Reprehensible?!?

This is a quote from Amanda's blog.

P.S.S.S.Ok last one, I swear! Coming Soon.. Lube Girls! My friend at work, Jin Hizzle and myself are writing a join Blog about the crazy happenings at work. It's going to be full of dirty and reprehensible fun!


Reprehensible?!? Amanda, your and Jin Hee's blog will be condemned?!? I'm scared. I don't know if my innocent naive eyes will be able to handle all of the reprehensible fun.


If you type reprehensible one too many times, it starts to look funny. Here, look:

reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible reprehensible

Looks funny, right?

By Popular Demand

I've been asked to step away from the humor of being young, and go more towards a little bit of a randier subject. So, here it is by request of Amanda and Ashley here is the comericial for the Jiz-tainer®.

Scene: A white room, and Allison with a nice little outfit on.

Allison: Oh hello. I didn't see you there. Well, while I have you here, I have a question. Hand jobs getting you down? Have you ever been in the car in a deserted parking lot after 12 am, and your boyfriend says, "Hey sweetie, how about a hand job?" And the only thing you can think of is the leather interior of your car? Well, do I have the product for you.

The product magically appears in my hand.

The Jiz-Tainer®. It's small enough to fit in any backseat compartment and also, it is good for when your man is about to shoot it all over your parents car. You just insert the penis into the opening at the end and let it rip. Everything is contained in the Jiz-Tainer®. No messy clean up, and a hand job can happen at anytime with such a convient little gadget.

If you order now, you will receive, free of charge, the Jiz-Towel®. A small little cleaner-upper for when you get a little spillage. All for the low low price of $12.99. Don't let hand-jobs get you down anymore. Make them fun for everyone :)

*cheesy smile*.

There, I'm official raunchy. Well, not officially. I have to wait for Brooke and Patrick's blessing for that, but I mean, I'm well on my way.

To Clear The Air

It has been brought to my attention that in my post, "You Gotta Have Friends," that I had inadvertently hurt Amanda's feelings when I called her the "ham" of the group. This was not my intention. And since I do not believe in retractions of opinion. I will now try to rationalize to the world, why I feel Amanda is "the ham" and why it is complimentary instead of derogatory.

First, let us look at the definition of the word, "ham." Straight from http://www.m-w.com/:

Main Entry: 1 ham Pronunciation: 'ham Function: noun Etymology: Middle English hamme, from Old English hamm; akin to Old High German hamma ham, Greek knEmE shinbone, Old Irish cnáim bone1 a : the hollow of the knee b : a buttock with its associated thigh -- usually used in plural 2 : a cut of meat consisting of a thigh; especially : one from a hog 3 [short for hamfatter, from "The Ham-fat Man," minstrel song] a : a showy performer; especially : an actor performing in an exaggerated theatrical style b : a licensed operator of an amateur radio station4 : a cushion used especially by tailors for pressing curved areas of garments- ham adjective

There you have it. A showy performer. Amanda with her blonde hair and all I've ever learned about theater is that one must over exagerate everything in order to portray something to the audience. I feel that instead of referring to Amanda as "a cushion used to especially by tailors for pressing curved areas of garments," that the bolded definition works best. But to make it more personal, I shall go on.

Amanda as a friend is very endearing. She is caring and sweet. She refers to things not by their real name, to get a laugh (ie. Goat Rider). Her cough, according to Jin Hee, is a laugh-ometer. Amanda is great. She's a singer and an actress, and sometimes a ballet dancer. She likes to have alot of fun, which is why she's the center of attention. She'll do anything for a laugh. I even have a picture of her grabbing her boobs. Just for fun ! It's not that she LOVES attention and she needs it all the time, instead, she likes to see her friends laugh. Which is her main goal. And if being a showy performer makes her friends laugh, then I am not in the wrong.

There it is, Amanda, you are a ham. Not a boiled or a candied ham, but a good friend ham. END OF DEBATE !

School Daze

I know, unclever title, but that's how I feel. I wake up. Go to school, wander about the campus in an sleep deprived, cigarette induced haze all day, then I take a few classes which make me confuse the English language with French, so I'm still wandering thinking to myself, "Je me demande combien torture plus je vais avoir à endurer avant que je peux soit allé à la maison ce soir."* Then I realize, "I need to stop taking French when I'm thinking in it." Then I realize these four years (7 if you're me) we call college are some of the greatest times you'll have. You'll fall asleep in your car and miss class. You'll make witty comments and all the people in class will like you. You'll even fail an economics quiz or two. All in the name of higher education. So take this daze and cherish it, for you can't mooch off your parents forever.

