MyNewJersey

Saturday, October 29, 2005 at 12:38 PM

The Hiatus is Over

Wow. Two months since I've written a word on here. Does anyone besides those stupid ad commenters even bother to stop by here anymore? Nevertheless, I started out with like zero readership, and to zero readership I will return.

To sum up my world the past two months, I broke up with Boyfriend (hereto shall be known as Ex-Boyfriend), I started Library School at Rutgers (tis a lot more work than I expected), started work at a library in Ocean County (I love it!!!), bought a car (WTF is with gas prices? I was jumping for joy the day it went under $2.50. That's stupid), and have tried to keep my sanity by going out like I'm still in college on the weekends (technically, I still am).

Things that I've been dying to blog about:

1. Public Radio Pledge Drives. I don't know who I am angrier at, WNYC for announcing every two goddamn minutes that it's the Fall Pledge Drive and interrupting All Things Considered after every f*cking story, or the cheap sonsofbitches in the city who should be contributing at a much faster rate so this can just end. I started this Pledge Drive Season angry (and still am) but then I move into guilt. They are clearly talking to people like me, "Maybe you listen to All Things Considered everyday, maybe you tune in on the weekends for Weekend Update, or Car Talk. A ten dollar a month donation is perfect for you. Think about your other bills you pay each month. Isn't WNYC programming worth at least $10 a month to you?" Yes! That's me! I do listen at least $10 a month's worth! I should call! I'll call now! I'm in the car, but I'll pull over on the side of the NJTpk to give you $120 bucks. And I'll get a subscription to the Economist! I need that subscription to the Economist! AaaahhhhH!
But then I start thinking about how broke I am. How I steal quarters from chairs at the bar that people are sitting on (it was behind his butt, and it might not have even been his, and he didn't even notice, I don't think anyone did, and I have to use a lot of quarters for meters so I don't get one more frigging New Brunswick ticket that I won't pay and get another ten bucks added on for being late), and how I have to borrow January's rent from my parents, and how I have started to live off of Wendy's at school because for three bucks I can get chilli, a salad and a soda, and how I drive an extra 1o miles on the empty light because saving 8 cents a gallon is worth the chance that I'll break down from running out of gas on the GSP. And then I get angry again at the Pledge Drive. I get angry that they're making me feel guilty. I get angry at those rich SOBs from the Upper West Side who should be contributing, but aren't and who probably aren't even feeling the guilt that I am.

And then I bought an iPod car adapter. So there.

2. The one thing I really love about living in Hoboken lately is when I'm driving home at night, past the Liberty Science Center on my way to the Holland Tunnel, and the city is all lit up and it looks so beautiful, and I realize why so many people love this city, and why it might just be the best city in the world, and it just grabs my heart and my breath and makes me never want live anywhere else.

Friday, August 19, 2005 at 1:59 PM

Do Not Shake Your Polaroid Picture

I'm feeling rather Friday jumpy. My conversations this afternoon reflect this. Despite what the lyrics say, you're not supposed to shake a Polaroid picture. It ruins it. Many pictures have been ruined by that song, I would venture to guess. And Alicia would assume they'd attach a disclaimer. However, you are strongly encouraged to shake your booty where ever and when ever you hear that song, whether it's in a bar, or in your head. Shake it, shake, shake it. I just had a dance party with Michelle in her cube. I recommend it. Not just in Michelle's cube, although, she is a great dance partner, but in any cube. Dance like no one's watching.

I was just in the bathroom, and there was already one other person in there. I got into my stall, she got out and walked out. Without washing her hands. Honestly. If there's someone else in there, you have to wash your hands. At least move your hands under the sensor to make me think you're washing, or at the very least rinsing your hands. You can't pull that shit with someone else in there! It's preposterous. I'm shocked.

My friend is home for 10 days from Lesotho. I have nothing else to comment on that. I just wanted to let you all know I have a friend who lives in Lesotho.

I'm bringing Monsters Ball to watch on my iBook on the train ride home. I'm really excited for Newark when the second batch of people get on the train, and I'm squished in a three person seat and the person next to me is looking at my computer, trying to figure out what I'm watching and I hope it's at some really inedecent scene with Halle Berry and Billy Bob and it makes the person next to me uncomfortable. I'm pulling for either a small Asian woman or a middle aged balding stock broker. I'd like to be thought of as The Perv of the North Jersey Coast Line train.

Why would anyone leave a pony country for a non-pony country?

ps, this is the most schitzo post i've ever written.

Thursday, August 18, 2005 at 9:13 AM

Random Musings of the Day

I think that I'd like to get to the point in my life that I could fall in love with someone who isn't all that attractive, and it would be a love based on the aspects of a person that really matter, like a good personality, humor, mutual respect, generosity, kindness, humility, all those good things.

