UPDATE!!!!!

Ok, because I am determined not to let this blog flame out, or be one of those people who update so infrequently you (my MANY MANY fans) stop reading, here is an update on my life.

So in the week since we've last been in touch some of the many things done in my glamorous life is I've:

-gone to the top of the Empire State Building with some lovely Daily Northwestern alums.

-seen the Broadway show 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee which I liked. I've seen it before, which probably doesn't come as a surprise to anyone especially the bitch who will remain nameless who told me I "look like I'd be a good speller."

-become obsessed with Let me borrow that top, leading to numerous text messages with my now former roommate

-become obsessed with GQ, the best magazine ever. Seriously, I had no clue, but it's kind of amazing!

-had cocktails with a friend from school and one from home, watching all world collide.

-had my last day of my internship! And got offered a recommendation! And took some more beauty products! And am leaving the job a million girls would die for unscathed and with better mascara and the knowledge that I need to buy more belts. I also leave with the hope that while I will probably again be underqualified for a job and I will probably again be overqualified, I hope I never again have to be both at the same time.

-gone to the bar next door to my apartment so I can say I have. That same night (omg, I'm so cool! I barhop!) I saw a drag queen sing at a gay bar that ONLY had men's bathrooms which is a pointed way to say "no girls allowed" except there were 8 million girls there since it was a Friday night.

-almost lost my cell phone but didn't.

-realized my favorite new product would have cost me $42 in the store.

-gone to Laurel's bbq bday in Ossining and got jealous of everyone's New Zealand adventures.

-ate mediocre sushi with Newsweek's number one intern

-packed up my room with sadness that my New York City adventure has come to a close. I was going to write a nyc in review blog spot but that would take so long, but well , it was great. I normally only believe in "no regrets" on a hypothetical level because um, i'm neurotic, but I don't regret living where I did and am so happy I lived in an amazing neighborhood where I hope to live again some day, or at least an equivilently cool place.

-went to Ossining, where I am now doing NOTHING before I leave Thursday for Evanston-->Toronto-->Evanston-->Ossining-->San Francisco for my North American world tour. I would be sad to be done with nyc except I'm excited for everything else. yay.

non-celebrity sightings

The other night I ran into an actor. Well, I randomly saw a recent NU theatre alum on the streets of Union Square, and in an attempt to make light chit chat I asked rhetorically, "oh, so you're trying to be an actor?" He unironically replied, "Well, I am an actor."

This is my favorite random person-I-know sighting I've had in weeks I've lived in NY.

But there have been lots of random-person-I know sightings. I saw Tina on St. Marks. A friend of a friend from school noticed my Dillo Day shirt on the subway. And an editor at the anonymous magazine I work at on 3rd st. moving an air conditioner last weekend. The list goes on and on. What can I say? I just know soooo many people. I wish I could tell some great celebrity-sightings. But I can't. Because I haven't seen any celebrities. The closest I've come was meeting one of the singers of the song that goes "Watch yourself girl/You've got a camel toe." And I was kind of way too excited about this.

As my time in NY draws to a close I've gotten desperate. The other day I thought I saw Lucy Liu. But it turns out I'm just racist. Then I thought I saw the girl from Three Guys, a Girl and a Pizza Place. But when I went to imbd the images of Traylor Howard did not align with the imposter I saw on St. Marks. Luckily, I'm not yet at the point of being my mother who has been known to ask randos, "Are you somebody?" to which they always reply a variation of, "Yes, I'm a person." When she presses further it is usually learned that they are some D-minus-lister. REAL LIFE EXAMPLE SOMEONE GAVE: Julia Roberts' boss in Stepmom (who I sadly can't find on imdb since I guess his character had a name and isn't listed as "boss"). Wow, life is hard.

The stalker becomes the stalkess

After livejournal stalking WashU's very own Priya for quite some time now, despite only having met her twice, I am so happy that she is now my stalker that I will respond to her requests for posts even though they weren't on the preapproved list.

My blog title interruptingmyself comes from an astute analysis my former roommate Daniella made about me that I constantly interrupt myself. For example, if you asked me what I did today, I would probably reply, "I saw Devil Wears Prada again with this beauty intern I'm friends with and ohmygod when we got out it was raining. I hate the rain. My jeans got so wet. The other day was worse though and I had to buy another umbrella. I've bought so many of those crappy streetside umbrellas. Oh, sorry, what did you ask? Yeah, so after the movie we went to Cosi in Union Square which turns into a sitdown restaurant? Isn't that weird. I would so never pay sitdown restaurant money to eat at Cosi."

