[www.ribbonandredcups.com]

No but srsly, how much have I sucked at updating So Damn Lucky this fall?

Seriously sucked.

its hard, because this blog was supposed to ONLY be about my life in college and directly after and I do love those stories and they always make me smile, but it smuch better [and makes for better story telling] if I talk about my life as it is. Because even though I love college [I went over Halloween weekend], I am really excited to see where life takes me.

I also have a tumblr [which you should check out] that, I’m like addicted to. Its blogging for adults with ADD. perfection.

Big things are coming for my online life. Big things. Get excited. Becuase you all should know that I definitely am.

I’ll give you a small hint: tumblr, plus memories, plus awesomeness, plus true life stories all in one magnificent place.

I know. You can’t contain yourselves. Because I can barely contain myself, either.

Stay Tuned. Its all happening.

YAWN.

The Second “Appropriate”. Whether it be “Event-Appropriate”, “Season-Appropriate”, “Weather – Appropriate” or my LEAST favorite: “AGE APPROPRIATE”. SHUDDER.

Okay. It IS easier to get dressed in the morningn when you have a couple of black and white tees, jeans that fit perfectly and a pair of black shoes. But didn’t someone important and smart once say: Anything worth doing isn’t going to be easy.

It wasn’t until recently that I actually owned white oxfords and black v-neck tees [which i wear with ahem everything].  However, my wardrobe is, still, proudly, an absolute disaster of neon and pastel colors, living harmoniously, and loudly, side by side.

The idea that some people buy 5 of the same exact shirt, so they dont have to worry about what they wear every day , really worry me.

So there you have it. I hate Basic.

Seersucker after labor day, Lilly Pulitzer PJs to class, LLBean slipper mocs in the summer, Parading around campus in trashcans as giant solo cups,  Dressing up in Solo-Theme, all of these might be categorized as Fashion Crimes, Yes. But, really, who cares? So, you’re not wearing a black dress to a sorority semi-formal, or chose to wear a hot pink pleated mini for a business presentation. or you’re wearing a party dress with flip flops through the snow. Guess What. People will remember the girl in the Pink dress more so than the girl in the black pant suit.

Guaranteed.

wearing what everyone else is wearing is. boring. unoriginal. fake. phony. and SO middle school.

The topic of appropriate clothing came about because my best friend and I were talking about how drab the latest J.Crew line is.  Muted purples, off whites, soft browns, camo green…PUKE.  We both have a wild aversion to the Fall, Fall colors and Fall clothing. if it were up to us, we’d both be decked, every day in a cute little bright sundress with coordinating bright jacks. unfortunately, we do not live in the tropics, both have to appear in professional settings daily and have to abide [sort of] by society’s fashion rules. Does that mean black suits, brown sweaters and modest jewelry? what do you think?

In college, we could get away with ANYTHING to class. ANYTHING out  and ANYTHING the morning after. if we feared Fall clothing and weather, why not throw on a lilly dress, a pair of flats, layer some fun jewelry and cover up with a heavy cotton sweater?

My philosophy is this: obviously one must live within the constraints of society, but that does not mean, by any means, we need to dress like everybody, or anybody, else.

Especially in the winter.

Thank GOD Halloween is in Ten Days.

Hellz ya, I know I got me some Flizz-air.

and

After [last weekend]

…thank God.

]]> http://sodamnlucky.wordpress.com/2009/10/05/before-after/feed/ 0 rebecca.m.e. little after http://sodamnlucky.wordpress.com/2009/09/30/favorite-weekend-of-the-year/ http://sodamnlucky.wordpress.com/2009/09/30/favorite-weekend-of-the-year/#comments Wed, 30 Sep 2009 15:02:25 +0000 rebecca.m.e. http://sodamnlucky.wordpress.com/?p=152 Continue reading →]]> Alumni Weekend is my favorite time of Year

lots of reunions, hugs and plenty of beer.

Its a time when we pretend like we still go to school:

do crazy things and act a fool.

Alumni Weekend Sophomore Year

Freshman year it wasn’t that fun

mostly because we knew no Alums.

But sophomore, junior and senior year were so great

For two blessed days – there are no rules at college, nor is there any hate.

getting to hang out with cool old grads

and a lot of older, really hot lads

standing around holding a full solo cup

day dreaming about that evening’s future hook-up

but that late afternoon nap always turns into a good night’s sleep

you can’t expect to stay up late when you started before noon [even if your alarm has a loud beep!]

So another year as a u-grad at alumni weekend is over

and we only had 364 more days to get a little more sober!

Alumni Weekend Junior Year

Once we became the Alumns at Alumni Weekend things got more interesting

we were ready to ‘Get After It’ after a long year of resting

Pretending like we’re still in COllege for one long Weekend

its an event we will do everything to attend!

