Cheers to a Better Zo in 2012

I have never been very good at commitment. I get bored easily and have trouble focusing on a single task for any extended period of time. I have tried (unsuccessfully) to use this argument to convince my parents to get me tested for ADD, and am now using it to justify the fact that in 20 years, I have never been able to keep a New Years resolution. The least successful resolution to date is the one I make every year at around 11am on January 1^st: to never drink again. It normally lasts until Happy Hour on the 2^nd, at which point I remember that being around my family requires a lot of liquid courage and that resolutions are for losers.

According to Wikipedia (the source for all things truthful), a resolution is more than just a goal—it’s a lifestyle change. While my parents and most medical doctors may not agree with it, I actually like my lifestyle. Despite the fact that my body sometimes hates me for it, the whole “work hard, play hard” thing seems to be going pretty well for me. I have amazing friends and a wonderful family, and I genuinely love my life. Still, I can’t help but wonder what I can do to improve myself (ugh) in the New Year. Mainly because my friends keep reading “Top 10 Resolutions of 2012” on Washington Post Social Reader and it continuously pops up on my newsfeed.

Most people’s resolutions involve losing weight or getting out of debt, but since I have actively been trying to lose weight since I was 11 and have no personal finances to speak of, these don’t really seem like logical “lifestyle changes” for me.  Apparently, the things I want to achieve this year are a little different than those of “most people.” Here’s what I could come up with:

1. Get some personal finances. Preferably in the form of a paying job, though I am not opposed to the idea of a sugar daddy.
2. Do at least one selfless thing every day. Seriously.
3. Run a Half Marathon by my 21^st birthday, without changing my drinking habits. Also, learn to run hungover.
4. Stay away from toxic people—especially the ones that come in the form of college athletes.
5. Open my own Netflix account. The fact that my ex-boyfriend and his entire family can see that I’ve watched four seasons of Keeping Up With The Kardashians this week is really not ok.
6. Have more respect for myself. Even when there is tequila involved. 

While I still think resolutions are for overweight housewives who read self-help books, I figure it can’t hurt to at least try to be a better person in 2012. This does, however, mean that I still have 9 hours to be selfish, spend other people’s money and make out with athletes. After that, it’s cheers to the new me. Happy New Year everyone!!!!

After this New Years, I resolved not to make this face in pictures.

Peace Out 2011

So it's the last day of 2011, and I am exactly where I was a year ago: sitting in my bottom bunk (yes, I am 20 and I still have bunk beds), looking for plans for tomorrow night. This will now be the third year in a row that I am forced to spend New Years in Bradenton, and I will more than likely ring it in yet again with obscene amounts of Champagne and Skyy at someone else's table at Ivory. Hopefully this year I will manage to secure a kiss at midnight-- It's my first single New Years in five years, after all-- and hopefully he will look something like a cross between a less-pretty Ryan Reynolds and a less-whitetrash Ryan Gosling. If all else fails, I would be more than happy settling for the Bradley Cooper look-alike from 2010.

The One That Got Away (Call me.)

2011 has been one hell of a year. I would even go so far as to say it has been the best year of my life. I welcomed my first nephew, broke up with my high school boyfriend and became friends with members of an Ivy League lacrosse team -- all  before Valentines day. I went on a four month bender with my "newly single best friend" (a term that helped us get free drinks through July), and somehow managed to get through it with only a few notable walks of shame. The only one worth mentioning is the time I donated some stolen official gear to a homeless man at Penn station on my way home from an athlete's apartment-- he deserved it. My Summer in New York is a blur of Vogue intern hell, tequila shots at Brother Jimmy's, and third-wheeling at The Smith and Central Park. I spent this past semester abroad (read: on a 4 month European vacation), and was able to explore (read: get drunk in) 9 different countries. Needless to say, it rocked. I chugged a beer on a table at Oktoberfest, got into an almost physical fight about Patriotism with a Turkish man in Istanbul and spent a week in Russia with 5 of my friends and a midget. I also created my first blog, which someone told me last week, "sounds like Chelsea Handler, but more Jewish." Talk about the best compliment ever.

All of this has somehow led me back here, to the bottom bunk. What the hell did I learn in the last 365 days (it wasn't a leap year -- right?)?? I feel like I'm more mature, but this sentiment is based solely on the fact that I can't remember the last time I #1) cried and #2) blacked out. I suppose I now know that I am capable of living independently in a foreign country and have the patience to work 12-hour days of slave labor, which is more than most 20 year old Jewish girls can say. This year has taught me that no boy is worth crying over, especially if he is a horrible hookup or is exponentially less hot than his friends. Most importantly, though, I learned that a good friend will be there for you when your boyfriend dumps you, but a best friend will slap him across the face for it. And if the world ends in December, at least I'll be able to say I made it to 21. And I was in a music video.

Peace out 2011. Bring it 2012.

No Place Like Home for the Holidays

We hired these actors to pose for our family portrait.

There is nothing like being reunited with your family after a semester abroad (read: a 4 month European vacation) only to find that they are just as crazy as they were when you left them. I got back to America last week, and spent a few days staying at my Rhode Island house wandering up and down the East coast. My parents opted to stay in their new condo in Florida instead of coming up North to greet me, and they eventually guilted me into flying down here for Christmas and New Years.

People are normally very confused about why I would rather sit in an empty house in Rhode Island than be with my family in sunny Florida-- but these people have clearly never been to Bradenton. First of all, it proudly boasts the highest concentration of retired people in the world. Granted my mom IS turning 60 this year (but looks like she's 35-- YEAH I GOT GOOD GENES) so she fits right in with the bridge playing, coupon clipping oldies in her new hometown. I, on the other hand, am bored OUT OF MY MIND. My big night out down here consists of going to Applebees for 2-for-1 Margaritas and Karaoke. That is when they are willing to serve me -- my ID usually gets rejected. If someone could please explain to me how I can pass for Naima Mauloaua in Manhattan and not in Bradenton, I would be greatly appreciative. So, while everyone is rolling face at Avicii on New Years eve, I will be sitting home babysitting my dogs. Hopefully "Naima" will be able to buy champagne, but it all depends on whether or not Bob of Bob's Liquors is in the holiday spirit.

Spot the retiree

The main issue with coming down here, though, is not the inhabitants of Bradenton-- it is the inhabitants of 5425 36th Court. My parents, my brother and their SIX animals are all completely, level 10, bat shit crazy. We live in a three bedroom condo, and somehow manage to have at least two extra people sleeping on our couch on any given night. My brother insists on throwing these weird gatherings that involve blaring Kid Cudi until 4am and playing beer pong. My mom considers herself to be best friends with the graduating class of 2011, so sometimes she joins the party. Every morning, I wake up to a kitchen covered in Natty Light cans and chicken McNuggets -- talk about a dream vacation.
Since I have no friends in Florida, my parents take advantage of the opportunity to spend EVERY waking minute together. Every day, we get up, go to smoothie king, go to spinning (yeah. my dad spins now.), go to the beach, go to dinner and go to the movies. At least I'll go back to school with a tan and an educated opinion on who deserves to win Best Picture.

As hard as I am on them (which must be pretty hard since my dad has now nicknamed me "the devil"), I love my family to death and am thrilled to get to spend time with them. And so, here is to being home for the holidays. And to hoping I will be able to purchase enough alcohol to get myself through it.