New Years Resolution

My New Years Resolution is not to annihilate everyone at my over-priced gym who has recently joined as part of their new years resolution to get fit. I'm not judging. I figure its as good a resolution as any. It's right up there with eating more salad and promising oneself NOT to wear sweatpants out of the house. Fine, its a worthy effort, but seriously? Who are we kidding? It will last a few weeks and then life will get busy, people will make excuses not to go and we'll go right back to the gym being dead during the lunch hour and directly after work. I'm sure that these people likely are "really" committed to getting fit in 2010, and maybe if I were a better person, I'd support that. But I'm not. And I can't support it when it inconveniences me and causes a crowd in the locker room such that old women are brushing past me when I'm not wearing any pants. Not cool, old lady. Not cool.

On the one hand, it does make me feel a bit better about myself to be surrounded by sluggish, nonathletic people, but on the other hand I find it infuriating that I have to wait for a machine so a 40 something year old woman can read US Weekly cover to cover while walking on a treadmill at a glacial pace (think Romy & Michele's High School Reunion). Do we really think that particular workout is making a difference in her overall fitness? No. Actually, I probably shouldn't even comment on anyone else's pace considering its nothing short of a miracle if I can run a few miles at a 10 minute pace, but at least there's some effort involved there and I am actually sweating. Some women walk out of the gym and return to work without even having to take a shower. I know I sweat more than the average individual, but come one. How can you go to the gym and NOT require a shower directly thereafter? I digress.

Truth be told I am not a fitness Nazi and am far from being in what the average person would consider good shape. In fact, I think most of the candidates on Biggest Loser are in better shape when they first get on the show than I am right now. But I'm trying to get into shape so I can slug it through a marathon. I want to make it abundantly clear though that I'm not one of those really uppity runners that finds marathon training euphoric or whatever. Yes its life-altering, but not in a good way. It's terrible and I dread every step of it. Anyone that tries to tell you otherwise is likely all hopped up on muscle milk or some sort of crazy diuretic. It's miserable. Why do it you ask? I'm just trying to be less fat and raise money in honor of the sweetest old woman ever, my 89 year-old grandmother who would probably be appalled at my use of profane language such as "terrible" and "miserable." She's a gem. And while the training isn't something I enjoy or look forward to (at least not at this point) at least its for a great cause. I'm just saying I wish that the price of dedicating myself to such a cause didn't involve getting dry humped by overly ambitious middle aged women in the locker room.

Irish Elf

There couldn't be a greater day than today, St. Patrick's Day, to be in Boston. Well technically the best day would have been Sunday to partake in the Southie Parade, but let's not quibble over details. Where am I, a blonde haired, green eyed, freckled Irish lass, on such a wondrous day of drunken debauchery? Oh, I'm just sitting in an apartment that smells like cat food and feet while watching the blood elf consume sausages and play computer games. Apparently the "guild" isn't partaking in today's holiday either and instead they are all sitting at home tethered to their respective computers by their headgear. The Elf is wearing an "Irish Lacrosse" t shirt though, so all St. Patrick's Day glory is not lost.

Despite my inability to partake in the traditional Boston St. Patrick's Day festivities, today wasn't all bad. I figured out today that my employer has a liquor license. Now if I worked in a restaurant that wouldn't be that weird; however, I work in a traditional office where one wouldn't expect to be served a beer. Nonetheless, at five o'clock today I was invited to the party on the 6th floor where there was a bucket of Harp and Guiness on ice just waiting to be consumed. It was magical. Had it not been for the assignment I have due tomorrow, I could easily have joined in on the fun, bouncing along to the Irish tunes blaring from the communal i-pod enjoying a Harp or two for quite some time. Sadly, after one rogue beer I found myself back at my desk to finish up a few things. Se la vi.

In other news yet another form of "southern" public transit has managed to screw me over. I put southern in quotation marks because despite my placement north of the Mason Dixon people in this region like to think they can toss out "ya'll" and "shoot" like candy from a parade float. Here's a gem overhead this weekend at the Smithsonian: "Shoot, when I was little my momma had a bobcat as a pet!" But I digress. Today after sitting on my train for an hour and not getting lost, I waited for a bus for 20 minutes. Ten minutes later, I stood up to bring it to the driver's attention that my stop was approaching only to have him hit the gas, hurling me backwards (and almost to the ground) and sail right past my stop. Why must I learn every lesson the hard way? I mean, I get that they have the string you can pull to sound the little 'ding' noise so the driver knows someone's stop is coming up, but honestly, I was standing right in the guy's periph. Kind of ridiculous. Lucky for me I was dropped off 500 feet down the dimly lit road and then had to walk up said dimly lit road while conveniently wearing all black and uncomfortable shoes.

Such is life.

World of McLean

I really wish that I could have a live news feed of my roommate playing World of War Craft. It's pure magic. He is wearing a head set and everything, chatting with "a few friends online" while eating and spitting out sunflower seeds into a mug. It brings me endless entertainment. I think someone should do a study about people's addiction to computer games. My roommate would be the perfect specimen to study. He's a blood elf.

Today I spent the day at a local coffee shop. Mucky's Coffee, working on my resume, writing sample and searching for jobs that don't exist. Oh, and my coffee sucked. It was much less pretentious than your typical Starbucks so I enjoyed it nevertheless. I could have done without purchasing a "naked" juice drink for some random customer who agreed to watch my things while I bought my disgusting coffee, but I guess I'll chalk that up as my good deed for the day.