"I don't believe in the inverted pyramid" is kind of a lame journalism joke. It's the way you're supposed to write a news article (see below). This is meant to convey the free-spiritedness of my entry into the blogosphere.

However, if anyone any better suggestions I am willing to switch this to something less journalism-dorky. And I am a big fan of the 25,000 Pyramid. It's an awesome show. Is it still on? My dad was on Press Your Luck and I feel like they are really similar in theme.

An L is a blunt. You are the second person to ask me what an L is. The first was my mom who e-mailed me after seeing Ls mentioned on every single one of my brother's away messages for a year. I told her to check urbandictionary.com. To view a complete list of what she read click here.

I'll stop now because I realize you are all members of the MTV generation and don't want to read my manifesto.

What the bloodclot?

This post is dedicated to Sara. However, I am going to save my "self-consciousness in music tastes" posts for when I attend Lollapalooza (soon!). Sorry Sara, you'll have to wait. And sorry to my fellow lolla-goers Becca and Marcy as well as any other person I happen to run into at the three-day music festival who will now have to listen to me discuss how everything that happens relates to me and my blog post. ugh, now i remember why I never blogged before, because I knew I'd be obsessed and fucking planning out my blog posts.

Anyway, moving on to Sara's second request: my fun-loving neighbors. So every day I pass their apartment I smell pot and hear rap music. My first reaction was that their life was a party and were having fun all the time because pot and rap music= fun, obviously. even though i don't like rap music (and not for reasons of self-consciousness, just that I don't really, as a genre). Then I think maybe it's one guy who's not actually having fun but just smokes pot and listens to loud music to drown his sorrows. I realize women don't live in this apartment because women don't smoke pot or listen to rap music, of course.

Then the night Sara came over with our two brothers, the Davids, we were on my amazing roof christianing Benny Bloodclot passing around Ls and spilling wine and Sara and I laughing about how our little brothers sound exactly like our fathers circa seven years ago except they were debating the best way to smoke pot instead of debating if it is a good investment to purchase a timeshare in South Carolina.

Then a few 30ish ex-frat types comes on the roof to smoke pot. Could it be THE neighbors? I make conversation and ask his name and apartment. "Are you really loud?" I ask. "Because I always hear loud music coming from that apartment and you always seem like you're having fun." "I don't know," he says. "Are your next door neighbors loud then" I ask. "No, it's us," he says. I'm kind of excited to have met my building celebrity. And that sadly, was my last interaction with them, though they are apparently always home and having fun and one of my roommates is friends with them and she's the coolest so I imagine they're not lame. She confirmed that the apartment smokes 1 oz of pot a week, which I don't really know how much it is but it sounds like a lot.

All the news that's fit to read over my shoulder

Ok, I realize I have no right to complain about my subway ride this morning. After all, I got a seat, and I wasn't stabbed or groped. But this one thing really annoyed me. Getting on the 6 at Astor Place I grabbed an a.mNY, a FREE newspaper available to ALL subway riders (notice the capital letters for emphasis). When I sit down to read it, I feel the eyes of the woman sitting next to me s reading over my shoulder. Now as a news junkie and a journalist I like to see anyone take an interest in the day's news. But I think if this woman wanted to know that Oprah is not gay or that Bush said the "S-word" she should grab her own paper. So when I was getting off the train, I ask her, "Do you want my paper?" She said no, I think sheepishly.

for Elladan

Thanks Daniella for starting us off. So I'm subletting in the east village on the fifth and last floor of a walk-up apartment (in the most incredible neighborhood). I really don't know my neighbors but since I'm on the top floor I pass their apartments every day and try to figure out their life stories, obviously. Next door is an older husband and wife couple (I'm told by my roommate, Josh, who has lived in the building 2.5 years) and every time I walk by (multiple times a day, since it's right next door to me) I hear an instrument. I spent a couple weeks trying to figure out what instrument I was hearing until I asked Josh. "Oh, it's not AN instrument," he explained."It's multiple instruments. The guy next door plays everything." I think everything includes a clarinet, a triangle, a trombone, an oboe. I've never actually met him, and I wouldn't recognize him unless he was coming out of his apartment and that's just. So, sorry,Daniella, I don't think pictures are going to happen. Plus, I have been SUCKING with pictures this summer. As in never taking any. And I only have two weeks left in nyc...ahhh.

