My Meet-Cute

According to wikipedia [my trusted source of all information] a meet-cute is the contrived encounter of two potential romantic partners in unusual or comic circumstances. During a "meet-cute", scriptwriters often create a humorous sense of awkwardness between the two potential partners by depicting among other scenarios, an embarrassing situation.

This evening I had my very first [cheesy, hilarious, straight from a romantic comedy] meet-cute.

Tonight was laundry night. I hate laundry night. In fact, I try and put off laundry night as long as possible. Tonight I had no choice. I finally gave in and made my way to the hot sweaty depths of the laundry mat. Up until I began folding my clothes, it was quite an uneventful evening. And that is where this scene begins.

Enter: Meet-cute cutie, carrying a vintage Nike duffel filled with dirty clothes. As he looks around curiously, apparently unaware of this laundry mat, he decides to dump all of his clothes in one of the big washers. After closing the door of the machine, he looks over at the smaller washers and then at me...

Meet-cute cutie (to me): "Hey do you know how much the big washers cost? I'm trying to figure out if its more bang for my buck."

Me: "No, I've actually never used the big ones."

[Meet-cute cutie makes his was to the front to ask the lady who works there. He comes back my way holding up five fingers.]

Me: "Seriously? Not worth it."

Meet-cute cutie: "I know. I'm just not a bag proponent of separating my colors. I think that is some scam made up by laundry detergent companies" [Meanwhile he is stuffing his clothes into the smaller washers]

Me: "Yes, I thought so too... until one time I died all of my clothes pink."

Meet-cute cutie: "OK, well maybe if you are washing something new." [He closes the doors of his washers, loads in the coins and the detergent. The washers start.]

Meet-cute cutie: "AHHH! My shirt is caught. That's my favorite shirt. What do I do?"

Me: "Can you open the washer?"

Meet-cute cutie: "Um..." [He tried opening the door, but the washer doesn't stop. SOAP IS POURING OUT OF THE MACHINE. (I've only seen this type of thing only happen in the movies.) He urgently runs to the front of the store to flag down the lady, yet again. She comes back, hops on top of the machine to try to shut it off.]

Meet-cute cutie: "I swear it is my favorite shirt."

Me: [Laughing] "Soap is pouring out of your machine."

Meet-cute cutie: [Gazing up at the lady trying to shut off the machine] "Great, I'm ruining my favorite shirt, and I'm probably going to be responsible for breaking the washer."

[Finally the lady shuts off the machine. She signals to Meet-cute cutie to open the door. He tries. The door won't budge. Frustrated, the lady reaches down from where she is standing on top of the machine, and opens the door somewhat effortlessly. Embarrassed, Meet-cute cutie offers her a hand to get down.]

Meet-cute cutie: "Well, that went well."

Me: [Still laughing] "Yes, I'm thinking you should have coughed up the extra dollar for the big machine."

Meet-cute cutie: "So how long do these things take?"

Me: "30 minutes."

Meet-cute cutie: "Wow, I don't have much time left, do I?" [Meanwhile, he receives a phone call. He's talking to someone telling them about how he's gone out every night this week. He proceeds to tell a story. Mid-way through the story the call is lost. ]

Meet-cute cutie: [Turns to me] "Wasn't a good story anyway..."

Me: [Girlish giggling still occurring] "Wow. It is so hot in here."

Meet-cute cutie: "I know. I don't I can stay in here. I know I'm supposed to guard my machine, but I don't care. If they want to take my clothes, they can have them."

Me: "Even your favorite shirt?"

Meet-cute cutie: "That's worth more than the whole lot, but I'll have to take my chances."

[Meet-cute cutie exits the laundry mat. I watch him leave as I finish folding my clothes, his vintage Nike bag still resting on the end of my table.]

End scene.


Most of you probably after reading that whole scenario think you missed the fun,exciting, romantic part... but its hard to describe it. It just had the meet-cute aura of a first encounter. My words don't do it justice. Anyway, that's where the story ends. I will probably never see Meet-cute cutie ever again... but now I can finally say I had a missed connection.