But then I think that that wouldn't be such a good idea, because one of my top 5 fears in life is having ugly kids. So I have to remain at least a little superficial.

Is that bad?



Another one. Sometimes I feel a little creepy for watching Laguna Beach with such adoration. These kids were born in 1988. I was rocking out to NKOTB, making my First Communion, and playing TV tag when these kids were born. I'm so old that I couldn't date Trey even if I did find him after stalking him at NYU. But then I don't feel bad for loving LB, not only because I know many mid-20s folks enjoy it as well, but also because Jason looks like he's older than me. Honestly. How old is that kid?

Monday, August 15, 2005 at 9:01 AM

Me, Molly Pitcher, and the Port Authority

My roommate Jamie, who was also a roommate in college, in that we lived in the same house, but at different times (I was abroad, then she was abroad) had an odd obsession with Molly Pitcher. For those of you who aren't up on your New Jersey Revolutionary War history, Mary Hays McCauly, aka Molly Pitcher was the second woman to man a gun on an American battlefield. The Battle of Monmouth was hotter than it was last week apparently, but instead of fighting off flies on the beach, they were fighting off the British. Molly's husband was firing away at a cannon, and she was running all over the battlefield bringing water to thirsty men who were yelling, "Molly! Pitcher!" which is where her name came from. Her husband was injured, and Molly stepped right up to blast those goddamn Red Coats.

Jamie isn't some crazed Revolutionary War buff or anything. In fact, more notably to Jamie, Molly Pitcher is the namesake of the rest stop on the NJ Turnpike (milepost 71.7, between Interchanges 8 and 8A, southbound) lauded as the Turnpike's showpiece, its vision of the rest stop of the future. It provides the usual Turnpike food lineup -- Nathan's, Roy Rogers, TCBY, plus newcomers Country Kitchen and Cinnabon -- but in cleaner, brighter surroundings. For more on Molly, and why people love this rest stop, click on Moll.

Back to our Molly Pitcher. Another one of our roommates had a duck lamp. The duck was about 2 feet high, white with a scruffed up yellow beak, sitting on a green, faux grass base, that lit up, illuminating any room it was in with a soft, duck-like glow. Katie, with interior design brilliance well beyond her years, brought this lamp to our townhouse junior year. It was the perfect compliment to the cigar couch (an old, comfy couch, covered with thick fabric that had pictures of different kinds of cigars all over it) and the Feral Cat poster our weird roommate Erin had brought back from Australia. It was Maurice Sendak-ish with a huge cartoon cat in the middle of this carnage, grinning and saying "No one felt like making babies anymore." Erin Jones, YOU WEIRDO. I digress. So, Katie's duck lamp was chritened Molly Pitcher in honor of the rest stop, because everyone needs a little Molly Pitcher in their life. Molly was a part of our lives. She was on the back deck, lighting up the Baltimore nights, Molly made it out for Jamie's 21st birthday party, sitting in her own seat on the yellow school bus that was rented, and she made it into the loving arms of friends who had passed out too early and deserved to be photographed mid-duck love. Molly was a fixture in our lives.

Fast forward to Thursday night. I was in the city for a friend's birthday (happy birthday Thea!) and it was decided that I needed to put on a party dress. I clearly wasn't part of the festivites without one. So Alicia, Thea and I pile into her room with a bottle of champagne in hand, alternating long pulls from the bottle as I hop into a party dress. That's when I saw her. Molly Pitcher, sitting in the corner of Thea's room, her little duck light glowing, a beacon shining through the dark city night.

"You have Molly."
"What Liz?"
"You have Molly!"
"Pass the champagne. What are you talking about?"
"The duck lamp! It's Molly! Can I have it?"
"Uh, you want my lamp? Um, you can borrow it."
"Really?? It would mean the world to me, to my roommate, to friends." As I launched into the Revolutionary War/rest stop story (see above).
"Sure, go nuts."

So on a condition that Molly must be returned I walked out of Thea's apartment and towards the Port Authority Bus Terminal. Molly tucked tightly beneath my arm, I ran through the place from one end to another and then back to the late night gate, on my cell phone laughing hysterically trying to get a hold of anyone who could share this moment with me, to no avail, leaving ridiculous messages on answering machines, only being harrassed by one person screaming "AFLAC!" in my direction and finally made it aboard the bus to standing room only (no gentlemen in this world). Molly made it home, after I tried to explain, yet again, why I needed this duck to about four people on the bus. I couldn't find Jamie in her room and called multiple people who may have known where she was and called it a night deciding that she wasn't staying at home that night. At 7:45 the next morning, she woke me up very confused as to where Molly had come from, but very excited about her presence. (She had been in our other roommate Kat's room, who was away for the weekend.) Now I have a two foot duck sitting in my kitchen. And I'm still pretty excited about it.