And to answer your other questions. I have two roommates, both are 26, I believe. One, Josh I was friends with before, since I worked with him at POZ last summer, and he's the one on the lease and he has a ginormous room that I'm typing in right now because he has A/C and I don't and it's a sauna in my room and I'm too tired to leave the apartment. Then the other roommate Rebecca lives in a closet. Literally. My room is the size of a cubicle and hers makes mine look like a palace.Both roommates are awesome, though I don't really hang out w/them outside the apt (although I did accompany Josh on a sneaker-shopping mission and considered $150 Nikes, but my sensibleness and cheapness won out over nyc trendiness though I'm still coveting them and considering it).

And I do have friends in NY. Like, I don't exactly have a rocking social life, but between Northwestern friends, Ossining friends,and some other assorted people I've gathered over the years I am not a complete hermit. I'm alone way more than I'm used to at school but not enough to be depressed. I went to my first movie by myself (to see Wordplay- really good!) which was actually kind of fun and liberating. I went to my first sit-down restaurant by myself which kind of sucked especially since I forgot the book that was supposed to make me look busy and cool. This summer makes me realize that when I go to San Fran in the fall I actively need to go make friends, because if I'm alone so much when I knowpeople everywhere and I see my family all the time, I'll be a hermit in a city where I know no one. I cannot imagine how hard it must be in Jordan, where you don't even know the language. p.s. everyone should read daniella's blog, she's in Jordan!

What could have been

I wrote a whole long post from the roof of my apartment. It was pretty amazing. Not the post, really, the roof. But anyway, my battery ran out since although I have wireless up here I obviously have no eletrical outlet.
But here's what I originally wrote about and/or intended to write about:
1.trying to figure out if the people across the way have Christmas lights up
2.Ani DiFranco
3. How I'm self-conscious about my music tastes
4.How it's really hot in my apartment but not on the roof
5.The apartment downstairs that always smells like pot and sounds like rap music so I just assume they're having fun.
6.My neighbor who plays a different instrument every time I pass by including possibly the triangle.
7.Drinking red wine tonight with my friend Sara and our moms
8. smoking with Benny Bloodclot (an inside joke just for Sara since we're the only ones who truly appreciate how hysterically funny we are).

Now here's where you, my rabid fanbase of four to six facebook friends, are invited play along. If you want to see any of the above posts expanded on comment with the corresponding number. Think of it as choose your own adventure. I feel like someone told me there are adult choose-your-own adventures? Those would be so much fun to write. Maybe I can write those if I retire from being a journalist at age 28 like everyone at the magazine I intern at seems to.

My leggings, myself

So I'm starting this blog for all the typical reasons: I'm bored, everyone else is doing it, I think I'm really witty and I want an online stalker (kind of as a way of returning the favor). But why now, after all these years? I just bought leggings. Mostly because they are trendy. Like much in my life recently, I'm not sure if this purchase is regression or progress.

Leggings are a symbolic item of clothing for me. I wore ONLY leggings (or stretch pants as I called them then) until sixth grade. Like, I refused to wear jeans. I thought they were uncomfortable. Once in fourth grade my parents made me buy jeans and I picked out these zebra striped ones (which i'm SURE will be making a comeback in five minutes, if they haven't already). Looking back ten (wtf???) years later, sixth grade doesn't sound too old to be wearing stretchies. But in seventh grade looking back on this fashion faux-paus, I was mortified.

So imagine my surprise when I was at my internship at a well-known women's magazine where I work in Fashion and Beauty (“beauty”-which in marked anti-feminism stands for make-up and hair products,etc.) when the conversation turned to the return of the leggings. Interruptingmyself: Like Anne Hathaway in Devil Wears Prada, I knew or cared little about fashion or beauty before entering, and ended up there kind of by accident. And yes, I relate to that movie like woahh. If I read one more article blasting the “ridiculous” premise of how an NU student interested in “serious journalism” would not have ended up an assistant at Runway I might have to do something drastic. Like write a letter to the editor.

But like Anne, either I'm drinking the kool-aid or something clicked in me recently, and I am learning the importance of fashion and beauty from the other interns and staffers who care about such things. Seriously! The other day fashionable fashion interns were talking approvingly about the leggings' big comeback. One noted how she only wears leggings because they are so much more comfortable than jeans which I understand, since that was my argument a decade ago.

So today I find myself at Forever 21 in Union Square in search of a cheap cute summer dress and tank tops. With my fashion-forward colleagues voices ringing in my ears, I also try on leggings They're comfortable, duh. And they look ok. And they're cheap. And they fit, which is not the case with the cheap, cute summer dresses and