Once you've started your fourth year of college and you're still a sophomore, things start to get a little hectic. Not that I'm stupid, but as you can see, I'm a little bit of a drinker. And well sometimes you just have to make sacrifices when it comes to school. I did, and now I'm paying for it. In blood, sweat, and bic pens. My favourite kid in class is the kid who never has a pen. He scours through his book bag, stands up and checks his pockets, looks through the bag one more time, then he quietly says, "Hey you have a pen I can use?" You look at him and say, "Idiot, it's behind your ear."

Professors though are my favorite people in the world at school. They always look a mess. Like they just came back from a hard tour in Iraq. Their hair is all disheveled. They never know where their attendance log is, and when you ask them to elaborate on something they say, "Oh you don't really need to worry about that." Then why bring it up in the first place? But really, professors dedicate their lives to educating the ruthless, deviant, misguided youth of America. What else could be better than that? Oh yeah, maybe running a brush through that hair.

College is a lot like high school. There are cliques. There are fights. There are suck ups. There are class clowns. I thought that my life was going to be so much different after I graduated high school, 4 years ago. Instead, I just have a higher paying job, and a lot less free time. I want to go back to high school where my biggest stressor was who I was going to take to the prom. Not if I don't get this contract out by 3:30pm, someone might actually kill me. The simple days of acne and akwardness. Whatever happened to that?.

However, college is a lot more fun that high school, just in the area that you can get up and leave the room whenever you want. You can go to the bathroom without asking. You can go outside and answer your cell phone. You can just get up and leave if you don't feel too guilty. Maybe it's easier to cut class in college because your professor is distracted by their overheads that they don't realize that you're not even there.

Another absolutely wonderful thing about college, is that you get homework. Everyday. I mean in high school, you had like all of this free time when you weren't, in the marching band, playing sports, illegally drinking when your friend's parents weren't home, or just sitting there in a IM induced coma, and you had like one assignment a week. In college where we have to basically support our drinking habits by working menial jobs, we get projects every other day. Have to sit through 3 hour lectures on rocks, and basically rot away on the computer typing into search engines, "Life After Napoleon: Was it All Fun and Games?" How about that for a social life? I'm thinking I would rather be drinking illegally in my friend's backyard.

College really looses its edge after a few years though. You realize that you hate walking across campus in 10 feet of snow. You also realize that you hate to walk. There have been times I've had to run across campus in like 2.5 seconds because a teacher decided to keep us after class, and I really wish that I had a Van Wilder-type golf cart to hop into. Then I realized that I would just have to dodge people the whole time and it would take me longer to get to class. And I'd probably just fall asleep in the back seat anyway.

Well all in all, college is something that we all need to suck up and go through. In the end, you'll get a fabulous little piece of paper that your parents probably paid upwards of $100K for you to get. And think of all the things you could have bought with that instead. Well, I guess a bright future is okay, but couldn't they give out gold watches too?



*translation: I wonder how much more torture I am going to have to endure before I can go home tonight

One Please.

Being single isn't all that bad is it? You don't have anyone to answer to, you can hit on everyone, and there's no one to fight with cause you're not spending all of your time with a member of the opposite sex. When it comes to being single, I would say that I'm an expert. Despite a minor slip up that lasted 8 months, I've been single for the greater part of my life. This is something that I'm particularly proud of, because when my friends are slipping in and out of relationships, pining over boys, and sad over their demise relationships, while I do feel for them, I have no problem saying, "one please."

Being single and in your early 20s is one of the best blessings you can receive. You're out there, you're playing the field. You're swinging for the fences. Everyone's trying to score, including you. And when you finally slide into homebase, you realize, that you never really liked baseball before this moment.

The best scene for any person, male or female, who is single is the bar. Any bar you go into, you're bound to find at least one person who will try to at least round first with you. The hard part is weeding out the ones who are worth the time. I try to use the liquor scale method. There are three levels of this scale. And it all depends on the conversation, remember that. You can't solely judge a guy by the method, take all the factors into consideration. The first level is the guy you want to avoid. Scene: You're at a bar, the guy comes up to you. You haven't seen him all night, but out of nowhere he asks if he can buy you a drink. You say sure. You are drinking a mixed drink, then all of a sudden, there's a $1 draft beer in front of you and a guy looking for your sole attention from the rest of the evening. This guy is the "Cheap Beer" guy. He was good in college, and maybe even before you turned 21. Now, however, you're looking for something with fuller flavor and alot more depth.

