation with someone when they speak at 1/472 the speed that I do. I'm patient, I really am. But it's not only painful, it's frustrating because you can never get your idea truly across.

So b-schools of America, listen up. Do us all a favor and let's follow in the footsteps of our peers. Don't admit international students unless you can make damn sure that they are proficient in English. Then open the gates. Let globalization in. After all, you can't truly globalize unless you can communicate.

The Tabloids breed good journalists

Before today, I would pass by racks of tabloids at the grocery store check-out line and scan the headlines, understanding that most of the stories were exaggerations of the truth. Today, I now understand that they are NOT exaggerations, but stone-cold truths.

Over the past year, we read articles about how Britney took away K-Fed's credit card. How she gave him an allowance. How she regulated him to the basement. How she didn't trust him with his own baby and hired a manny. We started to believe these stories until Britney had her infamous interview with Matt Lauer, where she told us these stories were untruths and that her marriage to K-Fed was "awesome." Her mini-skirt and bra-strap showing tank top told me not to believe her, but I kind of did. Maybe she was just an innocent victim, whom the fashion police had not yet paid a visit.

But then today, the world shook. All LIES, LIES, LIES...by Britney! The esteemed journalists at the tabloid magazines were, in fact, telling us the truth. They had scooped out the scoop, telling us with unfettered honesty what Britney could not, would not.

I know, we shouldn't be surprised by the Britney-K-Fed divorce. But my faith in the institution of marriage may have been slightly shaken. And then her "surprise" appearance on David Letterman, looking svelte and stylish. All on the eve of her divorce announcement.

Hmmm...do I smell strategy?? We'll just have to wait for the tabloids.

Everyone's a pundit

In the October 14 issue of the WSJ, there was a great op-ed piece by Peggy Noonan. What I love about her piece is that she has so eloquently put into words what I have always thought: that there is a strange irony when it comes to Democrats - they can be so closed-minded when the liberal doctrince calls for an open-minded perspective.

I don't mean to hate on the Dems. Lord knows the Republicans have their problems, too. But I noticed it from the first time I humored my husband and debated politics. Out of one side of his mouth, he was talking about how we need to be open-minded and accepting of all people and all religions (I agree). And then, out of the other side of his mouth, he was lambasting the right-wing conservatives and cursing their view points. Wait a minute. What happened to wanting debate?

Noonan brought to light four examples of this same behavior: the first happened when students at Columbia stormed the stage where Minutemen were invited to speak, effectively shutting down that forum. Early in October, the father of a boy killed at Columbine shared his views on violence entering our schools, in light of the Amish shootings. He thought the reason was because God was taken out of the school system. CBS silenced him. At her concert, Barbara Streisand spouted politics between songs. When an audience member shouted "What is this, a fundraiser?" Streisand became enraged and cursed the man. And, finally, on "The View", Rosie went off on gun control. Elizabeth Hasselbeck brought up the other side of the argument, and Rosie went blank-faced and proceeded to "educate" Elizabeth.

Everyone is entitled to speak his or her mind, where ever they want to do it. However, I don't like it when people say they want to debate, but they don't - they want their vision imposed. And if they don't get it, they'll stoop to cursing, intimidating. Noonan says that what's missing from the left of America - and I'll go as far to say both sides of America - is grace. "The kind of grace that assumes disagreements are part of the fabric, but we can make the fabric hold together." I agree. Don't just say you want debate, when all you really want is an excuse to push an agenda.

And that's why I'm content to sit up high on my little fence and not get dirty in the muck down below.

Time flies when you're...oh, wait

Wow...I can't believe it's been so long since my last post. I'd say time flies when you're having fun, but you all get it by now.

I spent the weekend in Chicago, at the Net Impact Conference, which was very interesting. The conference focused on social issues in both non-and-for-profits and I went to some really great panels and sessions that focused on education and the environment. There are companies out there that are doing amazing things when it comes to business and the environment, which gives me a little hope that are planet is not going to hell in a handbasket. At least, not yet.

The conference opened my eyes to a lot of issues and reaffirmed that I really want to explore the non-profit space. The issue now is just how. It's so difficult to break into this area and I feel that I need more time to network and really get to know the organizations that are in the area. Maybe I start somewhere else and work my way to a non-profit or foundation. We'll see...

Another great thing about the weekend, besides the wonderful conference and cold, windy weather, was seeing Abby. Granted, it's only been a few months, but that's a long time in Abby-years. If only we lived closer to each other. Maybe someday. We'll see...

The results are in

I batted a 0.75. Not too shabby. Out of the four predictions I made about my mother's comments to me during my visit home, I got 3 of them correct.

1. My mother did, in fact, comment on my hair and encouraged me to get it cut while I was home. I declined.

2. My mother proceeded to comment on the dark circles under my eyes. I faulted her Italian genes.

3. My mother tried to force feed me while I was home.

There was, however, no comment about my growing ass, which surprised me. There usually is at least one ass-comment whenever I visit. Could my mother be losing her game, as she gets older?

Overall, it was a great visit. A lot of shopping (for my little sister), some drinks, and some quality time with the parents. Despite the comments.

Real Men of Genius

Monkeygirl presents "Real Men of Genius" (Real Men of Genius)

Today we salute you, Mr. Transportation Security Administration Director (Mr. Transportation Security Administrator Director).

You have single-handedly stopped terrorists from bringing explosive materials onto airplanes. No one else would have thought a simple, clear Ziploc bag would prevent explosive liquids from igniting, but you have found a way to protect millions of people each day (blue and yellow make green). Ordinarily, passengers would not be allowed to take liquids on the airplane (kaboom), but you know that by putting them into a Ziploc bag, the properties of supposed liquids are neutralized (you should have been a rocket scientist). If it shakes, sprays or pours, put it in the Ziploc bag. Or else you'll confiscate it. So crack open an ice-cold Bud Light, oh Pioneer of Plastic, for making our skies a little friendlier to fly (Mr. Transportation Security Administraaatooor).

This message is not endorsed by Anheuser-Busch, St. Louis, Missouri, but was inspired by true events that occurred while travelling to St. Louis, Missouri.

Please, sir. May I have some more?

It's true. I had to get my Jmac fill.

There are few people in the world that you can go awhile without talking to, only to pick right back up where you started when you see each other again. Jessica is one of those people. It's amazing that our friendship has spanned so many years - we first became buds in high school - and while we have each grown in our own way, we are, in a sense, still the very same people we were when we first met.

Add Jessica and Craig to my growing list of friends who own their own house! Of course, due to the rain, the late night, and the people who currently live in the house, we couldn't actually go inside to look around, but maybe next time! Then off to Applebee's for a drink (Cab for me, Bud Light for her), to talk a little politics, and to catch up on the last few months.

I, by no means, got my Jmac fill, but it was still good to see her for a few hours. Now if I could convince her to visit me down in NC....

Mama Mia!

I'm leaving tomorrow morning for St. Louis, to visit my parents for a few days. While I'm looking forward to seeing them, and my sister, I'm not looking forward to the many comments my mother will make while I'm there. Maybe that's just what mothers do - make comments about their daughters - but I think my mother may be a little more critical than most. So here is a list of my predictions...and I'll let you know if they come true!

1) My mother will make a comment about my hair, about how long it's gotten. Personally, I like my hair long. And I bet my dad will, too. But my mother doesn't like long hair. It "drags down your face" as she likes to say. I even predict she'll "offer" to make me a hair appointment while I'm home, so I can get it cut.

2) She'll complain about how skinny I am, and forcefeed me. Maybe that's just because she's Italian.

3) ...and then she'll "mention" how large my ass has gotten. I can't counter here. It has gotten big.

4) She'll inevitably point out the dark circles around my eyes and try to get me to bed early. This actually may not be a bad thing...I could use more sleep!

Oh, the joys of going home!

Sleep, fame and corporate finance

It's official! My first term of my second year is over. I just walked out of my Corporate Finance exam, and I am forever finished with that class! But for those of you who are fretting that they will no longer be able to hear me gripe about Corporate Finance, fret no more. Next term I will be taking Entreprenuerial Finance, and since I cannot spell entreprenuerial, it will hereafter be referred to as Ent. Fin. So more griping is on the way!

