any given saturday

I guess to say that I miss my college years everyday is probably a huge understatement. I think that the fact that I miss the actual place and the people more than I miss the partying is how I know I made the right choice when I chose to go to school at JMU. This weekend was the biggest weekend in sports history for the school. We played #13 Virginia Tech in their home opener. And we won. Students, alum and fans worldwide are still going crazy and I have never been more proud to be a Duke.

QB Drew Dudzik ran for two touchdowns

Today at work I have spent any ounce of spare time reading and re-reading every article and watching every youtube video posted from Saturday. Normally, going into a game the coach will say we can win, we can do this. But we were not expected to win at all. In fact, big teams choose to play FBS teams so they know they will have a sure win early in the season. Oh well. Even at halftime, when the Dukes were down 13-7, JMU’s head coach Mickey Matthews still told the team “We might still not win, but at least we’ll be close”. Tech hadn’t tried to recruit even one of the current JMU football players but by the time we left Blacksburg on Saturday I can bet they were re-thinking that all together.

Today the school is celebrating by having a national “purple out” and you can bet that I’m sporting my purple corporate America clothes at work today. Go Dukes!

Today's ESPN NCAA Football Homepage

breakfast with a side of creepy

Every Wednesday at work the chefs make hot breakfast that is always way too good to pass up. I’m not a breakfast person but the smell of bacon and eggs walking into work really does brighten up my day. Anyway, one of the chefs is from Jamaica and is a great cook and really nice to me but his niceness often verges on inappropriateness. He has a wife and three kids but it doesn’t stop him from his attempts to hit on me. I say attempts because, well, they are particularly poor attempts. Maybe it is a cultural barrier or language barrier thing, I’m not really sure but our conversation this morning was noticeably strange and his comments often make me wonder where some guys get their “lines” from.


Since I went on vacation two weeks in a row the chef noticed I was gone for a while so this morning he was asking me all about it. He said, “Next time you tell me when you go and I will go and be your body guard.” Now, this isn’t so bad except for the fact that he’s about 5 feet 2 inches and probably weighs 20 pounds less than I do. When I think of Jamaican men (which is almost never) I imagine huge, black guys or Bob Marley type guys with dreads. So it’s pretty comical that this guy, who’s side profession is a barber, thinks he could be my body guard on vacation. What are you going to do? Comb them to death?


Not only is this guy super small but his accent makes it physically impossible to understand him. He speaks Spanish, French and English on top of a Jamaican accent and sounds like he mixes them all together when he talks. So this morning, as I am waiting for my eggs looking a little tired, when he said, “Don’t fall asleep on me baby. You will wake up someplace else because I will take you away and you will wake up asking what happened”, I had to ask him to repeat himself. Oh no, I heard him correctly. He wants to drug and kidnap me. Two scrambled eggs have never taken longer to cook in my entire life.


Once he handed me my eggs I could not get out of there fast enough. I try my absolute hardest to just laugh and nod and be polite because he is making my food every day but his comments are just absurd. I used to work at a country club when I was younger surrounded by chefs so I’m no stranger to “sexual harassment” (I use quotes because I just really brushed everything off or joked right back) and I know that how he’s talking to me, while inappropriate in the workplace, is totally harmless and usually just makes me laugh once I get out of there. I’m not about to make a big deal over what he’s saying so there’s nothing left to do but shrug him off as nicely as possible.


For example, a few hours after the kidnapping conversation I walked back into the cafeteria to get a cup of tea and there he is sitting at a table on his break. Of course I got the “Baby come sit with me!” heckling as I walked by but, as I told him, “a girl’s gotta work”. I got my tea and as I walked back passed him on my way out he was playing “Pretty Woman” on his iPhone. His version of the lyrics went “Pretty woman, walking out of the dining room…”. Imagine that in a French/Spanish/Jamaican accent and that about sums up my morning. So I’ll take the amusement at work any day but if he could just leave his creepy threats at home with his wife and kids that would be great, too.

only child syndrome

As a middle child, I have never had the luxury of being the one with all the attention or the baby of the family. I would not go as far to say that I have “middle child syndrome” but I have this insane need to be around people all the time. Last year around this time I was in a constant panic because my younger sister was leaving for college and my older sister had moved so that left me. Alone. With Sue and Bill. I felt like I was being left behind and the thought of being an “only child” scared the living crap out of me. Until I realized how awesome it was.



I thought that mom and dad would focus all their attention on me which would obviously become a huge pain in the ass but really it was the opposite. My dad refs high school and college basketball from September through March and so he was rarely home when I was. And so that left me and my mom. We got into each other’s habits i.e. I started drinking wine when I got home with her and she started reading US Weekly and Life & Style while she drank her wine. All was well. And then May came around again, Brittany was back from school and my dad resorted back to his summer activity of golf. I quickly realized how silly it was for me to think that being an only child would be anything but great.


Now, of course I love my sister and I do miss her while she is away but to say that Britt “stirred the pot” while she was home is like saying that the sky is only sort of blue or vuvuzelas are only a little annoying. Everything she did over the summer I had done once in my life. Of course I would have parties while my parents were away or leave the house at absurd times during the night or drink myself stupid or not call for hours on end so that everyone thinks you are dead or sleep “somewhere” when you’re really sleeping “somewhere” else. The difference between us is that I only got caught in a handful of these poor choices. It seemed that this summer every time she did something stupid she got caught. Whatever happened to learning from your older siblings’ mistakes? For example, I learned from my older sister not to leave condoms strewn about and not to smoke on the corner of our own street because someone will see you. I also learned that really the only thing our parents ask from us is that we call and let them know where we are. Even if we aren’t really where we say we are, they just like to know we’re alive.


