easy peasy.

My bible circa ages 16 - 19, also known as Cosmopolitan, has found it was back into my life.

I boycotted it after five consecutive months of my boyfriend claiming that the "man manual" was 100% false.

Living with four other girls has placed issues of Cosmo on my coffee table a few times already this year, but until the boy pointed out that the "man manual" was fairly accurate, I never bothered to pick up a copy.

(I knew my ex wasn't normal. I think that in order for the "man manual" to accurately profile his needs and wants, he'd have to actually be considered a man.)

This month, the "man manual" included a page listing the four things guys judge girls for. They included, and yes - were limited to: friends, cell phone usage, drink of choice, and laugh.

Can this be true? Is this all a girl really needs to do to blow a man mind?

Okay - I won't text message while we're hanging out, i'll laugh at all your silly jokes, i'll order a fine pilsner or a gin and tonic, and my friends... although I can't change them - are just as likable as I am.

How simple minded.

I feel like if it were that easy, there wouldn't be books like He's just not that into you, or movies/shows like Sex and the City.

Or maybe it is that easy, and thats the problem. Maybe all the lovely single ladies are thinking wayyy too far into what a guy wants.

So girls, try this: learn how to make pancakes, put your cell phone on silent, laugh a lot, and drink gin.

And let me know how it works out - incase my future with the boy ends abruptly.


cryogenics and you.

This morning I heard that Simon Cowell was planning to freeze his dead body so that someone in the future could cure what killed him and bring him back to life. That way American Idol won't have to end at season 48 and can go down in the shitty television programming hall of fame where it can continue to torment our childrens children just as it torments us.

Call me naive, but I never watched The Island or Austin Powers and thought, "where can I get my hands on one of those snazzy body freezers" because I never thought they were actually real. The possibility that these things do exist excites me and adds yet another thing to my bucket list.

I say bucket list as in, "things to do before I die", which is the part of the frozen bodies concept that Simon doesn't seem to understand. I was under the impression that you had to freeze your body before you died in order to come back to life in the future.

If you have cancer, and you die from cancer - I highly doubt that even copious amounts of anti-cancer serum will cure you. I assume this because science has taught me that dead means dead.

Unless your a zombie.

So, in that case, to freezing bodies I say, no sir!. Not only do we not want Simon Cowell eating the brains of the losing contestants during Season 682 of American Idol, but I don't want to watch "Dawn of the Dead" under the context that it is a documentary.

And in under just five minutes, I have already crossed one more thing off my bucket list.

Freeze Body.


mysterious mail

I don't understand interoffice mail.

I mean, I do. But I really don't.
It's complicated.

At my old job, interoffice mail was entry level employees (read: me) braving wind, rain, sleet, or snow to walk the mail to the correct building. I was sort of like a one-women USPS. Only I made stops for coffee as much as I could. Sure, i'll deliver your mail. I just can't promise it'll get delivered in a timely fashion. Don't like it? Deliver your own mail.

At one of my current jobs, this system cannot be applied. This is because we have multiple offices in every country all over the world instead of multiple buildings on one company campus. So when I place my expense report in that weird interoffice mail envelope, crossing out the previous recipient and writing just someones name at some office in some state that is not New York - how does it get there?

If they deliver it by mail, wouldn't it be just as effective for me to mail it to that person?
Do they have their own truck? Plane? Hoover craft? Vespa?

Maybe they use carrier pigeon. How cost effective of them. I'm sure bird seed is much cheaper than gasoline.

I just. Don't. Know. This is way beyond my typically means of problem solving, and thats sad after a $160,000 education.


You need to be learned.

I'm uncultured.

The boy always says "I need to be learned a bit", something which I typically ignore because no matter how many countries you've visited, it's still important to use proper English when criticizing someone - especially when you're claiming to be much more refined.

I know stuff. I might not know what Big Ben looks like when you're standing under it or how the Aborigines live in the Australian outback, but I know how to do your taxes and can analyze your marketing decisions like its my job (because... well, it is).

But my intellectual ego was hurled out the window - and into a brick wall where it then smashed into a million tiny tiny pieces - at lunch today with the boy and his parents.

While discussing the implications of not having classes on Presidents Day, the parents questioned why we had the holiday off while other schools didn't. To this - I knew the answer.

The boy has always been very critical of my actions when we meet with his parents because I tend to stay mute. It may be just me, but I find doctorates from Harvard and graduate degrees from MIT intimidating.

Regardless, I still tried to make a point out of speaking today to prove to his parents i'm not just some pretty, dumb girl, who likes makeup and designer bags (although... I do enjoy those things... a lot). So when I knew the answer and my know-it-all boy toy did not, I jumped at the chance to enlighten the folks with what I knew.

"Well, our campus is overwhelmingly Jewish so in order to cater to the majority population, we get Jewish holidays off and not other religious holidays like Good Friday. A couple years back we started getting Presidents Day off to make up for the difference, which I find unbelievable because we still don't get Good Friday off."

It was a legitimate answer and they ate it up. Nom nom nom nom.


Now to finish them off with my intricate knowledge of other religions and BAM! - i'm in.

"You see, we have the entire month of December off because of a Jewish holiday here and a Jewish holiday there," I explained.

His parents both raised an eyebrow. "Like what holidays?" his mother asked.

"Like you know, like... Yom Kippur," I answered.

"Which isn't in December," his mom answered, somewhat offended.

"Channukah," I corrected myself.

"Which you are already off for because you have Christmas Break," she retorted.

"Ram...a...dan...?" I said faintly, struggling to grasp onto the last foreign holiday I could think of.

"Muslim," she answered, turning towards the boy and striking up a conversation about the economic situation in Venezula.

I turned bright red and spent the last hour of lunch poking my food with a fork because the boys Jewish mom just schooled me at my own game of bullshit.

... I need to be learned.


self regulation.

I googled my email.

At the time it seemed like the only redeeming chance I had considering the poor results that search engines feed back to me when I google my actual name. If someone were stalking me via google, they would come to believe I was either an accountant or a porn star. Which is untrue, rigorous training programs aren't my thing, and neither of the two professions come naturally.

So I figured that my next best chance at stalking myself was my email, after all, I spend at least four hours a day refreshing it - half expecting for someone like Jon Stewart to email me begging me to work on his show, instead of the Long Island Power Authority telling me I can pay one dollar less on my electric bill and automatically be enrolled into their new savings program.

No bueno. 

Not only did I discover my blog, which mercifully mocked my life as an intern, free for any of my coworkers who all emailed me on a daily basis to find, but I discovered live journals from my freshman year of college, my sophomore year of high school, and one from 7th grade, where I was depressed because Brendan liked Sara better than me. Kids.

That being said, the job market is tough enough right now without some expert stalker/HR representative googling my email and finding these things. As is, if any future employers ever infultrated my facebook account, they would find out that I am active in campus social life in addition to loving Soco and having the Wedding Crasher rules memorized - half of which I try to live by on an almost daily basis.

So I bring you
Collateral Misinformation
the only answer I have to my google/email dilemma.

Bookmark it, blogroll it, whatever it is you do - the old blog will be offline in seven days and counting.