bottle service?

You know the music videos of rappers sitting in exclusive clubs at VIP tables, poppin' champagne, nodding their head to the thumping music? That was the vision for my friend Jodi's 21st birthday. Except the reality was that it was 8 girls, 2 boyfriends, and a mere fifth of Grey Goose (which cost us a cool $350) in a not-so-VIP table.
Jodi set this birthday event up a few weeks back- inviting all the girls, saying that she spoke to Club Royale in Boston and that she had bought a VIP table where we would get our own waitress and a huge bottle of Grey Goose, as well as stay in a hotel room a short taxi ride away- all for $60. Obviously we were all in. She had gone to a friend's birthday a few weeks before, at the club actually downstairs from Royale, called Gilt, and said that it was insane- hence, why she wanted to do the same for her birthday! So, we all got work off, planned rides, and drove down to Boston last Friday night. Alexis and I made astonishing time (35 min...perhaps we were speeding?), proceeded to get lost in South Boston, went through two (not one, two) "DO NOT ENTER" signs, and finally made it to the hotel. Checked in, changed, and Jodi's boyfriend made us delicious mixed drinks to get the night going. When everyone finally made it, we had the hotel call us 2 cabs and we made our way to Tremont Street. Because of our VIP status (brush-dirt-off-shoulder) we were able to cut the line...to where 2 huge bouncers stood, checking ID's. Almost immediately, they turned away one of the girls in our group who was using a fake ID- she began to make a scene, so Alexis and I just ran inside to let someone else handle it. Once inside the lobby, more security shooed us up the grand staircase to the next level, where others from our group were waiting- including a distraught Jodi, who was being told by management that because we were missing people from our group, we'd be charged an extra $180 per person....what? Obviously Jodi and Tommy began to put up a fight. We'd already paid $480 for the table/bottle service, why would we pay any more? After finally getting our way, the girl with the fake had to take a taxi back to the hotel (sad, but isn't that the risk you have to take?) and we proceeded to go up yet another staircase. The club was originally an old theater- they had kept the mahogany staircases, gilded wall fixtures, chandeliers, and red velvet curtains, and the overall effect was quite beautiful- especially for a nightclub! We went up another staircase (no gym needed apparently) and were brought to our VIP table- a long bench on a balcony overlooking the dance floor below, where apparently VIP tables down there cost $5,000 (oh you fancy huh?) We threw our coats down, had Tommy take four pictures of us (unsuccessful because my camera is awesome) and we waited for our waitress to come over. After waiting a good 10 minutes, she finally showed up...holding a fifth of Grey Goose. Immediately, Jodi told her that when she'd made the reservation she'd been promised a "big, huge, over-sized bottle" of vodka, not a fifth that we could buy at the liquor store. The woman- who's boobs were all up in our faces- explained that this is what we were getting, but if we'd like to order another bottle she'd be mooooreeee than happy to provide us with one. "Okay, how much?" "$350." "Are you fucking kidding me?" "I know, it's a little over-priced...." Seriously? A fifth is $40 at the liquor store...an extra $310 seems reasonable, right? Thoroughly pissed off, we asked her to please just pour us drinks. After pouring the 10 of us mixed drinks, the bottle was about 3/4 gone...already. And the weird part was, she didn't leave the bottle at the table with us- but instead kept taking it away and then would bring it back every 15 minutes to see if we wanted more. Ummmm why can't you just leave it? We don't need you and your boobs assistance pouring it, thanks. Realizing that everyone was feeling a little discouraged about the situation, Alexis and I decided that if we'd driven to the city, spent $60, and gotten dressed up, we were going to have a good night- so it was off to the dance floor.

Sketchball city.

Legitimately hundreds of duded gyrating their hips in the hopes that one "lucky" girl would dance with them. Alexis and I were more then content dancing with each other, pumping our fists and shaking our butts for no one but ourselves. One guy slid over to us and casually said, "Are you guys models?!" Laughed. In. His. Face. Then he said, "Hey, at least I tried, right?" And we gave him that much. One Asian guy was dancing so hard that his shirt was dripping sweat and he proceeded to throw his body against mine and then try to kiss me....really?! I ran off the dance floor. Jodi came down from our table eventually and we had a great time dancing with her- definitely make the best of what the night's cards had dealt us. Finally we left the club around 2 AM, and while the others had magically caught a cab, Alexis, 2 other girls, and myself had not been so lucky and we ended up walking 3 blocks trying to flag one down- along the way my butt got more attention then I could have ever wanted (I seriously mean that) and I got asked for my phone number 9 times...by the time we reached the end of the third block we were running into the street trying to grab taxis because we wanted to go home so badly. A police officer decided to be kind enough to get us one and we couldn't thank him enough- yelling out the van window as the Asian driver sped through a yellow light. After a short ride we made it back to the hotel, where Tommy was waiting outside for us- the look of relief on his face when we stepped out of the cab was priceless- must have been concerning to have 4 of your girlfriend's close friends stuck in a busy city, at night, wearing heels and tight dresses. We crashed into bed immediately...
We left at 9 that morning- assuring Jodi that despite all the mishaps, we really did have an awesome time- and we did- Boston never disappoints me (knock on wood). I felt so bad that she'd been screwed out of so much money, had a mediocre waitress, and that some of her friends didn't get into the club- but overall, we had such a good time.
Maybe next time we'll just buy our own bottle and pre-game the shit out of the club...$350 my ass.

#ambition

It seems since Wale announced that he'd be releasing an album on 11.1.11, entitled "Ambition" and then with the consequent release, everywhere I see is the word ambition. #Ambition was all over Twitter, people quoting Wale, adding him to their Tweets, and then Facebook statuses like "#ambition" (woah der...Facebook is not Twitter). Some of my favorite tweets have been from some of my guy friends, praising the "ambitious girl" ("S/O to college girls studying right now instead of sitting in yoga pants eating nutella, #ambition #yogapantslie #bitchesaintfoolinme"; "go girl, #ambition"; No matter how bad your day go, S/O to that ambitious girl, do you thang boo #Ambition #GoGirl.") that Wale serenades in some of his songs. As bad as it sounds (and I hate to say this boys) most of the time, I see my close guy friends as not appreciating the women in their lives who are striving for an education and money. Now, this perspective has changed a lot since my freshman year, because obviously those boys have matured and aren't pursuing the infamous "freshman experience" (you should know what I mean...) Recently, and I wouldn't say this is due to Wale, but perhaps his influence is there, the females in my life have been disregarding boys and instead are looking to get money, get good grades, and be independent and strong- intimidating for males usually. But seeing my male friends tweets praising the ambition that women have (especially in college) made me happy, and more importantly, proud. Not only has Wale released songs such as these, but other extremely popular rappers have too- like Drake, on his "Make Me Proud" track, for example. Hip-Hop and Rap, more recently then ever it seems, have been dominating mainstream media and music, it seems like everyone is listening and with that kind of attention comes a responsibility to raise the bar, set lyricism standards higher, and more than ever, praise that ambition- especially with women. This appreciation of female ambition is just one of many reasons (that I've noticed lately) why I feel like I can finally stop calling some of the males in my life boys and start actually referring to them as men. 


Ambitious Girl
Ambitious Girl, pt. 2




"Easy to dream a dream, but much harder to live it, look, they gon' love me for my ambition, beautiful music, painting pictures that be my vision..." - Wale Folarin

am i dreaming?

