$5 bucks on TJ being the one who said the thing about the eyebrows.

We posed as Ivy Leaguers, walking down Nassau in Princeton jokingly shouting, "We don't go to Rutgers!"

At the foo-foo Italian restaurant I couldn't take my eyes off the woman sitting at the table next to ours. She was repulsive in her WASP demeanor. The painfully adorable blonde waitress replied to every thank you with, "You're so very welcome."

Bits of conversation:

"Did you really think I was a lesbian when you first met me?"

"What would you think if I started plucking my eyebrows and going to the tanning salon?"

"My defining Princeton moment was waiting for Scott to shit in the church."

"Do you think Nico is still alive?"

I studied the other day for the first time all semester. I mean, the real sitting down and reading for more than 15 minutes kind of studying. And lo and behold, when I took my Spanish essay exam I knew the answers to the questions! Insanity.

In other news:

I'm feeling quite journalriffic (and much better physically, madre, thanks for the message).

Two new sets of photos for your viewing (dis)pleasure.

This one is my favorite, at Stephanie's house. This is when I was starting to feel really shitty, but I managed to feign happiness. From left to right this extremely white and homogenous looking group is: Stephanie, Me, Amy, Nicole, Tim and Mike.

I am beginning to understand how wonderful two-hour naps are.

"The furthest distance I've ever known is from my head to my heart."

Evan and Jaron, my new favorite band. (Everyone download my new favorite song, "Outerspace," by my new favorite band.)

The thing I miss most when I'm sick is the ability to sing. When I'm congested and try to sing I realize how much of my nose I use to make certain sounds (which isn't really a good thing, anyway).

Oh well.

You guys, my family is adorable and, at the same time, very scary.

On Thanksgiving my grandmother walks in and comes over to me to give me a kiss. She smiles and says, "Oh, I look at you every day! I really do." Meaning, she sees me frollick on the beach right here every day.

Today, when I went to my grandfather's room to say goodbye, he whipped out a piece of paper and said he wanted to show me something. "I rectructured the government," he said. "It's a tier system."

Enough said.

Back in New Brunswick.

The entire time I was driving Nicole to the airport, in the pouring rain, in horrendous traffic, with my nose dripping, I just really wanted to bash my head against the steering wheel.

Journalicious.

There's a small calendar sitting on the new computer desk. Every month has a photo of New York City. My favorites are the aerial shot of lower Manhattan and the view of the bridge from Fort Tryon Park. I'm going to steal this calendar, cut out all of the photos and make a collage.

I am crafty.

Hanging out with the high school clique is always so strange. Add to that an extremely congested nose and I was having minimal fun last night.

Nevertheless, I did see tons of people. Nicole, Tim, Mike, Stephanie, Renee, Jeff and Amy were at Steph's. Everyone except Nicole bounced to Friday's, where we ran into Danielle, Tina, Julie and Chardo. As we were walking past their table we did the head nod, "hello" and smile, but it turned into one of those awkward conversational moments. But the funny thing was that as soon as we stopped, Danielle and I made eye contact and started talking, same with Tim and Tina and Steph and Julie. It just struck me as odd and yet completely natural that we paired up.

Did I mention I was sick? From my brother, who was sneezing and coughing all Thanksgiving. I got less than six hours of sleep yesterday and was running around all day, which contributed to my miserable condition last night, I'm sure.

Blah blah blah.

My mother just walked into my room and semi-dramatically threw herself on the futon. I wonder where I get it from. :)

Dar Williams discusses the title of her latest CD, "The Green World," a concept she learned during a Shakespeare class at Wesleyan.

"The closed world represented court life in Elizabethan England which set all the patterns of the day. It was the orderly part of life," explains Williams. "The green world was different. It was unpredictable and chaotic. It was an unmediated place literally represented by the forest, the wilderness, where you learned things you don't necessarily want to know about yourself. Then you would bring the lessons you learned back to the closed world, ultimately spurring the process by which civilizations change. In that respect, the closed world can only renew itself and grow with the green world's influence."

How can you not love that?

