I was thinking about what has happened in my life in the past three days that would suffice as any sense of legitimacy for you to read about it ... and be interested. And, to be honest, life outside of New York is slightly less enthralling. But I suppose that's part of the reason why I'm home. I mean, my current front yard is also synonymous with "beach", so I guess I can handle that. That's a pretty big difference from Delancey and Allen.
First things first ... I don't have to have sinoplasty! This = glorious news. I went to the ENT on Wednesday and my septum is only slightly deviated, meaning I could have sinoplasty to fix my sinuses but it isn't necessary (I like the "unnecessary" part). He did however say that he could saw off the calcium deposits I've acquired on the bridge of my nose, as well as straighten it out a bit. But y'all, that is rhinoplasty. Rhinoplasty is the fancy medical word for a true nose job. Friends, not happening. SO I'm having a procedure done next week that will help out my nose bleeds (I've got some trifling-ly large blood vessels hanging out). Yada. Yada. Yada.
SO, I'm learning how to cook. And I've got to tell you how big of a deal this is. Here is a comment to give you a bit of an idea; the first night I donned the apron I was asked via Graham Bell's fancy creation if I burnt down the kitchen (answer: no). Please note that I wasn't asked if I burnt the food, or if it was edible. He asked if I burnt the kitchen down. Get. It. Outta. Here. Anyways, I've cooked for myself, my mom, and my pops for the last four consecutive evenings, and no one's gotten sick from the following:
Evening #2: Fried Chicken, Homemade Mac and Cheese, Fresh Green Beans
Evening #3: Meatloaf, Raspberry Vinegar Pasta (it's full of yummy vegetables)
Evening #4: Baked Chicken (a whole one ... including gizzard pulling-outage), Mashed Potatoes, Corn on the Cob
I'm rackin' up for the reportoire.
Next cool thing on the agenda: IT'S SHAWN DECKER'S 34th Birthday!!! Okay, y'all who don't know him, I'm just going to apologize. Not because I'm writing about him and you don't know him. But because you don't know him. You don't have the rad-ness he exudes in your life. Even if it's just on the peripheral. Shawn was diagnosed with HIV when he was 11 years old, which means he's been living with this stupid disease for 2/3 of his life. Scratch that. He's been kicking AIDS in the face for 2/3 of his life. Last year I joined the New York AIDS Walk team with he and others that have an intense disdain for one of the lamest diseases ever ... we raised $58,000 or so and now we're taking our case to the nation's capitol. Why? Because of the alarming infection rate in DC. It's on par with Uganda's infection rate. NOT OKAY. So, in honor of Shawn I'm going to finally get my act together and join the Supersnack team so on October 3rd we can take it to AIDS.
Oh, and hey, if anyone wants to send me back to South Africa for a summer or four to help families with AIDS. Or orphans with AIDS. I'm not averse to the idea.
July 16, 2009
July 13, 2009
Another One Bit The Dust
So, this weekend I headed off to the institution that imparted handfuls of knowledge upon me, and plenty of life experience; The University of Virginia. My mom was heading out to Charlottesville for the wedding of a gal I grew up with at Hampton Baptist. So, I decided to take advantage of the outing and met up with some of my favorite people at the University. Most who know me are very aware of how much I enjoy food, thus, when I go back to Charlottesville I view it as an opportunity to catch up on lost time with the food that helped shape me (literally) during my collegiate years. So I had the following: Bang, White Spot, Bodo's, and Arch's. And evening attendance at: The Virginian, Coupe's, and Buddhist. Don't be jealous, I'm scared to put on pants.
The next day we went to Miss DC to cheer on Kate Marie in her last evening of service. Let's just say ... We. Are. So. Happy. And I was really proud of her. AND we got to see Bubby and Laura which is always a baller moment.
Then Lisa so kindly peeled me out of bed this morning to hit the road around 545am so we would miss traffic heading out of DC. We then ran errands (lame, lame, I know ...)
While I'm in Hampton I'm also learning how to cook. Can you imagine? Tonight I had my first lesson and I'm able to do the following: steam crab legs, bake salmon, roast red potatoes, and grill some legit vegetables. Next on the list: fried chicken. A required staple for acceptance as a Southern woman. I've got the best teacher, though ... Colonel Sanders takes a backseat in comparison to what my mother can whip up. It's just universally known that Lisa is the JAM at cooking fried chicken.