My point is that come this past Saturday I think everyone was ready to wrap up the summer. Britt was thrilled to be going back to school and of course I was insanely jealous that she got to go back and I couldn’t. Now we’re back to our quiet, 3 person house. Once basketball starts, it will be back to me, Sue, wine and US Weekly and I am for sure looking forward to that. Like almost all summers I am always sad when it comes to an end and this year is no different. But for some reason this year there is a part of me that is ready for fall. I think the intense heat this year and all the excessive drinking that was done has me tired out. Or maybe it’s just me getting old? I hope not but fall in New York is my favorite. Before you know it, it will be Christmas and Britt will be back home being escorted to our front door by the police. That didn’t happen this summer but it seems on trend. I guess when half of your college tuition has been taken care of because you’re a semi-genius you can afford to make these little mistakes. What would college be without them anyway? Boring as hell, that’s what.

world traveling

As a 24 year old with a pretty decent job who is still living at home, I have the luxury of spending my money on things that, if I was paying rent, I wouldn’t be able to buy. This year: 3 vacations.

family vacay

Nashville in June wasn’t so much a vacation as a trip since it was just for the weekend but there was a flight, hotel and two days and nights of heavy boozing that needed to be paid for. Last week was my family’s annual trip to the Outerbanks. Since I was an “adult” starting last year I started to pay for the trip myself which makes sense because I’m not a child and I shouldn’t have to depend on my parents for every single thing. They have been paying for my vacations for 23 years and, believe it or not, I was really happy to finally be able to do it myself. This year, even though I had my check in hand to pay for the week, my parents took pardon on me and paid for my share. Did I protest? Of course. Did I protest more than once? Nope. Our wallets had all taken a major hit this year from my sister’s wedding and they wanted to help me out. I’m lucky enough that they didn’t make me feel guilty once about it or even bring it up after they decided to do it. Gotta love Sue and Bill.

Tomorrow I leave once again and head back to the Outerbanks. The drive down there is sort of like what they say about child birth. Your body forgets just how awful it is and so you’re okay having some more babies. Usually there’s an entire year between the drive back home and the drive back down but since I just did it last week just thinking about it makes me want to cry. Too bad drinking and driving is illegal because that’s pretty much the only thing that would make it bearable. This time though, I’m making a stop about half way through to pick up Ashley in Arlington, VA so I will have her company for the second half. I’m pretty thankful for this and for the fact that I’ll have someone to sing along to *Nsync’s greatest hits and all our Homecoming mixes with me. I haven’t seen her since New Year’s and I’m excited to spend time bitching about our lives to each other for 5 hours.

home sweet home for the week

We’re all arriving at different times on Saturday but I think me and Ashley will be the last ones. Jules, Starkey, Skinny, Joe, Woody, Casey, Maggie, Chris, Andrew, Jaqueline, Nicole and her roommates will all be patiently awaiting our arrival at our humble abode for the week. Even though last week and this coming week will have both been spent in the Outerbanks, the experience next week will be quite different from last week’s vacation with my family. Last week I was up at 9 every morning, went out for a run and came back to enjoy some cereal and coffee. This coming week I’ll wake up hungover every day at 11 and head straight to the beach where there will be a cooler of cold beers waiting for me. Last week we all went mini-golfing one night. This coming week we have a Jersey Shore themed party planned for Thursday. Last week we had fun noodles in the pool. This coming week we have an inflatable beer pong table. Get my drift?

Though the Outerbanks is a little less expensive than other places I could be going, 3 vacations add up pretty quickly. I have decided that once Labor Day rolls around its time to put a little more into my savings every month and start to focus on making the move the eff out of 25 Truman. For the rest of the summer though I will enjoy the rest of my traveling and random $100 nights out.

See ya in a week!

deep tissue massages

Last night was another interesting night at the bar and definitely made up for the lack of people there last week. I really don’t feel like my week is complete unless I have listened in on an AC Board Meeting or have made some cranberry-vodkas for Tom.


When I walked in at 5:30 Tom was BEHIND the bar cleaning up his own bottles of Corona and wiping down the sink. Really, nothing surprises me anymore there. I think instead of members at a club they all think it’s some sort of collective; they all just do whatever they want, I guess including bartending themselves. I’m not sure how he got in the bar but the most random people have keys to that place (myself included). So it didn’t really surprise me when he said, “I had to be my own bartender for the last hour! Where have you been?”. When I told him I was at my actual job, which he has known about since the moment I met him, he responded “Oh duh you’re a lawyer, long hours, I get it.” First of all, so far from a lawyer. And second, it’s 5:30 on a Thursday. Just because the pool is crowded with adults (God only knows what all those people do for a living), I would hardly call my getting somewhere by 5:30 “long hours”. As he left, he serenaded me with “I Believe” by Blessid Union of Souls and told me he would be back later. I didn’t doubt him for a second.


For about an hour I thought that my night would be spent watching a rerun of the Espy’s and actually hoping that Tom would stroll in. He may ramble on and on but I’ll listen to whatever he’s got to say because he never leaves without throwing at least a twenty on the bar. Around 7:30 all the board members started to walk in and I couldn’t have been happier. As usual, when the meeting was done they all came into the bar. It’s funny because before every single meeting each of them complain to me separately about how they don’t want to be there and how long the meetings go on for. But then they all come into the bar afterwards and it’s like they have a second meeting without all the people they dislike. So they talk about the same issues and how crazy the other people are for their ridiculous opinions on them. My favorite is when they ask me my opinions because I’m pretty sure a lot of them think that I am a member too. “Yes, we definitely need new beach chairs!” and “We definitely need to plan more events!” and “We need new TVs for the bar!”. I love helping spend money that isn’t mine.


While most of the board was still hanging around, Tom came waltzing in as promised. Of course everyone knows him and there was one couple in particular he hadn’t seen for quite some time. They had moved from Yonkers to Florida and were visiting for the weekend. As you have probably noticed, Tom usually picks one subject and sticks to it and whether you like it or not you are part of the conversation and, in this case, demonstration. I blame myself for last night’s topic: Parts of the Body. I made the mistake of cracking my back in front of him and since he is a “licensed masseur” this prompted him to start cracking everyone’s backs and massaging random parts of their bodies. I don’t think I’ve ever been more happy to be behind that bar in my entire life (7 months). I thoroughly enjoyed watching him massage the wife of the couple’s back and arms while her husband blew smoke out of his ears. The husband kept jingling his keys and walking towards the door saying how he “doesn’t want to keep this poor girl here all night” to which Tom replied, “Well I’ll be here for a while anyway. Me and Kate haven’t had our weekly chat yet.” Awesome.


Our “chat” consisted of him telling me to stand up straight and turn to my left and right so he could examine my posture. I made the mistake of telling him about all the problems I’m having since I started running. So, of course, he suggested I run up and down the driveway so he could “see how I move”. It was at this point I told him it was time to go. It takes him a while to get the hint but once he does he’s usually pretty good about getting out of there.


I learned a lot last night about muscles that don’t exist and Eastern medicine that no one has ever heard of before. But I’ll take a lesson in fake crap in exchange for the sweet tips. Tomorrow: Dave Matthews.

the regulars

The gym has all these rules posted everywhere: no gum chewing, no cell phones, 30 minute time limit on cardio machines. But what about general gym etiquette? Recently I’ve noticed some weird things happening there that make me think “didn’t your mother ever tell you that’s inappropriate”?


