Well, lazy for the fact that I slept in until noon, but given the fact that I didn’t go to sleep until around 3, that isn’t too bad. 

For the rest of the day, however, I have to write at least ten pages of my one-act play, attend sorority chapter (or make a decision to skip sorority chapter and suffer the consequences), and host a writer’s meeting. Ugh. (I wish one of my to-dos was going grocery shopping, as I currently have no food, except for the one meal I pick up at the tiny market under my building each time I come home. Sadly, there is no time…)

Right now, though, I’m cooking some delicious ramen noodles (from said market), lounging in my lounge wear, and drinking a liter of smart water to counteract all those dehydrating liquids I took in last night at my friend’s annual Halloween party. I, as you may know, went as Sharpay Evans, the antagonist of my favorite movies. My friend Josh partnered with me to be her mildly flamboyant brother, Ryan. We, obviously, looked amazing and the party was a great success until the police showed up (in an area known to not be patrolled by ANY police, as it’s on some crazy border between actual Boston and our campus where neither police forces patrol), which means some neighbor called. Jerks. The joy of being 21, (wait…no…22! Lord…) is that I no longer have to be scared of arrest. For drinking, at least.

Pictures will obviously be posted as soon as someone posts them on facebook for me to steal.

Hello? Remember me? The owner of this little space on the internet? Yeah, me, who has trouble prioritizing blogging over things like homework, actual work, seeing friends, and um…sleeping? Yeah, that’s me. *waves* 

I hate neglecting this blog, but I’ve been so busy, that I seem to not only always have something to do, but I also seem to always have two things to do, thus I always feel guilty no matter what I’m doing. What fun! Case in point, this weekend, my mom is coming to visit, which I’ve been excited about for a while, but it is also the weekend I planned to go see “Title of Show” with my friends in New York. Way to write things down, Amanda! So now, I have to find someone to take my place in New York, because I would feel like a total bitch ditching my mom to go see a show. Boo. 

But this week has been eventful in many ways. Some of which I shouldn’t really talk about here…but I might…eventually. Stay tuned. (Please note: this is a time I wish I was an anonymous blogger. I finally get good stories, and I have to censor them. Double boo.) 

So without further ado, I present to you….a bulleted list. (Get excited!)

This week I…

• Had a phone interview for Teach for America that I thought went alright. It wasn’t my best phone interview ever, but I definitely didn’t bomb. I was tentatively hopeful. Well, today I found out, I got invited to an in-person interview! It’s the final step of the whole admission process and consists of teaching a 5-minute lesson and a personal interview, among other things. The interview is in two weeks, so now on top of all my other fun school work, I get to think of things to teach other people. That’s a good thing, right? Right. 
• Had a fun girls night out. Jillian and I had a ridiculously delicious dinner at Tremont 647 in the South End. My dinner consisted of a mouthwatering flank steak with pistachio pesto, roasted vegetables and HUGE rosemary tater tots filled with fontina cheese. Yeah…it was insane. I also had this beautiful pink gin cocktail. It’s my new favorite thing, basically ever. We then had to waste some time before our friends got off work, so we decided to go up to Top of the Hub, the restaurant/bar at the top of the Prudential Building to get a drink and gawk at the view. It was beautiful, and as an added bonus, we got to ride down 52 flights with three middle-aged drunk women who claimed to look like Jackie O and asked us for cigarettes. They also remarked that we looked like sisters since we had the same hair color. Good times. The rest of the night was spent at various bars on Boylston, where I overheard many drunken 20-somethings discussing their financial portfolios. I felt mildly out of place, but I’d been drinking since 7, so I managed. 
• Went on a 1AM run to IHOP with my friends. I even got to drive there in a Blue Prius! My main hobby in LA was counting Prius’s as I drove to work (one time, I saw over 70 in a day, and on my way from San Diego to LA, I spotted OVER TWO HUNDRED!) It was like a dream come true – my life coming full circle. We also discovered IHOP is the place to be after 2AM, as its the only place open after 2. Damn Boston bars and their early closing times, not that we’d been at a bar. We’d just been hanging out…and decided to drive to IHOP. At one in the morning. I know what you’re thinking: you wish you could hang out with people as cool as my friends. 
• Bought an AMAZING winter coat. I had an hour off of work, decided it was freezing, and ran two blocks to the Shops at the Prudential Center for some power shopping. I hit (in ONE HOUR) 344, J. Crew, Banana Republic, Saks 5th Avenue, Gap, and Free People. I, of course, found a coat at the first store I went to (344), but had to check everywhere else to make sure they didn’t have anything better. They didn’t, so I ran back to grab the coat. I even got $25 off for being a student. Power shopping win! It’s soooo pretty, and I’ve been wearing non-stop, possibly even when sleeping. I wish I were joking. 