Driving home, Nicole in the passenger seat, Joe driving. The window was down, the air was freezing and the Eminem was blasting. Not my ideal situation.

The rest of the night was much better.

Village. Burrito Loco. 101 on 7th. Margaritas, Coronas, Budweisers. Almost got thrown out of the last bar for being under 21 (The Save Ferris song is right: It sucks to be under 21). Nicole talked to the waitress, whose manager said we "looked fine." But we drank quickly and booked out of there anyway.

(Yeah, so I pikced Nicole up at Newark airport last night. She's here. She's the same. She almost started crying when she came down the escalator and saw me. Adorable.)

Today is Thanksgiving. So, I'm gonna take an Oprah moment and share my spirit, or whatever, and tell you what I'm thankful for, because I really do have a lot of great things going on right now and I'd like to throw them in your face (b/c isn't that what it's all about, really? Kidding.)

I am thankful for all of my adorable Internet friends, my mostly cool job, my infrequent moments of fun in classes, my roommates, my ghetto apartment, Snickers, my fantabulous family (especially mommy), the study abroad Spain program, my Visa check card, my black Aldo shoes, old friends, puerile senses of humor, PJ's Pizza, Ben Jenkins' and Candice's funny websites that make me giggle all the live long day (Ben's for the face photo and Candice for the plethora Mr. Belvedere comments), Britney Spears' fierce music, AIM Express and, last but not least, YOU!

What are *you* thankful for? :)

While walking down College Ave. Candice and I are stopped by a shady crackhead asking for $3 "to get back home to Trenton." Apparently, she her things were robbed. Yeah. Go back to Clothier with the other Rutgers College druggies and leave me along, chick. Then we're harrassed by a man telling us we can make $5 for trying on cologne or some such nonsense. "It's beer money!" he says. My mini-crush from Spanish is walking in front of us, as well. We make idle chit-chat; instead of using the opportunity to be adorably charming and interesting I practically ignore said crush. Brilliant.

At Cafe 52 we run into Janet, a friend (of Candice's) from the freshman dorm. This little skater Asian girl is a total pothead space cadet (majoring in English and philosophy for god's sake.)

And I absolutely adore her.

sometimes i feel like i'm

l
o
w
e
r
i
n
g

my standards...

[so you can meet them]

I have all my music theory homework online, see? And computers are stupid, right? Well, they must be cause as I was trying to complete this INSANE scales project the stupid web site kept shouting at me, "Time has passed to complete this!!!"

Time had not passed and I kept doing it until I realized none of this shit would count. Why was I busting my balls?

So I emailed my professor a really pissy letter saying as much.

And I'm skipping his class tonight to protest. :)

you are

[to me]



life renewing itself



and so much joy

And Melanie dies, too? Jesus.

I didn't remember that Bonnie dies!!!



That's awful...poor Scarlet.



:)

I'm in the middle of watching Gone With The Wind for class. I really should read the book, but, you know, 1,000 pages of the old South is not for me. I can hardly stand four hours.

And for the love of God, why did Cliff's Notes overlook this beast of a book? Same with Monarch Notes (whatever that is - blatantly ripped-off idea and the cover the same freaking books, anyway!)

Journalicious.

Powerhouse Notre Dame traveled to Rutgers Stadium to take on - and destroy - the Scarlet Knight football squad today.



The most interesting part about it is that downtown New Brunswick is packed with out-of-towners. There are tons of people wearing ND logos taking up tables at restaurants I wanted to eat at!



It was kind of like New Brunswick was a real college town for a night.

"In the capri pants?” you ask?



Yes.



There is this man who works in my building, not for my company, mind you. We are the fashionable bunch. This other company, on the other hand, is sad and pathetic, home to very stereotypical Jersey girls who wear tights, big, oversize sweatshirts and have huge helmet hair.



Let’s get back to this man. He wears capri pants. I swear! No one else in my office had ever seen him. I was beginning to feel like I was seeing a ghost, a capri-pants-wearing phantom. It all seemed too preposterous.



But he exists.