The first issue I have is with this one particular couple. Now, I have no problems with interracial relationships but it will help me describe the awkwardness of these two. The woman is Asian and I would say she’s about 25-30 years old. The guy is this much older, white wrinkly man, probably at the very least 30 years older than she is. It seems by the way they are constantly touching each other and their random make out sessions in the middle of doing weights that they are very much in love. Which is great but the entire NY Sports Club doesn’t need to know about it. The other thing about them is how the woman dresses. Before I go on about gym attire, I think if I had a disposable income I would probably have much nicer gym clothes that match and are a material other than cotton. For now though I will stick to my JMU t-shirts and Old Navy yoga pants. What I am saying is that it’s great if you can look good when you go to the gym but this woman takes it to the extreme. Every time I see her she has on a neon colored sports bra with the same neon colored second skin stretchies. Not so bad right? Except over the neon colored stretchies is a different colored neon thong. I’m not kidding. And I can safely say she has at least 5 of these interchangeable outfits. Okay fine. You want to look like you stepped out of a Jane Fonda video? That’s great. But if you are going to wear an outfit like that and draw that much attention you should probably be in some sort of shape. And I’m not one to judge things like that but when I say she should not be wearing those kind of outfits, she SHOULD NOT be wearing those kind of outfits. This couple’s gym presence is so disturbing but now every time I see them I can’t help but stare and analyze their dynamics. If nothing else it makes my time on the treadmill a little bit more entertaining.


The next thing is the women’s locker room. I totally get that people are showering and naked and whatever. But do you really need to come out of the shower and stand in the middle of the locker room with no clothes on having what you think is a totally normal conversation? Especially with someone who is, in fact, wearing clothes? I’m usually at the gym around the same time every day after work so I often see the same people there. One woman, Sharon, just happens to always be getting out of the shower as I am getting ready to start my workout. She’s very friendly and I always see her talking to other women. Completely naked. One particular day I was tying my sneakers sitting on a bench and here comes Sharon. She sits down right next to me totally naked and strikes up a conversation about how much she loves my sneakers. Not just oh I like those. She’s asking me where I got them, were they expensive, do I have flat feet, do I run in them blah blah blah. I’ll have a 30 minute conversation with anyone about sneakers but when all of you is right out there in front of my face I cannot get away from you fast enough. At least put a towel on and then we’ll chat.


The last incident happened to me yesterday and is more disturbing than anything else. As I am on the treadmill I notice this small child, no more than 8 years old, standing around the weights area. I thought that was odd and then realized he was with his dad which I also thought was odd since the gym has a place where you can leave your kids. Then I realized that this kid was actually working out with his dad. Lifting weights and everything. Not only was this kid young, but he didn’t have an ounce of fat on him. Then, of course, the dad puts the kid on the treadmill right next to me and he starts to run! I do this thing where in my mind I try to “beat” the people on the treadmills next to me because it helps me run longer. So now I’m racing this kid. Kids have an absurd amount of energy and stamina and so now I’m battling this 8 year old on some sort of sugar high who doesn’t know it but we’re racing. Well I lost the battle and even when I was done with my whole workout this kid was still going.


I guess all of my problems at the gym would be solved if I could just get up early and go before work. Until I find that inner motivation I guess I’ll be dealing with the Makeouts, Naked Sharon and 8 year old Prefontaine.

ain't that america

I never realized how much I actually enjoyed the 4th of July until I started to work a normal job that gave you off for it. Throughout high school and college I worked at a country club and so we were the people that actually did work on the 4th. Slaving away in the insane heat for people who didn’t give a shit how hot you were, they just wanted their BBQ Chicken Sandwich (hold the bun and barbeque sauce) always made for a spectacular holiday.


The novelty of having that day off still has not worn off for me. This year marks the 2nd time I’ve actually gotten to enjoy the day and all its glory. The weekend started at 3pm on Friday at which time I headed straight to Long Beach from work. I was taking mental notes the entire time about the drive down because if I am still working here next summer and we end up with a summer share there that’s what the drive will be like every Friday. A lot of variables but I’m a planner. After a bit of traffic just at the very end I arrived at Seaside Celebrations. Though most of the weekend would be spent in Long Beach, this night was devoted to work, not play, for me and Caitlin. Seaside Celebrations is a sort of day care/camp/babysitting/drop off your kids and forget about them type of place that Caitlin’s sister Kristina owns. Friday nights are Parent’s Night Out which means they drop off the kids from 6-9 and go get drunk for three hours. 3 hours, 33 kids, a few dirty diapers and one screaming baby later we were done and it was well worth the $30 per kid. We headed right next door to the Cabana for a much needed margarita and then headed home to sleep it off.

I don’t know what we were thinking when we skipped right over Saturday for the weekend, but it was pretty low key. Sunday we headed back out to Long Beach around 3 for the 4th festivities. What could be more American than day drinking at the beach? I say nothing. We started off with some pomegranate and lime flavored Michelob Ultra Lights which I highly, highly recommend and from there on out it was smooth sailing. We met Siobhan and a few of her friends at her house and had a four hour highly entertaining dinner at her neighbors. Around 11 we headed to the bars and the rest is history. I think I can speak for everyone involved that we had a fabulous time. After a few of us went our separate ways late into the night, recapping the stories the next day while watching Hannah Montana was one of the best parts. Did I see the beach even once while I was down there? Nope. Well sort of. But that wasn’t really the point I guess. If I could be in the same place with those same people doing the exact same thing next year I wouldn’t ask for anything more.

Here’s to the novelty not wearing off next year either…

life lessons

In my opinion, summer doesn’t officially begin until the kids are out of school. As I walked up the driveway of the Amackassin Club yesterday to bartend, I could hear what sounded like a million kids in the pool. Ahh, the sounds of summer. Turns out it was only 4 kids and they were my cousins but still.


Anyway, I’m liking the AC more and more now that people are actually going into the bar. I made my first margarita and pina colada yesterday and I’m pretty proud of myself. I can tell those things are going to be big pains in the ass. Men’s and women’s “Adult Drop In” tennis is Thursdays ending at 6 which is perfect because then they all come see me. From what I gather, drop in is when they all show up and play each other. How it’s different from them playing each other any other time I’m not really sure.