Not to sound ultra-sappy, but this past weekend was basically perfect.
In August I found out J. Cole was going on his first world tour...and that he was coming to a city near me October 22nd- obviously the only reasonable thing to do was disregard ticket prices and purchase immediately. I didn't care if any of my friends were going or that the closet concert was two hours away, I finally had the chance to see him live. He went on tour earlier this summer with Rihanna on her "Loud" tour, but by the time I found he was her opener and tried to order tickets, the price was around $250...a little unreasonable. I ended up ordering tickets for one of my best friend's, Wanny, and myself and we decided that she would drive up here Friday night, party with us, and then we would drive to her city the following day and leave for the concert from there because it would cut down time spent in the car. The night she came up here, she, my roommate Lauren, and I subsequently finished a bottle of tequila (with the help of some of our close guy friends and about 35 limes the size of golf balls...) and didn't even make it out to the party we were supposed to be going to- so college of us. I woke up on my futon, found a band-aid wrapped around my finger and realized it was from cutting while slicing mini-limes the night before (damn you ping-pong), and Wanny sleeping soundly next to me. After going through all the texts and phone calls from the night before, we finally got up, recapped the evening's events with Lauren, showered and pulled ourselves together, and began our drive back to Wanny's in Lawrence. Halfway there I turned to Wanny and said, "Wanny, I have a very serious question to ask you..." she took her eyes off the road and glanced at me, seriously, "Okay, what is it?" "When we get to Lawrence...can we get Pollo Tipico?" She looked at me again, huge smile, and burst out laughing. "Of COURSE! Oh my god you are too much..." Pollo Tipico is one of my favorite restaurants and any opportunity I get to eat there, I take immediately. It's a Dominican restaurant that serves traditional Dominican food, but my order always stays the same- chicken, rise, beans, mofongo, fried plantains, these little chicken-filled empanada things that I'm obsessed with, and this delicious red soda that tastes like a summer day (there's no other way to describe it). We go in and Wanny does all the ordering because; a) they only speak Spanish, b) my Spanish is sub-par and c) I'm the only white person in the tiny little restaurant so I'm already intimidated- it's just easier for loud, little, Dominican Wanny give our order. We drove back to Wanny's, devoured the food (she'd been missing it while away at school as well), took quick naps and then began getting ready for the show. After deciding on concert-acceptable outfits with the help of her mother and her adorable littler sister Maia (Wanny in a dark jeans, flats, grey lace tank top, black blazer- Me in black jeans, black shirt, motorcycle boots, black sequin jacket) we had her mom take some quick pictures of us and we ran out the door. We got to the venue about an hour early, perfect timing because we were very close to the front of the line, and because the show was sold out I was afraid we wouldn't get good seats. I'm not sure what I was expecting about the crowd that would be in attendance, but it was not what I was expecting. The crowd was mixed- Spanish, White, Black, Asian, people ages between 18 and 35, men and women. The girls around us were totally obnoxious. Boston accents as thick as their cheap bronzer and foundation that was caked on-their eyes bloodshot and their "classy" outfits reeked of alcohol (on that note- Wanny and I decided to stay completely sober; if you love an artist and are already excited, why mess yourself up for a performance and a moment you want to remember?) When someone near us said they bought their ticket for $40 (like us) the girls scoffed and asked why anybody would ever pay that much for him...um, excuse me, you and your three-sizes too small skirt can leave now, real fans only please. Needless to say, Wanny and I decided that once we got inside we needed to get away from these girls as soon as possible. Oh, one more thing about these girls- when the line finally started moving and men separated from women to be searched, we saw the girls purses being searched and the woman searching one of them pulled out a hair straightener from her purse....questionable and weird. Anyways, we got inside and went right to this little balcony that overlooked the floor where people were congregating right in  front of the stage. The venue was small enough that our balcony felt close enough and we actually had space to breeeeaaatheeee. There were VIP round table seats behind us that were a little higher up and next to the bar- a lot of the openers had bought these tables for the night. The DJ that opened and kept us busy was a little annoying, he played good music but kept interrupting the song to do yet another shout-out...twelve shout-outs a song is a little ridiculous. Finally, the openers came on: Serge, Moufy, Aziz, and another whose name never got said: Serge yelled into the mic, Moufy's energy was insane, Aziz pulled it all back together, and the other guy sounded like Drake but didn't have as much swagger. When the lights finally dimmed and J. Cole's DJ came out (who was amazing and a real professional) people started going nuts. After six or seven songs, Cole finally walked onto the stage around 10:00pm. Damn...both good looking and insanely talented. He began with the song "Cole World" and moved onto "Before I'm Gone". After the first two songs he stopped and talked to us for about 5 minutes, about who he is, where he went to college, why school is important, and how crazy it is that he sold out the venue and that he has the #1 selling album in the country...wow, what an accomplishment. He went on to play "Daddy's Little Girl", "Lost Ones", "Lights Please", "You Got It", "In the Morning", "Rise and Shine", "Can't Get Enough", "Work Out", "Mr. Nice Watch", "All I Want is You", "A Star is Born", "Blow Up", and "Who Dat", before saying goodnight...or so we thought. After leaving the stage and us chanting his name for a few minutes, he came back and performed, "I Get Up" which transitioned into "Nobody's Perfect". He ended with "Farewell" and literally said farewell to everyone in the audience who held their snap-backs and fitted's up as well as random others ("Babygirl in the white tee, farewell...young brotha with the Fayettenam shirt farewell..."), it took about 10 min. for him to finish. It was such an intense and emotional performance, everyone was completely engaged and you could feel the positive energy radiating through the room. After standing there in shock of how good it was for a few minutes, Wanny and I began the trek back up the stairs and to the car. On the way out I noticed that they were giving out special edition posters of J. Cole and, of course, I needed to have one. I tapped the guy giving them out on the shoulder and asked politely if I could have one and he said yes, as long as they could film me holding the poster and giving a review of the show. I said my piece to the camera, shaking from the energy and excitement, and told them how absolutely unbelievable he was, that he is my favorite artist- hope they use that footage somewhere and I hope I don't look beat. Needless to say, after making the drive home that night and re-watching the videos I took on my iPhone in bed, Wanny and I slept like babies...most likely dreaming of J. Cole serenading us in a private show. A girl can dream, right?

coleworld.dreamville.

gym list tres

Just sharing another gym list, hopefully writing this will motivate me to put my yoga pants on and work it....

1. Good Good Night- Roscoe Dash
2. Body Ya- Fabolous
3. Make Me Proud- Drake ft. Nicki Minaj
4. Rise and Shine- J. Cole
5. Girlfriend- Chris Brown
6. I Like The View- Lil' Wayne
7. Ocean Drive- Wale
8. Mo' Money Mo' Problems- Notorious B.I.G.
9. Daddy's Little Girl- J. Cole
10. Cuttin' Up- Los
11. Tats On My Arm- Wale ft. Rick Ross
12. Itty Bitty Piggy- Nicki Minaj
13. Free Spirit- Drake ft. Rick Ross
14. One Minute Man- Missy Elliott
15. Diva- Beyonce
16. On To The Next One- Jay-Z
17. Ghetto- The Dream ft. Big Sean
18. Phone Numbers- Wiz Khalifa
19. Nobody's Perfect- J. Cole ft. Missy Elliott
20. Choppa Choppa- French Montana ft. Waka Flocka Flame
21. She Will- Lil' Wayne ft. Drake
22. Hip Hop Saved My Life- Lupe Fiasco
23. The Cypher- Fabolous

"...word play king i'm not the one to scrabble with..."

it's been a while...