The next level on the scale happens sort of like this. You're sitting there at the bar, and you keep meeting eyes with a guy from across the bar. He sends the exact drink that you have over to you. You mouth thank you. But then he doesn't come over for the rest of the night, but he keeps sending you drinks. Finally, when he's gotten enough drinks in you, that's when he makes your move. This guy isn't that bad of a guy, but what you must do is make your move after he sends over the second drink. Apparently he's plying you with liquor so that way he thinks he has a better chance with you. This is the "You're Cute when I'm Drunk" guy. You need to nip this in the bud as soon as it starts to go down, or just let all of your friends know that under no circumstances should you go home with that guy. Unless he starts buying them drinks too, then well, you're screwed and you just chalk that night up to experience.

The last kind of guy, orders you a drink he thinks you would like, and it includes all top shelf liquor. It tastes really good and well you can't taste the liquor in it, and then he comes over to talk to you. This is "Top Shelf" guy. He's the one you wanna keep around. He's confident enough to buy you a drink that you might not have had before. He also will come up to you and not hide behind different ulterior motives. He's up front with no matter what he wants, whether it's conversation, a grab, or just your number and a little nookie later. Top Shelf guy might not be the one you want to go home with, but he'll be the one you probably do go home with.

What one must learn while being single is that they are fabulous even if they don't have someone to tell them that they are. I know that I'm the most fabulous person that I've ever met. Well what has that gotten me? Drunk at a diner place, not being able to talk to hot men, and well, sleeping alone every night. I think I'm pretty much ahead of things, wait until that relationship rears it's ugly head, I'll be singing a different tune. It'll probably sound something like "Sexual Healing."

A Plug

Well, since Brooke plugged me and she's my inspiration for this little bit of humor. I would like to give her a little bit of a plug. GO TO HER BLOG WITH PATRICK !! IT'S GREAT AND WONDERFUL AND EVERYONE LIKES IT !!!!


http://brookenpatrick.blogspot.com


It's alot of fun, and you'll love all of the raunch that I seem to leave out of the world of a 20-something in today's dating world. Plus, Brooke almost won a billion dollars on TV. Who else can say that? Well, the 199 other people who were on the show, but do you know any of those people? NO!! Do you know Brooke? NO !! Well, sorta, I do, so now I feel cooler.

You've Gotta Have Friends

When it comes down it, anyone you ask will tell you that they have the greatest group of friends that they could ask for. And you know what, I'll tell you the same exact thing. But really, where do you go if you say that you think your friends are the crappy people who ever existed? Then obviously, if I said that, then if you asked my friends, they'd tell you that I'm not such a great person, but I am, and so are my friends. In order to have a successful circle of friends, their have to be certain roles that each of you take on. You have the partner in crime, the mom, the out of towner, the friend from high school, and the ham. With each of these friends, they bring a little something to the group and because of this my friends are the best in the world.

Probably the friend you'll hear the most about because she's the most outgoing and the craziest things happen to her is Lauren. She's absolutely, 100% fun loving. She'll do anything to ensure that she has a good time. She's what you call a partner in crime. You want to do something and you've called everyone you could imagine, and no one wants to do it, you can call the partner in crime, and she'll be ready in 10 seconds flat. The partner in crime also will do what she has to do in order to get through something or make it worthwhile. One time we were down the shore at a bar, and she completely disappeared. I spent about an hour looking for her, and I heard nothing from her the entire night. Finally, two days later, she calls me and is like, "You'll never believe what happened to me..." She could have had to swim home from Austraila, and she'll be like, "That was the craziest night of my life, but I'm sure something will top it."

The out of towner friend is the one friend that you've had forever, but they move faraway and you have to go see them all the time, unless they come home to do their laundry. That's Janine. She's been my best friend for about 16 years. She's getting her undergraduates degree is Special Education and goes to a school in south central New Jersey. It's not that far, granted, but trying to find time to get down there and spend a sufficent enough time with her when we both aren't inebriated beyond belief is hard to do and hard to coordinate. However, she's the one that I've been through the most with. And whenever I get a little too big for my britches she'll be the first one who lets me know and will call me out on something stupid I did. I'll be like, "At my job I just got all these new responsibilities, and I think that I might be getting promoted soon." And she'll come out of nowhere and be like, "Yeah, well remember when you were in 2nd grade and that kid squirted mustard all over you?" I don't feel so important after a blow like that.