The one fun thing that came out of exam week had to be the Financial Statement Analysis exam. You can add an extra 0.09 seconds of fame on to my clock. A few weeks ago, I may have made a mention in the Fuqua Times about how I decided to take FSA while smoking opium at a hookah party. Apparently, our FSA professor also reads the Fuqua Times and got a kick out of this, showing it off to every FSA section one week. A barrel of laughs. Well, he decided to have the last laugh and name a "company" after me in one of the FSA exam problems...Laura's Pipe Dreams. Yes, I now have my very own FSA problem that will go down in the annals of Fuqua Accounting history!

And, lastly, it appears that the scientific community agrees with my sleep assessment, which I bemoaned in my last posting. My friend, Lisa, (and yes, Lisa, that is the appropriate use of commas) sent me this link. So sleep soundly...it's good for you!

Sweet, Beautiful Release

Do you realize that we spend most of our lives awake? As I type this, I have been awake for 19 hours straight. Simple math, that even a Corp Fin flunkie can do (yes, I'm squeezing blood out of this turnip), dictates that only 5 hours are left in the day. Only 5 hours for sweet, beautiful sleep. Why must we spend so many hours of the day awake?

I know, I know. Carpe Diem and all that crap. But how can you seize the day when you're sleep deprived? How can you save the world when thoughts of pillows and down comforters prance through your head? How can you pretend you're the next contestant on America's Next Top Model when you have black circles under your eyes?

The answer is: more sleep. We need to stay awake less and sleep more. Then can we, as a people, as a human species, make a better difference in this world. And actually enjoy the day that we are seizing, after getting a full 8-9 hours of sleep.

God Bless America

For the most part, I stay away from the news (except when it's celebrity gossip, of course) because there really isn't anything interesting going on anymore. After today, I felt it my American duty to comment on the state of our nation:

• Good ol' Mark Foley. Just when things were getting a little tough for him, he does what any God-fearing American does: blames a priest. I thought Republicans were all about personal responsibility, taking ownership of one's actions. It's the Democrats that point the finger, cite their upbringing and cry "woe is me". Has the planet tilted off it's axis? And what does being gay have anything to do with having internet sex with a teenage page boy? The lesson from Mr. Foley: when in trouble, blame the gays and the Catholics. Everyone else does.

• Speaking of gays...apparently Brad Pitt and Angelina have decided not to marry until everyone else in the country is legally allowed to marry, as well. Hmm. This sounds like a devious, wolf-in-sheep's-clothing strategy devised by men to avoid tying the knot. After all, can you really argue with such a socially-minded cause? But that's not the real story here. Turns out Mr. Donald Trump is equally suspicious, so much so that he wrote about it on his blog. I know what you're thinking: "When did The Donald start caring so much about the sanctity of marriage?" But the truly important question: When did The Donald get a blog??

My 0.15 seconds of fame

When I was in Nantucket this summer, I ran across a photo contest that was sponsored by the local island newspaper. Although I don't claim to be a great photographer (my sister was blessed with those genes), I decided I'd give it a try. Not that it was that hard, as Nantucket is such a charming island and everything on it is a photo op.

Anyway, I submitted three photos. None of them won. (Damn...I could have bought another pair of jeans. At Target). But one of my photos did get featured on the newspaper's website. So, I'm famous! Or at least I would be, if they have spelled my last name correctly. But I can't be too greedy.

So check it out. I call it "Windmill Basking in the Sun."

London Bridge is falling down

I'm addicted to Fergie's newest (well, new-ish) hit "London Bridge". Although, hearing it played over the radio five times yesterday wears on the brain a bit. But I still love it.

However, can someone explain to me exactly what it means for one's "Londy, London Bridge" to wanna go down?

I consider myself somehwat hip, but I'm having a hard time putting my finger on exactly what this could mean. Does it refer to her britches? Or maybe some recent dental work? Somehow, that childhood song will never quite be the same...

Well, isn't that just special...

This past week Fuqua hosted a Mock MBA Games. Fuqua is the largest supporter of the Special Olympics of North Carolina, raising about $100,000 each year for the organization. We do this with several events throughout the year, culminating into the MBA Games, which is where we invite other business schools down to compete in field-day-type events. Think: Izzy Dizzy Bat, 50 meter dash, three legged race.

To kick off the season, we had a Mock MBA Games, where sections competed against each other. (The First Year class is divided into sections of about 70 students each, with whom you take all your first year classes...it's becomes like a little fraternity). As a Section 5 Alumni of sorts, I was one of the Second Year participants in the Mock MBA Games.

Sorry, there are no pictures posted here of me doing the Izzy Dizzy Bat Race (that picture would show me flat on my ass when I tumbled to the ground like a drunken sailor) or of the WheelBarrow Race (we rocked that one, but as the "wheelbarrow", I'm wondering if I gave everyone a good look down my shirt) or of the Tug O' War (enough said). But there is a picture of the SECTION 5 WINNING TEAM! Yes, we came in first place!

The little boy in the green was our Special Olympian. So sweet and super fast...he helped us win the 50 meter dash!

The results are in...

After much angst amid many hours of studying, I have received my Corp Fin midterm grade. (drumroll, please). 59. That's right, I failed.

Or did I?

If business school has taught me anything, it's how to spin the truth to your favor. Maybe you took a leadership role in a club, only to discover that the extent of your contribution was to hang flyers. No problem, just spin it. You were responsible for coordinating the printing and distribution of 1500 flyers, which advertised the biggest club event of the year and, as a direct result of your effort, you increased attendance at said event by 47% from last year.

So did I really fail the exam? The truth is the mean on the exam was 67.8, with a standard deviation of 17. I know from my Statistics class, which I barely passed, that anything within one standard deviation of the mean is not statistically relevant. Therefore, my 59, being within one standard deviation of a mean that was almost failing, means I am right in the middle of the pack of my classmates. And since we know everything is relative in business school, this means that, at this rate, I should earn an HP in the class, which is just one grade lower than the highest grade, an SP. (Or, at the very least, a P, which is passing).

The basic gist is that while my 59 proves that I suck at Corp Fin, the performance of my classmates proves that everyone else also sucks at Corp Fin. I suck just a bit more, but not enough to truly fail the course.

What this also shows is how much I have grown up in the past 10 years. In the past (read: high school chemistry and/or college calculus) I would have melted into a puddle of tears if/when I received a 59 on a test. I would then run to the professor's office, crocodile tears still clinging to my cheeks, and ask where I went wrong, how I could do better.

But today, no tears. I just rationalize myself a higher grade.

The Big Day

As I'm uploading these pictures onto the blog, I'm thinking to myself "How much do we just love digital photos?" Remember back in the day, about 365 of them, when everyone would have to wait anxiously to go to Target to get their pictures developed? And then you had to pay extra to have Target upload the pictures onto a CD (damn those capitalists!), just so you could then e-mail them out, one by one because the server could only handle so much file space at a time, to your friends so you could show them your genteel friend sprawled out on top of a grand piano, touching the pianist's, eh hem, "MagLight"? Oh, those were the days. Now, people have no patience. It's got to be now, now now. So fine. Here are your pictures.

The first several are of Elizabeth's bachelorette party, which, I have to say, went smashingly. The theme was Tiffany & Co. Next are pictures of the bridal party, including a lovely one of the Maid-of-Honor (me) and the Best Man. After all, the wedding could not have gone on if it weren't fo' us.

Honestly, it was a fabulous wedding. Perfectly Fabulous.

Open Season

Put on your bright orange hunting jackets and spit-shine those rifles...the season has officially begun. It kicked off tonight with the season premiere of America's Next Top Model. Go Tyra! Although what was she thinking with that leopard print dress tonight? Leopard print? That's so two years ago. You know better, Tyra.

Monique is definitely going to cause some drama (no no drama, we don't want no drama) up in here with her beauty rituals. And while the producers portrayed Melrose as high-maintenance and irresponsible, I really think that was a one-time mistake on her part. My favorite, out of the gates, is Brooke. How adorable and full of energy is she? Sweet, adorable, chocolate-covered Brooke.

