Life in New York

So you know how there are many, many reasons why I should not be a model? Namely, height deficiency, not being malnourished, general lack of ability to walk in a straight line?

I mean, sure, the theory has never been tested, per se, but I think most people have had a generally negative feeling about the idea.

Well, my nay-saying friends, today we can all feel incredibly justified in our doubts.

Life lesson #138: I should never be a model.

So the Knot does this live TV show on our website every Monday, and today they did this whole fashion segment where they had models (several of whom were actually cleverly disguised staff members) strut their stuff down a “runway” that was actually just the walkway between desks and the wall. The main issue with a live show is that, of course, if you screw something up, it’s too late. The whole world saw.

So to counteract this problem, the staff and camera crew will do several run-throughs to make sure they know exactly what they want to do when the time is right. So naturally, they wanted to practice the runway walk and decide which camera angles to use ahead of time.

Problem: They didn’t have their actual models ready because they were in hair and makeup.

Solution: Grab the nearest interns and make them pretend to be a bride and groom.

Here’s the kicker: I wore an ivory dress to work today. At least that meant I got to be the bride. My poor fellow intern Alex wore black, so she was my dashing betrothed.

The marriage didn’t last (you know how these rushed-into things go), but at least we both realized that there really isn’t anything more embarrassing than having your ENTIRE OFFICE watch you traipse back and forth 80 times. Yep, sure did.

On the upside, got a Knot blog post published today. Check it out, yo.

Anyone who knows me knows I’m a virtually constant reader.

The only time you’ll catch me without a book on my person is when I decide to carry a bag NOT the size of a small aquarium. Although I have been known to ditch my wallet and just carry the necessary cards so I can fit whatever novel I’m working on in my clutch. A girl’s gotta have priorities.

This has become especially true since moving to the city. What with my three-train commute and the difficulty of meeting up with friends at the exact agreed upon time (Ok, I’m always 15 minutes early. Deal with it.), I find myself with a lot of time to kill, and I’m more than happy to do that with a book.

But while I’ll whole-heartedly claim the bookworm title, there are times when I find myself with nothing to do but wait and I can’t bring myself to pull out my book.

Usually this happens when some part of my life has become a bit volatile and I just have too much on my mind to give Vonnegut my full attention. So instead I’ll just stare into the littered abyss that is the subway track and let my mind wander. A little down time never hurt anyone, right?

My breakfast today is scrambled eggs on graham crackers.

I would be angry, but this is just too delicious to deny. Thank you, poverty, for this nutritious-ish meal and this lovely life lesson!

Life lesson #135: The longer you wait to buy groceries the more creative you will be.

My body is plotting against me.

So as you may remember, I’m trying to work out more. (In my defense, the main reason I’m not running as much is this tortuous pain in my right heel. I don’t know where it came from, but it makes me regret running for the rest of the day.) Whining aside, I’m still trying to make it work.

You may also remember that I have no control over my bodily functions (apparently). So the main problem with the running plan? Whenever I DO get out and jog around, I’m STARVING the rest of the day. As in, I can’t get full.

Which means I eat more than I would have otherwise. Which means the caloric burn was all but nil.

According to every health information source ever, I should counteract this by filling up on fibrous or water-dense foods. See: fruits, vegetables, air-popped popcorn, whole wheat whatever. Also, eat more protein. So my plan today is to load up on veggies and chicken at the nearby deli for lunch. Because I’ve already eaten two packets of oatmeal and a peanut butter sandwich with my morning liter of water.

What I’m saying is, I have to be stopped.

So I survived camping.


(Insert oohs and ahhs here.)

It was actually pretty fun. I mean, the quarter-size mosquito bites on my ankles, calves, and forehead (Yes, FOREHEAD. Effing mosquitoes…) I could have done without, but I’m a sucker for a day on a beach (even if it’s attached to a lake) and an evening eating a s’more in front of a fire.

Here’s a list of things camping has over civilization:

1. You can wear pajamas all day. In fact, it’s encouraged.

2. The food. Pancakes, burgers, the previously mentioned s’mores…sign me up.

3. Campfires. Even though you’re all smoky until you take a shower, I love the smell in the air.

4. Stars. Turns out you can’t see them in the city. Go figure.

Here’s a list of things civilization will ALWAYS win at:

1. Showers. Sharing my bathing space with a daddy longlegs the size of my hand? No, thank you.

2. While we’re on the subject, the bugs in general. Spiders, beetles, blood-thirsty mosquitos and ticks — these are things I can’t enjoy outside a Pixar movie.

3. Well…pretty much everything else.

Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed it, but I think I’m one of those “camping in moderation, please” types. So until next year, I’ll be enjoying my indoor plumbing and central air/heating, thank you very much.

And of course, there’s always a life lesson to make it all worthwhile:

Life lesson #131: That which does not kill us only makes us stronger. And more bug-bitten.

I’m turning 22 on Friday.

Yikesabee, that sounds old, doesn’t it? Like, people are doing adult things at the age of 22. Or at least they’re finally at an age where they can do adult things (marriage, children, retirement funds) without everyone in the universe telling them they’re throwing away their youth.

Ok, that’s a lie. I’d still be a little freaked. But just a little

So how am I ringing in what is essentially my mid-20s? Ladies and gentlemen, I will be camping. For the first. Time. Ever.

Anyone that I tell I’ve never been camping tends to give me this wide-eyed look like I just said I’ve never eaten cereal. Then they usually follow up the look with some incredulous comment like, “YOU’VENEVERBEENCAMPINGOHMYGODWHATWASWRONGWITHYOURUPBRINGING?!?!?!?!”

Answer: Nothing. I was just raised by people who happen to appreciate plumbing. And air conditioning. And being able to escape from carnivorous insects.


But that is neither here nor there. The point is, I’m going with my boyfriend and his family and some other families. Camping. In the wild. And while I know it will be fine (it’s not like this is Justine VS. Wild or anything…right?), I can’t help but feel gravely unprepared.

I feel this way based on conversations like the following that occured via text this afternoon:

Joe: Do you have a sleeping bag?

Me: Um…no. Does that mean I’m kicked out?

Joe: Ha no, I think we have extra. You have sandals or flops to wear in the shower?

Me: Yes, those I have.

Joe:Ok. Flash light if you have one too.

Me: …er…

Joe: Ha it’s fine, I have a mini for ya

Me: Sorry for my lack of preparedness. This is what happens when you’re not raised by “camping people”

Because that’s what my dad said to me the one time I asked him why we never went camping: “We’re not really camping people.”

I imagine camping people as folks clad in animal skins and hemp, living in tents they’ve built from sticks, and purifying their own urine for drinking water.

My parents? Yeah, not so much.

So keep me in mind this weekend as I’m roughing it. Let’s just hope that it’s not too rough.