"Smile. Everything will be alright."

A homeless man said this to me as I was walking home from work yesterday. I kept walking, wondering what I must look like to strangers. Apparently I do two emotions well: sad and angry.

Missed Connections

Searching craigslist's Missed Connections section is my new favorite activity. For those of you who haven't yet explored this part of craigslist, you must- it has changed my whole outlook on life.

Missed Connections is where you can post a message for someone who you felt a connection with, but for some reason or another, didn't act on. So now, I like to pass the hours of my day reading these posts, secretly searching for ones that could potentially be me...

Lately I've even been almost on the verge of trying to create a missing connection. I mean a missed connection can occur anywhere: on the street, in the subway, at Starbucks. So as I walk around the city, I find myself smiling and looking at strangers, hoping they'll give me a shout out. I'm pretty sure this is not how it works, but its fun to think about the fact that there are "secret admirers" all around the city. Now, I just have to find mine.

Is that what you're wearing?

Yes, yes it is. In my opinion, if you are going to visit camp, you have to look the part. So while my fellow camp alumni were powdered and pretty in their sundresses, I was aiming for more of a summer grunge look. Decked out in my classy Millboro Spring t-shirt, complete with the jumping deer logo, I hopped on board for our weekend getaway to visit our beloved summer oasis.

When we arrived and were greeted by swarms of sweaty, energetic girls, I think everyone was wishing they had taken my approach. Anyway, I blended right in... so much so that I was tempted to just throw my duffle on a bunk and stay for the remaining week. In fact by the end of the evening, I knew the location of every empty bunk, thanks to the invites to stay from small children clinging to my arm. Trust me, I was tempted.

But here I am, back in the real world, where my short Saturday afternoon at camp almost feels like it was a dream. Is there such a thing as a year round camp counselor? I think that is my calling.

Can you hear me now?

No.

The only thing I can hear right now is the ringing in my right ear. Last night I did something very unlike myself. I went out. Out of my room that is, past the hour of 7pm. Anyway, last night I decided to see how the other half lives, to experience the unscripted drama of the real world, by venturing to a concert [by myself].

Going to a concert by yourself is sort of liberating... not to say that I didn't look like a complete idiot standing there by myself in between acts, but its just empowering knowing that you can up and go to see whatever band you want- without having to conform to someone else's music tastes. You can dance, not dance, drink, not drink, sing, not sing- and be perfectly content because there is no one around to judge you- other than the massive crowd of strangers piled on top of you.

Anyway, I went to the concert because one of the guys in the band [The Alternate Routes] went to my high school. He was a senior when I was a freshman, and I'm not sure if we ever even had a real conversation. I went mainly because I wanted to see what someone else was doing with their life. I guess I wanted to live vicariously, just by watching.

When I showed up, early as is my curse, I turned to come face to face with my high school acquaintance. After a surprised look, he gave me a "Hey" of recognition. So there I was, in some West Village concert venue, talking to a rock star version of a person I once knew, thinking who am I?

HELLO Magic

I came into my office to drop off my stuff this morning and as I was going out the door to go down to the cafeteria and grab some breakfast, I glanced at the office across from mine. Usually I am greeted by a empty chair, or even the woman who works in that office, but not this morning. This morning I am face to face with a monstrously tall guy standing in the doorway, staring straight at me.

Of course it is 9:30, I'm barely awake, no caffeine in my body and there I am having a minor heart attack. After a few seconds I was able to calm the panic rushing through my body.

Upon closer inspection, I recognized the smiling face of my voyeur- Magic Johnson, or rather a cardboard cut out of Magic Johnson.

Good one Magic, you got me.

Angry Face

Yesterday I was at the cash register purchasing my dinner when I noticed that the cashier was looking at me strangely. He had a smirk on his face and I just couldn't figure out what was so amusing. So I just looked at him, waiting for some sort of explanation. Finally he says to me, "You just look kind of angry."

My response, "Sorry, I get that a lot."