A few guys came in and hung around until about 8:30. When they left, it seemed like no one else was in the club. The pool closes at 7 and there were no stragglers that I could tell. Of course just as I’m thinking that maybe I could close up a little early in walks Tom the Bullshit Artist, mentioned a few posts back, and I knew it would be all downhill from there. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy all the random conversations with these people and some of their stories and lives are pretty interesting. But it is a job in itself to pretend I’m very interested in all of Tom’s stories. I don’t know how the conversation started but somehow we got on the topic of all the fights Tom has gotten in. #1- 17 years old, right there in the bar of the AC. Ripped the phone off the wall and threw it at a guy. Blood everywhere. #2- Pernell Whitaker, world renowned boxer. The Marriott in Richmond, Virginia. Knocked him out cold in front of his two body guards. #3- Charles Barkley, yes him. The Omni Hotel in Richmond, Virginia. Got in the way of him macking on some chick.


Since Brian Sweeney pitched yesterday for Seattle against the Yankees and is from north Yonkers, he moved right onto athletes right out of the 914. Of course Tom coached Sweeney and is responsible for his fantastic pitching. I can’t really imagine what I must look like when he’s telling me these stories.


There was a lull in the conversation at this point and he had finished his second drink which is “his limit” and I thought maybe he would leave. Then he asked me to ask him anything about anything. Usually between a guy and a girl a question like this is loaded with innuendo so I just shrugged my shoulders and said “I dunno, you pick something” and OF COURSE he chooses to tell me why men are the way they are. I could have seen that coming from a mile away.


The conversation was complete with a diagram, filled with spelling and grammatical errors. Basically it goes like this- boys are faced with rejection from women since they are babies: first their mom, then their babysitter, then in grade school with their first crush, then in high school because the girls like older guys. Then, finally, in college they turn into assholes. That is the simplified version. His version was about an hour long. I guess he was right about a lot of things but it was all stuff I knew already. Of course I saved the diagram and was happy to get out of there once he finished up his ginger ale.


Fourth of July weekend is upon us and I could not be happier! We’re closing up early and then I’m headed to Long Beach to help Caitlin watch about 30 children. THAT should be interesting! Have a great one…

even the wild ones get lucky sometimes

Usually when people say you don’t know what you got till it’s gone, they are talking about something profound, like a great love or a loving family. Generally, they are not talking about boys in polo shirts and boat shoes…

This past weekend a few of us headed to Nashville for our getaway of the year. I would love for this weekend trip to someplace different to become an annual occurrence. Nashville was a fantastic city. It was clean, the people there were genuinely “nice” (I HATE that word but it’s true here), and it seemed like there was a ton of stuff to do. Not to mention the whole “We’re in the south, country music” vibe. It was our first adult vacation in a really great hotel with actual events planned throughout. Well at least one. And that’s all that mattered. My friend Caitlin says that as long as she can go home and tell her parents they did one planned thing that didn’t include a bar, then that’s good enough for her. Which is precisely what we did- even though it did include personal coolers.

Our tour on Saturday was called the Nash Trash tour and for anyone interested in visiting Nashville I highly, highly recommend this. It was hands down top five funniest things I have ever been a part of. The two sisters that run the tour on a pink school bus have this whole country comedy routine built into their tour of the not-so-popular sites. By that I mean bars where famous affairs started and the Nashville jail. Our break in the tour was at the Country Music Hall of Fame which shared the same lawn as our hotel. We went back after the tour to explore. It took us 20 minutes to go through the 3 stories of country music but I would say it was worth it just to see all of Elvis’ crap (great crap, Jeanne) and a few dresses worn by Taylor and Carrie.


The nights were filled with moving from bar to bar, ridiculous dancing to country music and losing our voices. As usual, I sang every song I knew and fell in love with the songs that I didn’t, the title being my favorite song of the weekend. One of my favorite things about the city was how much it reminded me of and made me miss the south. The boys were the same friendly, peach-polo wearing, bad-dancing boys that I remember from JMU. They reminded me of Skinny, Woody and James and I didn’t realize how much I missed them until I saw these clones of them. Sigh. It was the best time I’ve had in a while. On the way to the airport, I told Jeanne that the next time we come to Nashville I want to spend a week and then just die immediately after- knock on wood that doesn’t really happen- but that’s how happy I was after that weekend.


It’s not even July and I have had a pretty great time so far this summer. I’m excited to see what the rest of it brings! Stay tuned…

fly right my ass

Why is it that the things that are supposed to be the most enjoyable take the most planning? Weddings, vacations, even going out to dinner. All of these involve picking dates, seeing who’s available and obviously money. It usually is a general rule of thumb that the planning causes a major headache but it ends up being worth it in the end. So by the time you want to plan something else, you have forgotten what a pain in the ass it is. Sort of like labor and delivery. Tomorrow a bunch of us are headed to Nashville and since we have booked our flights I’ve had a personal vendetta out for Delta Airlines.

To make a long, long story sort of short we book our flights to Nashville early and spent extra money to get there earlier in the day and have no layovers. Delta changed it randomly to a flight WITH a layover that got to Nashville 2.5 hours later. So we called to demand better flights. Just fair warning for anyone that needs to do this: talking to Delta representatives will make anyone want to throw yourself on the runway in front of the plane. After many agonizing phone calls, we were switched to a slightly better but not ideal flight. Then finally, this past Monday, I get an email that says that I’m back on my original direct flight. Great except I was the only one that got it and it turned out to be some sort of glitch in the system. So essentially they just sent me a random fake email with fake itinerary just to have me call AGAIN. They really are making me work for this trip. I can’t take credit for the above coloring masterpiece but it pretty much sums up how I feel.

A month after booking my flight to Nashville, I booked a trip for my parents to Chicago. They went through the exact same random flight changes with no warnings and cancellations all over the place. Case and point I am never ever flying with Delta again. After all this switching we ended up being on American Airlines anyway so I guess that’s okay. Time will tell.


After doing a little research it seems that I’m not the only one with issues with Delta. I found endless amounts of blogs and articles on how sucky (for lack of a better word) they are. It just goes to show that a ton of advertising goes a long way. One blog I found had a list of Delta’s slogans that made me l.o.l. for sure. Here’s just a sampling: “Delta: Our pilots are terminally ill and have nothing to lose.”, “Delta: We never make the same mistake three times.” and my personal favorite “Delta: A real man lands where he wants to.”


After all the flight changes, fake flight changes, complaining, organizing and paying, tomorrow we leave and I could not be happier. We have a great group going and I can’t wait to hang out in a totally different place where we don’t know a single person. Have a great weekend…I know I will :)

officer situation

Life has a curious way of making you laugh in the most terrible situations…


On my way home from work on Friday my mom called to see if I could go meet my sister, Danielle, because someone had broken into her car while she was at the gym. As I pulled up behind her car, I couldn’t have felt worse for her. She was crying and on the phone with the bank trying to cancel her credit card. The perpetrator busted in her passenger side window and stole her wallet. It’s amazing that they didn’t take anything else since her Michael Kors bag was on the seat with her Marc Jacobs sunglasses, her blackberry and her iPod. Plus it looked like Vera Bradley threw up in the back seat. They must have just wanted the wallet and whatever money was in there. Luckily, she only had $6 in cash.