Me and Molly on the bus.

Thursday, August 04, 2005 at 11:20 AM

Ordinance 2005-20


Sorry, Mark & Richard. Not in Belmar, NJ.


The ruffians of Belmar, NJ must be stopped. Not only do they bring in hundreds of thousands of dollars in income to the town, what with their spending money on rentals, dinners at Kleins, kegs from The Little Red Barn, bar tabs at the Boat House, Bar A and DJais, ice cream cones from Strollos, and season badges from the Taylor Pavilion, but they dare think that they have the right to drink outside (alcohol, no less) on the very property that they have paid money to rent.
Don't worry, the town of Belmar is putting a stop to the maddness. The Beer Pong Ordinance will do just that, starting August 17. My two favorite sections from this new piece of legislative brilliance are:

WHEREAS, municipal officials and residents have taken notice of the increasing frequency of occasions on which occupants of summer rental properties in the community have begun engaging in games and contests on their lawns and porches that involve as an element of the game or contest the consumption or use of alcoholic beverages; examples of same games are Beer Pong and chugging contests;
WHEREAS, the Mayor and Council find that the playing of such outdoor alcohol related games and contests can expose these families and their impressionable children to foul language, rowdy and disorderly behavior and to examples of the consumption of alcohol under circumstances that are detrimental and to which they ought not to be exposed, and that can adversely affect the health, safety and welfare of these children, their families and the general public.
Apparently the MeatHeads of Belmar are going to get drunk, through debacherous Beer Pong games and chugging contests and adversely affect the health, safetly and welfare of children, their families and the general public. Here and I thought they only beat up eachother. Looks like that's not enough. Get some chugging contests going and they'll be after your children too.
I'm a local. I grew up in the area, went to high school in Belmar. I dislike the traffic that the Bennys bring. I get huffy waiting in line for a bar. I don't particularly ever want to step foot in DJais and Bar A makes me cranky. I can appreciate a Noise Ordinance. Keep it down, no one wants to hear your house music going at 3 am. Fine. I can also handle the Open Container law. But last I checked, if you're 21 and you're on your own property, you can drink if you want to. And you can play games if you want to. If the two are combined, then more power to you. Drinking! and Fun! Please, let's put an end to that. Does playing horseshoes, drinking a Coors light get you a hundred dollar fine? You bet. How about Wiffle Ball? Yup. A game of cards? If there's a beer nearby, watch out. This is like something straight out of a college Student Life handbook. What's next, The Six Pack Ordinance? Only 6 beers in the fridge for every occupant in the house.
I suggest the renters of Belmar take a stand. On August 17, when this law goes into affect, everyone stand on your front lawn, side lawn or porch and start playing Rock, Paper, Scissor. Loser chugs. Wait until the cops come around and then put your hands in your pockets. It's the new thing.
Start a Rock, Paper, Scissor Revolution. And Damn the Man.

Thursday, July 28, 2005 at 2:55 PM

Laguna WHAT?

Holy crap. Just got something today from Katie. And if you are a fan of LB, you will love this.

Lo's online photo album. Or should I say, Rayne. Oh, and LC, my girl as I once called her, Kaley.

I'm trying to decide how I feel about this. I'm a little betrayed, as I bought it hook, line, and sinker that this was real. I'm also a little confused, because The Bible (IMBD) says that their names really are Lo and LC. And if IMBD is lying to me, then this might just be too much dishonesty and treachery for one girl to handle.

Something's fake here, and it's not just the girl's hair. I'm at a loss.

at 12:40 PM

Kristin and Her Heisman Winner


Everyone's favorite Love to Hate You Vixen Kristin has herself a new man. The news shattered poor Stephen, causing him to partake in the most awkward run in on reality television (making everyone over the age of 17 cringe at the memories of those awful moments of high school insecurity and thank god that they are over--it's easier now to avoid those interactions by lots of shots of Cuervo), nearly cry in front of the cameras after she blew him off at the party, and run into the hot, wet arms of a hot tub immersed LC. (Wake up Stephen, she is hot and not a raging bitch.) But maybe there's a chance. They could still get back together, right?

Wrong.

Word on the street is that at the time of taping, last December, Kristin was dating Matt Leinart. Now if you're like me and don't even really know what the Heisman award is, let alone what sport it's for or what position you have to play to get one, (it's for college football and it's for the quaterback) I've provided a visual of Kristin's Slampiece. Stephen, I'm sorry, but your skinny ass has nothing on this guy, and I came of age loving skinny surfers and still do love them, but really, you're beat. Here's the results of my Googling which I count as reliable sources. It is a bit creepy though, considering that he was a senior in college when they were dating and she was a senior in high school, but I'm friends with enough guys to know that this is not a problem, but rather a cause for celebration. And as I have dated my fair share of older men, including one trist with a college kid whilst I didn't even have a license, I too give Kristin a high five.