But here's why I'm really home ... I'm getting a nose job. BAHAHA. Okay, kind of. Not the exterior. But I'm getting my sinuses "roto-rootered" in the words of Faith Ossmann. I'm going to the doctor tomorrow who will gage it's state of un-awesomeness since the most recent breakage. Then he'll tell me if he has to re-break it this time around. I'm keeping my eyes on the prize: Breathing. Less sinus headaches. AND, perhaps even less nosebleeds. Then Paul won't have to stick a vaseline coated q-tip up my nose anymore. All great things.
I'll keep you updated. This could be good. Like wearing sunglasses indoors because of two black eyes and a nose cast good.
PS: As I'm writing this my father just picked up the Cosmopolitan mag I picked up at the grocer today *because my sorority sister BRENNA MCGUIRE is jamming out on page 132!* and it says "125 Sex Moves" on the cover. He quips, "125 Sex Moves? Who do they have writing this? Hell, they're 8 behind! It's 133". And people wonder why I say everything that comes to mind.
The next day we went to Miss DC to cheer on Kate Marie in her last evening of service. Let's just say ... We. Are. So. Happy. And I was really proud of her. AND we got to see Bubby and Laura which is always a baller moment.
Then Lisa so kindly peeled me out of bed this morning to hit the road around 545am so we would miss traffic heading out of DC. We then ran errands (lame, lame, I know ...)
While I'm in Hampton I'm also learning how to cook. Can you imagine? Tonight I had my first lesson and I'm able to do the following: steam crab legs, bake salmon, roast red potatoes, and grill some legit vegetables. Next on the list: fried chicken. A required staple for acceptance as a Southern woman. I've got the best teacher, though ... Colonel Sanders takes a backseat in comparison to what my mother can whip up. It's just universally known that Lisa is the JAM at cooking fried chicken.
But here's why I'm really home ... I'm getting a nose job. BAHAHA. Okay, kind of. Not the exterior. But I'm getting my sinuses "roto-rootered" in the words of Faith Ossmann. I'm going to the doctor tomorrow who will gage it's state of un-awesomeness since the most recent breakage. Then he'll tell me if he has to re-break it this time around. I'm keeping my eyes on the prize: Breathing. Less sinus headaches. AND, perhaps even less nosebleeds. Then Paul won't have to stick a vaseline coated q-tip up my nose anymore. All great things.
I'll keep you updated. This could be good. Like wearing sunglasses indoors because of two black eyes and a nose cast good.
PS: As I'm writing this my father just picked up the Cosmopolitan mag I picked up at the grocer today *because my sorority sister BRENNA MCGUIRE is jamming out on page 132!* and it says "125 Sex Moves" on the cover. He quips, "125 Sex Moves? Who do they have writing this? Hell, they're 8 behind! It's 133". And people wonder why I say everything that comes to mind.
July 8, 2009
Au Revoir Miss New York crown.
I'm not Miss New York anymore. Before you get all bleary eyed for me ... don't. Phenomenal year? Check. Did I almost lose my sanity? Check. Am I on the Miss New York board and prep team? Check. So, drop the tissues and read along.
I've just typed and deleted several times. Toeing the line made of eggshells. (I know, I felt like combining two old adages, play along, please).
I so enjoyed watching the ladies compete for my job, continually encouraging the girls to remember why they were there ... and suggesting that it should be their platforms because if it isn't the year will be long. Very long. Anyways, I loved being there and being a part of it. But when I was dragging my suitcase and hanging bag up the hill towards The Egg 30 minutes before the show started on Thursday night without a ride, I was gleaming that I would soon be able to have Paul carry my bags on vacay. BAHAHA. Kidding. I carry my own. I had to learn how to maximize the amount of luggage I could get up and down my FOURTH floor walk up. Though, my super Dave is pretty rad, when he sees me struggling he's throwing me AND the bags over his shoulder.
That Friday morning I drove to Manhattan dropped off a lot of clothes at my apartment, and then jetted to the airport to meet Paul who was flying in from Sweden, so we could then board a flight to go to my dear friend Carly's wedding in Richmond, VA. Run-on? Don't care. We. Had. A. Blast. What a gorgeous wedding it was! I got to see many of the beautiful Belles and other collegiate buds. But, the 6am flight departure to NYC came a weee-tad early. The 420am wake-up call ... even earlier. We hit the streets in our mini-cooper, thanks to zipcar, and arrived safely before the show.
Giving up my crown was pretty bittersweet. I have worked really hard to obtain this goal. But, on the flip side, I am ready to blaze a new trail for myself. This part of my life will not define me by any means. When I'm 40 I hope no one introduces me as former Miss New York, 3rd runner up to Miss America at a cocktail party. I hope I'm Leigh-Taylor Smith. And there to define myself in that time and space. Well, hopefully by 40 my last name will be different ... but you never know ...
