moda vivendi

I'm just talking to myself. We do that sometimes, me and myself.

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Alton Brown is my hero

Today, I opened the school paper (usually I skim the headlines and then go straight to the crossword, which I may or may not enlist the help of a web browser to complete…pathetic English major) and what did I see way down there at the bottom?  “Food Network Star to Speak at PSU.”  At first I thought it would be one of the people that no one cares about, like that Aarti chick who “won,” for lack of better words, Next Food Network Star two seasons ago.  But no!  It’s Alton frickin’ Brown!

To prove what a supreme loser I am, the first person I texted in my excited state was my father.  Because I wanted to brag.  I’m such a good kid.

Then I started to think of ways I could coerce my friends into seeing him with me.  I was preparing to spam everyone with an “I’ll buy all of your drinks this weekend” text.  Thankfully, my friend, whom I will now refer to as “B,” since this “my one friend” crap is getting old, texted me.  She was trying to coerce me into seeing Alton.

No arm twisting needed.  It’s already penned into my planner.  I would have seen him alone if necessary.


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Stop giving me the up-down

Something I’ve noticed this year, aside from the massive take-off of foursquare on campus, is that girls have become even more hyper-critical of each other than usual.  There are always girls that walk around campus in platform heels–I mean, really, you’re going to chem lab, do you need to be wearing a ball gown?–and the girls that do a full face of makeup and perfectly curl their hair and then wear sweats to class.  But that’s standard, you see those girls every year.  This year, it’s like the fashion police on steroids.  Every time you pass someone on the sidewalk, they give you the up-down.  And then a look that says, “Ew, are you really wearing that?”

Case in point: I went to brunch with a friend this past Sunday.  I was walking back to our table with round two and a girl who didn’t know me from Adam looked at my tray and then looked at me like “Sweetie, are you really eating all that?  Are you sure you really need that?”  I wanted to be like, “It’s Sunday morning, I need hangover food, sorry I’m not satisfied with coffee and a grape.”

I know it isn’t just me being sensitive because I’ve talked to a handful of people that mentioned the same thing.

So, to all you bitches silently-yet-not-subtly eying up and judging everyone’s outfits (and meal choices) I say this: kindly BACK OFF.



The future freaks me out

Yes, this is another rambling post about me growing up into my professional self.  Sue me..a blog is supposed to be annoyingly self-serving sometimes.

So I was sitting here reading my advertising textbook and I started to freak out about what happens when I actually have to grow up and work in the advertising industry.  My ideal (more accurately, safe, not-out-of-the-box) job (as of now) would be working in a small agency back in Pittsburgh.  My book references big campaigns and large agencies, mostly in New York.  And it scares the shiz out of me.  I mean, this is not the life that I want and this book makes me freak out that working at a big place in NYC is the only option.  Granted, that was once an aspiration of mine but I pulled my head out of the clouds, or wherever, and realized that unfortunately my life isn’t a Sex and the City spinoff.

As such, I totally resist reading and put off outlining the chapters when I do read.  And it’s only the beginning.  It just makes me want to take a nap.

Mmkay, that’s enough of that.  I’ll be back to my snarky self tomorrow.  Stay tuned.

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Thoughts on cover bands

Last night I was at a bar at Penn State, dancing and singing along with a cover band.  And there was a moment in one of the songs where I started to craft a blog entry.  It finally hit me that I am old enough to be a senior and I am mature enough to go out and be responsible  but let go at the same time.  It just clicked.  It was like ahhhhhh lightbulb.  Or maybe it was the fact that I had worked my way through a pitcher of “monkey boys,” which is basically a fruity long island.  All I know is that we were still singing and dancing in line waiting for the bathroom.  Yeah, we were those people.

Anyway, I think this revelation occurred to me in the middle of Bon Jovi..  But I can’t really remember.  I really am getting old.

Note to self-drink an entire Brita pitcher of water when you get home after a night full of alcohol-fueled cover band moments and take a multivitamin and you’ll be right as rain in the morning.