Last night, I vowed never again to wait in line to get into a bar. Now, I’ve never been a fan of bars with lines, as I find them pretentious and over-hyped. I also think there is a special place in hell for bouncers who think that being able to open and close a velvet rope somehow makes them equal to the gods. Last night, however, was the final straw on my ever friends being able to drag me to these bars against my will ever again.

Jillian invited me to go out for her friend’s birthday at Alibi in the Liberty Hotel. She’d heard it was a cool bar, as the hotel used to be a prison and the bar is decorated with prison bars and mug shots and such. I was planning on staying in and doing some homework, since I had to get up kind of early this morning, but Jillian urged me to come out. I’ll never be so maleable again.

 Jillian was a little upset that we didn’t get the call to head out until 10, as she’d figured you needed to get there early to avoid lines. By the time we got out the door, it was 10:30. I didn’t bring a jacket, since I didn’t have one that matched my shirt, idiotically putting fashion before comfort. BAD DECISION. Apparently, in the last two days, winter has come over Boston and it was FREEZING. I then had to wait for the T without a jacket for THIRTY FIVE MINUTES. In that time, a T passed, giving us a momentary glimmer of hope,  but then passed, giving us a giant EFF YOU, because the T rocks like that. /end sarcasm. 

Once we finally got on the T (for our half an hour ride across town. Blerg.), I was so sick of waiting. I needed this bar to be awesome to justify putting on tight pants instead of pajamas. When we got to the bar, we found Jillian’s friend and walked over. There were two lines outside (Not inside like I had been told. Thus, the shivering continued…) and we didn’t know which was for Alibi and which was for the other bar inside, Clink. (Note the period is part of the name of the bar, as in “Clink.” because punctuating the name allows them to charge another three dollars for a vodka tonic.) Anyway, Jillian went and asked which line was which, and one (of about seven) bouncer told us it was the one on the left, and that the wait would be about 25 minutes. Awesome. I figured I could suck it up for twenty-five minutes.

So we waited. And waited. The line moved every half hour until we were only one person from the front of the line. Success! I then looked over to another sad, cold bar hopper talking to a bouncer whow was informed that the line of the RIGHT was for Alibi. Uh oh. I realized we’d been waiting in the WRONG LINE for over thirty minutes. Of course, at this moment, bouncer came over and proceeded to let everyone in the Alibi line into the bar! (Even people who got there well after us.) I asked him if that was, in fact, the Alibi line, and he said yes, so we hoped over into that line (and became the only ones in the line) and HE CLOSED THE ROPE ON US! After he saw that we’d been in the wrong line (at the FRONT of the wrong line, obviously having been there for a while.) We seethed, but figured we couldn’t wait that much longer at the front of this new line. We were wrong. We waited another 25 minutes, before getting so angry we called the original (lying) bouncer over to us to explain the situation. He was unsympathetic, doubting he even told us the wrong line in the first place. Douche. 

This whole time, HUNDREDS of people were pouring out of the bar, and creepy slutty street walkers flirted with the bouncers and walked right in. Adding to the fun, while Jillian scolded the bouncer, the girls behind us clearly had our backs, muttering “Great, now we aren’t going to get in, becuase he hates them!”

Cut to 20 mintues later when said girl reached our level of frustration and left the line to go yell at the boucers about how she’d never been treated so poorly. (“I’ve been waiting here behind three people for an HOUR while hundreds of people have come out! I’ve never seen such TERRIBLE customer service in my life!” Clearly, all she needed was 20 more minutes in the cold to feel our pain.) 

Finally, at 10 til 1AM (we got there at 11:30 and the bar closes at 2), Jillian’s friend calmly approached the bouncer who’d closed the rope on us to calmly and kindly explain that she’d spent that last hour and a half of her birthday in the line, shivering, after being given faulty information by one of their bouncers. Couldn’t he just let us into the hotel so we could get a drink, not even in Ablibi, just anywhere, rather than standing outside until taking a cab home at 2. He agreed and let us in. 

