Falling asleep in public only happened once after that, but it was during my graduation ceremony. With only two short speeches to break up the 750 jumbo-tron logs of graduates’ smiling and mouthing “I love you mom and dad” (or in my case, losing all composure and mouthing an excitedly frantic “YAY!”), what else is there to do?
|Sleeping on the sly.|
This semester in New York flew by. These past four years flew by. I’m a graduate- a cum laude one at that (to my surprise) which I realized by an asterisk in the graduation program. Apparently I did well on these final finals. Is adulthood really the hangover after the college party? I’ll fill my adult life with Gatorade, ice packs, and long runs to sweat out the toxins.
The last week before leaving for graduation at Baylor was an exhausting blur. Memorable points that break away from the haze include big girl job related activities, and Baylor’s NYC Karaoke party after my last final which was a success for many and a bomb for some, the latter involving my quad of gals screaming “voulez-vous coucher avec moi.” I insisted that Christina Aguilera was not in our vocal range, but others became ambitious for Lady Marmalade’s rhythms. After the performance, my girl group all agreed Spice Girls would have been more of a hit. My roommate Cait was excited to do the song she knows, Jesus Walks by Kanye, and her out of character “hellll yea” won over the audience in a fit of laughter. Another quieter guy in our program surprised everyone with his System of a Down burst which proves everyone has that alter ego, and one guy even began freestyle rapping and was totally stoked to break out of Microsoft Word to reveal his inner rap star.
It was all in all a grand time and full of embarrassing memories.
That week I also attended a Sunset Social with my Parasol Marketing boss, Andrea. She drove me up to Westchester to Oasis Day Spa, and upon walking in I was immediately sent to the back for my spa treatment: my first spray tan. The spa gal knocked on the door, and after an awkward “Am I supposed to be naked?” convo, she got to work with her spray gun inches from my bare flesh. As I stood spread eagle desperately trying not to make eye contact I began to silently thank myself for going on a run that day. Who knew my first work event would involve getting naked for a stranger? I’ll be upping my mileage before the next work event--
Andrea and I were attending this rooftop spa event because later this summer Parasol is hosting the next sunset social, and one of our clients is catering. I was able to meet the client, who loves everything Texas, and tried to bring out my inner cowgirl to make a good impression. Thinking a faux southern accent would be a smidge over board, I stuck to describing my love of boots and red meat, and even confessed to knowing line dancing from when they made the waitresses do that at Texas Roadhouse. (Almost as degrading as singing for birthdays, little did I know it would come in handy. Yee-haw.)
Suzanne said she has big plans for me to be a Suzy Sirlion gal and go into radio shows wearing cowgirl boots, hat, and even daisy dukes (per her request). I’m hoping I rope myself a cowboy out of it. A rich Manhattan one. Who believes in opening doors like a good ole southern boy, but is cut-throat like a New Yorker in a business deal. Can I get a yee-haw?
I DID buy blinged boots while home in Colorado for the few days I had before making the move to New York. Plan in motion.
This past weekend's graduation was a time for family photo shoots (my dad finally "found his calling" in photography) and bedazzled hats. I was not walking across the Ferrel Center's stage in the Harry Potter deal (as much as I am a fan), and so when my sister flew into town we decided Hobby Lobby could save us with pink spray glitter and gemstones. It was a sparkling success, but when I fell asleep on the stranger's shoulder next to me, my cursive, gemmed "J" was pretty set on grabbing people's attention. There's pictures.Now I’m back in the city. Sleeping on a couch. Sorting through the hundreds of craigslist ads desperately trying to find an apartment before my June 1 deadline of temporary housing goes into effect. Graduation seems like a distant memory already and brutality comes in the form of $1000 monthly rent bills in all of these ads I scour—and THAT’s cheap.
I will be accepting all donations in the form of cash, credit cards, and grocery gift certificates. Come one, come all.