I can't tell you how many times I've been told that I look angry/mad/too serious. In fact, at UVA the lunch ladies used to make fun of my serious look by nicknaming me "smilie." I, of course, retaliated by trying to put on my most cheery smile every time I got up to the counter... I don' think they bought it.

I'm not an angry person. I actually consider myself quite nice and friendly... unfortunately my face doesn't match my attitude. I can't help it. I was born with a scrunched up forehead.

And whatever happened to the cold hearted New Yorker stereotype? You'd think I fit right in... apparently not.

The core of mans' spirit comes from new experiences.

In my ever so adventurous state Saturday evening, I stayed in to watch "Into the Wild" in HD.

Side note: HD is my Dad's excuse for staying in because in his opinion, "HD is better than the real thing." I caught him watching a Goo Goo Dolls concert in HD and decided I should probably cut back on my TV time before I fall into the same mindset.

Anyway, Into the Wild was by far the best movie (aside from Camp Rock, don't judge me) that I've seen in a long time. It just makes you think about your life choices and what you are really capable of doing. The movie tells the story of this guy who graduates from college, burns all of his money, and becomes a tramp, or as he refers to himself, a supertramp.

I know that I could never do what he did, but at the same time his bravery and attitude toward life are admirable. It makes you want to go out and try something new... or at least blog about wanting to go out and try something new. Or maybe just watch someone else do something new in HD...

Camp Camp

This book defines my summer existence since age 11.

This book can and should be judged by its cover.

It is a hilarious amalgamation of pictures and stories from campers reliving their camp memories. With each page I read, I feel like I am going behind enemy lines- learning the insider details of camps outside of my own. Yet at the same time, I'm learning that my ability to relate to all of these awkward, yet familiar experiences shows that at the core, every camp is just camp- in all of its glory.

If you are a camp outsider and have always wondered what goes on in what appears to be a summer cult... you should pick this one up.

The Love Bus

This weekend I opted for the ultimate escape route: a 5 hour bus ride taking me from New York to Arlington. It was sort of a spur of the moment decision [about as spontaneous as I get] prompted by news of the arrival of my new car at the Toyota dealer (woo!). After peeking out of my office on Friday afternoon and realizing that practically everyone else had left the building, I decided to make a break for it. I decided to test my agility by speed walking in flip-flops & jeans in the 95 degree weather. Drenched in sweat, I made it back to my apartment in record time- only to dump out my bag and fill it with the bare essentials [toothbrush, half-charged ipod, and a copy of my recent read- Camp Camp: Where Fantasy Island Meets Lord of the Flies].

I finally made it to the bus stop around 3:50pm, leaving just enough time for me to spend $6 on a bottle of Gatorade and Diet Coke... I was so thirsty I almost bought out the whole overpriced cart.

Finally I boarded the bus, and was lucky enough to have my very own seat! I basked in the glory of this feat for a good 5 minutes until I was introduced to my oh so friendly reclining, kissy face, PDA loving neighbors inhabiting the seats directly in front of me.

First of all, I'm not a bus person. I don't do well with the jerking motion, the curves, the smells- it makes me nauseous. But add a gushy love struck couple practically in my lap- and you might as well have put me on a row boat in the middle of a storm with 10 foot waves. Or better yet, throw me overboard.

Then enters the neighbor sitting in the seat behind me. It just so happens he is going on a first date later that night and decides to engage the help of the girls sitting behind him to pick a location. So for about an hour I have to listen to the endless ramblings of "OH you should take her to this place called, You and Me, or maybe its called, Me and You, OH or you could go to this bar on the river, but I forget the name, OH and you two could go for some late night munchies at 5 Guys, OH and one time my cousin's friend told me about this really great place, but I'd have to call her..." My favorite part was the girls parting advice, "You should definitely seal the deal, if you know what I mean."

After 5 hours of the Love Bus, I was slightly regretting my spontaneity... but later on that evening I found myself wondering, did he in fact seal the deal?

I'm an Intern. I do what I want.