The ham is the friend that is constantly the center of attention, but it's not because they crave attention. Okay, yes it is, but it's not the annoying way. It's just the way they are. Amanda is like that. She was an actress in high school, and when we go to the karaoke bar once a week, it's like a Grammy award performance everytime, and the old drunk in the corner will her a standing ovation. Amanda has also done a lot of plays since we've graduated high school, so I've seen her in a few, and when I go to these things, I'll be outside smoking a cigarette and people will be talking, and out of nowhere I interject, "Oh yeah, well, I know Amanda." At that point, I feel more like a groupie than a friend.

The friend from high school is that one person where you can not see them for years, and the moment that you do it's like nothing has ever changed. You're making fun of all the people you went to high school with. You're making fun of people you work with, heck you're making fun of anything that walks by you when you see each other. That's Ashley. She and I are so much alike it's a wonder that we get along. We complain about the same things, we like the same things, and we even talk the same way. We make up parodies about everything and anything. It's a fun thing when Ashley and I get together. When we were in high school, we were on a band trip (yes yes yes, when I was a wee tot, I was in the marching, and damn proud), and we made up an entire parody to "Love Shack" about our friend who worked at Shop Rite. There was choreography and everything.

Then there is the mom. This is your friend that is always looking out for you no matter. It's like they are mom. That's Shannon. She's the oldest out of all my friends, at the ripe old age of 22, and she seems to be the most mature, on the outside. But when you get a few drinks on her, she couldn't care if you were hooking up with a bum ontop of a burning car. She's great like that, she has instructions on her, "To loosen up, just add liquor." She's probably one of my closest friends, and has just as much dirt on me as Janine does. I'll be talking to a guy, and be trying to make myself look a little cooler than I am, and she'll come in and blow up my spot. I'll be like, "Oh yeh, I've been to that place, it was good when I was there." And she'll come into the story, "Yeh it was great because you had 8 shots and were dancing with the bouncers by the end of the night, not to mention that cop you hit on, and you got to wear his hat." And I'll be like, "Wow, that wasn't me." And of course, she'll have photographical proof with her, in her monstrous pocketbook. Because, being the "mom" friend, she comes with the obligatory large purse.

When it comes to my friends, there's always something going on. Whether it's a party, a drama, or something just that happens to be going on it the background. There's always something. Just for an example, this past weekend, Amanda was in LA. Why you might ask, because her sister, won a chance to win a billion dollars from Pepsi. It's like, "Okay, drink a hell of a lot of Pepsi, then here's two plane tickets to Los Angeles, let's see if you can come home a billionaire." While she was out doing that, I was in New Jersey writing this column. Says alot for me, doesn't it?

Shannon, although she may be mom, she's also always looking out for my best interest. One night, when we were at the diner/restaurant/bar, she hadn't gotten to bar night. So I text messaged her with something along the lines as the guy I had a crush on was there and it was weird for us both to be there. She text messages me back in .1 seconds flat with, "Don't worry, I'm on my way." She's Captain Saves-The-Day, she comes in and everything is fine. I'm talking more, he's talking more. We are NOT hooking up, but at least hey I said more than, "Did I just kick you?"

I have a problem that when I start to drink and I'm around a guy I'm interested in, I start to buy rounds. Like not just one, but alot. I'd say upwards of four a night. My friends however, aware that I am making an ass out of myself, do not stop me. Why you ask? Because they are getting a piece of the action. I'm buying shots, and I'm buying pitchers, and I'm buying mixed drinks. All to impress a guy who's clearly only hanging around for the free liquor. But I leave a lot less wealthy than when I got there, and my friends, well they leave with a warm feeling in their heart, oh wait, that's just the last shot I bought them.

Friends are basically where it's at though. They are either your best asset or your worst enemy. They'll point out when you're being an asshole, or they'll let you go and figure it out for yourself. They'll buy you a pint when you're down, or they'll kick ya square in the ass when you need it. All in all without friends where would you be? I know I'd have more money because I'd have less people to buy a round for.