Congratulations to Alyse Zwick, Miss New York 2009.
And, hey, congratulations to my Miss Arlington sister Caressa Cameron for snatching the title of Miss Virginia 2009. The last 3 out of 4 Miss Virginia's have been Miss Arlington. Wanna know who dropped the ball? ME!
On that note, next time I write ... (slash kind of this time) I'll be leading a normal life! Or, far from normal knowing me. But either way, stay tuned!
I've just typed and deleted several times. Toeing the line made of eggshells. (I know, I felt like combining two old adages, play along, please).
I so enjoyed watching the ladies compete for my job, continually encouraging the girls to remember why they were there ... and suggesting that it should be their platforms because if it isn't the year will be long. Very long. Anyways, I loved being there and being a part of it. But when I was dragging my suitcase and hanging bag up the hill towards The Egg 30 minutes before the show started on Thursday night without a ride, I was gleaming that I would soon be able to have Paul carry my bags on vacay. BAHAHA. Kidding. I carry my own. I had to learn how to maximize the amount of luggage I could get up and down my FOURTH floor walk up. Though, my super Dave is pretty rad, when he sees me struggling he's throwing me AND the bags over his shoulder.
That Friday morning I drove to Manhattan dropped off a lot of clothes at my apartment, and then jetted to the airport to meet Paul who was flying in from Sweden, so we could then board a flight to go to my dear friend Carly's wedding in Richmond, VA. Run-on? Don't care. We. Had. A. Blast. What a gorgeous wedding it was! I got to see many of the beautiful Belles and other collegiate buds. But, the 6am flight departure to NYC came a weee-tad early. The 420am wake-up call ... even earlier. We hit the streets in our mini-cooper, thanks to zipcar, and arrived safely before the show.
Giving up my crown was pretty bittersweet. I have worked really hard to obtain this goal. But, on the flip side, I am ready to blaze a new trail for myself. This part of my life will not define me by any means. When I'm 40 I hope no one introduces me as former Miss New York, 3rd runner up to Miss America at a cocktail party. I hope I'm Leigh-Taylor Smith. And there to define myself in that time and space. Well, hopefully by 40 my last name will be different ... but you never know ...
Congratulations to Alyse Zwick, Miss New York 2009.
And, hey, congratulations to my Miss Arlington sister Caressa Cameron for snatching the title of Miss Virginia 2009. The last 3 out of 4 Miss Virginia's have been Miss Arlington. Wanna know who dropped the ball? ME!
On that note, next time I write ... (slash kind of this time) I'll be leading a normal life! Or, far from normal knowing me. But either way, stay tuned!
June 22, 2009
The Finale.
I'm probably not making this any easier on myself by prowling through the videos of the 2008 titleholders being crowned on TLC.com and currently watching a dvd of Miss America. But at the same time, it's kind of like I'm being surrounded by the gals that are going through the same thing. So, here it goes ...
(I just stared at a blinking cursor for about 5 minutes.) Last year right about this time I was one of the lucky 52 ladies crowned a state representative in the Miss America Organization. But, it didn't just happen. I started competing in the Miss America Organization 4 years ago. I won some, and lost the big one. Twice. Perhaps losing isn't the best choice of words (sorry, mom!). Rather, I participated in complete self-improvement course, and took in a lot of scholarship dough being third runner up two years in a row at Miss Virginia. I pulled myself up by the boot straps and moved to a box, or er I mean a studio, in NYC.
I won Miss Brooklyn (which the Miss America girls thought was fairly hysterical based on stereotypes given to the big BK). And I got heat because I was actually from Manhattan "by way of Virginia". Then I won Miss New York. And man did the storm begin. "THE GIRL FROM VIRGINIA!" I've learned to take that in stride and I'm proud to say I have totally learned how to deal with criticism of all kinds. But, ps, it still isn't nice! Several people both here in NY and in Virginia (slash a LOT) have asked "do you secretly wish you were Miss Virginia?". My answer has not wavered one bit. No. God had totally different plans for me. I grew a lot in Virginia. But I blossomed here in New York. And there have been many, many people that have pushed me forward in this process. And I take pride in knowing I've given all of myself to this job. But this job is much bigger than me. It is not defined by power or prominence, but rather by people. So please allow me to give them a shout out ...