OK, so that is not true at all, but I'm learning that you have to be a little creative [go figure] to "do what you want" as an intern. During the first week of my internship I was told by my team that that when in doubt- do, and if necessary- beg forgiveness later. So lately I've decided to adopt this philosophy. Here are some of the things I've figured out:

1. Casual dress is open to interpretation.
At UVA business casual was defined as nice, but not a suit- think khakis and a nice blouse. So on the first day of my internship that is exactly what I wore. After noting that some of the guys come to work in jeans, a t-shirt and Nikes, I decided to adjust accordingly. Lately I've even dared to slip some bermuda shorts into the mix. I mean come on, I'm an intern- I wear what I want.

2. Carry a Blackberry on vibrate at all times.
Thank goodness I had a Blackberry before starting this internship. A Blackberry in corporate America is the key to graduating from the kids table. Everyone in my office has their phones on them at all times and are constantly emailing back and forth [during meetings, lunch, conversations in the hall, in elevators]. So to blend in, I carry mine too. Of course there is the fact that my work email isn't even forwarded to my phone, but I've decided that my gmail and text messages are probably just as, if not more, important and deserve immediate attention.

3. Whenever possible, "Do lunch."
I just love being able to say, "Lets do lunch." While it is probably more beneficial to go to lunch with the people you work with, I find that it helps your status to show you have friends and a life outside the company. So whenever possible [aka I've done this twice], make it known that you have a lunch date at 12:30.

4. Schedule your own meetings.
Meetings with other interns can sound official if you forget to leave off the "intern" part. This also gives you some feeling of control over your day. As an intern you are pretty much required to stop what you are doing at the drop of a hat to carry out whatever task that has been thought up in the moment. If you enjoying having a clear idea of what lies ahead, "intern" is not the title you want. So to rebel against the system, take the steering wheel [the kind that come in Drivers Ed cars with the extra break pedals on the passenger side, of course], and tell them about your important meeting on the 3rd floor at 2:30.

5. Befriend the "little people."
Most go getters want to go straight to the top and become buddy buddy with the big wigs. I personally enjoying mingling with the behind the scenes people- the ones who secretly keep the company running on a day to day basis. I've found that these are the people who can make the not so glamourous intern duties, less painful. Knowing the secretaries saves you the trouble of wandering aimlessly squinting at name plates. Knowing the catering guys gets you the "give this girl a double" comment at the office happy hour. These may not be the people who will get me a job, but they are the people that help me survive the one I'm in.

6. Make your own hours.
I don't have a 9-5 job. In fact I don't technically have "hours" that I keep. I try to roll into work in the middle of the pack anywhere between 9:30-9:45, not the the first, but not the last. The problem is by the time 5pm rolls around, my brain has checked out, mostly due to inactivity. The first week I felt obligated to stay until 6ish along with the rest of my team, but lately I've been testing the waters and packing up around 5pm. I'm an intern, who needs more copies past 5pm?

7. Make "long-term" projects long-term.
Interns have brains the size of peas, at least that is the common conception. Most of the projects I've been assigned involve filing, copying, delivering, or organizing. Each of these projects has been labeled "long-term" by my employers. Being the overachiever that I am, I ignored this label. I finished each project with speed and accuracy, mainly because I figured the faster I finished them, the less time I would have to spend organizing and filing. It wasn't until recently that I caught on to the error of my ways. In any office, I'm sure there is an endless amount of mindless work just waiting to be tackled. No intern can finish that in a week... so heed my advice, when it comes to this sort of long-term project, take your time, because there is always more where that came from.

All of these lessons probably make me sound like a slacker, but I'm calling them what they are- survival tactics. As an intern, you are at the bottom of the totem pole, and you have to channel all of your inner strength, humor, and wit to climb your way up. But at the end of the day, you just have to realize- despite your intern status- sometimes you just got to do what you want.

View From The Top.

I had to take a picture of this because I couldn't quite figure out what it said... Apparently they ran out of billboard space in New York, so Heineken took to the skies.

I wonder what the media spend on this kind of air time is?

Almo'oonds.

I'll admit, I'm definitely not the most thrilling person you'll ever meet... especially when it comes to what I eat for lunch. For a large portion of my life, I brown bagged it. My lunches were predictable and I loved them.

