Cats and a muumuu: One step closer

This video aside, what's a self-proclaimed "cool" New York girl to do on a Saturday night?

Why, read her book and go to bed, of course!

In all fairness, I DID work in hell (I mean, the restaurant) until midnight, but for some reason finding out the ending of "Shopaholic and Baby" won over going out and having a life. (Spoiler alert: she has a baby. Huge shock.)

While most fabulous 20-somethings are waking up this morning, hungover and trying to figure out how to get rid of the stranger they woke up next to...I cleaned. ( I may have also been watching Gilmore Girls at the same time. It's terminal). By "cleaned" I mean I scrubbed the hell out of my apartment. You may need sunglasses to handle how sparkling our stainless steel appliances and granite countertops are, THAT is how clean this apartment is. There may have been a Swiffer-mopping incident as well.

Needless to say, the "plan" is not going well. The only thing worse could be a Home Shopping Network Addiction! (Stay tuned.)

Spare some change sir?

I woke up the other day (ok, today) and decided from this point on I was going to be a "cool" New Yorker.

The exact meaning of that? TBD.

For starters, it COULD mean turning off the HGTV and actually taking advantage of the city I'm living in. Unfortunately, "taking advantage" usually also means "coughing up cash." Also, after spending $1,000/month for my apartment, I kind of feel as though I should be hanging out in it. Why don't we just add some cats and a muumuu while we're at it?

Step one in cool, New York, plan: seeing an indie movie. (Star Trek doesn't count.) First on my list, the biopic "Valentino: The Last Emperor" about his final couture show and his 50 year plus relationship with his lover and business partner. Ca-ching! It's chic, couture, luxurious, and therefore I must be all of those things! I am the viewer for whom this movie was intended! A close, personal friendship with Valentino himself can only follow, right?

Wrong. Once again-wrong, wrong wrong. I arrive breathless to the theater at 12:15 (start time: 12:10) after a bus and subway transfer to get there. (I mean, Town Car. Which dropped me off around the corner. Which is why you didn't see it.) Tickets are $11, and I have a $10 in my wallet (so maybe I had more before I went to Tasti-D-Lite last night-get over it). No prob! Charge it!

One teensy problem: the sign in the window that says: NO CREDIT CARDS. I beg the ticket teller. Do you give a student discount? What about a "future close-personal friendship with Valentino himself" discount? Surprisingly, no to both. After digging in my wallet and coming up with seventy cents, bringing me to a total of $10.70, I gave up and walked towards the subway.

So I'm back to the HGTV. I'm not cool or chic or lounging in couture. From here on out, however, I will be a bit more sympathetic to the guys begging for change on my corner.

I Be's a Graduate!

After five great years of undergrad, a few secrets I wish I'd known about college graduation:

1. Actual ceremony: pretty boring.

2. Caps and gowns=universally unflattering (reference above photo for proof).

3. What you are wearing underneath said gown really isn't a big deal and therefore,

4. not worth getting in a fight with your mom over. (Oops.)

5. Despite it being your own, you know, college graduation, you will still be banished to the kid's table at dinner afterwards.

6. While it IS totally appropriate to ask the fellow graduate next to you to get off his Blackberry (in the front row, no less), abstaining from use of the f-bomb might have been a bit more polite. But seriously, get off your f**king Blackberry.

On the bright side, the margaritas were flowing and I got a Target trip out of the whole thing (Target is the one thing missing in the life of a Manhattanite), which to me equals Best Weekend Ever. And don't even get me started on the Tiffany's I got from Mom and Pops....

...come to think of it, I could have graduation every weekend! See you in another five years...

Go Gators!