Where have I been the past few weeks? The last time I wrote a post feels like a distant memory. I guess I just haven't had a chance, what with mid-terms, scoring an internship...oh, and turning 21 :)
Yes, my birthday was twelve days ago, and I must say, it was quite the birthday week. My lovely, lovely roommate Ella told me she would drive me to the bars and back as part of my birthday present (God love her) so that worked out extremely well for me...not so much for her car interior (though it's back to being fresh as a daisy). My roommates and friends spoiled me and got me a poster of Biggie, a Beyonce world tour DVD, a scrapbook, a Waterford crystal wine glass, a mini-wine shot glass, a bottle of Tequila, a nip of Goldschlagger, a monogrammed flask AND shot glass, a bouquet of roses, a huge glass that can hold five beers, a picture frame, a margarita glass with roses, an adorable wine-bottle stopper, and, to top it all off, Ella made me the most delicious chocolate cake with raspberries that spelled out "21"...aptly named "Crack-co-cake"- it was unbelievable. Some of my close girl friend's were able to come to the bar with me that night and we had a hell of a time- birthday shots, dancing, and Dirty Shirley's...a solid Wednesday night. Thursday was my roommate Alyssa's birthday (ironic, I know) and we celebrated her definitive 21st at our favorite restaurant on campus- Mei Wei- and then got dollar drinks at the bar-again, very successful evening. Friday was our joint birthday extravaganza- completely with two of my best friends visiting from URI and Northeastern! I was finally able to wear my infamous birthday dress and we successfully filled our 6-person apartment with about 95 of our "closest" friends. There was dancing on couches, dancing on tables, posters falling down, music blaring, competitive bei-ruit, and a very sticky kitchen floor. Despite a few minor hiccups in the evenings events, we cleared everyone out before quiet hours at midnight (again, huge thank you to Ella...she's such a boss)- with a little help from our very loud friends Nate and Wil, who continued to shout, "Ya'll don't gotta go home but you gotta get the fuck outta here!" and "Yo! These girls like living here, so let them stay in their apartment in peace and get out!" Gotta love 'em :)
The following week was a blur of exams, preparations for mid-terms, and first trips to the liquor store (I never knew I could be so overwhelmed by flavors of Smirnoff...mango? Blueberry? Watermelon? Yum). Today I finally got my first Sunday off in about four weeks that I didn't have homework...a miracle among miracles considering Laura and I danced like crazy the night before. Last night, after I casually knocked a cup of Ciroc out of my friend TC's hand all over my friend Pat's shirt and then proceeded to spill ice on him, we decided it was time to make moves and head to the next party. TC, Kyle, Laura and I headed downtown with the hopes of hoping the fence that intersects two parking lots to give clearance to the train tracks. Now, hoping this fence shaves off a solid 3 minutes from the regular walk so we knew we just had to do it...in our skirts...and high heels. The wire fence didn't stand a chance against our high-heeled-motivation, when two cops popped out between parked cars, flashlights waving madly, shouting, "Hey! You four kids!" TC, swinging his bottle of Simply Limeade, told them they could go right ahead and taste it, nothing but juice, and they checked all our purses and ID's, but they ended up lecturing the boys on making Laura and I climb the fence...and then they told us to have a good night- whew, I guess some cops are actually logical and realize that four, legal college students hopping a fence is probably the least of their concerns for the night. An extra 3 minute walk later, we'd made it back to TC's apartment, met up with Wil, and began the next trek to a house party down the street. Upon walking in to a place where Laura and I knew absolutely no one who lived there, TC immediately grabbed the iPod and put on Nelly's "Ride Wit Me" while Laura and I spotted an empty table perfect for dancing on in front of the fireplace...needless to say we kept the party alive up there. We left just as TC had changed the song to an old Juelz Santana throwback...
Anyways, back to my free-Sunday; Laura, Devon, and I went to the Halloween outlet store and I spent a total of $12 on my Spider-woman costume (yes, Spiderman watch was totally necessary). We then went to this adorable farm stand where we met up with Jodi and then went on a hayride, made our way through a "difficult" corn maze, bought little pumpkins to carve, and fed grass to the donkey's there. It sounds cliche to say that it was perfect fall weather and that it was sickeningly sweet that we were able to spend the day doing something as simple as taking a hayride, but it really was a quintessential fall afternoon...sue me for being so cute okay?! And, like usual, Ella killed the Sunday dinner- Polish comfort food: rice with thick, lemony sauce with chopped chicken stirred in, and steamed broccoli on the side...perfection. Now it's time to end the evening with a scary, Halloween inspired movie.

oh and hey, chicks love pumpkin picking:

t.g.i.f.? (last friday night)

At the peak of last Friday night, we had 90 people in our apartment....90. Being the hilariously funny girls that we are, earlier in the week we decided to create an facebook event entitled, "Gym Casual", in honor of our noise violation our RA's gave us on a night we had gotten back from some sweaty workouts (thanks resident advisers, you're really nabbing the kids who are getting into real trouble). We invited (stupidly) 160 of our friends, thinking (or hoping) that not everyone would show- for the most part we were wrong. We borrowed a friend's 3-foot tall pair of speakers, hooked up my iPod, grabbed a black light, set up a ruit table, cleared out 80% of our furniture, and got down to business...dancing business obviously. Most girls were in yoga pants and sports bras, but some wore running shorts and tanks, or some combination of the two, while the boys wore gym shorts and t-shirts. But about an hour in, most boys had their shirts off due to the absolute extreme heat. I'm not exaggerating- it was so hot that the walls were perspiring and all the posters fell and the mirror in the bathroom area was literally foggy, you had to wipe it off to see anything. My good friends who had lived in our apartment last year were shocked that we were able to throw a half-decent party and just kept saying, "This is so weird..." Which it was- having the party and having them there made it feel like we were in a time warp back to when they lived here. We had people standing on tables, couches, chairs, singing and dancing and going nuts when certain throwbacks, such as Destiny's Child "Jumpin' Jumpin'", came on. Being that quiet hours had changed to midnight, we planned on kicking everyone out around 11:45, just to give ourselves some time to persuade the really drunk people to leave. Instead, our toilet overflowed at 11:20 and the police happened to be outside the building, so Ella (who was lovingly on sober duty) said, "ALYSSA get everyone out NOW" Taking my cue, I jumped up onto the coffee table and told everyone to get out. When they didn't really listen, Nate jumped up with me and, with a much deeper and more authoritative voice, said, "hey! ya'll don't have to go home, but you gotta get the fuck up outta here!" Mission accomplished- people stared at him for a second and then started filing out...Ella told him repeatedly that he was her favorite and that she loved him. When we finally got the last of the people out, we had about 20 of our friends still hanging out in the living room, fans in their laps on high, trying to cool off before heading out into the monsoon outside (stupid, now that I think about it...). As we were cleaning up, we realized that both toilets were broken, a wall hanging had literally been ripped out of the wall, random sweaty shirts were all over the apartment, the floor was damp from a mixture of things I don't want to the think about, our trashcans/recycling bins were overflowing, and we had 20 sweaty people laying all over our couches...but we had such a good time. Ella, sadly, hated it because she had to be the "boss" (like I was the weekend before) and deal with drunken idiots, loud music, and sweltering heat all while trying to keep us from being evicted, but next time it's someone else's turn ;)

woah...

Wow. I wish I had as much swag as these two little boys. What are they, 8 or 9? Better steal some moves and step my game up, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery...

http://www.worldstarhiphop.com/videos/video.php?v=wshhSLxE20N5N2kLFrM6

gym list #2

I have one of my many gym playlist's already posted, but I thought I'd share another after tonight's gym sesh...which also included a "Groovin' Cardio" class with a hilarious male teacher- in spandex, doing jazz hands.
Anyways...