We walked into and quickly out of Alibi as it was loud, crowded, and none of us wanted to give the bar any money by buying drinks at that point. We ended up wandering around the hotel, (which was SUPER COOL, much to my chagrin) looking for a fancy bathroom, and stealing towels from said bathroom. Clearly, we are classy. And vindictive. We had to restrain Jillian from yelling at the original bouncer on the way out. 

In conclusion, don’t go to exclusive clubs. Or, as we were condescendingly told by the bouncer, get there early. Or just don’t go at all, save ourself some money, buy a giant handle of vodka, plug in your iPod, and have your own awesome dance party. You can put a velvet rope outside your door to feed your need for exclusivity. Plus, you could wear pajamas. Who wouldn’t want to party in pajamas?

I’ve learned in the past two weeks that I am bad at being busy and blogging. I’ve been so caught up in getting back into the swing of having an actual life in all senses: a social life, a school life, a work life. I can never say no to things, and thus, I have been running around from event to event, meeting to meeting, not stopping to look around enough to have anything to actually write about. 

The things that have been taking up the bulk of my time can be divided into four categories: classes, work, Bay State and friends. Let’s take them one by one, so as not to knock me over with the sheer amount of things I have to split my focus between. 

Classes: Have been good. Really good. I got into an Advanced playwriting class I applied to early in the summer as a back-up to my ever changing schedule. It’s taught by a guy who, among other writerly things, runs an organization to lobby for the arts in Massachusetts, a subject very near and dear to my heart. (In fact, when asked to talk in my acting class for 1 to 3 minutes about a subject I am passionate about, I spoke about the arts in education.) I think it will be nice to go back to a subject that was so important to me in high school. (Background side note: I was in a Performing Arts magnet program my last two years of high school, causing me to take playwriting for two years with my amazingly amazing drama teacher.)

Speaking of high school, I am also returning to an acting class for the first time since senior year in Acting for Writers and Directors. It’s so cool to look at acting from a different viewpoint, while still being the actor yourself in class. I think it’s going to really  help with my playwriting class. 

My last class is photography, which I am BEYOND excited about. (Stupid sidenote: I had to pick up prints today from Ritz Camera for work. While I waited, I, of course, had to ask if I could look at the D90 I knew they had to have just gotten in. I think I impressed the camera sales boys.) We went into the darkroom at the end of class, and I got all tingly. I can’t wait to get started on my first assignment, which is a very good thing during your last semester of college. Most people are just trying to push their ways to the end. 

Next up…WORK: Could be going better. For one thing, after interviewing for the infamous job and being told they wanted to make a quick decision, I have heard absolutely NOTHING. At this point, I’m going on the assumption that I didn’t get it, but is it too much to want to know for sure? I just feel like I need to start gearing myself up for the reality that I have to look for a job in five months and having this possibility of getting out of it hanging over my head is wildly unhelpful. Plus, they seem to want me to act like I have the position (i.e.: working more) without actually hiring me, which is wildly unfair to me. I’m not going to give up my life to work unless I’m being paid salary, thankyouverymuch. 

Which leads me to the reason for not wanting to work more, which is BAY STATE: the campus TV show I am Co-Executive Producing this semester. I’ve worked on the show, which, by the way, is America’s longest running college soap opera, since freshman year, and it has always been my goal to Executive Produce. Actually doing the job is kind of surreal. I’m sharing Executive Producer responsibilities with my friend Josh, who you may remember from my numerous summer outings to his apartment, who is SUPER serious about the show, and thus, likes to have conversations and meetings about it basically every day. This is great for the show and for the quality, which we are always trying to ramp up, but it is a little hard on my sanity when I am dealing with lots of other things. 

And lastly FRIENDS: who I am SO HAPPY to have back in my life after my summer of two friends. I’ve basically been out with people every night, whether singing “Oops I did it Again” with Jillian at Karaoke Tuesdays at our favorite bar (after some drunk hoes sang “See you Again” by our best friend Miley Cyrus  before we got a chance!) or playing Mario Kart (and sucking majorly) with Jenn, Lauren and Alex. It is just nice to have somewhere to go every night and to have people to call when I’m bored. I feel like I need to soak all this up now before I possibly move somewhere with no friends and work so much I never want to leave my apartment. Boo to the future. 