Too Young To Feel This Damn Old

That's right. I feel old. I wake up early in the morning, work 8 hour sometimes, 11 hour days to go to sleep to wake up to do it again. But someone has to supply pharmaceuticals to the world, and it might as well be me.

Working at this company has made me realize alot of things. For example, the less people who see you, the more powerful you are. I have yet to see the CEO of this company. Yet I strangely fear him.

So, since my last couple of posts, I've decided that I want to write a book. I want to write a book about the strange horrors of living in surburbia, being young and looking for love. Not so much autobiographic, just a collection of instances and whatnot.

Whenever it comes down to it, I'm always the first to leave somewhere. This comes back to being old. And it never fails, one of my friends will always say to me, "You suck, you can't hang." Sometimes, I really just want to say, "You know what, it's 1:30 in the morning, I've been at school and work since 7am. I think that if after 18 1/2 hours that I decide I'm tired and want to sleep, I should be allowed to. After all you woke up 15 minutes before we decided to go out."

When it comes down to it, I'm going to be hunched over when I'm an old lady. And it's not my fault. It's society's. When I go to work, I spend more time walking between the 12th and 14th floors than I do doing anything else. Not only that, my office enforces a strict dress code where the only pants I'm allowed to wear look best with 4 inch spiked heels. So I'm walking up and down the stairs all day, walking back and forth to the copy machine, delivering things, and all the while ruining my posture with every step. Whatever happened to those shoes that "looked like a pump, felt like a sneaker?" Because I know these look like a pump and feel like Chinese Water Torture.

You know you're starting to get old when you get to the weekend, you don't do anything that has to do with drinking and Monday morning comes and you're not anywhere near ready to go and face the work week. I had a grand total of three drinks this weekend, one for each day of the weekend, and on Monday morning, I felt like I was on a major bender all weekend. Really the most excruiating thing I did all weekend was drive to Pennsylvania. I used my right foot more than anything this weekend, and I feel like I drank a 5 gallon container of vodka. That's it, I'm putting my right foot on a time out. No strenuous activity for a while. Which would probably help my shoe problems as well.

Thursdays are my favorite day of the week. They are hell to get through, but once I get to about 9pm, it's completely worth it. I go to school two days a week from 8am - 12:30pm and then again from 6pm - 9pm. Which doesn't really seem that bad, but when you factor in the 4 hours of work from 1pm - 5pm, it turns into a really long day. Now that I'm 21, my friend and I have decided to not become 100% lushes and have a designated "bar night." Unfortunately, the only time either one of us could get this together was on a Thursday. So at 9 o'clock on a Thursday, when I'm starting my 13th hour of the day, that's when I can finally drink. And that's what I need, but we go to this local diner/restaurant/bar place, where enivitably there are about 7 guys to everyone girl, so I'm getting wasted at record speed because I don't have to spend any money. But then you spot that one guy across the bar, and you want him to come over and talk to you, but since all the other guys in the bar are flocking to you like a vultures do to a carcass, you're screwed. You've got three different conversations going on, and you're making eyes across the bar to the one guy who's not talking to you. Finally when all of the excitement has faded away. You look to where he was standing to make your move, and he's gone. Isn't that just my luck.

My other least favorite thing about bar night is that the guy that I have the biggest crush on, is the one guy that I can't think of anything to say to. Any other person, including of the male species, I can talk their ear off. This one guy, we could be sitting right next to each other and the only thing I can muster up to say is, "Oh I'm sorry, did I kick you?" Really, I need to work on my hot guy social skills.

At work, I have to type alot of memos. I'm a really good typist, but the only problem is that I think using AIM has scarred my typing skills. When instant messaging first became popular, I was about 15. So I used little things like, "OMG, that guy is so hott." Or, "BTW" for by the way. Other problems occur when I have to type, "you" I'm so used to going with u that it looks like it's in some sort of cryptic code the first time I type it. Now my friends find themselves talking in initials, so now when I'm in the office and want to tell someone to keep me in the loop of something that's going on, I find myself stopping myself from saying, "I don't want to be OTL, so please, just keep me informed." OTL? What is that? You and I might know that it means "Out of the loop," but these corporate types just think that I'm that weird girl who's first langauge is shorthand, WTF?

The one thing that doesn't make me feel old is the fact that only one set of my friends is married. And they are 5 years older than me, which is completely acceptable. When my friends who are 20 and 21 start getting married before me, I know that I'm either the biggest loser, or I feel too old that I've skipped that part in my life and went right to being divorced.