Tom Whitfield. You have played such an instrumental role in my journey towards allowing myself to feel comfortable in my own skin. What an unbelievable feeling it is. Just keep those coffee cups coming. ;)
Tim Morehouse. I'm so happy to be able to call you a friend. Not because of your status as a silver medal Olympic fencer, though that is cool, too. But because of your determination, insane work ethic, and consistent ideal of putting others before yourself. Thank you for taking me under your wing.
\
Tim on the left, Jason on the right. Both Olympians. Both fabulous.
Wendi Gruninger, phone calls, phone calls. Thank you for your love, friendship, and belief in me to do whatever I set my mind to.
Chip and Scottie, I love you both so much. Phone calls at midnight, break ups and new discoveries, y'all are always on the other line. You two will remain my big brothers far beyond pageantry. But, please, for Pete's sake, lock Abigail up. I kid. I kid.
Fake smiles don't look like any of us. But, okayyy. Maybe you two like good. xoxoxo
Pi Phis and Belles alike. WOOOOOHOOOO!! I love all of you from the bottom of my heart. Carly, Liz, and Allie: LALA4LYF.
Miss NY girls that have been with me each step of the way. You girls know who you are and I thank you for your support on this journey. But please know, you will be my friends far beyond Miss NY. XOXO
Ashley Wheeler. Thank you for always being on the other end of the line. I will never forget our New Year's Eve pep talk as I cabbed it uptown. Those memories will continue to accumulate. I just know it. I'm sending positive mental vibes and virtual hugs your way as you give up your crown this week.
Ellen Carrington. Although I'm really sad you said I've lost my Southern accent, I still love yours. Thank you for being genuinely interested in what is going on in my life. The good, the bad, the ugly. Give Grant a hug for me, and come visit SOON! (You too, Emily. Or you're dead meat!)
Kate Marie. Girl. Thank you for pitching Paul to me like some kind of product. But also, please thank your boss for the amount of time he allows you to be on gchat. Seriously. Those talks were a source of sustainability for me throughout my year. Thank you, thank you, thank you. But, I see you soon anyways. So, I'll give you a hug in person.
To the whole Miss NY board, each of you has played an immeasurable role in my success. I cannot begin to thank EACH of you enough. But, the program, my speech, and thank you letters will all be made public this week. Lots of love to each of you.
KATE. Holy crow. Read the program. And listen to my farewell. But, hey, basically, thanks for changing my life. And life trajectory.
My Paul. You're crazy for sticking around through all of this. But because you did, and for many, many other reasons I'm crazy for you. Thank you for always holding me accountable and being there for it all. Not just for the fun times at Miss America but everything in between. Because those are the moments that really matter. I am 110% sure I won the boyfriend lottery.
Sorry ladies, hands off. He's mine.
Bryan, Laura, Shannon, Tracy, and Natalie. I just started to tear up as I wrote this part. I hope each of you knows how much I look up to you. The examples you set in your daily lives has encouraged me to strive to better myself on a consistent basis. Bubby, I meant what I said in the Miss America program book.
Mom and Dad. Thank you for allowing me to dream the wildest of dreams, and to sincerely believe in them with me. I've never felt like there was anything I couldn't do and that is a direct reflection of how I was raised. I can't wait to spend a big chunk of July with you. Thank you for not giving me away when I was 4 and running around everywhere.
Mom and Pops.
Finally, everyone at Hampton Baptist, thank you for insuring that I knew who got me here. There are many people here that did. But we all know this is all part of a larger plan for my life. I thank each of you for allowing me to realize that someone much bigger than me is molding me into the woman I should, and will become.
PS: Some more but I'm pooped. Have a good day on your far side, P. :)
(I just stared at a blinking cursor for about 5 minutes.) Last year right about this time I was one of the lucky 52 ladies crowned a state representative in the Miss America Organization. But, it didn't just happen. I started competing in the Miss America Organization 4 years ago. I won some, and lost the big one. Twice. Perhaps losing isn't the best choice of words (sorry, mom!). Rather, I participated in complete self-improvement course, and took in a lot of scholarship dough being third runner up two years in a row at Miss Virginia. I pulled myself up by the boot straps and moved to a box, or er I mean a studio, in NYC.
I won Miss Brooklyn (which the Miss America girls thought was fairly hysterical based on stereotypes given to the big BK). And I got heat because I was actually from Manhattan "by way of Virginia". Then I won Miss New York. And man did the storm begin. "THE GIRL FROM VIRGINIA!" I've learned to take that in stride and I'm proud to say I have totally learned how to deal with criticism of all kinds. But, ps, it still isn't nice! Several people both here in NY and in Virginia (slash a LOT) have asked "do you secretly wish you were Miss Virginia?". My answer has not wavered one bit. No. God had totally different plans for me. I grew a lot in Virginia. But I blossomed here in New York. And there have been many, many people that have pushed me forward in this process. And I take pride in knowing I've given all of myself to this job. But this job is much bigger than me. It is not defined by power or prominence, but rather by people. So please allow me to give them a shout out ...