I walked up to her as she was in the middle of her phone call which ended in a few expletives and her hanging up on the Chase representative. As if getting your car broken into isn’t enough of a pain in the ass, you have to immediately figure out what was in your wallet and how to cancel everything. My mom has everyone in our family making photo copies of everything in our wallets at work today.
I made sure that she was okay and asked her if the cops had come yet. She said yes and that “officer idiot” was on his way back with the camera to take pictures of her car. When he returned I almost immediately understood the name calling. Officer Enzo DiPaolo looked about 18 years old, had a Bronx accent that made you think he was from another country and thanks to the stereotypes reinstated by the “Jersey Shore” will now be referred to as Officer Situation. If he had lifted up his shirt to show us his six pack and started fist pumping to some house music I would not have been surprised in the least.


After taking pictures of Dani’s car we followed Officer Situation back to headquarters to “fill out da thing fa da thing”. Awesome. As we walked into the station, Officer Situation 2 greeted us with the “papaas” for filling out. Officer Situation apologized for “all dis retaaded papaa work” that she had to fill out. We both wished my sister’s husband, Steve, was there, who lived in the Bronx for 30 years, so that he could translate the conversation between these two goodfellas. After filling out the paperwork, Officer Situation sent us on our way and promised that “if I find these mooks I’ll kick da aaases”. Okay bra.


It’s not often that in a situation like that you want to hold back laughter like you’re in church but that was the case. After a little wine and some Longford’s Cookie Monster ice cream, Dani started to come around and ended up being thankful that Officer Situation was the one to show up to her car that afternoon.

wedding weekend

Today was the official “I’m getting too old for this shit” day.

I cannot believe that this weekend came and went as fast as it did. Last week was the big build up to Dani’s wedding on Friday. Wednesday we had the rehearsal dinner which was held at Ciao in Eastchester. It was really great and we had an unbelievable amount of food. Thursday everyone woke up and hit the gym for the last time before the big day.

Friday morning came and the girls headed to Evangelista to get all of our hair done. I loved the way mine came out. I haven’t gotten my hair done for something since prom and I was a little nervous because my hair is not easily tamed. But it lasted pretty much the whole night which is a lot to say because I definitely did my fair share of dancing and sweating. Hair was followed by makeup which was done my an artist from the Laura Mercier counter. Her name was Val and she was great.

After that, our day officially began. The ceremony at the church was great. It felt like it went by quicker than normal. The priest that did the mass was someone that me and Dani worked with at Westchester Country Club. He really made the mass original and his homily was so funny. He used a bunch of Dani’s facebook statuses as points in his homily. It was awesome. Then came pictures at Untermeyer park followed by the reception at the Fountainhead…

I don’t think I have ever danced so much in one night. As soon as they started playing music the bride was out on the dance floor along with everyone else. It was so great to see everyone and I really felt like everyone had a great time. I know I did. After the Fountainhead we headed back to the hotel where everyone was staying. We continued our dance party and when the cops showed up because they got a report of a “riot” outside the hotel, they just joined in. That’s probably one of the top 3 moments of the night.

Saturday was the post wedding BBQ which I slept through half of and Sunday was the Yankee game and Memorial Day bbqs rounded off with a trip to Nugents. Needless to say my Monday was spent mostly in the pool recovering. I told my sister that after that weekend I would be okay with dying on Monday.

Today at work has been a real challenge. It has been a real struggle to get through anything and since I was out half of last week, everything is testing my patience. I need a weekend to recover from my weekend…

the bullshit artist

Most bartenders hope for special occasions or parties because they know that’s how they will make money. I hope for meetings and funerals because that’s what really draws the crowd to the bar at the AC. Once a month, the board of the club has a meeting that usually lasts for about 2-3 hours. While they’re meeting, people come to sit at the bar and wait for them to be done so they can give them their opinions. Last night was the monthly board meeting and it was filled with the usual cast of characters.


One particular guy, Tom, came in while the meeting was taking place. I had met Tom before and as soon as I saw him walk in I knew I was in for a long night. The first time I had met Tom I had found out he had 6 degrees from 6 different schools, was a huge art dealer and made tons of money, and that he was one of the biggest bullshit artists I’ve ever met. I found this out within the first 3 minutes of meeting him. My uncle had coached him in little league and he knew pretty much everyone on my dad’s side of the family so I like to give him the benefit of the doubt and think that he just felt comfortable telling me whatever was on his mind.

One of the things that I haven’t figured out how to manage yet as a bartender is how to handle uncomfortable situations, especially with people like Tom. Tom is married with a few kids but doesn’t hesitate to hit on anything that moves. For example, since it was just me and him in the bar while the meeting was going on, whenever there was a lull in the conversation he would say things like “Tell me…how hard is it being beautiful?” or he would just randomly wink at me. What I wanted to respond was “Get the fuck out of here” but in reality I just laughed awkwardly. Seriously dude?

Thankfully, we weren’t by ourselves for long and the board trickled downstairs and into the bar. Remember the guitar-playing life-lover from a couple of weeks ago? He was laid off this week so the whole night he was “just trying to survive”. Him being laid off (as a physical therapist) lead into a 5 person tirade on how Yonkers policemen are overpaid. I agree, maybe some of them are. They were talking about one police officer in particular who will stand to make $365,000 next year alone. Coming from Tom’s mouth I don’t know how true that is but judging from what I’ve heard in the past I believe it. This is totally absurd but they aren’t all making that much and there are some that actually bust their asses. Anyway, this went on for an hour and in that hour I realized that even though this is a place where people have grown up together and most are on the same level financially, there is still a bar in between me and them and they do not want to hear my opinion in the slightest. I made a silent vow last night to keep my mouth shut when certain people are in attendance. Around 10:30 everyone started to head out. The life lover left with words of advice to “keep surviving” and a $10 tip (I’m sure he’ll survive just fine) and Tom had to go pick up his priest friend coming back from the Yankee game.