1. Ima Boss- Rick Ross, Meek Mill
2. She Will- Lil' Wayne ft. Drake
3. Oh My (Remix)- DJ Drama, Trey Songz, Big Sean
4. Oh Yes- Juelz Santana
5. N* in Paris- Jay-Z & Kanye West
6. Neverland- J. Cole
7. Pot of Gold- The Game
8. Sicker Than Yo Average- Trey Songz, Biggie, Red Cafe
9. Si No Le Contesto- Plan B
10. Free Spirit- Drake ft. Rick Ross
11. Nas is Like- Nas
12. Drivin' Me Wild- Common
13. Home Town- Big Sean
14. Who Gon' Stop Me- Jay-Z & Kanye West
15. House Party- Meek Mill ft. Young Chris
16. Hate Me Now- Nas
17. Rolex- The Dream
18. Nasty- Rick Ross
19. Yeah- Usher
20. Bad Girls Club- Wale ft. J. Cole
21. Ring The Alarm- Beyonce

so good....enjoy

early morning awkwardness

So I decided to be extra ambitious this morning and go to the gym...at 6:45am. My roommate Ella and I both rolled out of bed, put on our clothes with our eyes still shut, split a cookie dough power bar, and made the five minute trek to the gym. A University bus drove past us and the driver shook his head as if to say, "Idiots, if it weren't for this campus job I'd still be sleeping...what the hell are you doing?" Surprisingly, there was a decent amount of other idiots...I mean people...there as well. I decided to start on the mats with stretching and then abs. I chose one near the back, behind the basketball courts, so that when I began to struggle on my last rep no one would be witness but me. Eyes shut, Drake singing about his trust issues coming through my headphones, I began my workout. No sooner had I done twenty crunches when about thirty boys walked over to me, and stood in a half-moon circle around me. Appalled, I tried to pretend that it didn't phase me...until a coach came over as well. Now I was in the middle of a circle of pretty good looking boys, with a coach laying down orders and explaining drills, while I tried to continue my crunches and make it look like shit wasn't a big deal...coooool. That lasted about two minutes. As soon as I tried to do a bicycle crunch I kicked a boy in the shin (really graceful, and yes, they were standing that close)- I got up, pretended I had better things to do then be an unofficial member on whatever "team" they were on, and walked away...almost into a girl who was jumping rope. After avoiding what could have been another fiasco, I finally made it into the weight room, found a free treadmill (which is a miracle most of the time) and happily ran to some early-morning introspective-driven lyricism by Nas.

ciao, bella!

So my sweet songtress, Maura, spent her last Thursday with me at UNH last night...so sad. Actually, it's more bittersweet- I wish she could spend every night in my room dancing and rapping Jay-Z, having sleepovers on the weekends, partying with our awesome friends, eating way too much at the dining halls, etc., basically what we did all last year- but knowing that she'll be roaming the countryside of Bra, Italy makes me so happy for her. Three months in the beautiful Italian countryside is exactly what she deserves; I hope she eats piles of homemade pasta, makes fresh pizza with a little old woman, drinks the most delicious red wine, and takes the most gorgeous pictures that make me green with envy......

WAIT. I was writing this Friday morning after she left; reminiscing about how awesome our night was. I figured a post about her would be perfect. But instead of finishing the post, I went to Chipotle and TJ Maxx with my roommates, and left the post to be finished when I got back later. Feeling good after a shopping high, we got back to our apartment around 7:30. I was getting drinks ready in the kitchen and cleaning up while my five roommates were all crowded around the bathroom area, dancing and laughing. I kept looking down and wondering why no one was coming out here to do the dancing where the music was the loudest but I didn't question it. Finally, I walked down the hallway and began making really important arrangements like who was going to shower first, what people were going to wear tonight, when people were getting here...serious stuff. Ella and I decided we'd shower first, so I turned to my bedroom to get my towel, but I didn't find my towel...I switched my light on and had a near heart-attack when Maura, sitting on my bed, said, "I'M BACK!" My response? Screaming. A lot of screaming. And jumping, a lot of jumping...the last jump being on top of Maura where I stayed hugging her, nearing tears. The girls all crowded around us, laughing and saying, "We knew the whole time!!"...those sneaky bitches. So, when I finally released Maura she told me that'd she'd made it about halfway home when she realized that there was no way in hell she was going to go into work tonight when tonight had the potential to be her last night with her friends. Pulling into a McDonald's, for an hour and half, she made a dozen phone calls and text messages trying to pull strings and re-arrange everyone's schedule so that she could get her shift covered and come back up. When she finally got something worked out, she called her boss. Of course, the boss asked the reason why she wouldn't be coming in, and Maura's response was, "I have to see my best friend before I go to Italy."

My girl.

shit my roommate says

I decided to share some hilarious quotes that I've accumulated over the past three years being at college that are absolutely hilarious and are filed under a Word document titled, "Shit My Roommate Says" much like the famous column "Shit My Dad Says". Here's a sampling of some of them....
Enjoy :)

"I made about $100 and blew it all on alcohol and command strips"
"I think I'm invisible to some people, like when people look at the glare from a solar panel reflection, that's like looking at my skin, you're instantly blinded because I'm so pale"
"Snow forts are for six year olds, this is like snow fort Knox"
"I'm gonna get so wasted and start acting out all the Harry Potter movies...by myself!"
"I guess I'll take her dignity and morals because she's losing both of them tonight"
"Skittles make even a rainy day seem sunny"
"Roommates are only good for two things: plucking eyebrows and cracking backs"
"I was gonna do no-shave-November but it's only been three days and I look like a pedophile"
"I just realized my Dad and I have the same taste in clothing"
"The kid's an animal- he tries to act all quiet and innocent, but give him three Rolling Rocks and it's a different story..."
"He spelled 'Rhode Island' wrong but then I looked at his abs and didn't even care"
"My lifestyle is not working out with macroeconomics right now..."
"He's a black-belt so I wouldn't physically fight him, but I'd tear his emotions apart"
"You're sexy like a box of chocolates"
"Look at that kid, the grave mistakes of first semester freshman year..."

little blessings

The first week of school is fondly called "Silly-bus" week...get it? Syllabus? I know, I know, hysterical. For my friends and me, it usually means non-stop laughing, hanging out, classes that are under an hour, sunshine, and nights of drinking, dancing, and catching up. This semester though did not start out as others usually do because of a horrible tragedy within a group of my friends. Though it didn't directly effect me, the indirect effect has been great. Maybe it's because sometimes I'm considered more sensitive than others, or I wear my emotions on my sleeve, but other people's sadness (especially my friends) effects me in an overwhelming way. I tend to want to hold other people's emotions for them, carry their burdens so they hurt less, or reach out so that they feel cared about and supported. I internalize their feelings as my own in the hopes that I can relate to what they feel or help in some way. Surprisingly, my friends have been laughing, drinking, and dancing like crazy at parties, their strength coming from the fact that they're together and still have each other and are able to share memories; but seeing their Facebook statuses shows me that deep down their pain is still unbearable, still haunts them when they're alone in their rooms at night. I prayed this morning for them all that they would find solace in each other, in the beautiful day outside, and the fact that there is strength in numbers and love within each other. I believe that everything happens for a reason; that people are a part of your life for a reason, whether they come and go quickly and leave you with a lingering smile, or are in and out of your life for years, or stand by your side like a rock until your ninety, there are no mistakes as to why they've interacted with you. Sometimes I think people inadvertently take for granted the friends they have, especially the ones who sincerely care about them. Good friends are a blessing. I think every once in a while we need to take a step back and look at the people in our lives and be thankful for how lucky we are.

"To me, every hour of the day and night is an unspeakably perfect miracle." - Walt Whitman