Some things never change. Since starting work in the city, I've been frequenting the same lunch venue (occasionally even on Saturdays...) They have what I like to call this "Subway" for salads concept going on where you can choose all of the mix-in options and they make it in front of you. So everyday I go and I order the same salad. But recently I've sort of become addicted to this place because I am fascinated with the man behind the salad counter.

Since I don't know his name, I will refer to him as Mr. Almo'oond because whenever I ask for almonds in my salad he always repeats the word back to me as if asking me a question, almo'oonds? [this spelling is my attempt at his accent]. So every day I order almonds, almost as an experiment at this point, to see if he'll repeat it back to me. I'm starting to question whether it is him or myself who pronounces the word incorrectly.

However, lately my experiment has been taken to a new level. Mr. Almo'oond, has started to chat with me as I'm order, which means he definitely remembers me. We've discussed a number of subjects [my excitement to leave New York, being from Virginia, Bon Jovi, the public waterfalls- you name it, we've discussed it] but for some reason I'm still getting the almo'oonds question. It's like he can retain all this other information about me, but still feels the need to question my choice of nut in my salad. I don't know what this all means, but I'm starting to think I might have to eat a whole lot of almonds to find out.

Too much green?

Never.

As I was waiting to cross the street today, I found myself standing about a foot away from this guy who was blatantly staring at me. The fact that we were so close made it hard to ignore. I turned towards him to give him that "I know that you're staring at me, could you please stop it" look, and surprisingly that prompted this conversation.

Guy: You're wearing a lot of green.
Me: Why yes, I guess I am. [I was wearing a green t-shirt along with my green messenger bag- I think he felt overwhelmed.]
Guy: Are you Irish? [We are crossing the street at this point]
Me: I have a little Irish in me, but no I'm not full blown Irish.
Guy: You look Irish. [I couldn't tell if this was good or bad.]
Me: Well, thanks. [I decided to take it as a complement as I not so subtly turned down the opposite street...]

We're Not In Kansas Anymore, Toto.

Here's a glimpse of my neighborhood and a view from the roof... Why was I on the roof you ask? It is the only place in my building I can get cell phone service. I am now starting to understand what it might feel like to reside with my grandmother who lacks a computer... and internet connection. But yes, welcome to the East Village.

Escape Routes 101

Lately I've had this feeling inside that I just need to get out of the city. I have these waves that just hit me. So my newest hobby has been to discover what I like to call my "escape routes." It has definitely been a trial and error game. It is quite challenging to trick yourself into thinking you aren't where you are [most of you probably don't have to worry about this as you are quite content with your surroundings]. But for those of you interested in living vicariously through my insane attempts to survive this place, here's a little taste of my worst case scenario survival techniques:

Escape Route #1: Sleep [low success rate]
Last night I put this one to the test. I thought that possibly I could muster some sort of hibernation technique where I slept off the remaining 4 weeks of my summer. Unfortunately my body doesn't agree with the 8pm bedtime that I attempted to enforce. Thus, this technique pretty much backfired. Instead of sleeping away my time, I ended up starting at a ceiling that made hours feel like years. I don't recommend using this escape route unless you are desperate.

Escape Route #2: Central Park [guaranteed success rate]
This is the one place that truly takes you out of the city without actually taking you out of the city. When you are surrounded by green grass, tall trees, bikers, kids, and picnics, its easy to lose yourself. I found that lying down on a blanket, staring up into the blue skies- I could almost lose the scent of the urine smelling streets. The only thing that can pull me away from the park is the lack of public restrooms... and squirrels.

Escape Route #3: Friends who live on the Upper East Side [high to moderate success rate]
Today I went to visit a friend's apartment on the Upper East Side, and I finally got to see how the other half lives. It was like stepping into a piece of heaven. I walked into the building, complete with doorman and elevator, and I didn't even know what to do with myself. I had to check in- can you believe it. I relished in the moment, chatting with the doorman, soaking up every minute of my time in my first viewing of a livable apartment. My friend's room was spacious, bright, cheery- everything I thought New York was devoid of... The only downside of this experience- having to return home to my own "unique" living situation.

