And days of auld lang syne?
So yeah...it's 2007 - a year which will hopefully be just as fun...scratch that...MORE fun...than 2006. I've decided that next semester at NYU is going to be amazing. It took some time at home to help me figure out what I like and do not like to do and the frequency with which I like and do not like to do it -- and this time I'm going to bring that knowledge back up to my favorite island and fuck what all those hipster jackasses upstairs are doing.
Christmas was great -- between all the parties we had/attended I got reacquainted with all my old dress shoes I haven't had up at college. God I love those Steve Madden pumps. And New Years was truly random. Kwanza at Jen's Grandmom's was great -- the food was amazing, the dog was cute, and I got to sing This Little Light, which made me really, really happy. DP partied it up big time with Licious, Shane, Jess Thoden, and a bunch of strangers. There were old episodes of Real Sex and firecrackers involved -- which always make for the best of seasonal celebrations. Then I drove the party van home, despite great amounts of distraction provided by Liz, who whined like a spoiled toddler until Rachel let her sit shotgun.
And I still have two more glorious weeks of relaxing, collegeless joy until I have to come face to face with Pat Hoy & the long form essay. (Why...WHY am I clinically insane?!) All I know is that I am NOT going back to Manhattan until I've seen Mr. Valerio. No way. No how.
Christmas was great -- between all the parties we had/attended I got reacquainted with all my old dress shoes I haven't had up at college. God I love those Steve Madden pumps. And New Years was truly random. Kwanza at Jen's Grandmom's was great -- the food was amazing, the dog was cute, and I got to sing This Little Light, which made me really, really happy. DP partied it up big time with Licious, Shane, Jess Thoden, and a bunch of strangers. There were old episodes of Real Sex and firecrackers involved -- which always make for the best of seasonal celebrations. Then I drove the party van home, despite great amounts of distraction provided by Liz, who whined like a spoiled toddler until Rachel let her sit shotgun.
And I still have two more glorious weeks of relaxing, collegeless joy until I have to come face to face with Pat Hoy & the long form essay. (Why...WHY am I clinically insane?!) All I know is that I am NOT going back to Manhattan until I've seen Mr. Valerio. No way. No how.