The Not Reunion, Reunion

Even without having had the joy of attending the sanctioned social event known as the high school reunion, I'm certain we've all experienced an evening of similar torture. That evening, of course being Thanksgiving Eve.

All things considered, Thanksgiving Eve should be one of the best nights of the year. (Taking a backseat only to Christmas Eve and my birthday eve.) Copious amounts of food and quality time with family all wrapped up in a 4 day weekend gives me a cozier feeling than my leopard print Snuggie.

And then reality sets in. Everyone you knew in highschool has migrated back to your home town on this one night. Everyone. No matter how far they've gone away to college, or where their job has taken them, they will be occupying the booths and barstools at your local pubs.

I'd argue that as the "biggest bar night of the year," the night before Thanksgiving has become more overrated than New Years Eve and more stressful than a high school reunion.

Not that I don't LOVE to see the people I cut ties with after senior prom, because really, I do.... Even more so when I get to have the "what are you doing with your life" conversation 37 times in a row.

Thanks to someecards who has already sarcastically summed it up,

I can stop blogging and enjoy my early dismissal.

See ya at the bars, bitches.

Dear Facebook

In the style of the classic Dear Alcohol letter that once spread like wildfire through our college campuses, I decided to compose a similar correspondence to the one and only, Facebook. I can't imagine my prose will be any more entertaining than the many other commentaries and videos, but there are just some things I need to get off my chest.

Dear Facebook,

First and foremost, let me tell you that I am a long time fan of yours. As a junior in college since your inception, I have faithfully stood by your side through many modifications. Remember that time you opened your network to the whole world? Thanks for that. It’s been a real treat to get friend requests from my mom’s best friend and my 10 year old cousin who wonders why I look so "silly" in my pictures.

While you’ve always been there when I need a platform for stalking that new guy I met, determining how soon my ex started a new relationship, or if anyone I went to high school with amounted to something successful, of late, I am beginning to question your intentions. You claim that you want to help members “connect and share with the people in their lives” but I feel that your real purpose is to mold a generation of neurotic social networkers. Please see detailed grievances below:

Suggestions: Thanks, but no thanks. Why you would think that I would want to request a friendship with my ex-boyfriend's wife is beyond me. Just because we have 63 mutual friends does not mean we are destined for a Facebook reconciliation. Going forward it would be great if you could please mind your own business.

And yes, of my 452 friends I’m certain I haven’t spoken to 92% of them lately. That said, no, I would not like to send them a message or write on their wall. If it’s alright with you, I would like to continue our communication-free relationship based solely on secretly stalking each other’s pictures when something important changes in our profiles.

Applications: The ridiculousness of your applications has grown exponentially in recent months. Do you really think it’s necessary to encourage users to exchange gifts and drinks electronically? Is fighting a mafia war or planting a virtual garden an effective use of my time? Nope, didn’t think so.

We’re related? Really? Wow, the fact that I’ve known my sister for the past 25 years hadn't occurred to me! Cousins? I'm shocked- all this time I thought we had the same last name by pure coincidence and that they had been attending Christmas dinner as charity tax write-off for my parents.


Poking: I think it's safe to say the novelty has worn off. Admittedly, I was once guilty of abusing the poking feature, but it is 2009 and no longer an acceptable way to initiate conversation with a stranger or flirt with a fellow facebooker. That's what text messages are for.

Fan Pages: While I am a fan of many things in life, your fan pages are not one of them. Of course I like naps, who doesn't? Sure, I text when I’m in awkward situations. Do I really need to join a page to publicly declare my ‘fanaticism’ for these things?

Quizzes: Oh, Facebook, how you attempt to answer the real tough questions in life. Without your stimulating exams, I might not know what to name my boobs or which Sex and the City character I am. Thank you for your guidance.



While the corporate world sees you as a black hole of intellect and responsible time management, I have quite enjoyed our relationship. I hope that in the future you will think twice before adding features that will result in the deactivation of my account.

Thank you kindly for your attention to this matter.

PS- I’ll write again soon with suggestions for improvement.