The club itself is basically a huge house they converted into this club house. It’s been around since 1891 and is rumored to be haunted. It’s scary as hell and on top of that when the warm weather came about my boss warned me that from time to time critters get inside so just be prepared. And I’m not talking about tiny mice critters. I’m talking about raccoons and skunks. Sweet. So anyway, I lock myself in when I’m closing just to be safe from all the animals, literally and figuratively speaking.

About 10 minutes later, after locking the windows and straightening up I heard this ridiculous banging on the front door. I thought maybe someone left something and came back to get it. Oh no, it was Tom. He was back and he brought his friend (actually a lawyer). So there we sat for another two hours, Tom drinking ginger ale and Friend drinking Guinness. In two hours I learned more about art history than I did in one semester of it in college, I learned that North Broadway used to be called “Millionaire Mile” (anyone from Yonkers is thinking “yea right”) and I was invited to a private event at the Met. I’d like to think that some of the things he was telling me were true but the entire time Friend was sitting there rolling his eyes and shaking his head. So I’m guessing I’m not the only one who’s got Tom figured out.

Any night I leave there that it is semi-busy I’m so happy that I have that little job. I think that I might learn more about people working there one night a week than I have in my entire life so far. It’s amazing what people will tell you after a few drinks…

Happy Friday!

a tiny freak out

This morning for the first time in a looooong time I went to the gym BEFORE work. To say that I am not a morning person is pretty much the understatement of the century but every time I go in the morning I say “I should do this all the time”. On days that I go to the gym after work I just sit and think up excuses for reasons I don’t have to go. Like Monday I didn’t go because I had to get a card at Walgreens. Walgreens is open 24/7 so that’s just absurd. I read in a magazine once the pros of going to the gym in the morning and they are all so true. #1- if you wait to go after work or school you have more time to talk yourself out of it, #2- you have a natural blush for the rest of the day and #3- it gets your metabolism going and gives you more energy throughout the day. Plus if I do go after work I don’t get home until 8 and then I’m starving and then I’m eating way later than you should. So, I’m hoping that after today’s experience I will start to go more often before work and stop being such a baby.

The push to go to the gym at an ungodly hour came from me freaking out that my sister’s wedding is in a week and I don’t want to feel fat. This isn’t the only abnormal thing that I’ve done or that’s happened in the past month. See, since I went to school in the south, a lot of girls I was acquaintances with were getting engaged senior year but no one I really was close with. I was extremely happy when I heard that my close friends, Christine and Steve, got engaged and they are getting married in June of next year. There’s something to say about getting your own invitations to weddings and parties aside from the invites that are addressed “The Sacco Family”. It makes being an adult real. In the past two days I have gotten two invitations to baby showers addressed to myself. It’s so weird. Not only do you buy your own gift but you feel so singled out. One of the invitations was addressed to “Susan and Brittany Sacco” and then I got one of my own. It’s like saying “Okay, enough is enough. You’re on your own.” You know how women have all these raging hormones when they are pregnant? I think I’m going through something similar but instead of pregnancy hormones (phew) it’s your sister’s getting married in a week hormones. My mind races about everything and anything and I never get like that. I think it’s the high stress. Though I’m sure that in a week when everything is said and done I’ll be sad it’s over.

1 for 13

After 6 years and 13 games I am happy to say that The Incredibles finally won their first game this past Saturday. Maybe it was the Friday night practice or maybe it was all the Coors Light but either way we did it! FINALLY! One Saturday in May each year, Yonkers finest come together to play in the Rich Kenney Co-Ed softball tournament on Lake Avenue. The tournament is more commonly known as the Tony G. tournament and is an excuse to see people you haven’t in years as well as an excuse to start drinking at 7a.m. The tournament is by far one of my favorite days out of the entire year and I start looking forward to it the day after it’s over.

We switched up our line up this year and it really worked to our benefit. Each team plays two games and depending on how you do in those games determines whether or not you move on. We lost our first game to Martha’s Vineyard 6-2 then went on to win against the Lakers 9-6. First of all, when the brackets went up in Nugents two weeks before that and we found out who we were playing we thought we had no shot. Second of all, 9 is the most runs we have ever scored in a game and more than all the runs we have scored COMBINED. Needless to say we were pretty proud of ourselves. There was most definitely a World Series celebration in the field afterwards, complete with gloves and hats in the air and jumping on top of each other. We went on to play We Just Stink at 1:30 and the break in between the games killed us. The drinking continued and so they mercied us. It didn’t matter though, we got what we came for. Danielle got the game ball for NOT playing this year.

The celebrations continued throughout the day, first at the Laker club then, of course, down to Nugents. In tournament history I have never seen the place so packed. It was fabulous. After 16 straight hours of drinking and an effort to go out on McLean, it was time for me to pack it in. I had half a beer in Danny Macs, got in a cab and went home. But not before I made the cab driver go through the McDonald’s drive through. That was necessary.

It seems like in the past year I can’t go out without being hungover the next day. But for some reason on Sunday I actually felt pretty great. I headed to the Yankee game with Jeanne and it was a nice way to round out the weekend. I came home to find my kitchen invaded with wedding “stuff”. My mom was making sauce for the week of so we don’t forget to eat, there was toile and ribbon everywhere and as soon as I walked in I was given a job. Tomorrow will be single digits until the wedding day and I still cannot believe how fast this last year and a half has gone. I’m so excited but I know it will all be over before we know it.

the recipe

Thursday’s are possibly my favorite day out of the entire week. It’s right on the cusp of the weekend so you know that the best days are ahead of you. And since I’ve been bartending on Thursday nights it means a little bit more cash.


So the past two days have been filled with wedding stuff. Tomorrow it will be exactly two weeks until the big day and I cannot believe it. Tuesday I came into work early again so I could go with my mom to her dress fitting. Her dress is absolutely beautiful and she looks gorgeous in it. And I’m not just saying that. When she first got her dress we spent a lot of time trying to find shoes that were pretty and comfortable which is no easy “feet” (ha). My sister had gotten her own shoes from Stuart Weitzman and while we were in the store my mom tried on shoes that she absolutely loved. But, as a mother of three girls, she’s always been pretty thrifty and that’s why I was totally shocked when she purchased the $385 shoes. And after all that searching for the perfect shoes, you can’t even see them under the dress. Even when she picks it up a little bit to walk, there is so much material you can’t see a bit of the shoes. I guess she’ll just have to get more outfits to match them. The fitting went really well and I think she’s pretty happy with the dress. She picks it up next week. Our dresses will be picked up on the 24th.