college, the golden years

I finally arrived back at school...thank God. Now, don't get me wrong, it's been an awesome summer- but two NYC trips, 3 jobs, a little west coast visit, a lot of family, and some buses to Boston later, I was definitely ready to get back. I'm in an apartment with five other girls this year- three of which I lived with freshman year of college and now we're reuniting for our junior year- it only seemed right! The six of us make up a diverse group; from a journalism major, to my roommate who's pre-med, to Candice who can "speak" sign language, to another who has Celiac's disease...but we share a common love of shopping (both in stores and using the very dangerous and highly addictive on-line sites) which we made clear the day after we moved in. Shopping addictions aside- we DEFINITELY needed the matching bath mats in front of the two bathroom sinks right?!? (Oh well, at least they look cute) We really lucked out with our place. The apartment is huge, but the strange part is that this was the apartment that my best friend's boyfriend lived in last year, where the six wild boys had parties every Thursday-Saturday night while also inviting people over every other night. We celebrated new years here and poured champagne all over the carpets, we celebrated numerous birthdays, had dance parties as much as possible, turned up a speaker so loud that it caught on fire, dropped ashes on the floor from one of the boy's hookahs, someone almost fell through a screen in the window while dancing on a table, someone punched a hole in the wall one night, we overflowed the toilet and it leaked down to the apartment below, we made chicken alfredo and everyone got sick from the sauce, honored Cinco de Mayo with margaritas, a few people funneled rum and coke, we watched basketball most of the time, music was always playing, black lights were always on, and to hold up a torn piece of line paper for each night's ruit list was a steak knife stabbed into the wall. Knowing all this, you would think that this place was dirty hovel, a piece of crap, a place where you couldn't take your shoes off for fear of catching disease.  But the boys somehow managed to clean up (or so they made us believe when we came over on a weeknight); they kept their cabinets labeled (my favorite being "glassware" which contained all the champagne flutes, wine and margarita glasses that were specifically for the "ladies") and they made "family" dinners all the time- the chicken parmigiana was delicious if I do say so myself. Those boys are some of the funniest people I've ever met - technically six lived in this apartment but another six lived across the hall and most of the time it seemed like they were all part of one huge, friendly, hilarious fraternity- always in and out of each other's places, doors always open, we had the best time. So to come in a week ago to an apartment where a picture of michael jordan's wingspan did not sit atop a pyramid of well placed basketball jerseys, or see a small bar rescued from a garage sale set up in the corner had disappeared and the the six-foot-tall T.V. set was not up against the wall, I had a very strange sense of uncomfortable-ness about moving into this apartment...this was not my apartment...this was where we danced on top of tables to Rihanna and Lil' Wayne, where we watched the Superbowl, where the boys were always up until at least 2am every night. I'm still trying to think of it as my own, and believe me, the girly additions such as table lamps, flowers, bamboo place mats, and posters of lovers kissing by the Eiffel Tower in black and white definitely make it more our own, but it will always be the original club C302...I mean hey, we can't get rid of that highlighter paint on our wall that says their names, someday they'll find strong enough paint to cover it up.

cole world, no snuggie

To put it bluntly, I'm obsessed with J. Cole. I think he's far more talented than many other hip-hop artists out there who are trying to do the "real" music thing- which is why I'm anxiously awaiting his Cole World: The Sideline Story release on Sept. 27th. To tie over crazed fans he's been slowly releasing singles such as Return of Simba, Disgusting, Lost Ones, Cheer Up, How High, Can't Get Enough and Work Out along with posting videos of himself on uStream and releasing 2 small mixtapes, one with 4 songs and the other with 3, of previously unreleased music (minus How High which is on one of them). Today, he just officially posted his video for Work Out- something I'm sure most guys, and girls (myself included) were excited to see after seeing his cover art for the single. The video was what I expected, Cole with a bunch of gorgeous chicks surrounding him, street ball, a party, some singular shots of him- kind of a typical video, but what I really liked was the fashion in it. One girl in the beginning is shown wearing a gold chain earring/necklace that is so funky and cool over a cropped and shredded black t-shirt and denim cut-offs...bad chick. I also love the denim-on-denim on the main girl in the video- don't get the wrong idea, it's not a Canadian tuxedo (sorry, eh) but instead rolled light wash denim shorts and a cropped, light wash denim vest over a brightly colored tank...again, bad chick. J. Cole has swag in this as well- military jacket, another denim button up, gold watch, simple white t's, not over the top. Much like his musical style, which isn't typically writing verses about blowing money on extravagant things or wearing hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of diamonds, his music reflects his real life, not some persona made for the industry. He writes about making it as an artist, coming from nothing and striving for something (while meeting some women, some clubs, and some drinks along the way), never giving up because he knows that although he's headlined for talents such as Rihanna, has been applauded by Jay-Z, and played at the huge Bonnaroo festival, he still has a long way to go and is seems humbled knowing that.
Cole World, 9.27.11.
Work Out

listen&enjoy

gym playlist

I literally don't know if I could go to the gym without my iPod. Yes, the gym plays music over their loud speakers so if you don't have the luxury of owning some sort of music device there's still something there to keep you going...but there's only so much Miranda Cosgrove, Jonas Brothers, and Hansen I can take (and those are Planet Fitness' main artists on their music playlist). I just got back from a great workout with Alex (who's training for a 5k...myyyy girl!) so I figured why not share one of my many gym playlist's- maybe someone else will use it to power through their 30 minutes on the elliptical-or perhaps veteran Disney Channel stars are more your style...

1. Bring it Back- Tyga

2. Can't Get Enough- J. Cole

3. Trade It All (Pt. 2)- Fabolous ft. Jagged Edge, P. Diddy

4. Verme- Baby Ranks

5. Live This Life- Big Sean ft. The Dream

6. Heart of the City- Jay-Z

7. Hi You Dern- LoS

8. All Systems Go- The Deans List ft. OnCue

9. Don't Wanna Be a Player- Big Pun

10. 100 Keys- Big Sean

11. Did It On 'Em - Nicki Minaj

12. Baltimore 2 Step- LoS

13. Yoko Ono- Chris Brown

14. By Any Means- Wale ft. Meek Mill, Rick Ross, Pill

15. Hometown Hero- Big K.R.I.T.

16. What U Doin' Bullshittin'- Big Sean

17. Upgrade U- Beyonce

18. Dear Professor- The Deans List

19. Lights Out (I Don't See Nobody)- Fabolous

20. Only Wanna Give It To You- Elle Varner ft. J. Cole

21. Return of Simba- J. Cole

22. U Don't Have to Call- Usher

23. Hard In the Paint (remix)- Waka Flocka Flame ft. Ciara

FFANY

Fashion Footwear Association of New York.
a.k.a.- heaven.

I have just arrived home from New York City after 4 days of staring (more like drooling) over buttery leathers, soft suede's, and colorful fabrics that are part of what make up the beautiful brands of Sofft, Born, Isola, Kork-Ease, Vintage, and Walk-Over's- which are the beautiful shoes that made my eyes hungry and my feet itch with desire.

I was lucky enough this summer to be allowed to help out at my dad's company- H.H. Brown Shoe- working with line-sheets, photography, data entry, and numerous other odd-jobs that need an extra hand around the office. This may sound like sarcasm (but trust that it's not)- I truly enjoy driving 45 min. in rush hour to finally walk through the glass doors on the fourth floor and be surrounded by fashion and shoes every day. But aside from being able to occasionally take home the unwanted size 9's heaped in a pile out back (why aren't they already taken is my question), the best perk of this job was having the opportunity to come down to NYC twice this summer to be a part of FFANY.

FFANY happens four times a year and is a great way for buyers to come see shoes up-close and decide which shoes they'd like to have in their upcoming collections. H.H. Brown is lucky enough to have a beautiful showroom right off Broadway and Fashion Ave., but many other shoe designers and company's simply rent the exhibition space in a nearby hotel if they don't have a showroom in the city.  On the 14th floor, our showroom is beautiful; with light mahogany wood floors, windows on every side over looking Times Square, two kitchens, two small runways, and space for each of the company's shoe lines, it's a very impressive place to bring buyers- companies such as Saks, Nordstroms, Dillard's, Macy's, Bloomingdales, Bon-Ton, and many other big department stores as well as small boutiques.