Can't wait until tomorrow night...Gray's Anatomy! What? Do I have all my shows' season premieres marked on my Outlook calendar? Why yes. Yes I do.

Make Love, Not War

In an attempt to think about something other than Financial Statement Analysis and Corporate Finance (no joke, I woke up at 4:20 this morning, turned on the light, and attempted to take Scott's laptop (read: pillow) away from him so I could balance my Balance Sheet), I read an article in the Scientific American Special Edition on Becoming Human.

The gist of the article is that Bonobos like to have sex. (Who said Anthropologists don't have more fun?). A Bonobo, because you're wondering, is a closely related ape, more graceful than a chimpanzee. The amazing thing about their sex lives is that they are the only primate, other than humans, known to have sex for a non-reproductive reason. In fact, they have sex with each other - even with bonobos of the same sex - in order to maintain harmony in a competitive society.

Which is the same reason we use sex. Not only do we do it to produce offspring, but we do it to "cement mutually profitable relationships between men and women." Bonobos apparently do this for the same mutually profitable relationships - to ease competition for food, form female alliances (they are a more matriarchal society than, say, chimpanzees), and to patch over any "disagreements".

Much other behavior among Bonobos is reminiscent of that among humans, including mother Bonobos lifting their babies up in the air by placing the mother's feet on their babies stomachs...kind of like playing airplane. Pretty amazing stuff.

Oh, this is the life!

Most people would jump at the chance to take a day-and-a-half off of work and enjoy themselves in the glorious city of Savannah. I know I would. Savannah is one of my favorite cities, at least in the U.S. And I did just that. Take a day-and-a-half off from school and fly down to this wonderful place to be in my best friend's wedding.

So, you ask, am I wandering the charming squares chandeliered by spanish moss growing in the tall oaks? Am I toasting in the cute pubs and bars that line Savannah's streets? Perhaps I am spending my Friday on the beaches of one of Savannah's tiny islands? No, my little friends. None of the above.

Instead, I am enjoying the inside of the Garden Hotel, stuck in my room as I attempt to finish a take-home midterm exam for Financial Statement Analysis. At this point, you may be asking yourself "Why did Laura, who hates numbers and loves the abstract, take Financial Statement Analysis?" My only answer has something to do with trying to be a well-rounded MBA graduate, which may or may not have been a fantasy induced by an opium-smoking hookah party.

So I have 2 hours to get as much done on this take-home midterm (which is due Monday) before the rehearsal. So no ghost-walks for me tonight. Just FSA, a church, and, oh yeah, lots of drinking. (In that order).

Little Miss Sunshine

On this very rainy, very angry, night, Scott and I just returned from seeing Little Miss Sunshine. I had heard the reviews from Sundance and seen the ads. And I'm here to confirm...it truly is one of the best movies I have ever seen.

Every actor in this film does a phenomenal job. The storyline is amazing and it's one of those movies that makes you feel good about yourself and your place in the world. It makes you appreciate your own quirks and realize that, no matter how bad things may seem or get, it's all going to be OK. And it's absolutely hilarious.

So here's another review from just a lowly blogger - go out and see Little Miss Sunshine. I think you'll agree it's money worth spending.

I talked to Ernesto. He says Hola.

Ernesto has sent some rain our way these last few days. It's wind-driven rain that makes you want to curl up under the covers and read Corporate Finance.

I think it's very equitable of the Hurricane Weather people to include Hispanic names in their list of hurricane identification. But why just include English and Hispanic names? Why not represent more of our country's fabric?

We have a large Chinese and Chinese-American population that should be represented, plus, it would solve the problem of trying to find names for odd letters like "Q" and "X". We chould have Hurricane Xiaohui or Hurricane Qi.

And let's not forget our Indian friends. Hurrican Sameer and Vidya have a nice ring to them. The list could go on to include names from other Asian and Mid-East countries, Russia and Slovic nations. These would be must more interesting then Hurricane John.

Granted, it might take a little while for public acceptance. But I don't think people will much care when hurricane is blowing down their door. At that point, does it really matter that it's Hurricane Qi or Hurricane John? Plus it's not fair that we're continuing the American image of destruction by having hurricanes named after American-sounding names.

Let's expand our horizons, represent our country well. And greet our hurricanes with a bow and a "Nihao".

What makes me holla!

In continuing with our Cape Cod adventure, I thought I would post this. Quite hilarious. It especially rings true after spending a week in New England. This may, in fact, be my calling. As Elizabeth pointed out, I do love both gangstas and preppy pastels. Oh, how I heart New England!

If you would like to learn more "Prepsta" tea partay rules, including appropriate prepsta signs, go to www.teapartay.com. Enjoy! And holla back!

A spoonful of sugar makes the humility go down

Several weeks ago, I ran into an old high school friend. It was one of those it's-a-small-world-after-all moments, where this person happened to recognize me and once he came over, I instantly recognized him. We've all been there, and it never loses it's coolness.

This one did, though. We met up later that night at a bar where we caught up on the last nine years (has it really been nine years?) of our life. Rather, he caught me up on the past nine years of his life and I just listened. He told me all about his accomplishments, about which graduate school he went to, about who he married, about how he got into Duke but decided to go elsewhere, about how going to his undergrad was the best thing that happened to him, although at the time he didn't think so, and on. And on.

At the time, I wanted to scream. I have very few pet peeves, but the biggest is people who aren't humble. Who think they are God's gift to humanity and think everyone needs to know about it. I value humility over many things. In fact, it may be the number one thing that's most important to me in a friend and mentor.

Looking back at this now, I realize something more. As I've vented before, I am conditioned by my mother to not be happy, but I know now that I am. There is a lot more I'd like to accomplish with my life and I hope to one day get there. But right here, right now, I am happy with where I've gone and who I am. During the update from this old friend, I never really felt the need to fill him in on me. It wasn't important that he knew. It was only important that I did.

It's something so simple. And many times we get caught up with other things in our life that we don't stop and take inventory. I know I didn't. Not until a lack of humility angered me. It was then that I realized that I may not be much. I may not have reached all my goals. I may have a whole lot more to improve upon. But importantly, I am happy. Isn't that the meaning of life?

A Whale of a Tale

Here are pictures from the Cape! This first one is of me and Scott on our whalewatching expedition, off the tip of Cape Cod. We saw tons of whales, and even a mommy and baby whale (which wasn't so baby-sized proportioned!). Lots of dolphins and dolphin calves swam around the boat, too. I didn't think we'd see as much sealife as we did! Awesome to think that creatures that large inhabit such a different world...one that we cannot even imagine.

All that whalewatching made us a bit hungry, so we indulged in a little lobster treat (I ate nothing but seafood on the trip, trying to get my fill while it was still fresh). Abby and I posing with our little lobster friends. They were delish!

We spend one day on Martha's Vineyard, and explored the island with mopeds. Our trusty chauffers were Scott and Nathan, sporting their very fashionable head gear (get your fash' on). Abby and I brought spousal trust to a whole new level by riding on the back with them. Here, we had just finished a winery tour on the island. Good thing there were no checkpoints on the island.

We spent another day on Nantucket, by far our favorite visit of the week. This is at Brandt Point, on the north end of the island. The foursome, living it up!

Are those matching Nantucket shirts, you ask? Why, yes they are. They are "whale vintage", as I've named them. Who doesn't love a good whale shirt? Just a little momento to remember the trip by, in front of our B&B, which was absolutely adorable.

Oh, the insanity!

Elizabeth got me hooked on Project Runway this season, and so I looked forward to continuing the reality-show-watching bliss when I returned to the grand ol' state of North Carolina. However, something is seriously wrong. The state of North Carolina, or at least the county of Durham, does not get the Bravo channel! I've searched all of our digital cable TV stations, and not one of them is Bravo! How can this be?

No longer do I get to hear Heidi "Auf" a contestant. No longer can I watch the drama unfold as Kayne designs another winning dress. No longer do I get to hear Tim's mentoring comments on the designers, er, designs.

I'm resigned to getting my updates via MSNBC and on the show's website. It will never be the same. I WANT MY BRAVO!

