Ode to Tommy Cheeseballs

Before Snooki entered the national parlance, before people beyond their 200 regular customers had heard of Karma, before T-shirt time, before the CABS WERE HEEEEEAHH, there was Tommy. Oh, Tommy, I miss you. Things were simpler back then. MTV had only grossly misrepresented the Jersey Shore to a smattering of True Life viewers with Tommy’s buffoonish 40 minutes of fame, rather than the pop-garbage (I refuse to call it “culture”) franchise through which we currently suffer. Continue reading


Bryan Adams: Poet Laureate of Beach Kids

Favorite place ever.

Three months a year, living in Boston becomes really difficult. June, July and August pretty much turn me into a surly, whiny mess, though I try my best to conceal it. No one likes Miss Pissy Pants. It’s not living in an apartment without A/C; it’s not navigating through glacially slow-moving hordes of confused tourists on the T or on the sidewalk, though these things really don’t help. Not being home at the Shore for the summer is quietly strangling my soul and sucking out any happiness I may have had left. I don’t feel much better about it until after Labor Day.  No, I’m not being overly dramatic. These are all accurate, factually true statements.

Don’t get me wrong – summertime Boston certainly has its perks. Pictures like this exist here. But I still have to drive to the beach and can only makes s’mores on our grill. Continue reading

Bachelor’s Degree in Life?

Mom, dad and me at my very favorite spot in college over graduation weekend. Fortunately, I no longer look like I recently devoured an entire person.

A couple summers ago, I needed a beach book for a week of staycation and was shamelessly drawn to the Tiffany blue cover of Commencement. It followed four friends through their years at Smith and the four years after they graduated. The title actually referred to the end of that second time period as each realized those first awkward four years of adulthood were the real-life education that college didn’t provide. May 13, 2011 marks that second commencement for me and I have undoubtedly very much changed since this day in 2007. Continue reading

Katy Perry can call herself a ‘gurl’ but she’ll never be a lady

Really?All summer, it feels as though my ears have been under constant attack from a barrage of crappy pop music. Public enemy No. 1: the Reddi-Whip brassiered woman at the left. In a rather short time on the beach today, Katy Perry’s “California Gurls” played on the radio more times than I cared to listen to. Don’t get me wrong – it’s a pretty catchy tune and certainly many quality remixes must exist that I probably wouldn’t mind dancing to. However, when it’s been stuck in your head for days (DAYS!), the lyrics become a little unnerving. Continue reading

Ahoy, Ice Cream Lovers!

Best line in a job posting: "Must be able to past a drug test (without studying!)"

In four months, I embark on an adventure. I’ll quit my job, pack up my stuff and move to Boston to enroll in Emerson College’s Integrated Marketing Communication graduate program.  I’m pretty pumped. However, I don’t know if this has to do with just returning from a vacation or what, but with the only thing between me and my New England adventure being a Jersey Shore summer, I’m starting to itch. I haven’t had a real summer since 2007. OK, that’s not that long ago, but still. The idea of the next four months spent in a windowless office quite frankly makes me claustrophobic. Continue reading

Punta Cana

soooo nice.

After five days spent lazing about in the Dominican Republic, I can’t stop thinking that summer’s here. My mind really needs to cut it out, because, well, it’s not summer. Close – but not close enough. It felt awesome just to sit in the sun after this heinous winter we’ve been dealt.

Boyfriend and I stayed at the Paradisus Punta Cana, a sprawling all-inclusive on Bavaro Beach, and would highly recommend it. The rooms are divided into a three-tiered hierarchy: The Reserve, a brand-new, resort-within-a-resort where the fanciest rooms are and family receive Family Concierge service; Royal Service, which furnishes guests with their own personal butler with rooms on the main grounds; and the standard, plain old regular rooms where you’re left to fend for yourself without the help of a butler of any kind. Continue reading