The first night we arrived around 8:30pm after being stuck in about 5 hours of traffic- typical rushing around the city without regard for others will cause accidents, who knew? Anyways, we set up the photo equipment, met with the Russian cleaning guy who was super sweet, and I quickly glanced over the rack of clothes the models would be wearing over the next few days- white lace, crochet, bandage skirts, gauzy tops, sheer florals...aaah. My dad dragged me out so we could finally check in to the hotel- after working in the office from 8 to 3 and then driving from 3 to 8, we were absolutely exhausted and starving (salted peanuts and chocolate on the drive up just didn't cut it). We checked into our hotel, Ink 48, and I was blown away. A converted printing factory, Ink 48 is set on 48th street right near Hell's Kitchen and surrounded by a lot of car dealerships. My favorite part about the hotel was that it was pet friendly, with a dog bowl and chalkboard bone at the front entrance that read, "Ink 48 Welcomes Brady!"- the bowl was filled with treats! Inside the glass doors that extremely nice (and nice-looking) doormen open is a funky and modern interior. Warm colors such as gold, red, bronze, and orange play off the dark mahogany floors and music is pumped over the speakers. My room was on the 2nd floor, had an impressive king size bed (which I wish I could have shared with my girlfriends...another time!) a huge bathroom, a flat screen, stocked mini-bar, and complementary leopard bathrobes and umbrellas; needless to say I was more than happy with my arrangements for the next three days. I quickly changed into something more comfortable and met my dad downstairs to grab dinner...at 10:30pm. Now, whenever I travel with my dad I always feel the need to make it very clear that he is my father and not my aging, mustached boyfriend. So, I tend to say, "daaaaad" really loudly and proceed to say variations of, "Have you called mooooom since we got here? What do you think MOM is doing? Do you miss MOM?" etc. I hope people get the hint. Anyways, we ended up at this restaurant in Hell's Kitchen called 44andahalf and it was amazing. Dimly lit white and black interior and a small courtyard where you could eat under the stars and had fairy lights draped over the ivy covered rock walls- naturally we ate outside. The servers were all male and all gay, wearing pink t-shirts with different sayings on each. The shirt our waiter, Joey, had on said "heaven" on the front and "hell" on the back. Another waiter's said "over" on the front and "easy" on the back. I don't really get it but I like the concept. We got two huge crab cakes as appetizers and they were outstanding- they on a bed of lettuce with thinly sliced red and yellow peppers scattered around the plate and sides of peanut sauce, ginger sauce and some sort of spicy one that my dad thoroughly enjoyed. For my meal I got the Summer Salad and it was literally unbelievable. A thickly sliced heirloom tomato was the base and then, stacked like link n' logs, was generously cut watermelon and feta cheese drizzled with balsamic vinaigrette...wow. So simple yet so perfect. My dad and I left the restaurant around 11:30, went back to our separate rooms (his on the 5th floor had a much better view...I was jealous) and I proceeded to pass out as soon as I hit my pillow-top mattress.

Day 2- I shot out of bed at 7am to my alarm-clock radio playing "Can't Get Enough" by J. Cole, so obviously the day started out well. I met my dad and his assistant, Daniella, downstairs at 8am and we were in a cab by 8:15 on the way to the showroom. Drinking our complementary coffees, Daniella and I caught up on how awesome the new Kork-Ease were, how her adorable pug Duncan is, and how her sister's honeymoon in Italy is going. I love that she's only 23 and is on my level with so many things, especially the shoes. We got to the showroom by 8:30 and it was already filled with buyers, CEO's, presidents of shoe companies, caterers, and assistants. We spent the whole day in the backroom- the temporary media studio- shooting three quarter shots and pair shots of shoes from almost every line for the up-and-coming Fall 2011 season and Spring 2012 season. With my Kid Cudi Pandora radio station on, the day seemed to fly. I was introduced to media directors, art directors, creative directors, presidents, cleaning people, marketing people, web designers, and buyers, and surprisingly didn't feel overwhelmed meeting everyone and running around, but instead excited and energized by all of the hustle and bustle of it. After work, JD (the man behind all the promoting and marketing of the lines Walk-Overs, Kork-Ease, and Vintage) took us all to one of his favorite restaurants- Ember Room. A really funky and modern place that is Asian-American fusion food, my dad's boss accompanied us and proceeded to order everything on the menu...and it was all delicious (especially the chocolate ribs). After a raucous dinner involving politically incorrect statements being made at very loud volumes (thank you endless cocktails) we finally made our way back to the hotel. I, sadly, had to retreat to my room while everyone else went to the roof where the club/bar is- apparently very beautiful views overlooking the city...I of course wouldn't know because I laying in bed watching The Office until I fell asleep.

Day 3- Again, up at 7 but this time to the sweet melodies of "Desire, Want, and Need" by Big Sean. The showroom was just as busy as Tuesday, but this time I got to watch a few runway shows for the Sofft line which was really awesome- the models looked gorgeous in their dresses and my favorite was an Alice + Olivia cream colored bandage dress with an empire waist and criss-cross detailing showing her open back, fantastic. Around noon, my dad and I had to go to Grand Central Station to go pick up a camera he'd set up for another line of H.H. Brown, Dexter Shoe, which makes bowling shoes and sponsors events such as the one he'd set his camera up for- Teen Masters Finals- an event that was covered by Sports Illustrated, Time, and the New York Times. He'd set it up on a continuous interval shot at 8pm the night before, taking a shot every minute- so at this point there were about 1000 pictures stored on the memory! I met with the #1 bowler in the United States which was crazy, the president of Dexter, and the coordinator of the whole event- all really nice guys. They wanted the camera to continue taking pictures until the set-up was done (it was delayed because the NYPD came in and shut it down temporarily because the men setting it up weren't wearing long sleeve shirts and steel-toed work boots...typical unions) and they wanted to shots of the kids bowling. So in the meantime we went and got food in the dining concourse at a place called Zócalo, this delicious Mexican place. We ended up making friends with the manager who sadly informed us that the restaurant was being shut down after 14 years of being open because they were putting in a fast-food burger joint...right next to another burger place. He shook his head telling us he'd been there since the place opened and that it was really upsetting for him- we agreed, sympathizing and voicing how stupid it was to put in something they already had, this food was too delicious to shut down! At the end of our meal, our manager friend gave us two coupons for free house margarita's the next time we came back, and thanked us warmly for our support. Being nice pays off, eh? Afterwards, we went to go check on the bowling situation and noticed that some NY Fire Department workers had arrived and were eyeing my dad's camera rigged up on a huge ladder, seeming very suspicious. Two hours of waiting later, they had finally set up, thrown the first ball, made speeches, and we could get the camera and go. As soon as my dad climbed up the ladder to get the camera, a frantic middle aged woman came running towards me shaking her wrinkly index finger, "No! No! No! Get him down from there! Are you part of a Union?!" I shook my head and tried to explain my situation, but instead of listening to me she sneered at me and told me that we would be fined $7000 if anyone "important" came and saw (whatever that means). She tapped her foot, said "Sir pleaseeee" about twelve times, wagged her finger at me some more, and then finally walked away as my dad came down the later...really nice woman. We made it back to the studio around 4:30, did some more shooting and special requests for people, and then finally wrapped up around 7:30 and headed to dinner. Daniella, my dad, and I went to this incredible Italian restaurant called Amarone. It's won numerous awards for it's wine and food, and the atmosphere alone is fantastic. Dimly lit, white linens, candles, and a rose for every woman at the end of her meal- obviously I fell in love with the place. I got rigatoni e bolognese sauce and a house insalata to start. I literally burned my tongue on the sauce because I was so eager to keep eating it. After basically licking my plate clean, we ordered dessert. Daniella and my dad got chocolate cake with hazelnut gelato and I got a warm apple tart with vanilla gelato- soooo good. I left with a white rose and crashed into bed totally content (and very full).

Day 4- We were able to sleep in a little bit because we were way ahead on the pictures and linesheets- Daniella and I make an unbeatable team when it comes to getting things done. We wrapped up a few leftover shots of groups of shoes and then began cleaning up and packing up all the camera equipment for our trek back in the afternoon. Sadly, we were unable to make it to the insanely cool Training Camp, or, TC Supply Shop, which sells the Vintage, Walk-Over, Gorilla, and Kork-Ease shoes, along with brands such as Naked&Famous denim and Levi's. With chandeliers, taxidermy deer heads, and vintage antique shoe making machines, Johnny Cash and Jay-Z on the speakers, this store defines cool. We left the city after grabbing freshly made strecci, ciabatta, and bomboloni at Sullivan Street Bakery for the drive home...the pane and dolci didn't even last us to the parkway.

Five hours of traffic later I was back to reality...but I'm itching to return back and embrace the empire state of mind again.

