Niko, Chuck, Dreads, and Me.

Thinking I was doing an easy favor, I offered to be home for the delivery of our new couches this morning. One would think the couch delivery process would be quite straightforward. What I had in mind was something like this:

1. Open door. Greet couch delivery people.
2. Hold open door while couch delivery people carry couches inside.
3. Point to where the couches go.
4. Thank couch delivery people and close door upon their exit.

Unfortunately I wasn't so lucky. Mine went more like this.

1. Open door for Chuck. Just Chuck. Chuck informs me that he only has one couch because the love seat was ripped. Ok Chuck.
2. Chuck surveys the door and says, "Hmm this is gonna be tight." [On the phone he had told my roommate he expected an easy delivery.] No such luck Chuck.
3. Chuck exits. Promising to be back in a few minutes.
4. Chuck and Dreads arrive carrying the couch. Along with Chuck and Dreads is Niko [His name was unbeknownst to me at the time, but upon a later frantic phone call to my roommate describing an extremely fat calico cat, the name was divulged.] Niko plops down in Chuck and Dreads path.
5. Chuck steps on Niko while positioning the couch to go through the door. Niko bolts into our apartment. Thanks Chuck.
6. Chuck and Dreads try to lift the couch into our apartment. Couch doesn't fit. While they continue to puzzle over the seemingly unsolvable mystery of the couch and the door, I exit to look for Niko.
7. Niko is lost in our apartment.
8. After no avail, couch delivery men give up. Later Chuck. I am left looking for Niko and finally discover him tiptoeing out of my roommate room. She is allergic to cats.
9. With 30 pounds of cat in my hands, I call it a day and let Niko, my new fat cat friend out into the hallway.

Our living room is still empty... they are coming back for round 2 on Thursday. They put our couch on a strict diet until then. We may or may not have living room furniture in the near future. Until then, I will just sit on Niko.

Party foolHardy

Last night I was pushed out of the nest. My roommate decided it was time for me to get out of the house and attend a party with my new classmates. Most people don't need prodding to go to a party. I am not most people. The terms of the agreement were as follows: I would go. She would drive and pick me up. I had to stay at least 1 hour.

One hour didn't sound too threatening. But then I arrived. I forgot that when I'm nervous, I tend to talk too much. I thought I'd share what I managed to divulge about myself within the span of a short 60 minutes at a party last night:
1. I am anti-social.
2. I watch Gilmore Girls before I go to bed.
3. I play the biggest brain on Facebook.
4. I like dogs more than children.
5. I'm afraid of decks [with large amounts of people on them] collapsing.
6. I am a nerd who talks about school during parties.
7. I pre-arranged a pick up time of 10:30pm.

I'm sure the list could go on, but you get the gist.

I'm starting to hope that I'm sort of like those movies that are so bad, they're good. Like She's the Man. Maybe I'm so uncool, I'm cool. Is that possible?

Don't answer that.

Never Been Kissed

You remember the Drew Barrymore movie where the reporter goes undercover as a high school student to do research for her story... I've decided this plot line accurately describes my attendance at the Jonas Brothers concert on the eve of August 18th; the only difference being I wasn't undercover [it would be hard for me to pull off the 12 year old girl look] and "research" for my blog doesn't sound quite as professional.

Despite these minor differences, I too went back and experienced a youth quite unlike my own. I entered into the lives of teeny boppers obsessed with Disney pop stars,the Jo Bros and girl diva, Demi Lovato. As we pulled into the parking lot, we were immediately surrounded by gaggles of matching puffy paint t-shirts declaring their love for Nick, Joe, and Kevin. And then there was the screaming. Oh the screaming. It was contagious. One girl would start screaming thinking she had spotted a Jo Bro and then everyone around her was screaming, and before I knew it, I was screaming too. I became one of them. It was kind of fun. Oh I forgot to mention that I went to this concert with my mother. I'm not sure she quite knew what she would be in for, but during the concert she actually thanked me for my "uneventful" teenage years.

I went to this concert knowing exactly 3 Jonas Brothers songs. But thanks to the girl in the"Marry me Frankie!" t-shirt, I left with a whole wealth of Jonas Brothers knowledge. [Frankie is the little brother aka "bonus Jonas," in case you were wondering.] And to continue my education, my cousins just lent me the new JB CD. Oh and in case anyone asks, I purchased Camp Rock as "research" into the minds of pre-adolescent girls. Right.

Into the Woods.

Imagine a fish out of water. Now imagine a girl who has spent the entire summer in the hot concrete jungle of New York City venturing into the frigid wilderness of Nickerson State Park in Cape Cod, Massachusetts. Not too different really.

Finding myself without internet... or an electrical socket for that matter, I made myself write down a few scribbles to chronicle my camping experience. But first, let me set the scene:

Malone Family Camping Trip 2008. 19 people. 2 dogs. 7 tents.