Yesterday, as I was about to go to the bathroom, I spotted his … pants … floating past the door. I look at Kim, who was standing closest to me, and whispered, quite loudly, “The man in the capri pants! There he goes!”



After a brief moment of confusion, Kim realized what was happening and we jumped to action, walking quickly down the hallway toward the stairs, where we caught one glimpse at his … pants, and his pasty white legs.

What a fucking ridiculous night: stealing, breakdowns, losses and capri pants.



I'll tell you all about it tomorrow.

There was this meowing coming from the bathroom. Upon further investigation I discovered an actual kitty cat frantically meowing. It was sitting on the window sill, staring at the closed storm screen. I tried to pet it, cautiously, and when it tried to climb down to the bathtub it slipped and fell. I giggled. Silly cat. I opened the window and closed the door.



I wonder if it fled.



I wonder how it got in the fucking house.

I’m wearing a tie.



I never wear ties.



Today I realized that my dark gray V-neck sweater never looks right with a button-down underneath it because it requires a tie. So I put on a tie. I black and gray striped tie – over a light gray button-down, under a dark gray sweater. With gray pants.



It’s all about grayscale.

Even more Bush-Gore fun. This is the best ever!

Bored? Tired of checking CNN every five minutes to see if there's new news? Then sit back and be entertained by the stlin' moves of the two would-be presidents. Dance, fools!



It's actually a metaphor, see? The page is a joke, just as the election is a complete farce.

Go to Andrea's site and read more about my favorite subject: me.

I find it pretty ironic that Germany of all places, which persecuted gays as well as the more often talked about Jews during WWII, is in the process of legalizing gay marriage while America, land of the free, still offers second-class treatment for the most part. Get ready for even less if Dubya pulls through, folks.



[There are a few news stories about Germany, which joins Denmark, Norway and other countries in legalizing same-sex marriage, but I'm too lazy to go search Yahoo! for one]

I'm impressed. I stuck to a schedule.



I read the majority of "The Selling of the President" this afternoon, started writing a bottom line paper on the book and a documentary about the packing of a candidate for a local NY race in 1967 and the role the media plays in manipulating campaigns at 7 p.m. and was done before 9. It's decent, to boot.



(My ass still hurts, though)

Interesting. I do not remember writing the first post last night? First of all, I don't say "digits" and second, if I did get them, where the hell are they?!



Anyway, my ass really hurts. I'm serious. During my mad rush to go to the second party I fell down the entire flight of stairs down to the first floor...on my ass...and I didn't feel anything then, of course. I went to the party, danced, macked it, and then about 6 of us went to a diner to annoy the waitress be ordering water and bagels...and then I started feeling it. And this morning, waking up at 10:30 after getting to bed around 5, it hurts like hellbitches 2000.



Besides being the most drunk I've been in months, last night was surreal because I was surrounded by new Targum people I've never met. At one point a few new people came in and I turned to Sally and shouted, "Who the fuck are these people?!"



I'm a charmer, I know.



Time to wake Cathleen up so she can make me waffles. :)

I'm a little better. Went from my house to another party, then was macking on some girl, then we all went with Sally, the only spber one, to Somerset diner, and like total college kids we all ordered bagels :)



I'm still drunk. It's 5 a.m. On the way back I realized if I wanna sleep 10 hours i'll have to sleep 'til 3. Eek!



bye.

i've never been so fucking drunk in my entitere life, and i'm getting some digits rigtht no. woo ha.

The three drinks were more like 5-6 since each one came with extra in a shaker. :) I'm not that weak.

I sunk a little deeper into the abyss of corporate America tonight: Happy Hour.



About 12 of us went to Clyde's, a martini bar in New Brunswick, after work. Our CEO set up a tab, making this poor student a very happy boy.



But, we got there at 6:30-ish, and by 9, three strong drinks later, I was on my way to drunk. You see, I'd had no breakfast, cheese doodles for lunch, and then the drinks: a victoria's secret (fruity yum yum vodka malibu), a secret strawberry (fruity yum yum lots of vodka) and a girl scout cookie (minty yum yum voda chocolate liquor).



So I was basically drunk by 8. How silly!