There once was a man from Nantucket

After 15 1/2 hours of traveling yesterday, we returned from Cape Cod. The trip should have been about 4 hours shorter, but we hit traffic in NYC. And the Jersey Turnpike. And Delaware. And DC. And Richmond. Damn tolls.

We had a blast at the Cape, but our favorite, by far, was Nantucket. Cobble-stone streets, cute shops, adorable B&Bs at every corner, beautiful sailboats, yachts of the rich and famous. The island had so much character and when we return, it'll be to stay at Nantucket.

We spent a lot of time at the beach and even drove mopeds around Martha's Vineyard. Plus, we got to spend it with two of our favorite people - Abby and Nathan. It was a vacation that both Scott and I needed. And now it's back to work (for him) and school (for me).

Pictures will be uploaded in the coming days!

I heart NY (and New England)

Ten weeks has truly flown by. It doesn't seem that long ago when I was posting here, saying goodbye to NC and my husband. And now, I'm saying goodbye to NY/CT and my friends. It's just as hard this go around as it was the last one.

I didn't think I would like it up here as much as I have. I've always loved the New England area, but I was one of those people who said I loved to visit NYC, but could never live there. My stance has changed. I could definitely live in NYC.

Not only did I love my internship and love living with my best friend, but I also did a lot in ten weeks:

• Visited the Metropolitan Museum of Art (twice)
• Visited the MoMA
• Saw The Color Purple and Avenue Q on Broadway and The Squirrel off-Broadway
• Drank wine and ate cheese in Central Park while listening to the NY Philharmonic
• Bought $147 pair of jeans in Bloomingdales
• Spent a night at The Library Hotel (a "goal" of mine for some time)
• Shopped in SoHo, Fifth Avenue, and Madison Avenue
• Saw Larry King in person
• Lay face-down on 53rd Street because lobster and wine do not mix
• Ate lunch at Saks Fifth Avenue
• Visited Little Italy and ate at Ferrara's
• Took a ferry to visit the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island
• Bought my sister a drink in Greenwich Village
• Day-tripped to cute Mystic, CT
• Visited the Chihuly exhibit at the NY Botanical Gardens

And, most importantly, I realized my goal of learning Manhattan and what it means when someone says "I live on 84th and 5th" (that they're rich).

I'm going to miss the charm and the hubbub of New England and NYC. And it was hard to leave the internship - where I felt I fit in and really enjoyed the work. But maybe someday. For now, I'll just have to be content to visit.

So goodbye, NYC. Goodbye New England. I loved our summer romance and I will think of you often. Maybe one day, when the time is right, we will be together again. Until then, all my love.

The state of our nation

I wandered into Borders today, one of my favorite havens, to purchase some reading materials for our upcoming Cape Cod trip. Hoping to score some good magazines, I went to the magazine stacks and started with the "Business" section.

Which magazines were on the top shelf - prime retail selling space, I might add - in the "Business" section? Why, of course, People, US Weekly, The Enquirer, et al. I am not kidding. I know that Brittany Spears' pregnancy is newsworthy, but it's now considered Business?

So I turned the corner to the "Politics and World" section. Now, I know that planning a wedding can be a political affair - especially when you're dealing with future mother-in-laws - but does Bride magazine really deserve a coveted spot in this section?

What is going on? All I wanted was the latest New Yorker issue, but, alas, I was forced to walk away with an armful of trashy celebrity magazines. I blame the man.

The Perfect Present

Elizabeth and I went shopping this weekend (the Woodbury Outlets are my new favorite, ever), and I fully expected to find some great clothes. My last shopping experience should have prepared me for the worst, because although we did find some great bargains, I was overall unimpressed with the clothing selection out there.

Everything in the regular retail stores and the outlets are all fall clothes. I cannot try on a long-sleeved shirt or sweater when it is approximately 126 degrees outside. Just last week, I went into a J. Crew, hoping to find some cute summer skirts, since summer in NC will last for another 6 months. I knew the fall clothes were in, so I was hoping for some summer sales. Nothing. Not even a single pair of shorts in the entire store (I kid you not).

This is like Halloween and Christmas all over again. Just when you're pulling out your summer flip flops, the stores are selling Halloween stuff. And before you can say "Trick or Treat", the Christmas ornaments are on display. Why do we, as a society, always look for the next best thing, rather than enjoying the present? The here and now?

I don't want to think about fall. Fall means back-to-school and autumn leaves and cool, brisk mornings. All of these things I love, but I also love summer. The 126 degree weather and the lazy Sundays by the pool and wedding traveling. Summer has just begun and I want to savor the time that it's here.

So let's boycott the fall clothes (for the time being) and enjoy what is going on right now. The present. Let's enjoy summer and then, when the Earth's rotation decides that summer must end, only then should we start thinking about fall. Then I'll buy that jean jacket I've been eyeing at the Gap since June.

What's your song?

Elizabeth forwarded me this link. Type in your birthdate and see what the #1 song in the US (or UK) was on your birthday. It's supposed to be the soundtrack for your life.

Mine was Good Times by Chic. Not a bad song to have as "my song". What's your song?

My dirty little secret

I have a secret. Well, not so secret anymore since I'm about to spill it on the internet. My favorite part of doing laundry is picking the dryer lint off the lint guard. I love it. There's something about peeling it off in one piece and seeing how thick it got with all the days' laundry.

My friend thinks I'm weird because of this. But surely there are other people out there with a dryer lint fetish, as well. The best was when we got brand-new towels and washed and dried them for the first time - the lint was so thick that I had to stop the dryer twice to remove it so it didn't clog the system. And it was so soft!

I don't keep the lint. I throw it away. But it's just a nice finish to the laundry cycle. To wash and dry everything, not removing the lint between dryer loads, to see how much lint collected. I love lint!

Not in Kansas anymore

Note: The following entry is about evolution. Which means, according to statistics, 44% of you will not agree with this entry. If you're easily offended, you may want to return tomorrow. If you enjoy a good debate, then continue reading...

I was about 3 years old, stricken with chicken pox and confined to the sofa, my mother demanding that I get some sleep, which, of course, I ignored, being 3 years old. As I was sitting there, admist my mothers pleas to not scratch my pox or else I would be permanently scarred (literally), I noticed a National Geographic magazine on the coffee table. On the cover was a hologrammed picture - if you turned it one way, it was a human face; when you turned it the other, it was an ape face. As my mother whizzed by, laundry basket in one hand, phone in the other, I asked her what the word on the cover of the magazine said. "Evolution," she replied, squinting to read the cover. I asked her what it meant. She hesitated, looking for the right way to explain this theory to me. "We used to be monkeys," she said as she continued with her chores. Finally, I sat very still on the sofa, closed my eyes, and tried to remember when I was a monkey.

The state of Kansas is currently undergoing some elections that could decide the fate of evolution in the classroom. It seems that this state is permanently stricken with the anti-evolution bug, stemming from the Scopes Monkey Trial days. It's Creation (read: religion) against Evolution (read: crazy secular scientists). What I don't understand is, why can't they be one and the same? Why must Evolution butt heads with religion? Being a Anthropology major and a Catholic, I don't see why the two must be mutually exclusive.

I believe in evolution. It's a theory, but theories are fairly sound - they are a scientific methodology that is repeated in a systemized process in a variety of conditions - all with the same result. Gravity was a theory before it became a law. And it only became a law because it's been a theory for so long. Relativity is a theory. Atoms are a theory. It's more than speculation - it's about as serious as you can get in science. So there is a lot of proof, fact and testing that has gone behind the theory of evolution. Why is it such a stretch to believe that evolution took place, but it was under God's influence?

I guess you could argue that the Bible says it ain't so. But, again, being Catholic and a contextualist, how do we know that the Bible wasn't merely simplifying a very complex theory? Just as my mother simplified something for a 3-year-old to understand (imagine my reaction if she had sat down and started explaining DNA and mutations and time in billions of years), so, too, others may have found a simpler explanation for the way things happened. Granted, we're related to Apes, not Monkeys, and it's that we share a common ancestor to the modern Ape, but is that important to a bratty chicken-poxed kid?