My favorite things are [in no particular order]:

Pub, sorority reunions, day drinking and d.noll [who never gets shorter]

Running into old friends around every corner

even that weird kid who didn’t speak English [he was a Foreigner].

Please note the orange hair and the dog - who allowed me to hold a dog?

This upcoming weekend will be full of crazy good times:

at Kappa, at pub, at TKE, in Boston, [but lets leave behind the tequila and the limes].

Stop-back soon my little blog readers

to hear more stories from your fearless Leader!

xxbecca

wrong. that’s, like, so old. See, at Twenty-Three I felt like I could still get away with child-like-college-like behavior. I was still a young “just graduated from college” kid.  TWENTY FOUR just sounds so OLD. when did we get OLD? 

 I still get excited when I fly alone. I love going to Seven Eleven to get slurpies at Midnight.  My favorite recording artists are Miley Cyrus, Jordin Sparks and Taylor Swift [sad fact. you can ask any of my BFFs]. I still talk in abreevs and acronyms.  I get nervous when I try getting into a bar with my REAL ID. I paint my nails blue and green and electric pink. I get excited when a cute boy buys me a drink, more excited when he asks for my number and I freeze, panic and turn around when I see him the following week. Even though I am about to turn 24, I sure don’t feel old or think I act very old. 

The point of this entry isn’t to reiterate my very apparent struggle to hold on to youth. The point of this entry is for you to take a small trip down memory lane with me and revisit some of the best parties ever. My Collegiate Birthday Parties. 

Lets quickly and as painlessly as possible skip freshman year. I was awkward, friendless and  rolling with a crew who aren’t worth wasting our breath over. 

Sophomore Year. The first Epic Theme Party my two best friends and I threw. My 20th Birthday Party was “Wear Pink to Drink.” And oh, how everyone did. We were so excited that a cooler older guy had bought us alcohol. We didn’t know what to wear [due to the abundance of Pink in our closets] and were still cruising on our “back to school from the summer” highs.  The Beer, Jungle Juice and vodka were flowing. The beats were bumpin’. The dance moves were…epic. 

The morning after I woke up on my next door neighbor’s couch, still in my party dress, coat and flip flops. Word spread all over campus about the party. An older Fraternity guy claimed that it was the best college party he’d ever been to. Infamy was ours. And we were only Sophomores. 

Junior Year. Ah. Junior Year. Junior year was my blessed Twenty First Person.  Whoever let me turn 21, well, thank you. For my twenty first, my parents graciously opened their home in Maine to me and a dozen or so of my college friends. Oh, and first they took us out to my favorite Maine restaurant.  There were drinks, chicken parm, dancing at dinner, gifts, oh, and there was kareokee. lots and lots of kareokee. What a silly, funny, great evening that was. The Eltzroths know how to throw down….but that’s no surprise. 

Lets go shotgun beers, my parents are asleep, shhhhhhh

Even though there were few of us, I have always believed deeply in “quality over quantity” and the quality of these friends is…high.  It was the kind of party  we still talk about, and the kind of party that those not invited still wish that they were. 

And then, Senior Year, I turned 22. 

the beginning of senior year I was in full on denial about the gross G-word [Graduation]. I was also terrified of my dark roots growing in and I was addicted to the Hills. The only solution I saw to turning 22 was to throw a HUGE The Hills Themed birthday. Complete with dying my hair “Whitney” blond. Oh yea. The result? my hair came out bright orange [don't worry there are photos below to prove it] and a pledge in my sorority was convinced that she was roofied at my party. [she wasn't]. 

[the four of us, one year and one box of hair dye later] 

Ya, so I was blessed with 3 years of extremely solid birthday parties. Last year? eh. I was deep in PCD [post-collegiate depression, duh.] This year? mexican, margaritas with high school best friends, college best friends, new friends, old friends, mom, dad, family friends. Even though I am turning 24…I don’t feel any older than…..

17.

This past year I spent a substantial time behind the wheel of my trusty 2004 Nissan Pathfinder [best car ever].  I used to people that I commuted between DC and Boston [which is only partially false].  I went as far north as NorthEast Harbor in Maine, and as far South as Tenessee. [I also went to Florida and Georgia but flew there].  I have made a short list of why driving by yourself for extended periods of time is great: 