So that is where I’ve been. There are so many stories I wish I could tell in full, like traveling out to Porter Square with Jillian and Alex to visit Megan (one of my two summer friends) and her boyfriend Paul to see their new grown-up apartment and realizing that I could live there after graduation (for SO MUCH CHEAPER than staying around campus) and be pretty happy. Or about my work day from hell, which I only survived with constant texting (including riddles from Alex) and a Quiznos sub. Or about my new wish to live in Europe for a year due to a combination of reading and loving My Life in France by Julia Child (who I now want to be) and seeing and loving Vicky Christina Barcelona (does Woody Allen EVER disappoint?). 

Luckily, every time I write here, I remember why I like writing here. Hopefully, I’ll catch up on the blog world once I’ve caught up on my life a little bit more. I’ve been neglecting commenting, and I don’t like it. So, is anyone else having trouble getting back into the swing of things?

This weekend, I took a trip to a place that caused me to vow never again to complain about the amount of gay men in the city of Boston, as I had found a placed that trumped it 10 times over. That place is a little beach town on the tip of Cape Cod called Provincetown. It’s adorable, ecclectic, fun, and populated by exactly 5 straight men, most of them married with children. 

I’m not complaining. I had a wonderful time. I just went to more gay clubs this weekend than I have in my entire life up until this point. (My favorite part: the playlists! Artists heard on our first night out included Janet, Paula Abdul, Madonna, the cats of Mamma Mia!, Rhianna, and of course, a Whitney medley!)  I guess I asked for it as I traveled there with four girls and four gay guys. The girls didn’t stand much of a chance. 

We headed out on Friday afternoon, taking the “fast ferry” to Provincetown, which we did not fully appreciate until we doubled our travel time on the way back by taking the “slow ferry.” 

We had a little too much fun jumping on the outer deck to see if we would move backwards on the boat as it moved forward and taking contemplative pictures in the setting sun. When we got into town, we quickly found dinner at a cute little restaurant, where the host offered to store my suitcase while we ate, but not before joking about stealing it and/or selling it to the highest bidder. Ah, small town charm. 

The next day, we walked out of our hotel to find this view while waiting for the shuttle to the beach: 

Needless to say, it was a welcomed change from city life. While at the beach, I managed to get myself into the water and give myself a wicked sunburn. (Damn you, lack of sunscreen! I’m still recovering.) My friends and I also managed to witness FISH MURDER! It started out innocently enough.

Oo, look! Pelicans! Cool! Aw, look at them swimming. Hey, they caught a fish! Nature is so cool. Wait…what is it…ew…ok, that pecking is mildly disturbing. OMG! HIS BEAK IS COVERED IN BLOOD! Did you see that? He just ripped the fish in two…and, wait, what is that bird doing? HE SWALLOWED IT WHOLE! Ah! I HATE NATURE!

Needless to say, I’m scarred for life and will now find the pelicans shounting “Mine!” in Finding Nemo horrifyingly terrifying. I will provide pictures (if anyone actually wants to see them) once my friends upload them onto facebook, but I’m sure the mental image painted above is enough. Despite this unfortunate act of nature, it proved to be a much more positive beach outing than my California beach outing. 

The rest of the weekend is a blur of eating way to much fried food, seeing far too many unattractive shirtless men, listening to endless amounts of dance music, and making a slew of new friends. All in all, it was a wonderful trip out of the city, but I’m always happy to be back in Boston. 

I didn’t intend to spent my last moments in both New York City and Wilmington in tears, standing before some sort of transportation device. In fact, I intended to leave happy and refreshed. That was the whole point of getting away. The Universe, again, had different plans for me, and you know how well those plans usually play out. 

Let’s start with New York. When I last left you, I was on my way to the Big Apple, happily typing away thanks to the free Wi-Fi on Bolt Bus. Sadly, that bused turned out to be 2 hours late, an early warning of what was to come. I enjoyed a mildly stress-free weekend, meeting up with my camp friend, Lindsey, and my school roomie, Jillian, all while staying with my sister. We had some nice meals (I finally fulfilled my rib craving at Wild Wood on Park Ave. that I’d had since watching hours upon hours of “Thrill of the Grill” week on Food Network) and hit up some fun bars (I recommend Beauty Bar in the East Village: $5 drinks AND Eighties music? Sold!). My annoyance (and my later problems) began to arise, however, when my sister, Stephanie, decided to spend the night in Brooklyn instead of meeting Lindsey, Jillian, and I out on the town. Thus, I was left with her keys for the night. 