Just look at bacteria, who have much shorter generations than humans. They can reproduce hundreds of themselves in just minutes, while we take 30 years between generations, so they are like evolution sped up. Look at how quickly they adapt to a changing environment. Some die; some mutate and happen to survive. This is how we get drug-resistant bacteria and new strains of bugs for which we have no cure. It's evolution at a microcosm level. It's Darwin in a petri dish.

Here's the problem: if we don't teach evolution to our children, or even teach it as a serious fact, then I'm afraid we may be thrwarting our growth in the sciences. We may be allowing religion to present a block to turning out scientists and researchers. If we could agree that the two can exist in harmony, then we could allow the flow of ideas and science, and not provide yet another stumbling block to our country's lack of science education. Take the stickers out of the textbooks that say evolution is "theory not fact". Allow our schools to teach science, to teach a grounded theory, and allow people to make up their own minds. Let us use our imaginations to remember when we were Monkeys (or Apes) to encourage our children to find the other nuggets of truth that are out there and advance our culture and our country. And to understand more fully who we are and where we came from. I just hope it doesn't point to Kansas.

White shirts aren't the only things they dye blue...

The weekend was one of the most perfect weekends of the summer. I spent it up in New Hampshire with my cousins and uncle, who have a cabin on a lake. Perfect weather. Perfect lake water temperature. Perfect weekend.

Besides learning to kneeboard (yes, I kneeboarded and have the bruises to prove it), I also went blueberry picking - another first. Blueberry picking is so relaxing. There's something about finding the perfect blue berry and picking it off. It's so easy to say "Just one more...". So much, in fact, that I picked 4 lbs of blueberries.

What can I do with 4 lbs of blueberries? There's enough antioxidant-fighting power there to keep me going for a few years, but there are also so many blueberries I can eat plain.

I need some good blueberry recipes before they all my berries go bad!

HIghway Robbery

I was driving north, on my way to a New Hampshire weekend, when the traffic began to slow. The domino effect of red brake lights alerted me to slow down, just as an interstate sign (with a fitting pilgrim hat icon) announced the entrance of the Mass Turnpike. I scanned the turnpike entrance and the surrounding signs, looking for the toll amount. Nothing. I inched up closer to the stall, my turn being immenent, and starting frantically scrounging up coins. Twenty-five...fifty...sixty-seven cents. How much is the toll? I looked up and searched again. Nothing. Now it's my turn. There's no person in the stall - it's an automatic toll - so maybe it's like Chicago, where you throw your change in and then go. BUT HOW MUCH IS IT? No sign, nothing. So I take fifty cents and throw it at the metal appartus in front of me. The coins fall to the ground. Where do I put the money? I look behind me, at the long row of cars waiting for me to go and imagine they're thinking "What's wrong with this stupid person from North Carolina?" I'm a semi-intelligent person. I know how to calculate the area of a triangle. I know the Marketing 3C's and 4P's. Surely I can figure this one out. I look around again, sweat starting to bead up on my forhead and my heart beating frantically. And then I see it, sticking out of the metal appartus. A single ticket. No toll. No change. Just take the ticket and go.

I don't understand the purpose of tolls. They seem to be especially prevalent in the Northeast and I don't know how an interstate, that already gets federal funding, can legally charge drivers an extra fee to drive on their roads. If I was Queen for a day, I would get rid of all tolls. They cause traffic to slow down. They cause undue stress on people, trying to find the right amount of change as quickly as possible, before the jackass behind them starts leaning on the horn.

Did you know that the George Washington bridge into NYC is $6? And the NJ and Deleware Turnpikes aren't much cheaper? Quickly do the math - let's say 30 cars go through each stall per minute. There are roughly 10 stalls per toll bridge. That's 300 cars a minute paying (as in the case of Delaware) $3 a car. That's $600 a minute. That's $720,000 a day, assuming 20 hours in a day (let's say 4 hours are kind of slow in the wee hours of the morning). That's the conservative estimate. So what do the states do with this kind of money? I find it hard to believe that road repair requires hundreds of millions of dollars each year. After driving on New York's roads, I can vouch that they are definitely not pouring my $6 into repairing potholes.

The toll system has corruption written all over it. Or, at least, needless waste. I vote to get rid of the entire system, unless someone can show me how it's helpful and necessary. At the very least, states should spend $60 of the $720,000 they make per day and put up a sign that says to "Take a Ticket", to prevent another poor soul like me from flinging coins at the side of a toll booth. On the way back from New Hampshire, I came to the the start of the Mass Pike again, this time confident, not even thinking about reaching for the bag of coins. Instead, I pulled up and took my ticket, as if I did this everyday. What can I say? I'm a fast learner.

What the Trump?

For those who watched Project Runway last night, can somebody please tell me what Ivanka Trump was doing on the show? Did she suddenly become a fashionista when I wasn't looking? I can understand why the editor of Elle magazine is a judge, and why Vera Wang has - what seems to be - a semi-permanent role as judge, but Ivanka? Just because Daddy owns Ms. Universe doesn't mean you get special priviledges.

If you didn't catch the show, it was pretty good. The cute little dogs on the show were half the fun. The skinny-legged jeans that Heidi was wearing at the beginning of the show - not so fun. And can someone please tell Vera to get a stylist to do her hair? And maybe a dab of rouge? The poor lady looks like my grandmother in a housedress. If my grandmother was Asian.

Elizabeth got me into this season's show, and now I'm hooked. Half the fun is the running commentary we have during the show, complete with impressions of most of the contestants. If you haven't seen this season yet, it's not to late to take a hit off the crack pipe - Wednesdays at 10 on Bravo.

Cinderella, without the pumpkin

Before the clock strikes twelve, I had to commemorate the day. Today is the day. July 24th. Two years. To celebrate, I'm attaching one of my favorite pictures of Scott and me, taken this past April at Alisha's wedding in Winston-Salem.

(As I uploaded this image, I noticed that I've got a little bit of cleavage going on. Hey, even the A-Team can represent!)

Happy Anni!

It's all in your head

My grandma ("Nanny" for the Italians in the house) used to never tell anyone her age. Not even my mother truly knew how old Nanny was, and I think Nanny may have actually lied about her age to my mom. Anyway, now that she's reached a certain age, she seems proud of the fact that she's 86 (if that is, in fact, her real age). Except instead of saying "I'm 86!", it's more like "I'm 86 and I don't know how much longer I'm going to live."

I firmly believe that you're only as old as you want to be, as you believe you are. Next month, I'll be 27, but I still feel like that gawky 16 year old high school kid sometimes. I think I'll always be 16 at heart.

Since I've come to New York, I've become addicted to The New Yorker. (Seriously, I don't think there's anything about NYC I don't like). What I love about The New Yorker is that everything is written beautifully. I came across an editorial that I think describes perfectly the virtues of growing old. So instead of counting down the days until we die, and lamenting about turning 86 or 27, we should be treasuring what we're learning as we grow older and feeling young at heart. Here's an excerpt:

"...People tend to regard the gradual yet irreversible atrophying of their faculties as a bad thing. Is it, though? Sure, it's tied up with stuff that you don't want to think too much about. One day, you learn that you can't hear a sound that is perfectly audible to teenagers and dogs. Soon after that, you realize that you have forgotten how to calculate the area of a triangle, and how many pints there are in a quart. From there, it's not long until you find that you are unable to stop talking about real estate, which is the first step down an increasingly rocky and overgrown path that leads, almost always - all right, always - to death. What is there to like about any of this?

"...The point is that mental and physical development never stops, no matter how old you are, and development is one of the things that make it interesting to be a being. We imagine that we change our opinions or our personalities or our taste in music as we ripen, often feeling that we are betraying our younger selves. Really, though, our bodies just change, and that is what changes our views, our temperament, and our tolerance for Billy Joel. We can't help it. The chemistry has altered.

"This means that some things that were once present to us become invisible, go off the screen; the compensation is that new things swim into view. We may lose hormones, but we gain empathy. The deficits, in other words, are not all at the end of the continuum..."

Who needs cotton when you have NYC?

Two years. Two years! Scott and I have been married for two years. I guess time really does fly when you're having fun.