Them Good Bars Go Bad

During an earlier attempt at blogging, I had hoped to write stories around the theme of change. In college I was one of those girls who had a poster proudly taped to her wall with the inscription, "If nothing ever changed there would be no butterflies."

This was my way of embracing the inevitable and pretending that I was happy about it. Well, let me tell you readers, I am not happy about the changes made to Moonshadow Tavern in the Commons of Ithaca, NY.


As a result of an unfortunate accident that closed off I80 for the better part of Sunday afternoon, I had plenty of time to think about the reasons Moonies used to be awesome, currently sucks, and should be restored to its former glory immediately if not sooner:



PAST: Moonies boasted the best Friday afternoon Happy Hour. There was no better way to get the weekend started than drinking your own pitcher (with a straw) and collecting a few tokens for the next time you were there and had no cash. Not to mention they provided free, albeit not gourmet, pizza and subs.


PRESENT: No one shows up at happy hour. There is no free pizza. 3-1 token specials are obsolete.


PAST: The booths and tables were so awesomely arranged that you knew exactly where you could find your group of friends when you walked in the door. Familiar faces could most notably be found in the window table up front, or the "VIP" table separating the front from the back - where ICers perched themselves atop the booth for a birds eye view of the entire bar.


PRESENT: Both seating arrangements have been removed, forcing one to awkwardly stand or walk all the way to the back dart board area in order to find a place to sit.

PAST: The TouchTunes jukebox had been so over-patronized by the same people that the top 10 requested songs were played ad nauseum with absolutely no complaints. It didn't matter if we heard Since You've Been Gone or Don't Stop Believin' 14 times in one night, we sang with the same enthusiasm each time.


PRESENT: TouchTunes has been replaced by a "dance floor" and a "DJ Booth" in the window. Good luck trying to hear Kelly Clarkson or Journey at 'Club Moonies.'


PAST: Dim lighting and the perfect amount of LaBattBlue Light was the stuff one-night-stands were made of.


PRESENT: The current light show is like a disco ball on crack... rather than create a chill atmosphere, it threatens to induce a seizure.


PAST: There was no need to advertise or market any of Moonshadows' specials. Affectionately referred to as Moonies, this bar sold itself.

PRESENT: The new ownership uses Facebook for promotions and bouncers and bartenders parade around in (and try to sell) clothing with the the following logos. Yuck.


There is much to be appreciated about dive bars which is why I'm convinced that these changes are to the detriment of the establishment. Then again, what do I know about "kids today?" At least I am comforted by the belief that I attended Ithaca in its prime.

Spectacular City- Vol.1

I've been accused of being quite the Negative Nancy about life in Manhattan. Don't be fooled loyal readers. In between my rants about subways and tourists I'm going to make a conscious effort to highlight the many, many reason NYC is abso-fucking-lutely awesome. Here's one:

Think you don't have time for anything in your day? Has multitasking taken it's toll on your life/planner? Well get this, if you lived in NY you could easily combine Thursday night happy hour with getting a mani/pedi. Think I'm joking? Check out Nail City on 3rd ave between 38th & 39th. They're open every night till 11pm and are located across the street from Wharf, giving you plenty of time to chug a beer while you wait for some late night pampering.

It's Friday (the 13th), it's payday, and I'm off to Ithaca.

Life's good.

Until next week...

Dear Liver...

Please don't give up on me this weekend.


Thanks to some amazing friends, I've made a game time decision to attend (for the third year in a row), the annual Cortaca festivities at Ithaca College (the second greatest city in NY State).


Prior to making these plans, I committed myself to a charity happy hour at McFadden's tonight. I am not sure what I'm supporting but I do know that there are half priced drinks. As such, I will be flooding you, dear liver, with excessive alcohol for 4 days straight, including back-to-back day drinking.


I do recognize that I am no longer a college student and that you are out of practice for such debauchery. All I ask is that you please not revolt at an inopportune time. While I may need to boot and rally, I beg that it be in the confines of my room at the Meadow Court Inn and not during halftime in the parking lot.