Sunday morning, I said good-bye to Lindsey and met Stephanie and my grand-parents (in town for a conference) for brunch with some acquaintances of theirs who are involved in theater. (The woman is actually now an anchor on The Onion News Network!) The brunch was nice, as I love chatting with theater people. I made a great contact, and they assured Stephanie and I that our money spent buying tickets to the matinee of “Sunday in the Park with George” was well spent. 

After brunch we headed out to see said production of “Sunday in the Park,” which, as it turns out, was the LAST performance of the show! I’d sung some of the songs before, but I’d never seen the whole show (apart from various scenes from the original with Bernadette Peters that aired on PBS), so I went in with an open mind, and I was not disappointed. I wish I could compel people to go see it, but obviously I can’t. It was one of the most unique productions I have ever seen: The whole show revolves around the French painter Georges Seurat painting “A Sunday afternoon on the island of La Grande Jatte,” and as he sketched on stage, his drawings and painting came alive behind him (using some new projection technology), creating both the painting and the setting of the show. It was, to say the least, magical. The performances were moving, and unexpectedly funny. Jenna Russell was amazing, and both she and Daniel Evans choked up during the final song, causing me and I’m sure the whole audience to choke up and then stand for the last five minutes of the show. The applause during the curtain call was deafening. It again made me realize how much I love theater.

But I digress…(I had to take a break from the flow of the story because the play was just that good.) when we left the theater, it was raining, causing Stephanie and I to scramble first to find a cab and then to give up and jump on the subway. (At this point I was done with subways, as Stephanie lives so far north, each time we returned to her apartment was an hour and fifteen minutes on the subway. Not. Fun.) I had to grab my bags from my grandparents and run to my bus. I, luckily,got there with time to spare, so Stephanie and my grandma said good-bye. As I stood waiting to board, flustered from the rush and feeling done with public transportation from all the subway riding, I noticed some people talking with a Bolt Bus employee about how their tickets had the wrong date on them, and they were thus having difficulty boarding the bus. It appeard to be some technical glitch with the Bolt Bus website. As I heard this, I glanced down at my ticket, just to be sure. Of course, my ticket too ahd the wrong date: the date I had come to New York not the date I was leaving. My heart dropped. I did not feel like dealing with what would happen if I missed this bus. I started to think that I would just book a ticket to my parent’s house, because this constant stress of crap happening to me was becoming too much to handle. I eased my way over to the group of angry patrons, hoping they had made enough headway that I could get on without problem. Things seemed to be heading in that direction, and then, my phone rang. 

I still had Stephanie’s keys. Not only her apartment keys so that she coudln’t get home, but her work keys, whose disappearance would cause her more than a little grief the next day. According to both my sister and my mom, I couldn’t get on the bus. At this point, I was more than annoyed. I had already been upset that Stephanie had basially abandoned me (and not for the first time) the night before, leaving me to get myself and Lindsey back to her apartment without her, but now I had to miss my bus, which I was already shaken up about the possibility of missing, to wait around for her to come get her keys.

On the phone with my mom trying to figure out how I was going to get home, as the group of disgruntled Bolt Bus riders boarded the bus, I started to cry. From exhaustion. From annoyance. From being overwhelmed at standing on a busy sidewalk of New York with a bright pink suitcase yelling at my mom that it wasn’t my fault Stephanie forgot to get her keys from me. The Bolt Bus woman came over to ask if I was getting on the  bus, and as I turned to her, face covered in tears, she must have thought I was getting news of a family member’s death. Her face changed, and she left me alone, feeling like an idiot. A crying idiot.I wasn’t worried that I wouldn’t get back, so much. I am just a person who doesn’t take a change of plans well. Added on top of everything else, this felt like a big deal. 