Our anniversary weekend, despite the lamenting from the previous post, turned out to be pretty darn good. Even though his flight didn't get in until noon on Saturday, Scott arrived safe and sound and we had plenty of time to just enjoy the city and each other. Just when I get used to us being apart this summer, he comes to visit and then it gets hard to be away all over again.

We ate at Asia de Cuba for dinner (on 38th and Madison), which was delish and the atmosphere was very New York City. We went to Avenue Q, which was hilarious, if not a little raunchy and totally off-color. Which made the 2 and a half hour sit bearable for Scott. Then this morning, we jogged through Central Park, ate brunch at a little cafe in SoHo, had our traditional coffee and pasteries at Ferrara's and then said our goodbyes.

The Library Hotel, where we spent the night, was fabulous. I saw this featured on The Travel Channel a few years ago, and have been trying to get there every since. The people there were great and the rooms and decor fab. I think it may be a new favorite and maybe a new tradition every time we visit NYC.

Our trip was our present to each other - so no cotton for our second. What do you do with cotton, anyway? Of course, maybe my new $147 jeans count. Although next year is leather...I wonder how imaginative people have gotten with that one in the past. Hmm...

This isn't happening...

My mom is a pessimist. She always expects the worst case scenario and never truly gets happy over something good, because she's already expecting something bad to happen next. She's the kind of person that tells me to be careful when I go on vacation because I "could be raped." And then she goes into detail about the latest rape/murder that she saw on TV and how people today "are crazy". Ever since I was little, I would get mad at her about this. "Why can't you just see the good side of something?" I would ask. "Because," she would reply, "that's life. It never turns out as you expect and you have to be prepared for the worst." And perhaps in an attempt to prevent me from becoming my mother, I have inadvertently bought a pair of rose-colored glasses.

But now I'm getting scared. I think I may becoming a little more like her. You see, the past several times I've gotten excited about something this summer, it didn't go at all as I expected. Could my mother be right?

Take 4th of July weekend: Scott was supposed to come up that Friday night and we were supposed to start our big weekend off with dinner. But then the weather acted up and his flight was cancelled and he had to take another flight into Hartford, which resulted in a 3 hour round trip drive to pick him up. Which totally ruined our night.

And then take last weekend: Elizabeth and I, prepared to do shopping bought nothing. And then I had visions of me and my newly-minted 21-year-old sis hanging out at the bars and bonding, only to be thwarted by a bunch of Australian guys, who she flirted with all night.

And now this: our anniversary weekend, and Scott was flying up tonight. We had plans to stay at The Library Hotel, a boutique hotel in NYC near the public library. I had visions of us exploring tonight and starting off our fun-filled weekend with drinks on the rooftop bar. But Philly had different plans...a tropical storm. So the flight was cancelled and he's not coming in until tomorrow morning. So we only have one night together. We didn't get to celebrate our 1 year anniversary because he had to take the bar exam a few days later. So our 2nd anniversary was supposed to be a special celebration.

Once again, my visions have been thwarted. And I'm afraid that I'm going to become cynical like my mother...a string of disappointments that causes me to start expecting the worst and to stop dreaming. I guess it could be worse. Like the person behind Scott in line, waiting for an new flights, whose mother had died and she was trying to get on a flight. I guess mother's death trumps 2nd anniversary.

So I guess I'll put my glasses back on and figure that life is pretty good, afterall. And I'll keep dreaming because we're pretty lucky people and even one night together on our 2nd anniversary is better than some people get.

Not that I care...

I never really cared about celebrity life until I started business school. For some reason, everyone I hang out with at business school is obsessed with what's going on with famous people. They read People. They check out crazy celebrity websites. They care.

I never used to care before. But now I find myself checking out The Superficial and reading up on the latest news on CNN or MSNBC. I don't know why. Maybe because it's a nice distraction from real life. Or because these people are so bizarre, it's impossible not to look at the freak show that is their life. I think it just makes us feel better about ourselves.

So I don't really care that Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes may have a mutant baby and are trying to hide her from the world. Or that Lindsey Lohen has the worse fashion sense ever. Or that every woman celebrity lately looks like a BRAT doll - with skinny bodies and huge heads. Really, I don't.

Check out this website, courtesy of Elizabeth. It's pretty funny and will give you a good dose of celebrity realism. Something we all could use.

Would you like a drink with your jeans?

I did two things this weekend that I never, ever thought I would do: I bought a pair of jeans for $147 and I bought my sister a (legal) drink.

About the jeans: Elizabeth and I hit SoHo on Saturday, prepared to do some serious shopping. I had a budget. I had a mission. I had a personal wardrobe advisor (that would be Elizabeth). But nothing, folks. There is absolutely nothing going on in the fashion industry right now. All I got to say is leggings and house dresses never needed to come back in vogue. I refuse. So we meandered into Bloomingdale'ss and up to the "denim lab", where a DJ was playin' my song. You know you're in NYC when a DJ is busting it up in Bloomingdale's and a hot guy comes by offering frosty rootbeer-flavored green tea beverages. Yum!

I've been wanting a pair of designer jeans for over a year, now, and I figured if I've been craving them this long, I deserve a pair. So 16 try-ons and $147 (including tax) later, I walked out with AG "The Club" jeans. Hey, they're Oprah's favorite pair. And if Oprah likes them, are they really too good for me?

About the drink: My sister, Alisa, came into town this weekend to see friends and celebrate her 21. Yes, you read that right. She's finally 21! I meet her at a bar in Greenwich Village (alas, she was wearing a house dress) and I bought her a drink. It was fun to buy my little sister a drink, but also a little weird. In fact, I wonder if this should be filed under my signs of getting old. For those wondering, it was a Mattress, and it cost appoximately $10. You know you're in NYC when a drink that contains only 1/3 vodka costs $10. I would have spent more time getting wasted with her, had she not glued herself to a group of Australian guys and flirted the night away. At least, I think they were guys. She's into that whole emo subculture, so it's kind of hard to tell sometimes.

So that was my weekend. A pair of jeans and a drink. But I got to hang out with two of my favorite people - Elizabeth and my sister. And that was enough.

Waxing Poetic

I think about the environment every day. Which means I feel a pang of guilt every time I start up my car or throw away garbage. The biggest frustration is that I want to help preserve the environment, but I don't know how to make a big enough impact. I do what I can: I shut the water off when brushing my teeth. I plan to trade my car in for a Prius. I try not to use a lot of paper towels. I recycle when I can.

But then I see these people drive Hummers around, and I feel every small step I take is negated. My father would argue that it's everyone's right to drive a Hummer, and would oppose any luxury tax on these vehicles. While I agree that people have a right to drive any car they want, what about my rights? Don't I have a right to breathe clean air? Don't I have a right to the same fossile fuels that these Hummers are sucking dry? The way I see it, people who drive Hummers, or any other vehicle that gets less than 20 miles to a gallon, are being selfish. They have no regard for anyone else's rights, or for the health of our planet.

Remember, when we were kids, we'd learn about the environment and how to save it? I remember writing papers on the Brazilian rainforest, or learning about endangered animals, or eating dolphin-safe tuna. What happened to composts and planting trees on Earth Day? Do we even teach our children about saving the environment anymore?

Not only do we all need to take more responsibility to take care of our environment - think about the welfare of others and the welfare of our plant - but we need to educate people again. It's a whole mindset change. But how do we, once we accomplish this, push our government and our private sector to find alternate fuel sources and do more to save the environment?

I want to know because I want to feel like I'm doing something to save the environment. And I don't want to feel guilty anymore.

Goodbye, Farewell, Alvederzane, Goodnight

As many of you know by now, or maybe you don't if you live in a hole, the World Cup is officially over. The winner is....Italy. I know, not quite the Brazil or Germany or 26 other countries you were expecting. But it is better than Iran. We don't want to give them too much confidence, if you know what I mean.

Rather than recapping the exciting final game, I'll let you read about it on Martha's post. She did a good and hilarious job summing it up. Plus, she gives me a shout out, so I'm giving a shout back. Holla!

When did I become old?

Sign #4: I totally don't get the new Sprite Sublymonal ads. I just saw a new one in the movie theatre last weekend (when did they start showing non-stop commercials in the theatres?) and it felt like a bad acid trip. It was "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" meets "Eyes Wide Shut". I just don't get them.