Tom Whitfield. You have played such an instrumental role in my journey towards allowing myself to feel comfortable in my own skin. What an unbelievable feeling it is. Just keep those coffee cups coming. ;)
Tim Morehouse. I'm so happy to be able to call you a friend. Not because of your status as a silver medal Olympic fencer, though that is cool, too. But because of your determination, insane work ethic, and consistent ideal of putting others before yourself. Thank you for taking me under your wing.
\Tim on the left, Jason on the right. Both Olympians. Both fabulous.
Wendi Gruninger, phone calls, phone calls. Thank you for your love, friendship, and belief in me to do whatever I set my mind to.
Chip and Scottie, I love you both so much. Phone calls at midnight, break ups and new discoveries, y'all are always on the other line. You two will remain my big brothers far beyond pageantry. But, please, for Pete's sake, lock Abigail up. I kid. I kid.
Fake smiles don't look like any of us. But, okayyy. Maybe you two like good. xoxoxo
Pi Phis and Belles alike. WOOOOOHOOOO!! I love all of you from the bottom of my heart. Carly, Liz, and Allie: LALA4LYF.
Miss NY girls that have been with me each step of the way. You girls know who you are and I thank you for your support on this journey. But please know, you will be my friends far beyond Miss NY. XOXO
Ashley Wheeler. Thank you for always being on the other end of the line. I will never forget our New Year's Eve pep talk as I cabbed it uptown. Those memories will continue to accumulate. I just know it. I'm sending positive mental vibes and virtual hugs your way as you give up your crown this week.
Ellen Carrington. Although I'm really sad you said I've lost my Southern accent, I still love yours. Thank you for being genuinely interested in what is going on in my life. The good, the bad, the ugly. Give Grant a hug for me, and come visit SOON! (You too, Emily. Or you're dead meat!)
Kate Marie. Girl. Thank you for pitching Paul to me like some kind of product. But also, please thank your boss for the amount of time he allows you to be on gchat. Seriously. Those talks were a source of sustainability for me throughout my year. Thank you, thank you, thank you. But, I see you soon anyways. So, I'll give you a hug in person.
To the whole Miss NY board, each of you has played an immeasurable role in my success. I cannot begin to thank EACH of you enough. But, the program, my speech, and thank you letters will all be made public this week. Lots of love to each of you.
KATE. Holy crow. Read the program. And listen to my farewell. But, hey, basically, thanks for changing my life. And life trajectory.
My Paul. You're crazy for sticking around through all of this. But because you did, and for many, many other reasons I'm crazy for you. Thank you for always holding me accountable and being there for it all. Not just for the fun times at Miss America but everything in between. Because those are the moments that really matter. I am 110% sure I won the boyfriend lottery.
Sorry ladies, hands off. He's mine.
Bryan, Laura, Shannon, Tracy, and Natalie. I just started to tear up as I wrote this part. I hope each of you knows how much I look up to you. The examples you set in your daily lives has encouraged me to strive to better myself on a consistent basis. Bubby, I meant what I said in the Miss America program book.
Mom and Dad. Thank you for allowing me to dream the wildest of dreams, and to sincerely believe in them with me. I've never felt like there was anything I couldn't do and that is a direct reflection of how I was raised. I can't wait to spend a big chunk of July with you. Thank you for not giving me away when I was 4 and running around everywhere.
Mom and Pops.
Finally, everyone at Hampton Baptist, thank you for insuring that I knew who got me here. There are many people here that did. But we all know this is all part of a larger plan for my life. I thank each of you for allowing me to realize that someone much bigger than me is molding me into the woman I should, and will become.
PS: Some more but I'm pooped. Have a good day on your far side, P. :)
June 17, 2009
Bubby.
That's what I've called my big brother Bryan since I could talk. Apparently I had trouble pronouncing his name. I'm not sure though, I think my mom wanted me to call my brother by a cute nickname. You know how moms do that sometimes? Obviously by naming my first baby doll (stay with me here... let's put those phonetics to use...) OH-BA-DIE-YUH. I'm not even kidding. At that point my mom was probably more concerned I would soon be living in a padded white room, not that I would one day compete at Miss America.