And finally, I think that I need to lighten up a little bit, my one friend, works when she feels like it, calls out if she wants to go to the bar, and will hook up at will. She has the most rewarding life of anyone I know. I on the otherhand, work all of the time, take care of all my responsibilities, but yet when it comes down to it. She's tired because of all the hooking up she's doing, and I'm tired from all of the walking up and down the stairs. I'm definitely getting the raw end of the deal here. So, hopefully, when it comes down to it, I'll act my age, and stop trying to grow up too fast, because now feeling too damn old doesn't seem to be working for me, and well let's just throw responsibility out the window, because there's no way I'm letting these years pass me by.

22

Since Jin Hee became a little offended when I said that no one ever majors in being 22. I've decided to write a little something about what happens after you're 21.

As I've previously stated, once you turn 21. It's pretty much all downhill from there. You've turned 21. You've partied at all the bars and all the clubs. You tell anyone who will listen to your drunken banter that you've just 21 and you'll drink anything they want to buy you. You go out to bars and clubs for one reason. To get fucked up. After the newness of 21 wears away what are you left with? Fifteen extra pounds of Coors Light, and a newfound affection for the toliet, which you've been hugging for a month and a half straight.

Once 22 comes into the picture, you readily decide that drinking yourself silly is NOT the answer. You may ask how I've become such an authority on 22, well my best friend is 22. You're not looking to go to bars to find your soulmate in the bottom of a pint glass, you're trying to find it in the guy who's sitting across the room from you. You walk over, which gives you the advantage to the girls who just turned 21 because they are wearing their best club outfit to an Irish pub where the dress code doesn't mind flip flops. Once you get over there you fake a conversation about the game that's on, you even offer to buy a round of shots if (insert team name here) wins. Or depending on what he's wearing you might even talk about the stock market or some current political events. When you're 21, the conversation goes mostly like, "So, I hear you like to fuck." Then they're leaving with the best looking or just the drunkest guys they can find.

The bar is one of the only "traditional" places to meet someone. Especially if you're still in school. Because when you're walking through campus, you look around and realize that most of the guys that you think are semi-attractive have the capacity to be at the most 4 years younger than you. Which means when you were going to your senior prom, they were thinking that girls were icky and talking about video games in the corner of their 8th grade dinner dance.

Nothing fun happens when you turn 22. You've been going to the bar so often since you've turned 21 that you have a usual, and the bartender knows your name and has your change waiting for you because they know that you're going to pull out that 10 dollar bill to pay for your pitcher of beer. You have specific nights to go to specific bars, and if you're not there by 10pm a group of people will start to call you and think that something is wrong because you're at that bar like clockwork by 9:37pm every Thursday. One of those people might even be the bartender because he's been holding your 4 dollars in change for the past half hour, and he's letting you know your pitcher is getting warm.

Being 22 is fun though, because when someone at the bar you frequent turns 21, you can always tell. They are putting back their 4 dollar pints faster than you can find out their name and buy them a shot. Once they've been there for an hour they've dropped close to $50 on top shelf mixed drinks, when you've drank the same amount of them and spend at least half as much as they did because you know it's $2 well drink night, or even more because you've been drinking dollar drafts.

With 22 comes knowledge. You know where to go for a good crowd, and you never have to worry about getting in. Your ID is worn and torn enough that the bartender knows it's real, and you get a good laugh out of those who swear up and down that they majored in being 21 make that face when they take a shot of Soco and lime. You laugh at the younger girls who are wearing the 4 inch spiked heels, with an outfit that they bought specifically for that night at the bar. While you're comfortably sitting in the bar stool that you got to the bar early for, because you knew once 10pm rolled around it was a standing room only event.

22 isn't the most fun. I'm sorry Jin Hee, but there are pros to being 22. You're not a "newbie" to the bar scene anymore, and you know alot more about life, because you've either experienced new things, or you witnessed them happening to your friends. So when it comes down to it, although no one really majors in 22, when you're 21, by the end of that year you're more than ready to handle 22.

The Art of Being 21

Okay, some of you may or may not know that in the beginning of August I turned 21. This wasn't simply an act of being born in 1983. Oh no no no, it is a fine art. One that should be offered in major universities, such as Yale or Harvard. Because if you didn't know, up until this point in my life. I majored in being 21.