Click here to see other signs I'm getting old.

Larry King Live

I was in the city again yesterday, window-shopping my way down Madison Avenue when Larry King passes me. He was carrying several shopping bags and I didn't even recognize him at first, only noting that he looked vaguely familiar. Until two ladies next to me starting flitterpating and he looked up at the three of us, gave a slight head nod and faint smile, as if to say "Yes, I know I'm famous. Thanks for noticing. Now please don't talk to me."

He looks much like he does on CNN, but walks a little more hunched over than I imagined he would. My first New York celeb sighting...I feel like I could have been in the July 10th issue of People Magazine.

Can I get an Amen?

Since May I have been frustrated. I've had that little ping in the back of my head, always reminding me that there's something I have to get done and feeling like I have no control over getting it done.

I flew to China and back on United Airlines, who has a code-sharing program with USAirways, with whom I have my frequent flier account. When I boarded my flights, I gave my USAirways frequent flier number and assumed I would get my boatload of miles (about 16,000 to be exact). However, around this same time, USAirways had its merger and my miles never showed up in my account. I will spare you the details of my countless calls to USAirways (who then told me to call United, who got their fair share of calls). Basically, I was told to fax my info to USAirways and everything should be taken care of. So I did. I faxed it 2 weeks ago. Nothing.

So I called today. Just to see if they even got my fax. The 16-year old (she may have been smacking gum, for what I could tell) asked me for the fax number I faxed it from. Honestly, I don't know that number because I faxed it from a co-worker's fax number (everyone has their own fax number at GE). So she said she couldn't help me. By this time, I've jumped through so many hoops and am so frustrated, I ask her "What can we do to solve this problem?"

And herein lies my argument. People don't think. They aren't trained to think and they don't care if they think or not. I understand customer service is a hard job and I try to be as sweet as strawberry pie everytime I talk to them. And I know how rote and mind-numbing the job can be. But it can't be that these people are lazy. And it can't be that they don't care about helping others. Because solving problems is fun...thinking can be fun. It causes you to be creative and stretch your brain. Her job was to think. Instead, I had to come up with a solution. Here was the conversation:

"Are you telling me that you can't look up my account number and just see if the
fax has come through?"

"No, they come through the computer, so we can only look up by fax number. And we get thousands of faxes a day."

(Thinking creatively. Stretching brain.) "Can you sort faxes by date?"

"Yes."

"What if I gave you the area code and the date and you look to see if my fax came through."

"But we get thousands of faxes a day."

"I bet you don't have a thousand faxes on June 20 from area code 203."

Sure enough, she found my fax. But not without me doing the thinking for her. Isn't it the job of customer service to find a creative solution to the customer's problem? Not for the customer to do it themselves? If we could all just think, train others to think, and problem solve a little bit more, we'd all be happier people...happier customers, happier workers, happier bloggers. Can I get an Amen?

The origin of lerve

Anyone who has spent more than 5 seconds with me and Scott knows that we call each other "babylerve". We've been calling each other Babylerve for years, and we are known also by our call names: I am "Babylerve One" and he is "Babylerve Too". But the question has been raised recently, Where did Babylerve come from?

Elizabeth, my roomie, first asked me this question a few weeks ago. Apparently, she told me, Paris Hilton has a monkey called Babylerve. Perhaps we came up with our names because of Paris Hilton's monkey? The short answer is: no. Paris Hilton does get big points for owning a monkey (anyone who has spent more than 5 seconds with ME knows how much I love monkeys). But I would not copy anything from Paris Hilton, including her new single. In fact, I'm thinking about filing a copyright infringement lawsuit against her for using Babylerve.

So back to our orignial question. We can start by breaking "Babylerve" into it's two parts: baby and lerve. The "baby" part is easy. Many people call their significant other "baby". The "lerve" is a little more colorful. Back in college, Scott and I would tell each other that we loved each other. "I love you." Then we began to put a little southern twang to it, partly because Scott is southern and we went to school in the south and we like to make fun of southern accents. We did it mainly in a mocking way. So "I love you" became "I luuuv you." This became more and more manipulated until it became, simply, "I lerve you." In fact, we have even made a definition for "lerve", legitamizing this new word. "Lerve" is more than love. It is a higher form of love. Only those that achieve it can truly understand the meaning of lerve.

And the "erve" has made its way into our common venacular. "Starving" is "sterving". "Jogging" is "jergging". "Monkey" is "mernkey". The list goes on. Really, it has become our very own language.

So that, my friends, is the official origin of love. And lerve. And Babylerve. And everything in between.

Everybody in Connecticut talks to themselves

A strange phenomenon has hit the state of Connectict. I'll be driving down the road and to my left is a man talking to himself, gesturing wildly with his hands. In the grocery store a woman will be squeezing peaches, finding the perfectly ripe ones and placing them in her plastic bag, all the while talking to herself about last night's party. While I'm trying to act nonchalant, as if it's completely normal to talk to oneself, I catch myself giving sideways glances to these people, but trying not too, like passing by a bad car wreck. Has the entire state of Connecticut gone mad?

Sadly, no. The good state of Connecticut has enacted a law making it illegal to operate a car while talking on a cell phone. So these people are not talking to themselves; alas, they are talking to someone else on the other line, their bluetooth technology sleekly worn on their ear. Apparently, this law has infiltrated the culture of Connecticut as well (interesting how a law can completely change the culture of a city or a country) and Connecticutians wear there hands-free everywhere - even in the grocery store.

Although I don't have bluetooth (hint, hint Scott), I have grown to love my hands-free. I must confess, however, that there have been times when I have converted to my old North Carolina habits and talked on the phone *gasp* using my hands. I cannot count the number of dirty looks I've gotten from fellow drivers. I even had one guy yell "Get off the f** phone!". Of course, I was making a wrong turn, as well, so maybe the expletive was deserved.

So I am now officially hands-free. And now when I elicit strange stares from out-of-towners, I'll know it's just because they don't notice my cell phone earpiece in. Or it may just be that I really am talking to myself. That happens, too.

Bill Gates vs. Britney Spears

I'm currently reading "The World is Flat" by Thomas Friedman, which is about globalization in the past 15 years or so. It's extremely interesting, and it's been fun to see some connections between what's going on in China and my recent trip there. But reading it has made me a little frightened lately. In talking about the intellectual talent in India and China, Friedman recounts one of Bill Gates' recent trips to China. People were standing on the sides of the street, waiting for him to pass and hoping to catch of glimpse of this great man. Tickets to hear Gates' speech were being scalped - everyone wanted to hear and see Bill Gates. Friedman's response:

"In China today, Bill Gates is Britney Spears. In America today, Britney Spears is Britney Spears - and that is our problem."

Has America - have us Americans - grown complacent? Granted, we have been a very powerful country (and, arguably, continue to be) over the last 200 years, but other countries are catching up at noticeable speeds. The frightening part is that America is not moving forward. We are stagnant, especially in science, math and technology. According to Friedman, budgest for the National Science Foundation, the National Institute for Science and Technology, the Department of Energy's Office of Science, and the Department of Defense have all had their budgets cut significantly. On top of that, less and less American students are going into the sciences and engineering, opting instead to go into medicine and law, because that's where the money is made. By contrast, students in India, China, and other Asian countries are filling that void and are outpacing us.

In a nutshell, America is aging out of it's intellectual resources in the sciences. There is no call for students to be inspired - no race to the moon as JFK called for, sparking a renewed interest in science and technology and leaping America forward. America is lacking ambition, education and desire. We are undergoing a quiet epidemic.

I realize there are a lot of epidemics going on right now in our country that need our attention - obesity, the environment, medical care, and now this. But I think all of these epidemics can be cured with one thing - education. America is not investing in education, and we need to do something today in order for effects to be felt years from now. It's scary to think what could happen to this country (a slow and steady decline?) if our politicians and our government doesn't start to invest in education, in science and technology, in amibition. It won't be long before other countries, like India and China, begin to overtake us as a superpower. In fact, it may have already begun.