44andahalf
Ember Room
Zócalo
Amarone
TC Supply Shop
Sullivan Street Bakery

Saco'ed

I have arrived home sandy, sweaty, sore, exhausted, but above all, happy, from my weekend at Fryeburg, Maine. This trip was planned last December, December, because people were so excited about it. Not only was it a chance for all of us to spend 2 nights by the beach, but it was also one of our close friends 21st birthday- so the celebrations were endless. About 35 of us met up at 4:45A.M. at a visitor center near the highway- people had made the trek from southern Mass, Connecticut, even New York, to meet up and be part of the raucous caravan that would be heading to the infamous Saco River. Two french-vanilla ice coffees, 1 Red Bull, 1 wrong turn, 2 tolls, and a playlist of Chris Brown later, we'd finally arrived at a dirt road, a nearly hidden entrance to Fiddlehead Campground.
From our car we could hear shouts and yells from our friends in the cars in front of us- ecstatic about the impending two days of what I heard would be no sleep. We drove down a windy, bumpy dirt road, bottoming out at the end, and arrived at a shack where I checked in with the "staff" of two college age girls- definitely not the most well run place, but perfect for a group of college kids. Checked in, ready to go, we drove down to Beach 1 (the rumored "best" beach) and parked our cars on the side of the dunes. There were about twelve tents between our group, and about six hundred tents on the beach overall. People yelling, music blaring, the occasional firework bursting above- I literally had to ask myself, "Is this real life?"
The next two days were a blur of loud music, being woken up at 5am by fireworks and someone yelling, "TIME TO GET UP AND GET SACOED!", making friends with everyone we met, dancing on the beach, floating five miles down the river armed with floats, funnels, and food, and laughing around numerous campfires. Yes, the port-a-potty's were appalling; yes, being woken up at 5 was incredibly annoying; yes, my tent had about three inches of sand coating the inside; and yes, I felt like I'd been hit by a train when I arrived home Sunday afternoon, but would I go back?


Hell yes. But only one weekend a summer- a person can only take so much Saco...

just like Ice Cube...

...today was a good day.

This song is unlike any others from this time period- no champagne, no Lambo's, no naked chicks, just Ice Cube eating a good breakfast, driving around, and noticing how the just the simplest things are going smoothly, making his day great. Now, I don't live in South Central, I don't wear a bandanna (usually), and I don't have nearly as many problems as this guy typically raps about, but today was a good day, and this song epitomizes it.

Early Saturday afternoon, my friend Pat picked me up from house and what erupts from the speakers as we pull away? The steady beat of Ice Cubes good day. We then went to mini-carnival (where we saw some girl take a hard fall down a pair of stairs BUT somehow managed to only land on her knees and then magically jumped right up while holding drinks in either hand...carnies) and then had had enough of the heat and met up with our friend Sal. Pulling up in his truck, windows down, coincidentally enough, his speakers sang, "...today was a good day".

From there we went to an infamous place...the Westford Quarries. Now, I know it's illegal to go there and jump off (and with good reason because some idiots do get hurt and start fights or go there with bad intentions) but we only had the purest of intentions- adrenaline rushes and cold water on a 97 degree day. We trudged up a dirt hill, part of a construction site, muttering swears under our breath, my flip flops slipping on the gravel and rubble. Sweaty and panting, we finally reached the top. We began climbing up rocks and through the woods until we reached the highest jump-off point- 50 feet. No way. There was about sixty other kids there, some junior high aged, some college aged, all jumping off and screaming into the dark blue lagoon. I was one of 3 girls that I could see, and the others were just sitting watching, not partaking in this spontaneity. At one point three boys did back-flips at the same time from about 35 ft. up. Another brave, idiotic, boy did a gainer, a gainer, from the 50 ft. ledge. I started at about 15 ft. up, and with the help of almost everyone there cheering me on, I moved to the next highest, and then by the end of the day I'd made it to about 30 ft., definitely high enough and exhilarating enough for me. Pat and Sal jumped off the 50 ft. rock, both reassuringly telling me I could have their cars if they didn't resurface and sentimentally saying, "You know what to tell our mothers..." as they ran off the edge- boys. We swam around in the water all afternoon as the sun beat down on our shoulders. They pretended to circle me like sharks and then we all floated on our backs, eyes shut, as kids splashed down around us. We reminisced about college, how we were itching to go back, how gross the water probably was, how hungry we were. When we finally left my body was achy, my cheeks were pink, Pat's Air Jordan's were filthy, and I had a bruise on my rib-cage from slipping on a rock, but I couldn't find anything to complain about...well, maybe that it didn't last long enough.

today was a good day

Los&Tyga

In heaven...I just downloaded the eagerly anticipated mixtapes by Los AND Tyga, Worth the Wait and Well Done 2, respectively.
Los is an up-and-coming phenom from Baltimore with a strong following of die-hard supporters; who, as he says on his track "Say You Will", from the mixtape Welcome to Swaggsville, "You know, I officially got the word from my fans that I'm the best rapper alive[...]Haters, ya'll welcome to come, my fans will crucify you in them comments, haha..." Now, I'm not one of his fans who would go as far to say he's the best rapper alive, but he is damn good. I fell in love with him when I heard his cover of Alicia Keys "Unthinkable", he did a beautiful job with it and I haven't heard another male artist do it quite like that. Diddy made a mistake not signing and working with him. Welcome to Swaggsville is an incredible mixtape, 18 songs with no real definitive break in between, just the music flowing into the other. Shooter, The Louis Vuitton Gift Pack, The Crown Ain't Safe, and Zero Gravity were all equally well done and albums that put Los on the map as a real artist who should be watched out for.
Tyga is a staple in Weezy's Young Money team, hailing from California. Skinny and covered in tattoo's, he's another artist who goes hard, and with passion, in everything he does- Wayne was smart to catch him before someone else did. His mixtapes, Well Done, Black Thoughts, Black Thoughts 2, and his collaboration album, Fan of a Fan with Chris Brown, have likewise established him as a talented young rapper; just what YMCMB wants. In the beginning of the song "Black Thoughts" some incredible recordings open the song along with a few infamous rappers who once spoke their views of the rap world and industry, at one point saying, "What the rap audience isn't ready for is a real person..." Tyga bases his persona around this, working to show his real side, and to open a mixtape with a song like this is very strong and sets the stage for what the audience should expect next. Fan of a Fan was a very different installment than any of his other mixtapes, many of the songs were much sexier, his verses combined with Breezy's silky words were seemed most likey aimed at the female audience (I love the mixtape, so they definitely did their job there). Black Thoughts 2 was heavier and deeper look in the rapper's life, with songs like "Never Be the Same", "Reminded", and "Involved" as slower introspective tracks and some bangers like "Bad Bitches" which goes over a classic Lex Luger beat. (Speaking of Lex Luger, I'm in awe of his talent at such a young age.)
Needless to say, I know what I'll be listening to for the next few days...

a few samples from their older mixtapes
unthinkable
hi you dern
say you will
regular girl
black thoughts
never be the same

Special Case

I'm sitting in my sticky-hot room in my leopard print silk robe (courtesy of the sale bin at Victoria's Secret), fan on high, thinking about boys. A boy, in particular. A man, to be more specific. An exception, to make things confusing. I think everyone has that one special case, that one person that, despite everything, they'd go running back to in a second if given the chance. Why is that? How do these people get a hold on you so very deeply, and, do you think the hold is just as strong for them?

I have one exception. 

He undermines all the girl-power advice I give to my girlfriends, challenges the independent woman that I see myself as who doesn't need (or want) him, and continuously draws me back in, closer each time. These situations should be easy: you want someone, they can't give themselves to you completely, you walk away- there should be no room for settling, for making an exception. So why is it that everyone does? Everyone thinks to themselves, next time I will walk away, next time I won't kiss them, next time I'll say, "I want all of you or nothing at all." But instead we say minuscule adaptations of what really should be said because we we're afraid of what the answers to the hard questions might be.