I just finished a 40-minute interview with a kick-ass advertising executive who has led the most interesting life. Born in New Jersey, grew up in three different areas of Venezuela, including a jungle town, went to school in New York City and wound up in Santa Monica, Calif.



She’s this brilliant woman who understands the Latino community and knows how to succeed. Super. Really helpful.

The bartender bit is really strange because a similar thing happened to me this weekend at the Latino Expo.



I walked over to the Merck table to interview one of the HR reps. about the importance of targeting the Latino consumer group and recruiting talent from all segments of the population, yadda yadda. Before I could ask her any questions she said me face looked really familiar. She asked where I graduated from. "Rutgers," I said. She said she knew it and asked which campus. I told her New Brunswick and she was convinced that's why she knew my face. She said she graduated in 1994, though, which was way before I started. It's just super strange that she thought she knew me from school - which isn't possible - but we did in fact attend the same university.



Incidentally, she didn't let me quote her because all of those corporate types are hunted down and destroyed if they speak to the press without approval from internal PR. She actually hunted me down later, shouting "Mr. Reporter Man!" across the hall, to make sure I wouldn't use her name.

One more reason, thanks to Candince:



"The mother of a gay teen suicide has won a federal appeals ruling allowing her to sue the police officers who threatened to out him."

When people wonder why I hate 90 percent of the population, this is the kind of example I can give them:



"A 12-year-old developmentally disabled girl was grabbed, beaten and sexually assaulted by nine boys after school, police said Tuesday."



Penises are a huge (or small, depending) problem and they should all be cut off. Except mine!

We smile at each other as she takes her usual seat two rows in front of mine.



Everything about her is deliberate, from her even, golden tan to the honey-blonde highlights in her perfectly tossled curly hair.



*Someone could write a song about a girl like her.



She's well dressed, but a sporty backpack and climbing shoes balance the otherwise preppy image.



Before class, she works on her assignment, casually flipping through the text book and jotting down notes on loose-leaf paper. Outside of class, she never thinks about her work.



With her beautifully manicured and jeweled hands she picks up a Snapple bottle and slowly eats salt and vinegar potato chips.



She know why the curly haired boy moves closer to her seat every class. She knows we're watching.

Amen, brother friend.



The electoral college is for punks.

The political process may be awe-inspiring, Tim, but there are definitely some major flaws.

Oh lord.



As of 11:17 a.m., Bush leads (disgusting, grotesque) Florida by less than 2,000 votes. Do you know how many votes Buchanan may have stolen in Palm County? More than 3,000. This is such a movie. It's not reality.



Oh, Nader, you are the death of me.

I don't know quite how to describe how I feel right now. It's sort of like I'm balancing on the edge of a platform and one gust of wind could make me plummet or fall back to security.



When I came home at around 9:30 I was cautiously happy. When projections showed Bush surging ahead in the electoral college I was devastated. I saw the Supreme Court in my head. I saw Roe v Wade flying out of the window. I imagined gay rights regressing. Now that Gore is seen as the winner in California I'm a little less anxious, but Florida still has me worried.



God. This is killing me. Why is this election so fucking close? This country is full of imbeciles who don't care about personal liberties, that's why. Fucking ridiculous.



I am truly psyched for Hillary, though... Rock on.

This is the kind of apocalytpic event we'll all have to get used to if Al Gore is not elected president.

Actually, my friend, I own one of Love's CDs. How can you not support a Kids Incorporated alumna? It's not quite the Mickey Mouse Club, but it's close. In related news, Love was signed to Jive Records, home to Britney, N sync and Backstreet Boys. She asked Britney to sing a duet with her, but Ms. Spears said, "Oh, helllllllllls no."

(If "you" were more than just a Web site I use to easily update vignette.org, I would apologize for the lack of humorous, intelligent content. But since you're an inanimate object I won't bother.)



I'm just having a totally shitty day. I'm tired as hell, after a long weekend of the Latino Expo, Rent, shopping and catching up with Alli. There are blisters all over my feet, I get nothing done at work ever, my classes are horrible, I spent all of my money this weekend, I can't register for next semester because there's a fucking hold on my account (probably from parking tickets) - deja vu - and to top it all off, there's a fucking pimple on my face! Right. Between. My. Eyes.