I dragged my bags four  blocks to Penn Station to buy a train ticket, where I resigned myself to the fact that I wasn’t getting into Boston until midnight and scarfed down some greasy pizza, waiting for Stephanie. When she got there, I tried not to take my anger out on her, as I greatly appreciated her waiting with me for the next hour for my train to come. I finally got on the train, calmed myself down, and fell asleep. Sadly, the train got in an hour and a half late, making it 2AM before I went to bed, allowing me only 5 hours of sleep before getting up for class at 7AM. Awesome. 

Trip number one: done. Status: much more tired than before. 

Up next: Train trips 2 and 3.

Loving: My Saturday night spent out on the town with my uncle. We started at an art opening, where I got to drink free alcohol (delicious Pinot Grigio) that wasn’t in red or plastic (or both) cup and rename art work with one of my favorite family members. Uncle D then took me to Rocca in the South End for a delicious and painfully filling Italian meal. Class level for the weekend: a perfect 10. 

Hating: My apartment. It’s dirty. There are bugs. There are dishes in the sink that I refuse to clean (hint: because they aren’t MINE!), plus, while I LOVE LOVE LOVE my roommate, it’s so hard to share a room with after sophomore year in college. 

Loving: That I’m heading to NYC on Friday. It’s seriously all that is getting me through my week. 

Hating: That I am having trouble saving up money to spend on myself in NYC because I am forced to buy trash bags, toilet paper, aluminum foil, and other random essentials for our apartment that no one else will buy. Plus paying all those stupid bills. Damn you, Comcast!

Loving: My political science class. It’s nice to be in a regular class again, especially one that is actually interesting. If anyone has any questions about the black/white achievement gap, the lack of women in science and engineering, bilingual education, or teacher pay, I’m your girl. 

Hating: The girl who chooses to sit directly in front of me in my Political Science class, despite the fact that there are only EIGHT people in the class, and thus ample numbers of seats that are not directly in front of me. Plus, she seems to not understand the concept of a start time to class, as she comes in EVERY DAY around 6 or 6:15, feigning embarrassment, despite the fact that class starts at 5:30. This shouldn’t bother me that much, but on top of everything else, it makes me want to punch her in the face. 

Loving: That they are making Rock Band for Wii.

Hating: That I cannot afford a Wii OR a rock band for the Wii. Or a Wii Fit, which looks totally awesome too. 

That last one is completely random, but really…they HAD to make Rock Band for Wii? Because I didn’t already want to spend all my nonexistent money buying a Wii and a Wii fit? 

Sorry to be such a downer lately. I’m just in that place where every little thing is driving me crazy to the point where I will punch anyone in the face who even looks at me on the T. For real. 

Deep breathes…ok….so NYC in four days. Visit to my parent’s in 10. I can last til then, right? Right. 

Oh, and in my annoyance, I’m hoping I didn’t start some kind of internet fight here. Oops. 

Last night, Lynn and I headed out for a night on the town, aka dinner in the North End then a show at the Improv Asylum. I had been wanting to see a show there for three years, and with my new summer slash fall goal of doing all the things in Boston I’ve always wanted to do before I (possibly) leave come December, it seemed like a good time to go. Plus, I got special $10 tickets on Goldstar, so score!

Dinner was a delicious Italian meal (of course) of baked ziti followed by some torrone from Modern Pastry. The show at the IA was really good. High points were a lovely song and dance about assholes on the T (a subject I know all too well) and and an interview with a 38 year-old-scientist who is getting married in two weeks. It wasn’t as funny as the show I caught three years ago at Second City, (Damn you, Chicagoans and your mildly superior comedy troupes!) but good none the less. Lynn and I also fell in love with the tall-skinny actor with glasses, because that’s how we roll. We had a few down moments, mostly involving the drunk bitches next to us screaming out “SKETCHY GUYS” every time they asked for a prompt from another section of the audience. I really have no tolerance for drunken outbursts in public, unless it’s me, which really, it never is. 

We were supposed to head to our sorority sister’s going away party when we got back, but the thought of having to take another T ride into Allston at 11 and then possibly have to walk or cab back if we didn’t leave by 12:30 was not appealing, especially when the party may not even have been fun. I’m such an anti-college student in this respect. If I am not guaranteed to have a good time by putting in the effort to get dressed up and go out, I would rather put on pajamas and watch Friday Night Lights DVDs, which is exactly what we did.* And it was a fabulous end to the night. 

