Galavanting about Paris with the Bachelor.....

So when I saw the previews for this season's The Bachelor on ABC I was excited for the first time since the history of the show. Paris! The only other metropolis on this earth that I have gotten to know, heart and soul, and lived in for several months.

I began watching the show innocently enough.... and now, a month later, I find myself glued to the television every Monday night without fail, pathetically hooked to yet another one of the industry's piteous attempts to top the rating charts for the week.

Dog eat dog! Who ARE some of these gals?? I was glad to see most of the women go, to be honest. Either, a) there are seriously WAY too many shallow, catty people in this world or b) when people get in front of the camera, even for 'reality tv', they mistakenly think they are susposed to act. I'm hoping for the latter, but I've been accused of 'having not been jaded' before. "You're still young..."

I don't get what all the fuss is over Moana. To me, she is a breath of fresh air in the concept of reality television. Her refusal to stray from who she truely is as a human being, even in the face of adversity, is to be respected. "I cannot BELIEVE he picked her!" "Someone here is trying to mess with your head..." "How would you feel if someone like her got your spot instead?"

Eat it, chick-a-dees. There are only 3 women left, and Moana is definitely one of them. Not that I full-heartedly hope that she ends up with the Bachelor - she is so passionate and full of life and quite frankly, Travis seems a bit boring. A spunky gal like herself deserves a guy who will ignite her spark completely.

"People come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime...." Here's hoping that Travis is one of those first 2 for her, and she will take the experience, grow from it and move on.

Cheers to a soulful 'ending' for Moana!

And meanwhile, I will remain duly tuned to see what next Monday brings.....

One hot dog, all the way, minus the drama... please!

I think one of the things I miss most about living abroad in London is the hot dog vendors. Yes, I said the hot dogs – I MISS LONDON’S HOT DOGS! Call me crazy, but whenever I get nostalgic for the city, which is quite often, one of the first things that comes to mind is the smell of the hot dogs cooking as you walk down the streets at night. The vendors come out as early as 4pm in Bloomsbury, near the British Museum, to catch the crowds as the museum begins to close.

The whiff of the onions grilling is the scent that hits you first. As you come closer to the vendors, the scent of the onions grows stronger and is mixed with the sharp smell of meat on the grill. And you can hear the snap-crackle-pop of the grill and the clang of the tongs as the vendor prepares hot dogs for a family of famished culture-seekers who have just finished a long day at the museum. Walking home to my flat in Russell Square from a Saturday filled with my own sort of cultural event, an intense shopping experience fighting the crowds of Oxford and Bond Streets, I am enticed every time by the aroma of the onions from no less than a block away. "Hell, I’m only here for 6 months…" Clearly justifiable. I indulge.

Much later that Saturday night (one might even say very early Sunday morning…) I will be seduced & placed under the spell of the hot dogs once more. After an evening filled with dancing in Ugg boots & chatting up cute boys with darling British accents, E (my Dancing Queen) and I will emerge from a night club with the other night owls who have a knack for out-lasting the DJs. Almost immediately, E & I will begin our Hot Dog Scavenger Hunt. Most nights it is the simplest of tasks. Other nights, truly a scavenger’s hunt!

Most of the vendors are illegal and do not have permits to justify selling food on the streets. I remember one night while E & I were in the midst of purchasing our hot dogs, 2 British police officers with their goofy hats approached the vendor just as he was applying the onions to our dogs. E & I, both in our drunken states, tried to appear nonchalant, as if we had no idea there was a hot dog vendor inches from us. We sauntered off (smoothly, of course) while our beloved vendor packed his things and began to roll his cart away at the request of the 2 police officers.

What?! No siree, not by the hairs of our chinny-chin-chins. We circled the block as the officers watched our vendor to ensure that he left the area. Then the scavenger hunt really began. A few blocks later we spotted our vendor once again, continuing to sell hot dogs to drunk & hungry late-nighters like ourselves. We retrieved our vices (me: one hot dog, all the way, extra onions - Yes please!) and began the long truck home, back to Judd Street, by foot.