1. you and ONLY you control the radio. That means as much Jordin Sparks, Kid Cudi, James Taylor and Queen as I would ever want. Oh, and no one is in the car to judge you when you cry when Dumbledore dies during a long Harry Potter on Tape session. 
2. You can actually develop a friendship with Rush Limbaugh and Sean Hannity.  I caught myself conversing with whatever statement came out of their mouths. 
3. You can wear whatever you want.  You are not, really, going to see anyone.  Sweats? fine. Neon leggings and sweatband? also fine.  why not drive in Theme? Senior Prom dress? weird…but fine. 
4. You can eat [or not eat] whatever you want and the only person to judge you is yourself.  Likewise, you can drink 45 starbucks soy lattes and no one will ever know. 
5. You can go…WHEREVER you want. I went to Dollywood AND davy crockett’s birthplace and had no one with me to tell me not to. 
6. There is always a smiling face and big hug waiting to greet you after a long day of driving. Well, there was for me at least. I was traveling on a budget and always stayed with friends. That’s the best. You have an excuse to stay with people you don’t get to spend enough time with. 
7. Finally, the greatest part of the experience is DEFINITELY meeting people at rest stops. More specifically rest stops on the New Jersey Turnpike. 

Let me elaborate.  During a particularly painful trip down to DC from Boston I was thinking to myself, as I often do, about many things.  These long solo-roadtrips are a great time for idea generation and R&D. too bad I don’t have anything I need an idea for. But I digress. I had this idea that a great TV show would be about people at rest stops. Particularly rest stops on the New Jersey Turnpike. 

I make so many friends at rest stops, its pretty ridiculous. and its always unintentional. 

I. 

First of all, I get a lot of comments relating to my license plate. 

Now, when I’m in a good mood, I’ve just come off two hours of z100 or rapping along with Asher Roth, I love talking to strangers about my license plate. But when I’ve been listening to Tracy Chapman…I don’t really want to be friendly. However, this story is just too good.

I was almost on empty and pulled into a gas station in New Jersey. As you probably know, you are not allowed to pump your own gas in Jersey. When I first started doing these drives I felt weird about it, and would try to make sure my tank was full before entering the state, but eventually warmed up to the idea and now pretty much love it. Alright, so I pull up to the pump and the gas attendant starts pumping my gas. he walks behind my car and in front of it, cleaning the windows. He looks down at my liscense plate. He looks back up at me in shear amazement. He knocks on my window.

“You from Maine?”

“uhhhh yea…”

“And you have lobsters on your liscence plate?”

“yup”

“ARE YOU A LOBSTER SALESMAN? I WOULD LOVE A MAINE LOBSTER OR TWO”

“um”

” SO ARE YOU??!?!?!?!?!”

I had two options here I could say: “No sir, you’ve got it wrong, its simply the nature conservancy liscence plate in Maine. I have nothing to do with Lobsters, lobstering or lobsterman.”

Instead I said: “You know what? I totally would. You are great at pumping gas and I would’ve given you at least two Maine lobsters but as it turns out I’m fresh out and on my way back to Maine to pick some up. Sorry.”

and he says: ” Well great. GREAT! Next time you’re driving through, stop by the Walt Whitman Rest Stop and ask for Leo. I’ll be here. Waiting for my Lobsters.” 

oh. okay, Leo. 

II. 

Earlier this summer I was driving from DC to Boston [typical]. Stopped at rest stop to get my 2nd Starbucks of the drive [also typical]. Its hot. I’m wearing a short sun dress and overexagerated large sunglasses from F21. All I want is my Soy Latte and to get back to Taylor Swift so that we can duet about heartbreak. I’m walking to the building and start hearing music to which I start swinging my hips and singing along to. it just happens to be: “biggie biggie biggie can’t you see sometimes your love just hypnotize me…”

side note: I love hip-hop. I know almost every word to every Kid Cudi/Kanye/Lil’ Wayne song released. Judge me. Whatever. I don’t care. 

suddenly I hear: Yo. Yo WHITE GIRL. 

I keep walking. 

“YOU HEARD ME. WHITE GIRL.” 

I turned around. terrified. They couldn’t be talking to me, right?! oh. so wrong. Four large Black men standing around a white escalade in velour track suits smoking cigars, blasting music. Were they…Yup, They were TAILGATING THE REST STOP. These men were my insta- best friends. 

“you like rap music?”

“yea, I mean, I like it a lot.” 

“Why?”

“I don’t know, I like a lot of music, and Rap is fun and has a good beat…”

“Who do you like?”

“oh I don’t know, mostly new guys, popular stuff from Kanye and Lil’ Wayne” 

“what are you doing all by yourself on the Turnpike?”

“uh. going to Boston. what are YOU doing?”

“recovering from a Bachelor Party. Our Man, Trevor’s getting married.” 

“Congrats. I gotta run to the little girls room and get coffee”

- the conversation went SOMETHING like that. not entirely but you catch my drift. They were ridiculous. 

I come back holding my hot coffee and am walking towards my car and I hear them snickering and going “AWWWW SNAP” great. they’ve read my license plate. 