On the bright side, Candice, Andrea and I wrote a German rap song tonight. I couldn't even attempt to spell any of the lyrics, though.



Ugh!



One thing that made me laugh tonight? Listening to Oscar de la Hoya's CD at a listening booth at Border's.

I saw a very svelte Allison for the first time in a few months. She gave Lauren and me Aida tickets for Jan. 2. I saw Alexis Canonico at the supermarket. She asked me about Veronica! We were stuck in traffic because the Palisades Center was evacuated due to a bomb an electrician found. I bought $90 Aldo shows only because I have a work function tomorrow and forgot to bring shoes besides my sneakers home to Waldwick with me. The shoes are really cute. I have to be awake in less than 7 hours to go into Manhattan. At 6 p.m. Lauren's meeting me at Penn Station for her birthday surprise(s). Britney is now stronger. I heart.



And that's all I have to say about that.

Charlie's Angels rocks it hardcore.



And that there's the truth.

This was the first Halloween in a long time when I put a lot of effort into my costume. Lauren and I waited until the last minute, hitting the mall at 7:30-ish on Monday night, but inspiration struck and we pulled something totally cute together.



After throwing around impossible ideas like the cheerleaders from SNL and Britney Spears and the astronaut from the “Oops! I Did It Again” video, we decided on Venus and Bacchus, Roman gods who married but had infidelity problems. Our Latin teacher, Marco, would have been so proud.



As we were walking down George Street toward Tumulty’s pub I heard, “Toga! Toga! Toga!” I turned my head, expecting to see a drunken frat boy, but it was a police officer driving by. Only in New Brunswick.



Later on we hit a party a few blocks away, where, surprisingly, a few of the drunken girls I spoke to knew who Bacchus was. Lauren and I were definitely the best dressed in the dingy, dark basement. And probably the most coherent. As I was talking to Carrie, a girl know from Targum, a blonde girl dressed as an angel randomly – for now reason – fell onto the floor. She got up in a daze, mumbling, “No one saw anything!” and then came over to our group a few minutes later ranting, “My leg is bleeding so much!” I had to turn my head because I was laughing so hard. Is that rude?



As Lauren, Ben and I were walking back to our apartment in the freezing cold, we decided to be bad-asses. It was garbage night, so I picked up a garbage bag in front of someone’s house and carried it over to another family’s front porch. Lauren, meanwhile, was running down Huntington Street knocking over a garbage can at each house along the way.



Aren’t we absolutely adorable?



Andrea is here in good old New Jersey. Despite a completely fucked-up interview at my company yesterday, Candice and I have been showing her a good time. Yesterday we shopped at the fashionable C.H. Martin, where you can buy a pair of sweatpants for $9.88, we ate dinner at Nova Terra, a super trendy restaurant where a small plate of disgusting paella is $22 (but the wooden cigar boxes serving as bread plates were ripe for stealing), and I ditched journalism to take Andrea to Ocean Grove, where we interrupted a 50-year-old man from making out with his teenaged daughter and dove off of 13-foot sand cliffs.



Let’s say it together: good times.

I’ll tell you all about Halloween and post a photo or two later today. I’ve been absolutely swamped. Yesterday I had to finish a Spanish paper about the conflict between love and honor depicted through the characters of El Cid and Jimena in “Las mocedades del Cid” and I have an exam in a few hours on that book and “Lazarillo de Tormes” as well as general themes of the Siglo de Oro, or golden age of Spanish literature.



Until I delight you with tales of drunken mischief, take a look at these links:



It’s amazing how many groups are turning on Nader now that they finally realize the potential catastrophe that obtaining the lucrative 5 percent could cause.



“I have seen acts of betrayal I just can't believe,” Nader said Wednesday in Madison, Wis.



No kidding. Read more about Dubya and make an educated decision on Tuesday. [link from the blorg]



Also, the prospect of online voting is really intriguing, but I still think the digital divide and online security are huge negatives.