Anyone that is close with our family knows that we make or has received a bottle of our Anisette. That’s right. We make, bottle and give away homemade Anisette. The recipe is fairly simple but is pretty time consuming. Grain alcohol, sugar, anise, boiling and stirring until it feels like your arm is going to fall off. My sister was at a loss for what to give as favors and someone had mentioned the Anisette. Since she had decided on that, our weekends have been spent making batches and batches of the liquor. Tuesday night was spent bottling it. After all those batches, we are still short about 50 favors and so the bootlegging continues. Prohibition would have nothing on the Sacco’s.

Last night was spent doing our semi-weekly drive around. It’s funny because when we were sixteen and we first got our licenses, we would go for coffee and “drive around” for hours because we had nothing to do. Now we are 24 and we are still doing it except for the complete opposite reason. Now we do it because we all have so much going on it’s the only time besides the weekend that we can see each other. I thought, as a lot of people do, that everyone goes to college for four years, comes home, gets a 9-5 job and moves out. Mistaken? I think so. In fact, I constantly feel like I am the only one with that schedule (minus the moving out). A lot of my friends are in school or have jobs with opposite hours or work on the weekends. And so the weekly drive around came about once again. Of course we see each other on the weekends. But the last thing we all want to do is talk about work or school or our issues with still living at home when we’re in a bar. First of all, half of what was said wouldn’t be remembered and second of all, it’s usually about something serious. Drunk advice might be the most honest but it doesn’t help if you can’t remember it the next day. About mid-week we come together to vent and rant and rave and so far it’s been working out pretty well.

It’s been a pretty uneventful week but I’m so looking forward to this weekend. Saturday is one of my favorite days of the entire year- the Lake Avenue Tournament- and Sunday will be spent at the Yankee game.

Have a fantastic weekend…

not in kansas anymore

At what height does a person get classified as a dwarf or, to be a little more politically correct, a “little person”?

Generally, during an interview, when the interviewer asks you if you have any questions, the above is NOT a question that comes to mind. And yet during yesterday’s interview this was all I could think about. I only believe in “signs” when I want to so I didn’t really take the tiny-ness of my interviewer as any kind of sign that I shouldn’t be there. I walked in, shook his hand that felt like I was shaking a golf ball and went through the interview just like any other one.

I haven’t been on an interview in about two years and I guess it’s sort of like riding a bike. I remembered how to conduct myself and I still felt like I wanted to vomit after. It’s not that I don’t like my job that I have now. In fact, it’s the total opposite. I do like where I work and the people I work with and of course the work itself. That is what I am scared of. I’m worried that I will get too comfortable and never want to leave. I have an opposite commute, I have flexible hours, great benefits so what’s the problem? If I stay here there’s nowhere to go from the position I am at right now. Unless I become a lawyer (ah!). That would mean I would have to do more undergrad to get a degree in engineering/math/science (ah!) and then go to law school. I am really not ready for that right now. Maybe when I’m 30. Seriously.

So anyway, this feeling has sort of been creeping up on me more than usual lately and so I put my resume out there and had a call for an interview within hours. I couldn’t help but think the gods were laughing their asses off when I walked in and saw the mockingly small stature of the interviewer. But an hour and a half later I was done and had the promise of more interviews in my near future. I practically ran out of there, bought a pack of Marlboro Lights (which I rarely do and need to stop), smoked one and met my friend Caitlin for the commute back home. After going on thousands of interviews herself, some with equally ridiculous situations, I knew she would appreciate the story. I could not have been happier to see her face through the sea of Midtown suits.

After getting past the small factor, my dad had a few words of wisdom to offer that made me more comfortable with the whole situation. I can’t really say it was the most successful interview I had but I’m hoping one day I will look back at that interview and think it was just one of the first steps on my yellow brick road to success. Pun intended.

satin and sake

Since my sister Danielle got engaged to her fiancé, Steve, about a year and a half ago our lives have been filled with crap I know nothing about. It will never cease to amaze me how many small details there are into planning a wedding and I’m pretty sure if I had to do it I would forget something. That being said, it has been such a fun year and a half and once they get married I think I really am going to miss the planning and everything that went with the engagement. Saturday was her second fitting at Kleinfeld’s and ended up being her last. The dress is absolutely gorgeous and she looks beautiful in it. There are not many things that pull at my heart strings but I have to admit, I did shed a tear or two.

My younger sister Britt and myself were there to learn how to “bustle”- easy enough but alas another example of something I know nothing about. Ellie, a straight off the boat Italian seamstress, made it easy enough for us to figure out how the gather and keep up the material of her dress. “It’s-a very easy. You-a match-a the numbers from-a one string-a to the next-a. You-a see? Six-a match six-a, five-a match five-a. Yes?” Yes.

The whole “my sister’s getting married thing” has sort of made me look at my life a little differently. I’m not saying anything has changed per se but it does make you realize what’s important. It’s easy to say that what other people think doesn’t matter or that you care less about something than you actually do. I used to say that I didn’t really care if I ever got married and carried that attitude throughout college. But no matter how much I want to deny it, I think maybe I grew up a little and I don’t really feel that way anymore. I don’t know if I will ever get married and there is no one in my life right now that I could see myself marrying, but seeing my sister as happy as she is and seeing how much Steve loves her, I’d like to think that any good person deserves that kind of love in their life. Life’s too short to stress over the boys that pretend to care about you. This is an outlook on life that I have tried to stick to many, many, MANY times and usually doesn’t last for too long but I’m a year older and maybe this time it will catch??

Enough of that. After the important, putting-my-life-in-perspective dress fitting it was time to play. When people ask me what my hobbies are or my favorite pastimes I usually have a pretty hard time answering them. I usually come up with lame things like reading and the norm. But I have developed a new favorite pastime over the past year or so. However, I do not think that its socially acceptable (yet) when people ask me what some of my hobbies are that I answer “Sake bombing”. My friends and I have sort of started to go regularly for birthdays and that is where we found ourselves Saturday night; in Tribeca at the place we always go to surrounded by all you can eat Sushi, pitchers of beer and Sake. Within minutes your clothes are soaked, you’ve got a buzz and everyone’s chanting and taking pictures that they wish they hadn’t the next morning. It’s loud and the wooden tables have the smell of beer seeping from its pores. Delightful. We had a good group, a few people we wish could have been there were not, but the more people the better. From there we went out in Tribeca which we usually don’t do and I was glad we did. We went to two places I’ve never been, M1-5 and a place that I can’t even really remember what the inside looked like let alone the name of it.