In case you don't have the pleasure of experiencing a family camping trip of your own, here is a little taste of mine:

Day 1:
Parents scoop me up from NYC. While loading stuff, passing car hits our side mirror. Mirror survives. On the road, Mom hands out lunch: homemade turkey sandwiches. After one bite, discover the "fiber" bread... and return sandwich to bag. Arrive at camp site. Tyler and I set up the tent. Dad re-sets up tent. Cell phone blinking low batt. Hamburgers and dogs for dinner.

Night 1:
I awake to Taz (Golden Retriever) sprawled out on my air mattress. Snoring fills the air. No sleep.

Day 2:
17 mile bike ride. Cell phone dead. Caffeine headache. No DDP [Diet Dr. Pepper]. After a swim in the lake, don winter gear [jeans, fleece, scarf, jacket]. Still cold. Learn to play Tri-animos [like dominoes]. Win. Meatballs, cake, and wine for dinner.

Night 2:
Bedtime 8:15 PM. Fall asleep before snorers enter tent. Dog attempts to take mattress. Fight back. Fail.

Day 3:
Wake up to worm on pillow. Caffeine headache. Bike ride to the beach. Wonder how I made it up the hills on bike yesterday. Pain. Two-hour "reading" time, aka nap time. Discover Mike's Pomegranate flavor. Drive with dad for a secret ice cream at Colby's. Go on a tour of Cape Cod... aka use the car cell phone charger. Accumulate 2 bars. Baked potatoes for dinner.

Night 3:
Russian singing cult moves into neighboring camp site. The later the hour, the louder the singing.

Day 4:
Drive 1 hour to P-town with hopes of acquiring caffeine. Arrive at P-town in downpour. Purchase $15 sweatshirt and return home to wet camp. Stop at grocery store. Purchase DDP. Russian singing cult performs encore. Half of our site disappears to go listen and chat with Russian singing cult. Mom makes chili for dinner. Campfire games. Thunder and lightning.

Night 4:
Chili for dinner... take a guess.

Day 5:
Go for a hike around the lake. Taz and Bindi (chihuahua) lead the pack. Test immunity to poison ivy. Go to beach. Discover Boccie skills. Pull Bicep. Spaghetti for dinner. Game of Scat. Lose. Discover the Crantini. Smores.

Night 5:
Fog horn snoring.

Day 6: Dunkin Donuts. Pack the car. Carve out room to sit. 10 hours on the road. A clean shower at home signals the end of camp.

And since my mother announced to the entire family that I would be writing about the trip in my blog [Thanks again Mom], I've decided to include some camp awards for the 19 Malone Camping Trip survivors:

Sir Spamalot Award: Brian
Monster Energy Award: Dane
Big Blue Engineering Award: Donald
Little Big Man Award: Ian
Miss Marsh Mellow Award: Annika
Youngest Homeowner Award: Joe
Polar Bear Award: Hannah
Card Shark Award: Nana
Best Future Russian Cult Member Award: Colin
Dog Whisperer Award: Susan
Lance Armstrong Award: John
Brings Home the Bacon Award: Tim
Miss Crantini Award: Brenda
Rip Van Winkle Award: Debbie
Biggest Geek Award: Tyler
City Slicker Award: Chris
Boccie Babe: Katie
Most Helpful Award: Pablo
Camp Shiner Award: Dan
Big Dawg Award: Taz
Lap Dog Award: Bindi

And Brian, as promised, I included your picture.

You stay classy, New York.

Its finally here, my last night in they city. As strange as this sounds, I think I'm going to miss it. This has definitely been a strange summer, but somehow I feel like I've progressed. I've learned what I'm capable of doing. This feeling in no way makes me think I'll be moving back here anytime soon, but I hope that I can remember this feeling of accomplishment. I did it.

Peanut, Peanut Butter and Crumbs.

Last night I made two very late discoveries in my time here in New York:
1. Peanut Butter Co.- a restaurant that specializes in peanut butter sandwiches (and everything else peanut butter you can imagine: pies, milkshakes, etc.)
2. Crumbs- the mecca of cupcakes.

Half a fluffernutter sandwich, half a PB & Nutella sandwich, and one strawberry cupcake later... I was definitely wearing my I love NY hat.

I wear 2 hats.

One is my tourist hat. With my tourist hat on, I love New York. I love the Broadway shows, the lights, the colorful neighborhoods, the cafes, the bars, the little dogs, the parks. My dad came to visit this weekend and we were ubertourists. In one short weekend we managed to pack in all of the stuff I probably should have been doing all summer. We saw 2 Broadway shows, enjoyed breakfast on the rooftop, took the Staten Island ferry, walked around Ground Zero and Wall St., grabbed 2 for 1 burgers at Epstein Bar, and gave the Wicked Lottery one last shot. We rode the subway, walked around, took taxis. We did New York right.

My other hat is my New York is not for me hat. I try not to wear this hat as often as I do, but I can't help it. Today was one of those days. I'm in a city that doesn't get me. A city that crowds me in and doesn't let me breathe. Doesn't want my contributions. A city that just keeps pushing me away. A city that I'm ready to leave.

I wear 2 hats.