Oh, heyy Steve Sanders!

Greeeetings from Spring Break!!

It's been an amazing week off, and I still have one remaining week of freedom. Hallelujah! I'd like to take a moment and write about the biggest highlight of my vacation thus far. And, that is meeting Ian Ziering. Better known to all of you as Steve Sanders, Beverly Hills 90210 alum. Allow me to set the stage.

I was walking to the East Village to meet my great pals, Jeff and Nate for dinner at Spice Cove, fine Indian cuisine. (Contrary to popular belief I can eat things other than grilled chicken slathered in ketchup). En route to dinner, I received a phone call from my roommate. Upon picking up the phone, I could hear the excitement in her voice. She told me that Ian Ziering was promoting his new skin care line at her gym. Like the great roommate that she is, she told him all about me. My love for 90210, that I know the entire casts' birthday, that I have written multiple letters to castmates, and that there is a life-size poster of Luke Perry on my wall. He said, "tell her to come." Yes, that's right. Ian Ziering personally requested my presence. I had to get there... immediately. The minute dinner was done, I bolted back uptown to Equinox gym. When I arrived, there he was. Steve Sanders, sans his blonde Jew-fro. What I found instead was an extremely personable, friendly, forty-eight year old man. I introduced myself, to which he replied, "The girl who knows more than I do about 90210!" He gave me a big hug, then said, "We have to get a picture, and so we did. I smiled for the camera, and I haven't stopped smiling since.

Happy Stoop Sitting Season!!!

Let the stoop sitting begin! Stoop sitting season is now officially underway. With the recent change of weather, (thank God, I love you Spring), my most favorite past time can be resumed. Me + a best friend + East 9th Street stoop + frozen yogurt. (Optional)= Love.

Sing us a Song, Piano Bar

Despite the fact that I just wrote an entire blog about how excited I am to catch up on sleep, I love nothing more than springing forward for Daylight Savings. Yes. I lose an hour of sleep. But so what! (Pink anyone?) If that means sixty-five degree days in March, and daylight until seven pm, well...count me in!

Last night was spent at a rowdy, hilarious, and perfect piano bar. I have never felt like more of a New York City girl in my life, than I did sitting in that hidden gem, with my best friends. I was there with my best camp girls. (Sans Meelzy--we missed you). As each hit kept being played, song, after song, we all knew we were in the right place. A place where we were free to sing and clap as loudly as we wanted. This place was magical.

What I also loved about this piano bar, was the next-stage-of-life-girlies who sat next to us. All of them had rings on their fingers, and one of them was pregnant. (Yes, I realize that girls my age also wear rings on their fingers, and give birth, but none of my camp friends are there yet). They looked like they were in their early to mid-thirties, having a girls night out. We instantly became piano bar besties. They sang with us, they clapped with us, and they cheered with us. They asked us how we all knew each other, we told them...sleepaway camp. (They told us college). As we bonded over singing TLC's Waterfalls, Lady Gaga and more, I have never felt more at peace, or more at home than I did at the piano bar. And, as for all this singing (screaming), I did last night? Well...my voice has never sounded better.

Spring Break!!

In just six days, the start of my spring break begins. And, I couldn't be more excited. Two weeks off from six-thirty am wake up calls?! Sign me up! What remains interesting to me is what "Spring Break," has meant to me as time goes on. I grew up watching MTV Spring Break, and so my entire adolescent knowledge base of Spring Break included, Girls Gone Wild, and Jenny McCarthy. In my early twenties, Spring Break entailed getting incredibly drunk, every night, for seven straight nights. By the time I arrived home, my body was in complete shambles, and I needed a vacation...just to recover from vacation.

Now, in my late twenties, spring break means something quite different for me. It will be a time for me to relax, rest, and catch up on my sleep. And, I'm literally thrilled about it.

The days of wet t-shirt contests, and whipped cream bikinis are certainly over. (Just kidding; I never actually participated in a wet t-shirt contest, and have never worn a whipped cream bikini). But, perhaps these life changes are all in par with what it means to be getting older.

I think about the life I used to live in college. Drinking four to five nights a week, scarfing down late night food. (Sidenote: My drunk late night food of choice, after chicken fingers of course, was always New England Clam Chowder). Who the fuck orders New England Clam Chowder after a night of guzzling nine Bacardi and diet Cokes? I'm disgusting.

Now, if I drink (hard) two nights in a row, I am completely done for, and start my week off exhausted. What happened to the old me? Is this called growing up? The college version of myself would not be pleased.

Five years ago on a Friday night, I would be out, drinking my face off, in New York City. (Probably at Tonic). Now, sure, I might go out with friends, but I would also be perfectly content lounging around my apartment, wearing pants with some sort of elastic waist band. The thing is, I accept these changes. In fact, I welcome them. The only frightening thing is imagining where this progression takes me five years from now. There. Now that's scary.