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Awkward and Awesome: State College Edition


  • Made it through a kick boxing aerobics class.  This is monumental, especially because my friend and I unsuccessfully tried this last year.  We were dying after 5 minutes.  This year, we rocked it the whole time.
  • Went to Panera for dinner as a reward for living through the workout.  Love the food, hate the prices.
  • Tomorrow is payday from my summer job.  Amen for direct deposit.
  • Actually talking to and hanging out with the people on my floor.  Last year, this place was like a ghost town; this year we were like okay, let’s grow up.



  • My hair today.  Woke up to a thunderstorm; this made the day humid once it decided to stop raining (which was every time I put my umbrella up.  Take my umbrella down and it starts to rain again.  That’s awkward in and of itself…).  My hair + humidity = Jackie O hair-flip.  Works for her…not so much for me.
  • Walking back to our rooms drenched in sweat after kick boxing.  Yes, I’m a girl.  Sorry, I sweat.  Stop staring.
  • I have to pay bills and balance my checkbook tomorrow.  Goodbye money that was direct deposited.



  • The tongue scrubber thing on the back of my toothbrush…can’t decide if this is more awkward or awesome.


My life as a reality show

So I had a nice idea for a post all ready to go, but then I turned on my TV (which has been tuned to Bravo since Sunday because I don’t remember the channels here in Happy Valley; I could channel surf, but meh, I already have a small library to read…) and a Top Chef: Just Desserts marathon is on.  Can I just say, nothing is more addictive than Bravo TV shows.  And thus, I propose that my life be turned into a Bravo reality show.  Here are some “pitches”:

[Warning: in order to truly “get it,” a familiarity with Bravo’s shows is helpful but not absolutely necessary…]

  • Tabatha’s Dorm Takeover–she’s a genius when she’s whipping a bunch of hair stylists into shape, imagine what she’d do to a dorm full of prissy sorority girls.
  • Top Chef: Just Ramen–whoever makes the best ramen noodle dishes out of the contestant pool wins…something.
  • Most Eligible PSU–with 40,000 undergrads on campus, imagine the love triangles we can manufacture!
  • Real Housewives of State College–eh, what can you really do with this?  I just feel the need to pay homage to Bravo’s original hit show.  Maybe mix this with Millionaire Matchmaker somehow.
  • Rachel ‘No’ Project–State College has been taken over by jeggings and cropped shirts.  We need to bring someone in here to raid their closets and show them how to dress themselves, since they obviously have no clue.

Or, if all else fails, we can just sit in a coffee shop, have it filmed, edited, and broadcast on every Monday night!



  • In my first class, my professor walked in and, recognizing me from a class last fall, begins to talk like we’re old friends.  I’m not too embarrassed by this.  Then she’s discussing what makes a good group dynamic (our grade in this class, the one I need a C or better in to graduate, is a group work class because it basically simulates the “real world”) she goes, “You’ve heard of Type A and Type B personalities, right? Angelica, tell us about type A personalities; I know you’re one.”  Again, not embarrassed.  Also, she says, “You know you’re a Type A if you have a calendar on your iPhone, synced to your Mac, connected to your iPad, and a paper one that’s color coded.”  I turn to my friend in the class and we’re like, “Uh yep, that’s us.”
  • There was an earthquake in Virginia that I could feel two stories off the ground in the HUB.  How’s that for an obligatory-earthquake-mention.
  • African American Novels doesn’t look like it’ll be the class that’s the bane of my existence after all.
  • My other friend and I went to the gym and got in a good sweat so we feel awesome when we go out tonight.  Well, that was our “in thinking” theory yesterday.  In practice, we’re sore and I’m pretty sure I’m going to be limping/lumbering across campus to Cafe tonight.
  • I need to give everyone code names, or just ask if they’re okay with me using their real names.  This “my other friend” junk is getting confusing.