Does anyone else see a problem with this apartment description? Sigh.
After 18-ish long months, NYC can breathe easy again: I’m back, on at least a semi-permanent basis. Did you miss me, city? No, I should go fuck myself if I’m not going to spare any change and HONK-RATS-GIVEMEALLYOURFINGERNAILS? Oh, OK then.
Just kidding, I feel like the city has given me a very warm welcome back. The first day’s thunderstorms led to karaoke-with-strangers adventures, and since then, it’s been nothing but sunny, pleasant days, great professional opportunities, and OK yes, the occasional rat sighting.
Does it feel weird to be back? Yes and no. In some ways, I feel totally transplanted and in others, I feel like I never left. Here’s a run down of what’s changed, and what hasn’t:
- There are tons of new bars and restaurants, but sometimes that happens overnight, so I don’t feel too out of it.
- It’s gotten harder to walk up subway stairs or in heels. This is probably because I have gotten older and a little fatter, and not so much New York’s fault.
- "Girl, you got some big, pretty legs," said a rando on the street, reminding me that "compliments" in this city are still generally horrifying.
So, that’s the update. I’m going to try to get back to regular posts here, because I just don’t feel like the internet gets enough of me.
Attention all New Yorkers: DO PEOPLE KNOW ABOUT THIS??
It’s called Puddin, and if you’re still thinking it over instead of immediately going there, you’re making a mistake. Butterscotch puddin, ginger cookies, and salted caramel. You’re welcome.
Also, a fun game is to replace words in song lyrics with “Puddin” and see which fellow wedding guests totally just get it. Those people are your friends for life.
On the day I wrote a post mocking people who celebrate gratuitous anniversaries, of course I’d like to wish myself an unnecessary happy anniversary.
So, yay! It’s the one year anniversary of the day I left New York for Paris to become a total lovelorn cliche. And while I’m not 100% pleased with the amount of progress I’ve made in a year, I can’t say my life hasn’t changed in some amazing ways. Most of all, of course, my beloved job blogging for Smitten, where I get to help thousands of women on their quests to become bitter single women who are poor, alone and a little miserable at (almost) 31, just like me. Daily.
Oh wait, no one wants to be like me? Um, why do I give advice then? Whatever, I’m getting cheese fries!
On a related note, happy fall! If it’s as good as last fall, I’ll be a lucky girl.
(Mums, squash, apples, and bourbon cider. Could I be more autumnal?)
Why yes, I did hang my vacation wardrobe in color coded order in my cruise ship room, thanks for asking.
And before you accuse me of overpacking, I wore all of those dresses but two (not to mention about six pairs of shorts, fifteen tops, four pairs of shoes, and the occasional romper). And I only didn’t wear the one because I managed to get my lipstick all over it. No, I was not purposely kissing the hem of my LC Lauren Conrad for Kohl’s dress, but somehow, there was J. Crew Poppy King all over the hem as soon as I got dressed. Whoops. The point is, I take vacation dressing seriously.
In Croatia I am famous. Catch up, rest of the world.
Orange you glad you didn’t have to spend 12 days in close quarters with 28 of my closest family members? Just kidding. Kind of.
(Orange tree in Athens)
Eatin’ good in the neighborhood.
I call this photo “Positan-Oh my god it’s so hot.”
Last minute addition to my cruise wardrobe, via Urban Outfitters sale rack. I’m so cute I can barely stand myself.
This photo at the Sistine Chapel makes it look like everyone is having fun, instead of having a serious case of swamp ass and in the case of some people (me), a minor panic attack.
Maybe the Vatican is trying to be eco-friendly, but I just feel like God would want them to air condition His museum. For the people.
Pasta and bullshit…
And pasta, and bullshit
New summer jam, family style
We’ve only been in Rome about 20 minutes, but we don’t like to waste a lot of time where gelato is concerned.
Oh hey guys, remember me? I know, I know, it’s been a while. Anyway, I leave for Rome in less than two days, and since I started this blog when I was about to embark for Europe, it only seems appropriate that I revisit my personal blog along as I prepare to revisit my obsession with non-American men.
However, there will be many differences on this trip. Let’s refresh. My Parisian trip was mostly like this:
Peaceful, quiet, relaxing, solitary, healing.
My trip to Italy and Greece will be more like this:
But with 25 more family members. So, more chaotic, louder, and less funny.
Still, no matter how loud and crazy, it hopefully won’t turn out like this:
Because between that news story and the re-release of Titanic in 3D, this year did not really inspire me to want to go on a cruise. Yet, a-cruising I am going.
Other notable differences:
- I will be sharing a teeny cruise ship room, including bathroom, with my brother and cousin, instead of sharing an adorable apartment in the 20th with an even more adorable French stranger. Le sigh.
- I do not have a Rick Steves book. I’m not even sure I know how to travel with my old buddy. PANIC.
- It will likely be 90+ degrees outside, which really messes with my ability to have a cute travel wardrobe and not sweat through it. And everyone knows the point of traveling is to post pictures of yourself looking mysterious and adorable so everyone thinks you are glamourous and have a better life than them.
Like most sequels, I don’t think this one is going to come out as well as the original. No, I’m mostly kidding. I mean, yes, if my Parisian trip was called “Eat, Pray, Cliche” I should probably call this one “Eat, Pray, Xanax.” But still, this is going to be one big crazy train wreck of a trip in the most fun way possible. I get to spend two weeks with my wonderful family, I get to visit the Greek islands where I will probably insist we attempt to recreate scenes from Mamma Mia, and I have this supes cute swimsuit from J. Crew:
I really can’t wait!
However, ask me how I’m feeling after the first time one of my family members inevitably speaks to a waiter in English, but with an exaggerated and terrible Italian accent. :)