When Bubby and I were little we used to drive to my grandparent's house on Christmas morning everyyyy year. It was about a 7-8 hour drive and I would read the entire way (my mom called me a nerd at that dinner the other night with Paul, Steve, and Kate Marie. I was not amused.) and my brother used to play whatever hand-held electronic game playing thing had come out that year or before. When we would stop for gas my generous father would allow us one choice snack. Obviously we went for candy (as if our stockings hadn't been packed full that morning). It was like clock work. My brother would always ask me for a taste of mine. I would give. I would then ask for a taste of his. Denied. I got the point when I turned, uh, 13. But when I was 15 or 16 I assumed he had gotten over his Indian giving. No dice.
Anyways, we grew up and became friends. Actually, I adore him. And even cooler: his wife Laura. We all like to play, and Laura and I make up songs such as one titled "Home". We will give you a personal rendition if you catch us together.
This morning Bubby sent me a link: http://community.livejournal.com/ohnotheydidnt/36225342.html . He thought I would find it "amusing". And I did, it is pretty amusing. But it's also clearly well thought through. Perhaps brimming on true intellectual capabilities. Although society is changing women still feel like they need a man to complete them. Or maybe they have to work overtime because they don't have one. To fill that "void" in their life. Or society's severe perspective on beauty. Cough, cough, rather perceived beauty.
This isn't all so different from how the year has been for us as state contestants. I know we aren't considered "celebrities" at their true definition. But, we do go through a lot of the scrutiny that they face. But we're also representative of real women, from the real world. Women who care about changing our communities for the better, that are focused on scholarship, that work towards physical fitness. But we're not perfect.
And neither are fairy tales.
Bub and me at my graduation shin-dig.
When Bubby and I were little we used to drive to my grandparent's house on Christmas morning everyyyy year. It was about a 7-8 hour drive and I would read the entire way (my mom called me a nerd at that dinner the other night with Paul, Steve, and Kate Marie. I was not amused.) and my brother used to play whatever hand-held electronic game playing thing had come out that year or before. When we would stop for gas my generous father would allow us one choice snack. Obviously we went for candy (as if our stockings hadn't been packed full that morning). It was like clock work. My brother would always ask me for a taste of mine. I would give. I would then ask for a taste of his. Denied. I got the point when I turned, uh, 13. But when I was 15 or 16 I assumed he had gotten over his Indian giving. No dice.
Anyways, we grew up and became friends. Actually, I adore him. And even cooler: his wife Laura. We all like to play, and Laura and I make up songs such as one titled "Home". We will give you a personal rendition if you catch us together.
This morning Bubby sent me a link: http://community.livejournal.
This isn't all so different from how the year has been for us as state contestants. I know we aren't considered "celebrities" at their true definition. But, we do go through a lot of the scrutiny that they face. But we're also representative of real women, from the real world. Women who care about changing our communities for the better, that are focused on scholarship, that work towards physical fitness. But we're not perfect.
And neither are fairy tales.
Lawng Aylahnd.
Phonetics. They're weird. Was that acceptable?* Come to think of it, I wonder who qualifies to write the phonetic suggestions for words. And definitions. And synonyms.
Moving beyond my wandering mind right about ... now. I went to visit Big Al's Gym. They were the generous folks that gave the scholarship for the Miss New York Swimsuit Preliminary winners last year. So, I went for the membership drive on Monday night to hang out, sign some autographs, and cause some general calamity. But, nay, the calamity was not caused by me. It was actually caused by the insane children in their natural habitat. The play haven built by the likes of McDonalds. But cooler because of it's cleanliness. There was this one little rugrat that had just turned 2, just had stitches taken out of his face, and just ran around screaming. Throwing himself on the ground when he felt necessary and playing with all of the big kids. Physically. He was worthy of the term baller. And you know I don't just throw that word around like pennies. I also must point out, 10 minutes in there was worth a lifetime of birth control.
Anyways, I think the event was successful. I did a radio spot about the gym. Actually, the guys from the radio asked if I was into "freestyle". So I said, I respect people that can freestyle but I myself am pathetic. I was really confused when they started laughing in my face (though, not the first or last time that will happen to me). Apparently freestyle refers to 80's music. Am I the last one to be clued in on this?
Finally I met an awesome couple, and the woman makes jewelry. Her name is Aggy and she's Polish, and hysterical. She gave me a set of earrings, necklace, and bracelet of my choice. AND threw in an extra necklace because I had tried it on. They're beautiful! I'm going to rock 'em at Miss NY.