In return, I promise to hydrate when convenient, power nap between day and night festivities, and feed you nothing but Shortstop, Sammy's and DP Dough.


Thank you in advance for your consideration.

xoxo Me

PS- Anyone think Brooke Hundley will also be in attendance?

GO BOMBERS!

Parenting 102?

My mother finally figured out how to forward e-mails.

Her first piece of e-advice:

"Please don't do any of these things."

"Don't worry Mom, I hardly ever face plant and it would be impossible for me to pee on a cop without a penis."

A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Commute

Now that I'm within walking distance of work, I got to thinking about all the things I'm missing (or awesomely avoiding) by not taking the subway. I am a huge proponent of public transportation for many reasons: I care about the environment, I hate sitting in traffic, and being able to read, sleep, or write this blog while commuting is my idea of stellar time management.


However, as you've probably guessed from the title of this post (unless you're not so quick on the uptake), I am not writing to praise mass transit.

While the MTA, NJ Transit, and LIRR offer a cheap, efficient alternative to driving (or risking your life in a yellow cab), there have been days when I've strongly contemplated throwing myself (or someone else) on to the tracks for any of the following reasons:



1. The Leaner(s)
New Yorkers have never been lauded for their patience. They honk their horns two seconds before the light actually turns green, they barely apply breaks when turning corners, and the concept of "pedestrians having the right of way" is completely lost. This unwillingness to wait is no more apparent than when there are delays due to train traffic. (WTF is train traffic anyway? Was the conductor guilty of rubbernecking to see a jack-knifed tractor-trailer? Didn't think so.)

On a staggeringly crowded platform, along comes Mr. Important. He's carrying a Financial Times (because he didn't get the memo that Wall Street jobs just aren't impressive anymore) and an overpriced leather brief case (that's probably empty). This man believes that it's absolutely imperative for him to barrel through a crowd of people (who have already been standing there for at least 10 minutes) to lean over the platform edge to check if a train is coming.

I'd like to take this opportunity to remind him (and everyone else guilty of being a leaner) that glaring down the tunnel, staring at your watch, and exhaling audibly will NOT make the uptown 6 arrive any faster, so back off.

2. The assault on my senses
There's nothing more disappointing than running down the stairs two at a time and barely squeezing through the closing doors of a train only to get punched in the face by a wave of heat. Un-airconditioned cars are beyond miserable. There is no amount of anti-perspirant on the market that can prevent one from sweating through their shirt. (Sexy, I know.)


To make matters worse, it is almost inevitable that this steaming hot subway car will be occupied by a homeless person, several people with sub par hygiene, or that guy with an egg sandwich. It's times like this that breathing through your mouth actually makes the odor palpable and suppressing the urge to vomit seems near impossible. I've never been so thankful for the "fresh" air on the platform.


3. The Musically Challenged
Generation I-pod is likely to be hard of hearing by age 50. (This is a completely fabricated statistic, but I wouldn't be surprised if it were true... I'd even go so far as to say that a long term investment in MiracleEar would prove very lucrative). The volume at which people listen to their music is damaging to both their ear canals and my morning commute. I guess all I can do is be grateful that boomboxes are a fad of the past.


Additional not-so-soothing subway sounds include the percussionist who uses the seat in front of him as a snare drum and the baby who is bothered by god-knows-what but proceeds to wail at the top of their lungs anyway.




4. The Pole Dancer
While I appreciate the fact that no one wants to be the jackass who stumbles 4 feet forward when the train comes to a halt, anchoring yourself to the pole with an arm and a leg securely wrapped around it is unnecessary, annoying, and gross. One hand should be quite sufficient for keeping your balance.



5. The Escalators... ... are most likely down for repair. (Especially the one at 53rd and Lex which is probably the longest distance to ground level in all of NYC). Not that I mind a little physical activity, but breaking a sweat before my morning coffee is not the way I want to start my day. I also do not miss the individuals who can't seem to grasp the "walk left, stand right" pattern. Is it really that difficult to go with the flow?