Escape Route #4: The Gym [high success rate]
I figure in NY, my body needs as many endorphins as it can possibly produce. So my solution is to go to the gym and run until I'm on the verge of collapse. That way my body becomes too exhausted to worry about my surroundings.

So there you have it. However, in the event that none of these work, the real escape route is fail-safe: the 4 hr bus to D.C. An ideal escape, but getting on the return bus is like leaving behind a cute puppy at the pet store. You can love it and play with it for awhile, but you can't take it back with you.

Do You Have A Minute?

The answer to this question should always be no. No, I don't have a minute.

Today I was side swiped while standing idly in the doorway of our conference room. I was just innocently glancing at an episode of Bravo's Sheer Genius, and BAM! Out of nowhere comes the "Katie, Do you have a minute?" from a nearby office. Without having a previous excuse prepared, the word "sure" floated hesitantly from my lips.

Before I knew it, the door was being closed behind me, and there I was- trapped. Apparently today was the day of my intern mid-way evaluation. I get a mid-way evaluation? They really should tell the interns these things. I need like a week's preparation for these sort of one-on-one gatherings. Whenever placed in this sort of setting my first reaction is always to cry. I don't know why, but whenever I'm sitting across from anyone of a higher position than myself, tears seem to want to jump from my eyes.

So there I was, sitting in a closed office, fighting back tears- keep in mind nothing has even been said at this point other than the infamous words, "Do you have a minute?" Needless to say, I survived, and somehow managed to run out of the office before my tear ducts had a chance to let loose. Lets just say face-to-face evaluations aren't my favorite activity... in fact I'd prefer they just sent me an email, but in a way I guess it is good to hear what I can improve on.

I will say, initially, upon leaving the office I felt like I had been identified as a spineless jellyfish. But after about half a bag of SPK, I realized I would just have to make a goal this summer: grow a spine. And thus, I survived another day in the city.

Never Say Never

So while I was home, a conversation came up that involved the question, "Would you ever use an online dating service?" Immediately my friend answered, "NO way." And while this was the immediate response in my brain as well, for some reason the words that came out of my mouth were, "Never say never." This was obviously some sort of premonition.

Yesterday I got an email from my mom in which she wrote, "Dad discovered someone used our credit card for a dating service and a couple other charges." It just so happens that I lost that very same credit card earlier this year. So potentially there is a Katherine Chapin on Match.com, doing just what I technically would never do myself. I wonder if she got a date?

Never say never.

Where Everybody Knows Your Name

I never thought I'd say it, but I love Northern Virginia. I love my friends that have seen me through the awkward years. I love suburbia. I love taking my dog for walks, driving everywhere [aka being driven everywhere], sleeping in my own room, drinking hot tea in an air conditioned house, napping, venturing "out" even when we all would rather be red boxing it.

I spent the past five days at home and now I'm experiencing extreme withdrawal. Isn't it funny how you never know how much you love something until you're without it. I learned that I loved UVA by traveling to England. I learned that I loved Virginia by traveling to New York. For some reason whatever I have never seems like its enough when I have it, but when I'm without it, its all I want.

The Shake Shack is little old place...

Today I was introduced to the Shake Shack. I was sold on the place before we even got there. Places that serve a truly tasty milkshake are far and few between. Standing in line outside to order a burger, fries, and a shake just made me feel like it was summer. Eating outside on a beautiful day will give you that feeling- Eating outside and having a bird land on your table and not fly away will take away that feeling.

In the middle of our dinner a small bird, the size of a fist, came and landed on the table. I was in shock. The bird just sat there looking at me. I couldn't move. I couldn't even guard my food because I suddenly realized that I think I may fear birds almost as much as I fear squirrels. Needless to say my friend wasn't frozen in fear and managed to get the bird to fly away. After coming out of my mini coma like state, I realized everyone was staring at us. I think I might have been making noises. Good thing about NYC is that even after embarrassing stunts, you blend right back into the crowd.