John Giglio accompanied me during my last two visits to Big Al's and I have the greatest time with him. He is hysterical. And through our 8 hours spent together over my two trips to Big Al's we realized we have the following in common: Bambi freaked us out (his mom took him back to the movie theater a second time because he was so hysterical the first go round, had him watch while Bambi's mom was still alive and ran him out before she was shot, hahahaha), clowns freaked me out/still freak him out, the entire concept of Willy Wonka freaked us out, and we both adore peanut butter. There were more but my tired brain is incapacitated from filling out these monotonous RJR reports.
*Yes, I realize that is not phonetically correct for the words Long and Island. I was pretending I had the accent. And if I did, that would be my attempt at phonetically creating the proper pronunciation.
Moving beyond my wandering mind right about ... now. I went to visit Big Al's Gym. They were the generous folks that gave the scholarship for the Miss New York Swimsuit Preliminary winners last year. So, I went for the membership drive on Monday night to hang out, sign some autographs, and cause some general calamity. But, nay, the calamity was not caused by me. It was actually caused by the insane children in their natural habitat. The play haven built by the likes of McDonalds. But cooler because of it's cleanliness. There was this one little rugrat that had just turned 2, just had stitches taken out of his face, and just ran around screaming. Throwing himself on the ground when he felt necessary and playing with all of the big kids. Physically. He was worthy of the term baller. And you know I don't just throw that word around like pennies. I also must point out, 10 minutes in there was worth a lifetime of birth control.
Anyways, I think the event was successful. I did a radio spot about the gym. Actually, the guys from the radio asked if I was into "freestyle". So I said, I respect people that can freestyle but I myself am pathetic. I was really confused when they started laughing in my face (though, not the first or last time that will happen to me). Apparently freestyle refers to 80's music. Am I the last one to be clued in on this?
Finally I met an awesome couple, and the woman makes jewelry. Her name is Aggy and she's Polish, and hysterical. She gave me a set of earrings, necklace, and bracelet of my choice. AND threw in an extra necklace because I had tried it on. They're beautiful! I'm going to rock 'em at Miss NY.
John Giglio accompanied me during my last two visits to Big Al's and I have the greatest time with him. He is hysterical. And through our 8 hours spent together over my two trips to Big Al's we realized we have the following in common: Bambi freaked us out (his mom took him back to the movie theater a second time because he was so hysterical the first go round, had him watch while Bambi's mom was still alive and ran him out before she was shot, hahahaha)
*Yes, I realize that is not phonetically correct for the words Long and Island. I was pretending I had the accent. And if I did, that would be my attempt at phonetically creating the proper pronunciation.
June 16, 2009
Have you ever been to Corning, NY?
I have!
But, before I tell you all about my adventure to the glass blowing capitol of the world, I did something pretty fun before that too.
My mom came to visit! And on top of that, Kate Marie (Miss DC) came up to surprise her boyfriend Steve. Which means, I got to hang out with both of these rad women on Thursday. ALL DAY! That night we all went out to din, and Paul came too. So do you want to hear the funny thing about all of this? Well, I think it's funny. You may not. Steve and Paul are brothers. Not like, good guy friend brothers, but they share a mother and father type brothers. And about that I do not lie.
Anyways, I got up the next morning and started my journey to (Cary, my roommate, is currently singing broadway showtunes and commercial jingles at the top of his lungs in the shower. If some of these sentences do not make sense it is because I am halfway laughing. Internally.) Corning, NY. Or to be more accurate, the village of Painted Post. Soon after my arrival the Mayor of Painted Post, Sandy, Miss Finger Lakes, Lorna, and a CMN representative, Sarah, all picked me up and took me on a tour of Painted Post. We then headed off to an awesome family run restaurant where everyone seemed to know everyone. Then the Colonial Days pageant. Starting teeny, going to Miss. I love being on the other side of things. It means I can relax! But these girls were pretty awesome.
Just hanging out with the ladies at the Colonial Days Pageant.
But get this ... after I left the pageant I got to go to .... drum roll please .... WAL MART! I really like Wal Mart. Specifically their America's Choice sparkling Peach and Black Cherry Water. So I bought two cases FOR ONLY $2. That's how much my ATM charges me to take money out of my account. Cloud 9.
After a quick rest we headed to the Colonial Days Parade. On the contract it said that approximately 20,000 - 30,000 people head out to this parade. And not to think people were exaggerating, but y'all, this is a small town. An awesome man, Greg, drove me in a smokin' silver Mercedes convertible and as we turned the corner the contract was verified. At least 20,000 people there. As we passed the grand-stand I was definitely called out for not having shoes on. Kind of like the reverse of a "show me your shoes" parade.