Before we knew it, it was time to go. My name is Katelyn and I have a serious problem with bars having closing times at all. I’ve visited friends in different states where closing time for bars is 2am and I think it’s utterly absurd. But for some reason when 4am rolls around I think it’s ridiculous that we’re asked to leave. We got back up to the Bronx around 3:45 praying the doors of Rambling House would be open. Sadly they were not and all I could think of was how much fun everyone inside was having. Why can’t everywhere be like Vegas and be open forever? Though if this was the case I think we would all have serious problems. A stop at the Chipper Van to eat ourselves out of our depression was necessary.

Like most Sundays, I was pretty much bed ridden. Unlike most Sundays, I had to pull my life together. Mother’s Day plus an interview this afternoon after work makes for a grouchy me. And like most Mondays, I enjoyed the weekend thoroughly and still have the remains of a hangover floating around in my head.

the tender bar

For anyone that doesn’t know, “The Tender Bar” by J.R. Moehringer, is a book about a man’s life as he graduates college. It’s a coming of age story about how he was basically brought up in the local bars on Long Island and the life lessons he learned from being brought up that way. As an former English major, finding your “favorite book” is a constant struggle but after reading this one twice I have officially made it mine. For those that haven’t read it, you need to. Right now. I read it for the first time the summer of 2008 after I had just graduated and immediately after wrote J.R. a letter basically worshipping him and his book. I read it again the summer of 2009 and I guess in keeping with the theme will probably read it again this summer. Just awesome.

Anyway, this book, along with tons of others and pretty much any movie with a bartender in it, paints the picture of the bartender as the ultimate psychologist. This is a trait that I am still working hard on. I started bartending at our local “country club”- the Amackassin Club- on Thursday nights just from 7-10pm. The club doesn’t officially open until Memorial Day so saying that the nights have been slow is a complete and total understatement. But do I enjoy it? Absolutely. I’ve never bartended before and there’s something to say about being on the other side. My mom says I look like a fish walking on dry land back there but that’s like the pot calling the kettle black.

                                                                                                                 The Amackassin Club
The place sells mostly all beer and wine and if anyone orders anything else I almost always have to ask them how to make it which isn’t as embarrassing as I thought. I have yet to forget how to make a cosmo after making my first (and only) one way back in February. The place has a certain charm to it for sure and every single person that walks through the door knows me or my parents so it’s comfortable in that way. This isn’t to say that I’m like so totally popular but my mom and dad both grew up in North Yonkers with big families and in two different “groups” if you will. For such a big city everyone knows everyone else. A blessing and a curse.

This particular Thursday started off as usual, with me being the only person in the whole place. I don’t usually mind unless I’m tired and then I would love for people to come in and entertain. Be careful what you wish for. Around 7:30 the tennis team came in for their pre-season pump up meeting. Only 7 of them showed up but the tennis “pro”, Kevin, a 65 year old former (current) hippie in love with life, was as enthusiastic as ever about the start of the season. He walked into the bar clapping it up with his guitar slung over his shoulder.

The meeting itself lasted about 20 minutes; they basically talked about everyone who wasn’t there and argued about why they didn’t have a working ball machine. The meeting was officially adjourned and so the guitar came out and me and two other women were suckered into being an audience. Kevin was asked to play the Sacred Heart Grade school’s spring concert and had the sheet music in tow. His first song: Summer Lovin’ from Grease. I have a karaoke history with Summer Lovin’- video included- so I found this pretty funny. He continued on with a few other numbers from the concert including La Bamba, Hound Dog and Leader of the Pack. Yes, these are 8-13 year old Catholic school students that will be singing these for their parents and the neighborhood. That’s Yonkers in a nutshell. Anyway, the two women left and I thought “How much longer can this last?”. About 4 vodka-limes juices and 6 Beatle songs, that’s how long. There is only so much fake enthusiasm I can muster. His wife even stopped by and upon seeing him and his empty glasses and me with my head in my hands could only ask “What in God’s name are you doing?”.

You can bet the entire time I was laughing to myself and thinking that I couldn’t believe this was actually happening. But watching this guy, totally content with life, so happy to just be doing something he loved and was semi-good at, made me think that if I could be that happy with my life when I’m 65 then I will have done a lot of things right. I sort of know his son and have met his wife (God bless her) numerous times and it seems like he has actually has done everything right. I left there, met my friend Jeanne for a beer, we talked for about 3 hours just catching up and I couldn’t have been happier so maybe I am at least on the right track with the people I surround myself with.

You can count on more bartending stories to come since the summer is right around the corner and I don’t have a bouncer but in the mean time read “The Tender Bar”. I could say it’s life changing but really it’s just everything you probably already know being pointed out to you.

a little history

As someone who is brand new to blogging, I’d like to blog about the actual process of setting up a blog. I felt like I was back in tenth grade, trying to figure out how to put color in my AOL profile with all those random letters and number signs everywhere. A little disheartening, I would have to say but I powered through. Now, here I am, my first blog with the most basic template ever. Just like my first AOL profile. The circle of life.

I won’t bore you with all the details of my life but I suppose a little background info is necessary. I’m 24, live in Yonkers, New York at home with my parents and am a legal assistant. I graduated college from James Madison University in Harrisonburg, Virginia. Worlds away from Yonkers in a lot of ways and I miss it every day. It has been almost 2 years to the day that I graduated and I still can’t believe it. I was an English major and absolutely love reading and writing but of course am now doing nothing remotely close to what I studied. Thus the blog.

When I moved back home from school I basically thought my life was over. I do think that anyone’s college years are the best in their life but I do realize now that all the good times don’t stop once they hand you your diploma. Every single person (no dramatics here) that I was close with at school lives in the Northern Virginia area. I mean ALL of them. I knew this upon graduating and I think this is what made it harder. Everyone was going to continue on with their friendships and leave me behind…or so I thought. However, over these past two years I have kept in really great contact with everyone and honestly I don’t think I’m missing out on much. Of course I get jealous when they are on kick ball teams together and go to happy hours during the week, things that I couldn’t do just from visiting, but I’ve come to realize that I really like my life here and I don’t think I could ever move that far away. I think it’s the whole “appreciating things you have more once you leave and come back” sort of thing.

 

I have two sisters: Brittany, 19 and a freshman at JMU (super jealous) and Danielle, 29 and about to be happily married. You can already see how different our lives are and yet we are pretty close. Not to say we don’t go through all the normal sister BS but they will definitely pop up here quite a bit. My roommates, aka mom and dad, are pretty great and I’m pretty sure if I never wanted to leave the nest they would never make me.

The reasoning behind the title of my blog is very deep and meaningful. Not really but there are a lot of reasons I chose it, all which will be revealed in due time.

And there goes my blogging virginity….