Stephen, you're sunk.

Wednesday, July 27, 2005 at 3:40 PM

I know, I know

I've been MIA, again. And to think, there have been such interesting things going on in my life these past few days, and I haven't taken the chance to share some anecdotes. And even if Wednesday is to late to talk about last weekend, here goes a day by day recap:

Friday: I stayed in Hoboken/the city for the first time on a weekend night since Memorial Day. And let me tell you, it was well worth missing out on another night at the Norwood or 507. Went out to meet up with Katie and her friends from Upstate, aka, Westchester, for her birthday. Scored major points for making it all the whole way to the East Village (Shock, horror! It's all the way on the far side of the island!) but myself. Spent the first part of the evening drinking $45 worth of Sam Summers at Lunasa, which has the snarkiest bartender in the city, despite rave reviews on CitySearch. I walked in parched, and asked for a water.
"ID."
"I didn't know you needed an ID to get a glass of water."
"You need an ID to get into the bar. NOW. ID."
Easy tiger. This was him being polite with one in our party. He was more of an ass to others. So, I tried to lighten up the mood.
"So, you in a better mood now?"
"So, you like to get familiar quick."
Needless to say, I got no free shots. I left Katie, face first in a glass of water, eyes closed, muttering, "I need drugs...I need drugs." I skipped on over to Pyramid Club for 80s night to meet Alicia and boys in eyeliner. This is where the night gets interesting, obviously. Was grinding to Holiday or some other such predictible fare with Alicia's coworker who was freestyling his own version of the lyrics. When someone dropped a beer he started in with, "Someone dropped a beer. It must have been a queer." Shortly thereafter, he stuck his toungue in my mouth. I raised the issue that perhaps my boyfriend would not be too keen on our smooch, whereupon he said, "Hellooo, I am Way Gay." Then we laughed and I danced so much, and with such memorable sweet moves that I was the talk of Turner AdSales department the next day. I have been told that now is the time to apply for a job there.

Saturday: My seester's graduation party. We laughed, we ate, we drank two kegs of Yeungling. Big ups to Mom and Aunt Janet for playing flip cup. Also to Emily for yet again refusing to drink water despite exhibiting the Three S's, the obvious signs of being overserved, slurring, spilling and sulking. Dad said once again, "This is the last party I'm throwing." However, this will all change by the time either Em or I finish grad school. The race to the finish is on. Stars of Saturday night were Em's friends Lauren and Her Bearded Man who stole a big ol' bottle of red wine, went into the corner of the yard and drank the whole thing at 2 am, only to puke all over the bathroom, splattering red barf on the white wall and porcelin bowl, then pass out in the basement until 3 the next afternoon, waking up to find a house devoid of anyone under the age of 50. Awesome job, kids.

Sunday: A day of rest, kids. I ate roast beef and mashed potatoes and Liz saw that it was good and she rested.

Monday: I've decided that I could spend 4 hours and 32 minutes in Barnes and Noble without realizing it. I also think that I could spend an entire paycheck in there and not really regret it. I feel the same way about AC though, so I think that saves me from complete dorkdom and also makes me a bit of an enigma, although can you really say that about yourself? Prolly not. I picked up The Curious Incident of the Dog In Night-Time and I'm pretty excited about it. It's that or Potter for the ride up to Boston this weekend. Decisions, decisions.
And more importantly about Monday, Laguna Beach. LC, I love you girl, you know I do, but if I had seen what an ass Stephen had made me look like the previous season, I would not keep coming back for it. I know it's hard. We all have those crazy high school, intense crushes that grab you and don't let go, but you've got to. Keep your chin up. That slut Kristin needs to be kicked in the teeth. And the crazy one with the teased hair? And Jason, who appears to be 35 and bears a striking resemblance to Joey Fatone. **shudder** All in all, I'm pumped for the season and I promise to do a better recap than this lousy one.

Tuesday: I registered for classes. Holy crap, I'm really going to school. Like for real, I have classes on Tuesday afternoon, night, Wed night, and Thursday afternoon. Really interesting stuff like Human Information Behavior and Information, Media and the Curriculum. Sweet. What am I doing this for again? I've got to find a part time job, find a car, find a way to pay for my beer. Any and all donations are welcome.

And bringing us to today. Off to a facial. Boss has gone away for a week and a half, leaving me with much time to devote to this lovely blog. Until then, I'm out.