I also visited a whiffle ball tournament that, by word, goes on day and night for 3 days. Lots of food, bats, and beer. I stopped by to say hey to all of the people participating. And one of the men admitted to having cut the article out of the paper that prefaced my visit to the village. In my bathing suit. In his wallet.
With that said, I hopped back in the car and began my trek back to Manhattan. Apparently I was speeding because I got pulled over for that. Un-luckily, I was also on my phone talking to Ken my business manager after my appearance. In true stealth form I quickly pulled out my crown and banner into the passenger seat of my car. Inconspicuous for the girl who only wears her crown and sash at pageants and parades. Unfortunately, Officer Jason Fletcher still gave me a ticket. Notice I made that a non-plural ticket. It was for the cell phone. Not my speed. (Thank the Lord.) I'm having it sent to Ken Nelson's home address. Kidding, kidding.
Back home it was for an early Sunday morning winding up paperwork and loose ends as Miss New York. It's insane this is almost over.
Wah wah wee wah.
PS: Lisa, I forgot to tell you about the ticket. Though I was not hiding it. Like that one time I hid something and you found out after Bryan and Dad and didn't think I loved you the most anymore. But I did. And I do. Promise.
I know my phone is ringing in five minutes.
But, before I tell you all about my adventure to the glass blowing capitol of the world, I did something pretty fun before that too.
My mom came to visit! And on top of that, Kate Marie (Miss DC) came up to surprise her boyfriend Steve. Which means, I got to hang out with both of these rad women on Thursday. ALL DAY! That night we all went out to din, and Paul came too. So do you want to hear the funny thing about all of this? Well, I think it's funny. You may not. Steve and Paul are brothers. Not like, good guy friend brothers, but they share a mother and father type brothers. And about that I do not lie.
Anyways, I got up the next morning and started my journey to (Cary, my roommate, is currently singing broadway showtunes and commercial jingles at the top of his lungs in the shower. If some of these sentences do not make sense it is because I am halfway laughing. Internally.) Corning, NY. Or to be more accurate, the village of Painted Post. Soon after my arrival the Mayor of Painted Post, Sandy, Miss Finger Lakes, Lorna, and a CMN representative, Sarah, all picked me up and took me on a tour of Painted Post. We then headed off to an awesome family run restaurant where everyone seemed to know everyone. Then the Colonial Days pageant. Starting teeny, going to Miss. I love being on the other side of things. It means I can relax! But these girls were pretty awesome.
Just hanging out with the ladies at the Colonial Days Pageant.
But get this ... after I left the pageant I got to go to .... drum roll please .... WAL MART! I really like Wal Mart. Specifically their America's Choice sparkling Peach and Black Cherry Water. So I bought two cases FOR ONLY $2. That's how much my ATM charges me to take money out of my account. Cloud 9.
After a quick rest we headed to the Colonial Days Parade. On the contract it said that approximately 20,000 - 30,000 people head out to this parade. And not to think people were exaggerating, but y'all, this is a small town. An awesome man, Greg, drove me in a smokin' silver Mercedes convertible and as we turned the corner the contract was verified. At least 20,000 people there. As we passed the grand-stand I was definitely called out for not having shoes on. Kind of like the reverse of a "show me your shoes" parade.
I also visited a whiffle ball tournament that, by word, goes on day and night for 3 days. Lots of food, bats, and beer. I stopped by to say hey to all of the people participating. And one of the men admitted to having cut the article out of the paper that prefaced my visit to the village. In my bathing suit. In his wallet.
With that said, I hopped back in the car and began my trek back to Manhattan. Apparently I was speeding because I got pulled over for that. Un-luckily, I was also on my phone talking to Ken my business manager after my appearance. In true stealth form I quickly pulled out my crown and banner into the passenger seat of my car. Inconspicuous for the girl who only wears her crown and sash at pageants and parades. Unfortunately, Officer Jason Fletcher still gave me a ticket. Notice I made that a non-plural ticket. It was for the cell phone. Not my speed. (Thank the Lord.) I'm having it sent to Ken Nelson's home address. Kidding, kidding.
Back home it was for an early Sunday morning winding up paperwork and loose ends as Miss New York. It's insane this is almost over.
Wah wah wee wah.
PS: Lisa, I forgot to tell you about the ticket. Though I was not hiding it. Like that one time I hid something and you found out after Bryan and Dad and didn't think I loved you the most anymore. But I did. And I do. Promise.
I know my phone is ringing in five minutes.
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