“YO WHITE GIRL YOU DRIVE OH SNAP?”

“yes.” 

i turn on my car. “Dufflebag boy” by Lil Wayne blares.

My New Friends crack up. “You’re alright, girl, you’re alright.” 

Yea, you’re alright, too. Enjoy the beautiful New Jersey Turnpike. 

III.

Finally, Two days ago, I had another chance encounter at a Rest Stop.  I was dressed in theme. Neon vintage Lilly running shorts, what some would call “Novelty” sunglasses on my head and a tshirt sporting my favorite fraternity’s letters.  Two large young men look at me as I walk out of the Girl’s Room, clearly checking me out. Alright, thats flattering, I think.  Then they approach me. “How did Brothers get a girl so good lookin’ to wear our letters?” Turns out they were in the same fraternity, Rutgers Chapter. Ah. I explained that I’m friends with a lot of the guys in the chapter at my school and active in the Greek System when I went to college. Then I cringed. I’m that creepy girl still wearing College Recruitment T-Shirts, a year out. 

Regardless, more new friends. 

Maybe its just me, but I think that the New Jersey Turnpike is the friendliest place in America.  

New Mantra: what's meant to be will always find a way.

small pre-note: You know that time in the early morning, when you’re the first one to wake up after a party [I always was], you stumble out of bed towards the kitchen to get a glass of cold, refreshing, delicious water. As you pass, you see the debris of the night before: which includes 3/4 full beers, red solo cups, smashed ping pong balls, the reminents of a Late Night Snack, and the bodies of fellow partyers strewn across a living room floor.  But there was that perfect Silence. That quiet and calm and silence when you felt like the day had just begun, and there was so much you could do, and so much to be done. And then you’d stumble back up the stairs back into bed for a few hours.  That quiet, that calm, that Silence is what I experienced early in the morning, when my parents were walking the dogs.  I decided to not automatically turn on the TV, not blast my itunes, just make a pot of coffee and sit. in the Silence. 

Alright, I’m sorry I disappeared on you. The stress of having nothing to do, and figuring out what to do, and coming up with Life Plans, and having them Fall Apart has been far more overwhelming than any sort of collegiate homework related stress. 

I feel like trying to find a job is much like the Freshman and Sophomore Year Prereqs.  Remember during orientation when you looked down at your schedule and thought to yourself, “uh, why am I signed up for Search For Life in the Universe?” I do.  During my first two years [as a Business Major] I studied Lolita, The Universe, The Anthropology of Modern Day Turkey, Short Plays by Ibsen. We took these classes to become more “well rounded” Future Business Leaders of Tomorrow.  This summer I have learned all about the Carpool-Social Media industry, Event Planning Software, Custom silk-screening clothing, the politics of Private Schools, the HR of companies that seem Too Good to be True [they often are].  Once I do get hired, will having gained all of this random knowledge benefit me? Here’s hoping. 

One last question to throw out to the World Wide Web: when you were in college, did you ever stress or even wonder about procuring a job, a career? I didn’t. I graduated from a school that boasted a 99.9% job-placement within 48 hours of graduations and thought I could pull out my diploma out of my back pocket and be able to do Whatever I Wanted. Wrong. I was so wrong. 

Having the Best Outfit at the White Trash Wedding Party? sooo stressful.

Okay, so lets talk about that for a little. the Stresses of College. Here’s a short list: the paper that’s due tomorrow and its 4:00 AM, Spring Break Plans, Sorority Dues, Sobering up to be at work at noon on a Sunday, getting along with project-group members you hate, deciding on your Formal Date, Dealing with the consequences of dying your own hair, Always having the Best Outfit at any given Theme Party. Always., Walking into your Accounting Final and still not remembering what LIFO and FIFO are, Finding out from some bitch you don’t even like that a sorority pledge hooked up with the guy you have a SERIOUS crush on, [or being that sorority pledge who didn't realize she did anything wrong], Receiving your first F, Landing a great Summer Internship, Needing to clean up the suite//sorority house before some sort of event, dealing with a broken laptop//cellphone//ipod//camera.  

EDIT: jmgrabowski@rebeccaeltzroth you forgot the stress of deciding what incriminating photos are FB appropriate & the dread of receiving the phototag email

TRUE THAT.

Okay. the stresses of College aren’t exactly…stresses. and that was my point, right? God, I wish I was stressing about what I was going to wear on the first night of Recruitment, or what  photos I’d tape to my wall, or making sure the Class Archives have past tests given by my Econ professor, or having the best playlist for the first pregame of the year.  I guess, Growing up means higher stakes, and higher stakes means…more stress.

PS: I am thinking about starting a Recent College Grad [Twenty Somethings] Unemployed Support Group. Interested?