Just last week I was trucking downtown in Glenwood South area, drunk & hungry, in search of a hot dog. Though I am pleased to see the trend catching on here in ‘not so Metropolis’ Raleigh, North Carolina, I am always disappointed that our vendors here do not grill the hot dogs in front of you, nor do they have fresh onions cooking to lure you with their fragrance.

What’s more is that last week, my imitation Hot Dog Scavenger Hunt ended with a bit of…. Shall we say, drama. First, I ran into an ex-boyfriend whose heart I was not very gentle with. I hadn't seen him in over 3 years and it was a bit shocking to have him walk up to me as I was bee-lining for the hot dog vendor. Needless to say, I lost my appetite, became a bit nervous, and ended up eating only a bag of Cheetoes. How dull. After 45 minutes of chatting and finally exchanging digits, my drunk posse and I walk off only to be sexually harassed by a group of drunk boys. They were obviously way younger than us, and apparently had not yet learned that is it highly inappropriate to touch a woman whom you do not know as you are passing her on the street. Lucky for me, I have wonderful friends who were just as appalled as I was, and an ex still nearby to protect me from harm’s way – so we quickly let the young’ins know the proper etiquette for walking down the street at 3am when drunk.

It is the same as walking down the street at 1pm when sober. Do not touch. Period.

Me, John Mayer & our Quarter-Life Crises

"Might be a quarter-life crisis…. Just a stirring in my bones. Still, ‘everything happens for a reason’ is no reason not to ask myself – if I am living it right?" (Why Georgia by John Mayer)

I’m 23 years old. Not quite a quarter of a century year old yet. So maybe it’s a Quarter-Life Crisis 2 years too soon?? Or maybe I am just normal, and this is the typical roller coaster of emotions every recent college grad must experience…. to pay one’s dues upon entering the ‘real world’? Whatever the case, it’s good to know that I am not going through it alone.

One click on my mouse pad and Napster pops up onto my laptop screen.

Playlists, click. John Mayer, click.

Immediately I am at ease. The soothing sounds of John’s voice seep through my computer and surround me with comfort and tranquillity. He sings to me the near-exact thoughts that often occupy my young mind.

Restlessness. Doubt. Exhilaration. Question, question, question.

Am I living it right?

Now don’t get the wrong idea here; I am not at all one of those people who goes through life doing more worrying than enjoying. No siree, not this gal. Life has been one helluva ride for me so far, and I have no intent of that changing. I have had a taste of so many things, and I yearn for much more still.

My most recent adventure of working abroad for half a year has come to a close, and I am finding that settling back down in my hometown is not exactly easy. I question almost every move that I make. And for a person who has always been very self-assured and confident with her decisions, this is a very awkward place to be. I guess being in school for the majority of my life, I always had a goal in mind: a college education, with no real thought as to what comes next. I have never been one of those annoying few who has known from an early age which career path I will choose. I feel that there are so many options out there and I just do not know which path is the best one for me.

Most days I am okay with that. I am in no hurry. There is no biological clock inside my body telling me to hurry and settle down and start a family and/or a career. Other days I feel immense pressure from society and those close to me. "What are you doing these days? Where are you working? What was your major again? What do you want to be?" And then, of course, there are a million suggestions as to which career path would suit me best. "You have the personality for this. If you do this job security will be 100%. If you do this now, later you can do this and then you will have it all." I know they are just trying to help, but for some reason it annoys me to no end. I think to myself, ‘If I want your advice, I’ll ask for it alright?!’ Then I withdraw and begin the internal questioning which will eventually make my brain hurt.

So this is why they call it the Turbulent Twenties, I guess? Maybe the whole decade will be a sort of a Quarter-Life Crisis. Well, I plan on making the best of it, no matter what it brings. And when I have days like today that I ponder life and all it has to offer, I’ll just click to John Mayer and let him sing me through it.

"Yes I’m grounded, got my wings clipped
I’m surrounded by all this pavement
Guess I’ll circle while I’m waiting
For my fears to dry…
Someday I’ll fly
Someday I’ll soar.
Someday I’ll be
So damn much more.
Cause I’m bigger than my body gives me credit for." (Bigger Than My Body, John Mayer)