Majoring in being 21 isn't that hard. But for about a three years, that's what I did. I'd go to bars where I "knew someone" when I was in college in Philly. And Philly's a big city there's alot of people to know. Then when I moved back home, it was onto fun things like house parties, and drinking wine with Janine when we'd go to Dave Matthews Band concerts. Then something magical happened, I had a friend, of a friend, of a friend, make me a fake ID that said I was the oldest of all my friends. Isn't that hilarious. Me at 19 the oldest out of a group that ranged from 19-23. Then I was getting into clubs that were 21+. That was a great time in my major. You might even call that sophomore field experience.

Then something tragic happened. No, I wasn't put onto academic probation or anything horrible like that. I was an ACE at my major, but I lost my fake ID. One night, at a gay club in Philly. (Don't ask, it was part of my diversity requirement), my cherished fake ID went missing. And I haven't seen it since. I had to do alot of make up work for this major slip-up. So since I was home indefinitely, I started to "know people" in and around the central Jersey club scene, aka my lab partner, Lauren. We started to go to all the clubs, Abyss, Joey's, and finally, Sleep. We "knew" alot of people there, and believe me did that help to enhance our experiments in chemistry class. You add two 20 year old girls with a 21+ club, and it would equal trouble. So things go down, I get kicked out of class. It stinks, but hey you gotta beg and plead with the Dean to get back in.

Finally, the realization is that you can't really major in being 21 without getting into a little bit of trouble, whether it's the throwing up at 2 o'clock in the morning, or the bad bad bad decisions you make once you're 6 sheets to the wind.

Now, I have graduated. I AM 21. No more sneaking into the bathroom to get a sip of my friend's drink. I slam my hand down on the bar and order a round of shots for myself, the bartender, and whoever is in the 5 foot vicinity of me. I can make an ass out of myself in public, while looking really cool. I can buy liquor for all my underage friends and then reminisce about the times when I had my older friends do it. I can tip too much and then remember why it is I set a limit on the amount of money I spend at the bar. I can insist to myself and others that at 5:15am after I passed out on the bathroom floor that I am in fact okay, and that I will be going to work in the morning. I'll go to a bar to watch a football game and I don't even like football. I specialize in shots, and when it comes down to it. When I'm 22, I'm going to miss being 21. Because no one EVER majors in being 22.

Pretty much it's all downhill from here.

Office Supplies

Okay, I've decided that I know the reason why prescription medicine is so expensive. I work for a pharmaceutical company, just so you know. But this is the reason. On my desk, I have to have at least 25 pens with the name of our flagship drug on it. And add to that the 4 cases of pads with the drug's name on it. I'm sure everyone else has the same amount that I do as well. Is all of this really neccessary? If you didn't spend so much money MAKING pens, and saved it, then maybe the drug wouldn't be so darn expensive.

There are also other things that drive me crazy. Every desk has a post-it dispenser with the name of the company on it. I wear an ID badge around my neck. I know the name of the company. My post-it dispenser doesn't need to tell me. Plus, is that adhesive really all that daunting that you need a dispenser? You can't just pull it away from the others? Something really just don't make sense to me.

On a personal note, my face is falling off. I went to the beach on Saturday and baked in the sun for 4 hours. No spf or anything. Just me and Mr. Sun. Now, my face is falling off, layer by layer. I look like a leper a little. Not to mention that I'm a receptionist so I'm the first person anyone sees when they walk in. So it's like all these vendors look at me and must be thinking, "Wow, maybe this PHARMACEUTICAL COMPANY should make something that will cure leporsy.(sp?)"

I've been here for almost two weeks, so I still don't know alot of people. But I don't know if I want to know them. Cause everyone just walks passed me. I really think that they must be thinking, "Oh it must be a community outreach program where they have college students come in and learn how to use the copy machine. I always thought that we should do more in the community." I think that it's either really funny or really rude, I can't decide just yet though.

My favorite thing about my job is that there are alot of british people who work here. Okay, just two in my office, but we have a branch in Leeds, England, and people from there call here all the time. I like make them stay on the phone with me. I've never met these people, but I love how they talk. I'd spend hours on the phone with them if I could. I just want to marry a nice Irish guy right off the boat. It might not be for love, it might just so that way he can stay here in the country, but I don't care. We'll have little Irish kids and they'll have funny names and people will say, "how could you do that to your child?" But I won't care. I'll just be living it up with my Irish husband and our kids with the weird names. In all of this, however, I will still be polish. I lose.