If you only had 5 words

This week the Webby awards took place. These awards honor websites that are creative and effective in communicating. In keeping with the spirit of the award, the winner's acceptance speech can only be 5 words long. Anyone who violates this rule (uses 6 words, for instance) gets booed, as happened with one of this year's recipients.

All of this got me thinking. What 5 words would I use if I were accepting an award?It must be meaningful and portray not only who I am, but also what's truly important to me. In looking at some of the speeches from this year (see below), it's amazing what 5 words can convey, and how much meaning can be in them. And how much more powerful they are compared to a 2 minute Academy speech thanking everyone and their hairstylist.

Of course, what you say may depend on what you're winning. That granted, what would be your 5 word acceptance speech? I'm curious to hear your submissions!

Some of my favorites from this year's ceremony to get the juices flowing:
The Book of Cool: Even monkeys fall from trees
NPR Music: Listen...inspire...inspire to listen
Washington Post: We're deeper than Deep Throat
AccuRadio: Assuming hyphenateds are allowed...Woo-hoo!
Monster.com: Note to self: update resume
Expedia.com: Thank you, enjoy your trip
The Huffington Post: Darlings, make blogs not war
BIg Time Restaurant Group: Thank you...honored...special...speechless!
Remember Segregation: Two crackers fighting racism, yo!
National Geographic.com Genographic Project: More than just bare breasts

I take it back

...it's not Carolina players that are the pansies. Or even, I hate to admit it, the French ones. No, the pansy award has to go to the Duke players this time. In particular, J. J. Redick. Making it par for the course this year for Duke, Mr. Redick was arrested after he tried to avoid a checkpoint and failed a sobriety test.

What gives people (any people) the right to act like complete wads when they get a little bit of fame and power? I realize that people drink and drive all the time, unfortunately, but when you have so much riding on your career and your life, why don't these people stop and THINK. Hopefully, that's the end of J.J's first round draft pick. If anything, I hope it shows people who have had a little dose of fame that they need to THINK before they do something dumb.

Do you think, when J.J. got arrested, he cried like a baby, just like he did when his team lost in the NCAA? I bet he did.

You say Football, I say Soccer

I don't know if it's the larger population of international people up here, or the fact that football (that's soccer, for you Americans) is becoming more and more mainstream in America, but everyone is watching, and interested in, the World Cup. True blue Americans are discussing the teams and using words like "hand ball" and "yellow card". I don't know what these words mean, but, I have to admit, it's a fun game to watch.

Plus, it's nice to know that Americans are embracing the international world through this sport, and embracing a little nationalism, as well. Now, when we watch a player fall to the ground, feigning injury, instead of shouting "Look at that Carolina player. He's such a pansy", we can shout "Look at that French player. He's such a pansy." I don't mean to upset the French people reading this blog (which I'm sure they do, by the millions). I love the French. I really do. It's just that they're so much more fun to make fun of than Carolina players. And it's all in the name of nationalism and internationalism. It's all in the name of football.

So, play ball! Over the past week, I've learned that we, as a planet, can come together and embrace each other through this one sport. And that, no matter which country they're representing, football players are hot.

He said She said; She said She didn't say...

Not that I'm really following the Duke Lacrosse story much (see my previous posts), but when the story makes CNN news on a regular basis, it's hard not to notice what's going on. Not only is this one of the most bungled legal operations I've ever heard of, aside from the OJ Simpson trial, but it's not doing much for the North's stereotypical assessments of the South. Since the college kids are all north of the Mason-Dixon line, you can bet that northerns are watching this story and making their own interpretations. And you can bet they're not good.

No DNA. No witnesses. Alibis and passed lie detector tests for the charged. And now, this. But I guess this trial did do one thing right - it got the DA re-elected. Oh, and it made Duke a household name. I wonder if this will increase admission applications...

Start Spreading the News...

This weekend, I spent the first of what I hope to be many weekends in NYC. My goal this summer is to get to know Manhattan well. For example, when people talk about midtown, or the upper west side, or the village, I want to be able to envision what exactly they're talking about. After just a few hours in the city, I think I have a better idea of midtown.

Yesterday, I explored the MoMA and was surprised to find lots of famous works...Starry Night, Picasso's Girl Looking in a Mirror, and lots of others. I'd love to spend more time in the MoMA, just walking around and enjoying the art on random days, if it weren't for the $12 admission each time. I guess that's NYC.

Scott's coming next weekend, so I'm sure there will be a bit more exploring soon.

Thank You For Smoking

If you haven't seen "Thank You for Smoking," you must go out and see it. Now. Go on. I'll wait for you to come back and add your commentary.

No matter what side of the tobacco issue you're on, the movie is hilarious, and makes fun of both sides...leaving you to draw your own conclusions. Which is the whole point of the movie, really. To think for yourself and not let others make decisions for you.

The cast is fabulous. As is the soundtrack. Believe the reviews and see this movie. And then have a long drag off of a cigarette. You'll be happy you did.

P.S: while the references to Winston-Salem are somewhat correct (after all, it is the birthplace of RJ Reynolds and Camels), there is, in fact, no Winston-Salem General Hospital. And no crazy men-only smoking lounge. And I don't think that any scenes were actually filmed there. But other than that, all references are valid. Carry on.

How Appropos

So I must give an update to my adventuresome trip up to CT yesterday, given my previous posting. The trip was my first real test of the return to independence...

At the start of the trip, I had noticed that my brakes were feeling a little differently than they usually do - I had to push them in more in order to slow down. I figured this was probably due to the shoes getting worn down with age, and made a note to bring the car in the next day to a dealership in CT. Since I was on cruise control for most of the trip, I didn't need to brake much and so didn't really think much of it after that.

Until I got to the DC area and the traffic began to pick up. I started to notice that the brakes were getting more and more weird and just as I was turning off of I-95 to get onto 495 (the "mixing bowl", as DC-ites lovingly call it), I braked really hard to make the turn. At that point, I started to get nervous because I was barely slowing down...and then my brake light came on.

The Dodge has never given me problems before, and so I had no idea was the brake light meant. I pulled over to the side of 495 and did what any independent young woman would do - I called my Daddy.

A tow truck ride, $350, and 6 hours later, I was back on 495 and heading up to CT. Turns out there was a leak in my rear wheel cylinder and all my brake fluid leaked out, essentially robbing me of braking capability. I am now an expert in car brakes and will be happy to entertain any questions you may have.

The Dodge and I did make it safe and sound to CT, around midnight. Another fun and crazy adventure.

CT or Bust

I'm off to Connecticut this morning, to finally start my summer. I'm a little nervous about the internship, as I think anyone is with a new job, but the hardest part about this summer will be leaving Scott. When the summer seemed so far away, I was excited about moving someplace new (especially up north!) and kind of being on my own again. But once the date got closer, I realize that I'm more emotionally dependent on Scott than I thought. Does that sound 1950s?

Aren't we, as modern women, supposed to be strong on our own, without depending on a man? Aren't we supposed to push for our own careers, and not bow to the demands of our husbands'? Where's the line between inner strength and and mutual dependence? Maybe that's the key to a good marriage - to be dependent on each other, even you can be independent if you have to.

So I'm off to be independent again for awhile, but I'm still (and always will be) emotionally dependent on Scott. This summer will be lots of fun, but I'll miss being with him all the time.

So, Cheers! Here's to a fun summer in Connecticut, a successful internship, and love.

Did you pahk the cah?

Scott and I spent Memorial Day weekend in Boston with the fam. It was his first time to the city, and I think he really liked it. (I'm slowly trying to turn him into a Yankee...baby steps). For most of my family up there, this was their first time meeting Scott and they couldn't get over his Southern accent. Of course, Scott couldn't get over their New England accent. I think I've lived with Scott so long now that I don't even notice his accent anymore. Maybe he's slowly turning me into a Southerner and I don't even know it!

Boston is one of my favorite cities, ever. There's something about the quaintness of having history embedded into the modernity of the city. And the colonial architecture is among my favorite. Scott's favorite parts were the pubs. This is why we go well together. Anyone up for another trip to Bahston?

My cousin, Michele, on the Duck Tour. Not just for tourists!

Chilling out Memorial Day at the lake in New Hampshire.

The view from (on) the Charles.