I want to ask, "When you can see that I care deeply for you and have been there fighting and trying from the start, what makes it so hard for you to love me?" Instead, I make excuses for my exception. I ask watered-down versions of this in the hopes that I can catch a glimmer of the underlying emotions he keeps hidden. I understand that I've allowed him to be an exception- he knows it, his best friends know it, my best friends know it. Constantly I'm being told, "He doesn't deserve you...Let him go, move on...You can do so much better...Why do you keep going back to him?" The more they ask me. lecture me, plead with me (both his friends and mine), the more I seek him, the more I feel in my stomach and in the deepest crevice of my heart that part of him is stuck in me, I care without question. He stares at me with his deep, dark brown eyes, the eyes that find mine across rooms of crowded people and penetrate through me, and I can't decide if I can trust what they tell me is hidden in the dark red corners of his heart. I want to hear him speak the words his eyes whisper.

you see right through me

the dean's list

I recently got a friend request from a store called Laced Boston complete with mission statement, "In Laced We Trust"- urban street wear, art, snap-backs and fitted's, Jordan's and Dunk's. Upon accepting this request (how could I deny the chance to look at even more clothes, art, and music in the same spot located in my favorite city?) I received an invitation for a meet and greet at the store with the Boston based group The Dean's List. Three cool dudes who have an album called "The Drive-In" (which I downloaded for free-99 from Datpiff.com) and are doing shows with Kid Cudi, Pusha T, and XV to name a few. I feel like this event would be a totally new experience for me, but so awesome to go to- the combination of clothing, art, and good music is what I dream about daily. And hey, if this leads to getting more invites to events like this, who knows, maybe I could use my communication and English double major to start writing for music / fashion sites or magazines and interviewing store owners and artists...a girl can dream right?

sam

Next to my laptop is a beautiful white picture frame, with intricate twirls on the edges that is reminiscent of the Victorian -era. The picture inside this frame though is what speaks to me- it's of one of my best male friends from high school. He and I had the same sarcastic sense of humor, shared a love of the late Tupac Shakur (we spent hours sifting through online articles about conspiracy theories attached to his murder), English class (he was gifted with pen and paper), as well as many other things that bonded us when we first met in 8th grade. Looking at that picture, circa 2006, taken in my kitchen, this is the friend I remember. The co-conspirator who wore Roc-A-Wear from The Burlington Coat Factory and helped me think up schemes to stay out later, go to Denny's after school dances, challenged me on different types of music, and helped me study for Mrs. Kirby's (a.k.a. "Kurb-stomps") history exams. It was taken with my sisters Polaroid camera, and on that white black spot beneath the image is half a heart and the word "friend$"- he has the other half of the heart underneath my picture with the word "best".

The person he is now is one that scares me. The past two years has been a series of huge change for him, for our friendship. He started out school at UMASS Amherst, subsequently dropped out after about a semester and a half. He met a girl who, at first, alienated me, didn't trust me- all his friends hated her. They both moved back home and began taking classes at the community college in a neighboring city. He visited me up at school a few times; I took him to a black-light kegger one night at a "fraternity" that had been shut down years ago for some, uh, illegal problems- the infamous 99 Madbury. Subsequently, the police came busting the back door, I hid in the shower with three of my girlfriends, the owners got busted, but we made it home safe, scot-free. This was the friend I knew, the partner in crime (innocent, of course).

That was a year ago. He works at a pizza shop in my town now, every day, 9-9. In the beginning of the summer, before any of my three jobs had started, I'd stop by almost every other day to chat and catch up, to just see him. About a month and a half ago my mother heard news about her estranged brother, my uncle. My uncle went crazy when I was about twelve- started telling my mother I would go to hell for reading Harry Potter, denounced Christmas and Easter because they were too commercialized, and began preaching the Bible the way he interpreted it. He banned my mother, my aunt, my grandparents, my sister, me, everyone from seeing his children and contacting his family. After not hearing about him or from him in years, my mother found out that he had taken his three children (Ezekial, Noah, and Hope) to Kodiak Island, Alaska.

This directly pertains to my friend. I saw him about four weeks ago and he informed me that he was taking religion very seriously. I asked him, "Well, what do you mean? I knew you were always pretty religious, what with going to Church every Sunday and what-not..." and he said it was different now. He doesn't listen to music. He doesn't watch T.V. He doesn't drink or smoke anymore. He doesn't hang out with friends anymore. He simply works, reads the Bible (or listens to it on book-tape), does things outside, and spends constant time with his girlfriend. This news took my breath away- doesn't listen to music? You're telling me the person I once knew who didn't go anywhere without his headphones, knew every word to Jedi Mind Tricks, traveled to Boston to meet Vinny Paz, saw Kid Cudi live and told me, "It was the best experience of my life", doesn't listen to music? The person who made me watch Team America and would spend hours laughing at The Office with me, doesn't watch television? I walked out of the pizza shop speechless, with parting words that went something like, "Well, if you ever want to take a hike sometime, let me know...I'd love to spend some time with you..." He nodded and said, "Sure thing Lyssy." I ran into his younger sister about a week ago at a graduation party. We exchanged the polite how-are-you's and talked about school, but the conversation moved to her older brother. She told me he'd gone crazy. Thinks the world was going to end in 2012 and built a bomb-shelter in their basement stocked with canned goods and flashlights and batteries. He doesn't believe in Christmas or Easter anymore. He wants to marry his girlfriend but not have children because in the Bible it says it's a sin to have bring children into a world that's ending. His sister said that she's afraid he's going to hurt her, he tells her every day that she's going to hell. I stared at her, the tears welled up in my eyes and I ran inside to the bathroom. This was my uncle, and I saw his future heading in the same delusional, hurtful, direction.

I've begun to realize how much can change in a few years. People grow up, grow apart, begin their adult lives. I always had this naive idea that my friends would always remain true to their high school personas, growing perhaps, but never changing their roots, the roots that attached themselves to me. I have to grow up as well and come to terms with the idea that he'll never be the same person again, that something inside him switched on, or off maybe. What I lost in him I hope I can gain in someone else. But I'll always keep his picture by my computer, those memories of his sixteen-year-old self shine brightly.

Cole World.

J. Cole - one of the most talented artists in hip-hop, "My story ain't the only one I'm tryin' to tell..." cole, cole, world.

freakum-dress

I worked my usual 2-6 shift at Charlotte Russe today- with the usual mess of tangled clothes on the racks, lines out the door, and customers dying to be a part of our BOGO shoe deal. I was hurrying through a rack of clothes in the fitting rooms, turning clothes inside out, putting them back on the hangers (seriously, why do people do this?) and sorting them into sections like "Goddesstri", "Date Night", and "Summer Escape", when I saw it.

My birthday dress.
Black, mid-thigh, with a high lace neck and a long streak of lace down to just above the bellybutton. Perfect. I turned it over and saw the back was all intricate, twirling, lace as well. Again, perfect. I had to have it. I quickly ran up front and stashed it behind the counter with careful instructions NOT to let anyone put it back on the rack, try it on, or buy it- I couldn't lose a dress like this. I counted down the minutes until my measly 4 hour shift ended, finally ringing out my last customer at 6:02 and typing "khalifa1" into the password box under "END SHIFT". In the fitting room I prayed it would fit- the only dress in this style left in the store had to be a medium, and anyone who has seen my backside would argue that a medium may have its work cut out...but it fit perfect. After sending a joint picture message to my 3 roommates entitled "freakum-birthday-dress!" I nearly skipped to the register.

As the beautiful Beyonce once said, "Pull out the big guns, and put your freakum dress on"

one down, many to go

I finally stopped procrastinating and got up the nerve to start a blog. I'm not entirely sure where I want this to go, but being that my life revolves around music, family, my hilarious friends, college and an obsession with shoes and fashion (as well as an array of many other things I'm passionate about) I figured a blog would be a good way to share my world.

I guess I should begin all of this with the quote that started it all, " Carpe diem, seize the day boys, make your lives extraordinary..."

Here's to making our lives extraordinary.