"Just because you belt it does not make it an outfit"

In a flash, spring has sprung. With it came the barely dressed college girls in flimsy cotton dresses that could possibly pass as shirts but somehow become dresses with the addition of a belt and a pair of cuuute flip flops. News flash: being 18 does not mean that you have the right to not wear pants in public. Especially in March, no matter how sunny or warm. The winter was bad enough, with tiny little sweaters layered over fairly translucent tights (I just realized I basically am describing the outfit I'm wearing today, so perhaps I should stop judging people and just write nice things....). But still! I think people should try to cover their bums as much as possible when walking around the streets. It's a fairly common courtesy.

So basically time has passed since my last post faster than a New York minute. I know I say that every time, but every day I can see why this phrase has become so equated with life in this city. Each week seems to go faster than the last, and, even though I still strongly anticipate the glory of Jeans Friday, I'm always amazed that another week of work and school has passed me by! Is this what life is? Constantly racing to catch up and hoping that one day you'll find the perfect balance between racing and having a nice enjoyable time.

Speaking of nice enjoyable times, I have had some lately. Some (including me) would say I've had a bit too much fun, and have not done quite enough work. Spring Break really did me in- I completely lost my momentum and had a week so filled with fancy parties, nights out on the town, and not-so-fancy parties, that I ended up more tired than I was before this "break". Eric and I were lucky enough to go to another extremely fancy party hosted by the Dean and the President of UOP at the EXTREMELY fancy Trump building. Life is pretty great when you get to spend a Tuesday evening chatting it up with the Dean and the President while drinking top shelf beverages and eating some of the best pasta, meats, cheeses, and tiny cakes I have ever consumed.

During spring break we also ventured out to Brooklyn for the "Split thy Brooklyn Skull Barleywine Festival" or something like that. I found it in the Urban Eye e-mail I get from the New York Times every day. Generally the events they put in there are wayyy too trendy for the likes of Eric and me, but this one sounded right up our alley. So fun! I discovered that "winter wheat" has very little in common with Blue Moon or Hefeweizen or any of the other wheat beers I'm so fond of. It's apparently a barleywine that has much more in common with maple syrup carefully mixed with rum or brandy. Not bad, but I was pretty sure they messed up until I ordered it again and received the exact same petite glass of extremely alcoholic liquid candy. We left the trendy barleywine festival and ended up at a bar where $1 PBR's and tater tots are the specialty and we felt that we had completed our Brooklyn experience for the week.

(As you read this blog, you are going to notice that eating and drinking are a running theme in my activities...I'm hoping to correct this soon so that I don't ruin my liver, float away in a stream of wine and martinis, or look like a snowman in my wedding dress. I am having a lot of fun in my indulgence, but I probably should draw the line soon, let's be honest.)

When my family was here we took them to the same Brooklyn bar that specializes in $1 PBR's and tater tots, and definitely got some funny looks. I'm not sure they've ever seen parents come in there before, and, as Julie so nicely put it, my parents were "the oldest ones in there by far." However, as is ALWAYS the case with my amazing family they can always say that they went to a bar frequented only by the very trendy hipsters in Williamsburg, the very trendy hipster capital of the Northeast. My dad even got a $1 PBR, just like the 20 year old faux starving artist that came in after us.

We proved to be a spectacle once again at All-you-can drink brunch, although this time they did not give us any plastic creatures to build sculptures with. We managed to draw the attention of many the tiny-dog walker (as my mom yelled "I have GOT to start looking at more dogs!"), and a drunk man on his "birthday" who had "just gotten out of the hospital" (yeah, that hand-written hospital bracelet looked completely real) who tried to kiss my dad, but called my mom and I diamonds or pearls or something.

In non-eating or drinking news, I bought a wedding dress last weekend! It is AMAZING but that's all I can say. You will have to wait for the real thing, but we are pretty excited about it!

Last night Annette and I discovered (well Annette discovered it, I just like to pretend I'm that good at finding restaurants off the beaten path) a wonderful little Italian restaurant. It was just like stepping right into Italy, from the waitstaff to the food to the "decaf" cappucinos (I'm pretty sure that waiter thought we were joking, judging by the twinkle in his eye when he handed them to us) to the somewhat awkward bathroom space behind some shutters. When any of you come to visit, DEFINITELY remind me about this restaurant and we will go.

There is a different energy here when the weather gets warm. There is a different smell (a little sun-induced sweat- okay, "glow"- mixed with sunscreen and the beginnings of flowers and trees) and a buzz in the air. I don't know what that is, but it makes even more crazy people come out and everyone has a little more bounce in their steps. It makes me want to be outside all the time (let's not even talk about how hard it is to go to class), have iced coffee or Jamba Juice or Tasty De-lite (only 40 calories! Frozen air and chemicals! What's better than that!), and attempt to get tan lines on my frighteningly white exterior. It's a nice time to be in New York.

One last thing- there's a lot of truth in I-pod commercials. Anyone who's ever walked through a pulsing city with some of the greatest tunes being fed directly into your ear knows that the urge to dance is sometimes so great that you actually shake your hips for a minute or even bust a little move in the hopes that no one is watching. I think that we should all just feel free to dance around the streets with our tiny white ear phones just jamming and singing as loud as we can.

That would be the good life.