A Beautiful Disaster.

So I have completed my first week in our Nation's Capital and while it started off pretty calm it naturally took a turn to awkwardville, which, truthfully, we all knew it would.

On Tuesday, following my tumultuous first day in the blizzard, I found out that I will be unemployed this Fall. So I did what any rational individual with $150,000 of debt and no job would do: I had a panic attack at work and then went right from the office to a bar to drown my sorrows. I know what you're thinking--you're expecting me to write that I got blackout drunk and caused a scene. Contrary to what you may think (and are actually kind of justified in thinking so given my track record), I actually kept it together pretty well. I met friends at a great bar, Urbana, in Dupont Circle and it was actually exactly what I needed to lift my spirits. After a modest amount of drinks, I decided to call it a night and head home.

The DC Metro system is incredibly user-friendly. There are lots of signs to let you know where the train you're on is headed and it even lets you know where the train is and how many minutes you have to wait for the train. Not too shabby. Of course, because it's so easy to use, I have managed to get myself lost not once, but twice this week, starting with Tuesday night. Rather then get on the train and switch at the appropriate stop, I just sat down and spaced out. I didn't figure out that I was on the wrong train until I was out in the boonies on the red line about an hour from where I needed to be. When I realized that I went about an hour in the wrong direction I tried to hop on my cell phone to call my roommate and discovered it was dead. The night ended with me hysterically crying on the Metro desperately attempting to get my cell phone to turn on long enough for me to text the roommate for a ride. It was horrible. I was completely frustrated and basically just had the worst day.

Then last night, after a pretty good day, I managed to switch trains where I needed to BUT got on the wrong train. Apparently in DC there are multiple trains that run on the same line and instead of getting on an orange line train, I got on the blue and wound up at the Pentagon. Oops. Although I left the city at 9 to make it an early night, I didn't get home until 11:00. Whatever, lesson learned.

Another lesson which I learned the hard way regarding the Metro is that the doors WILL close no matter what, even if you've crossed the plain into the train car. In a last minute dash to get on the train, my right leg snuck onto the train without the rest of me, but the doors slammed shut regardless and I'm left with a huge black bruise on my right leg. These things really only ever happen to me. I find myself telling the story to anyone who is having a bad day or feels even slightly embarrassed about something. Even though I'm super embarrassed to have gotten my leg trapped in a Metro door, it somehow makes me feel better telling other people, even though most people would probably keep it to themselves.

Today was a much more successful day of traveling--I managed to get into the city and all the way home without getting lost or winding up somewhere random. I did however mistake the Capital Building for the White House. Whatever, I mean, they're both white. Don't judge. I get dumber by the day, I swear. Despite my faux pax, it was really amazing weather today though and I was really excited to get to see so many of the sights. Despite my typical animosity toward tourists, I was actually pretty comforted by all the weirdos toting huge cameras and sporting laminated maps. Ironic, isn't it? I think that DC is a great city and I'm excited to do more exploring this week. I'll keep you posted on my inevitable disasters.

Welcome to the Bat Cave

I made it through the first day of work today and similar to my travels south, it was pretty mundane. While this makes for poor blogging at the present moment, fear not. I am destined for awkwardness so it's only a matter of time. As inept as Boston is at dealing with the snow, it seems that D.C. is just as bad. I give the city credit though--I fully expected the entire city to shut down with the first snowflake sighting but the work day went on with only minimal delay. Nevertheless, every employee in the District of Columbia that could work at home today did and thus there was virtually no one at my work. For those who were in attendance, they were extremely flustered that people had the audacity to heed local newscasters warnings and actually stay home. Hopefully tomorrow will be a more traditional day. I'll get to see the "bat cave" / "clerk cave" / "bullpen" where I will apparently be sitting for the next 11 weeks. This week will most certainly require a happy hour.

Mr. Blizzard

Contrary to popular predictions, I have arrived in the D.C. area without any major travel tragedies. It's true. I'm not one for directions. I would lose my head were it not attached to my body and I have given serious consideration to adding a provision in my future will making it so that I literally arrive late to my own funeral. Nevertheless, despite my shortcomings, in just over 8 short hours I arrived to Washington to DC in JTSINC (my father's car, of course) safe and sound. Although Victoria, my British GPS device, and I had a minor difference in opinion somewhere in Rhode Island, there were no other incidents. The fact that I got lost in the smallest state in the continental United States basically verifies my abovementioned statements regarding my directional inadequacy.

My apartment is great and my roommate seems very polite and nice. He enjoys lacrosse, the Washington Redskins, his cat (Mr. Blizzard), XBox 360 and I suspect he is currently playing a video game which requires some type of head gear. All in all, I think living here will be just fine. I'm excited to make my way into the city tomorrow, with my roommate's much needed assistance, and start work. That is adventure is conditional, of course, on the current snow storm sweeping the D.C. area. Leave it to me to choose an internship 8 hours south of Boston where it's expected to snow six to nine inches by morning. You can take the girl out of the Boston weather, but it will follow her to Washington D.C. and potentially ruin her first day of work.

Wish me luck that I can get into the city tomorrow and can find where I need to be.

Words of Advice

When I went to visit my grandmother tonight to have dinner with her before embarking on my trip, she had a few very wise words to offer me. She told me that even if I'm not getting paid at my internship, that maybe I can get close enough to where the government keeps the machines that print money so that I could steal some.

My family rules. And yet, people wonder why I've never left Boston.