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.