what a week

After a cheetalicious weekend (Charlotte was in town, we went out on the prowl) I was totally loving my life and revved up for the week. Then Monday came and punched my stomach, kicked my shin, and pulled my hair; it was awful. I returned home after being out with Dana&Co around 3:30am Monday morning. Isabelle proceeded to wake me up four times, causing me to groggily drag myself out of bed to feed her, pet her, and hum Miley Cyrus songs...I swear she's more high maintenance than a newborn. Naturally, after a rough night with the baby, I woke up late on Monday morning, shimmied myself into shorts and a plaid shirt and ran out the door. During my transfer at Union Square I used a ninja-like foot jab to try to keep the doors open. Needless to say, the conductor of the train won the battle and the train pulled out the station, leaving me behind on the platform with an aching foot. I finally made it to Teen Vogue and sat down to breathe for a minute before discovering that I was charged $400 for three drinks on Saturday night. I then spent ten minutes arguing with the automated robot girl on the phone at my bank before hanging up (apparently "i want to speak to a human!" is not an available option.) My soy latte did nothing to lighten my mood and I spent my Monday in a classic pissy mood.

Tuesday involved an early wake up (5:45) and a trip to Pier59 studios to help out with a shoot. I abused the open bar privileges (and by that I mean I had two lattes, an iced tea, and three bottles of water), got to play with lots of pretty jewelry, and got yelled at once by a demon woman. Not my fault. After the shoot finally wrapped up I headed to Rachel's where we watched Secret Life of the American Teenager and ate cookie dough and burnt cookies for dinner. Yesterday Lauren and I frolicked around the office all day. During our coffee run my dress blew up to my head as I screamed and tried to wrestle it down with a latte in each hand. I met Dana for dinner after work at Spring Street Natural Restaurant and filled my tum up with tofu, tempeh, and flourless chocolate cake. I met Carolyn afterwards at Millie's bar to cuddle, exchange stories, and justify each other's life choices. Now it's a slow Thursday at Teen Vogue, but at least I'm wearing bright pink shoes? I suppose things are on the up.

michigander

I returned from my week in Michigan yesterday with the following: three new pairs of shoes, two new card games under my belt, some tan lines, an obsession with vampires and a killer ab regime (props to Andrea for the last two.) In true New York style, I was greeted after a delayed flight with a lost luggage scare, a buttload of traffic, an inferno of an apartment, and an abnormally shedding bunny. Lucky for me, I was able to make a quick escape to Rachel and Allison's place; if only they knew that I use them for their air conditioning (I joke girls, I joke.)

And now I'm sitting with Big and Fattie, the two cats that I'm catsitting for. We're watching the Legally Blonde finale and they seem to love my singing along. Much to my delight, I spent the majority of today with Mama Mia's "Honey Honey" in my head, occassionally breaking out one of my grandma's signIature dance moves. Rachel later had MY version of "Freddy My Love" in her head. Such a musical day! Oh, and I saw Tom Stewart, who plays drums, so that's musical too.

Uh huh, honey, honey.

les fotos

omg, how was your fourth?!

Mine was great, thanks for asking. I fell asleep while watching a movie with my favorite Canadians. Nils made naan and I was able to catch a couple tiny tiny fireworks across the river in New Jersey. Good times.

I'm currently sitting in my office at Teen Vogue, alternating between sipping my iced soy latte and furiously trying to rid my navy blue dress of Isabelle's fur. The latte was my reward for playing Dana's-unpaid-assitant yet again; this time it was an early wake up call, lugging bags into an SUV, and riding over to 14th and 9th to unload the bags where Dana is shooting today. The fur was my reward for tackling Isabelle, wrestling her to the ground, then gently shoving her kicking legs and fluffy butt into her cage.

Saturday was one of Robbie's birthday parties. Dana and I spent the majority of the time running a summer camp for nine year old boys (guitar hero, high school musical sing alongs, jumping off the couch onto a dog bed, etc.), smoking miniature stogis in the Hamptons, and doing shots of Patrone in the corner of the garage. The adults were confined to the porch, where they went through beer after beer and hot dog after hot dog. Highlights of the party include the longest baby carrot in the world, the baby carrot that looked like an eyebrow, a prehistoric moth, the reverend, Dad's multiple flip outs about "wiener buns," and Michael, the four year old love of my life.

Sunday was spent at Gram's house eating blueberry pie, playing Apples to Apples, and getting haircuts from Mom in the front yard. I went straight to work from Jersey, where the only escape from the lack of guests in the restaurant was taking room temperature shots with the bartender and trying not to make a face. Last night on the F train, the conductor was one of those crazies who abuses her microphone privileges to yell at New Yorkers for blocking the doors. And I'm pretty sure Corny Collins was driving the E train this morning.



Oh and also, I'm famous. Since my debut as an intern blogger, random girls have been friending me on facebook (I've been rejecting left and right.) Girls, girls, girls, while I admire your stalking skills, I simply do not have time to respond to your cries for help concerning your resume, interviews, and pairing navy and black. It's tough being a celebrity...now back to this bunny fur sitch.