*I fear for what I would be like in a relationship because of this. Aren’t you supposed to want to go out and be crazy when you are single? And stay in and watch DVDs when you aren’t? I would NEVER leave my apartment after 10:30 if I had a boyfriend. For real. Maybe that’s why I never have one. It would just be bad for my social life. 

I have a few minutes before heading out to brunch slash final project meeting with my roommates, but I will tell these stories if it kills me!

Story #1: Thursday was a particularly long day at work where I may have almost fallen asleep several times at my desk. I dragged myself to class that night, sat down in front of my professor, ready to push through class. (Although, I do love my Thursday night class. All we do is sit around and talk about television.) Anyway, my professor says not to get too comfortable. We are going on a field trip across the street to see a taping of “The Soup”! (Yes, our classrooms are in the same building as E! We are also right next to The Weinstein Company offices.) So we packed up and headed across the street and into an E! studio. Behind us was the E! News Set (also the set of various scenes in Knocked Up) and in front of us was a giant green curtain, aka “The Soup” set. 

Now this is where I should pause and say that I am mildly obbsessed with “The Soup.” We have a series recording on our DVR, and my roommate who works at E! has basically stalked Joel McHale several times. This could not have been a cooler trip for us. 

Anyway, Joel came out and was adorable, as expected. The audience was very small and basically made up of friends of people who work at E! so we felt very exclusive. Joel came around and talked to the audience, and by some sweet miracle, I got to talk for our class. I made a slight fool of myself:

Joel: And how did you guys get in?

Me: I’m with my class, courtesy of Jason. 

Joel: Oh, yeah, the AV class.

Me: (a little condescendingly… unintentionally of course) TV Class.

Grace (whispering): That’s the same thing.

Me: Well, now I feel pretty stupid.

Joel laughs. I hang my head in shame. 

Watching the show tape was kind of surreal. It felt like a completely different place than what you see on television, and it was so interesting to see how he would try out a joke, see it didn’t work, meet with the writers, then come up with something so much better in two minutes. We tried to hear our laughter on the finished show, but alas, all we heard was the awesome stage manager yelling. 

This is probably not interesting to anyone but me, so I digress to…

Story #2: Thursday night was my friend Chrissie’s 21st birthday, so she got a table at Winston’s to celebrate. (Getting table service in LA has been a goal of mine so: check!) Anyway, Chrissie is kind of seeing Jeremy Piven’s assistant, and once we were a little tipsy, Chrissie got a text from him saying “I’ll be there soon. Jeremy might come.” We all paused to take a moment and think about how Jeremy Piven was probably coming to her 21st birthday party. I had flashes of my years of watching Cupid and Entourage, while Jillian basically fell to the floor. I put it out of my mind, thinking it wouldn’t happen, but came out of the bathroom some time later to find Jeremy hugging Chrissie and dancing with my friends! Sadly, by the time I got over there, my friends had already talked to him, and I didn’t want to be creepy and stalker like, so I simply danced by them and said nothing. Still…Jeremy Piven came to my friend’s birthday party! It was pretty exciting, for me personally. He was shorter than expected.

The rest of the weekend has been spent being tired, seeing “Saving Sarah Marshall” and then using that as an excuse to stay in and have a Judd Apatow movie marathon. (Very fun. I highly recommend it.) Tonight is a Passover Potluck that I fear will turn into me bringing my delicious brisket and everyone else bringing things like fruit and veggie platters and gefilte fish. Someone needs to bring an actual dinner dish. This is a concept lost on many college students. I’ll let you know how this goes. 

I feel I’ve neglected you, dear blog! This week has been crazy ridiculous. I didn’t even twitter today. *GASP* A giant amazing post is forthcoming, but to give you a taste, it includes not only me going to a taping of “The Soup” (Joel McHale totally talked to me out of ALL the kids in my class. OMGZ FANGIRL SQUEEE….and I loathe myself….) but also Jeremy Piven coming to my friend’s 21st birthday party. For real. Oh, LA…

Oh, and while it’s on my mind, Jim and Pam make me drip loneliness. I literally threw a pillow across the room when he pulled out the ring, both out of a ridiculous amount of excitement for them (Yes, I am that invested in fictional characters), and out of my own self pity. Damn the lack of real Jim’s in the world. Damn.