Life After Athens

Cheers to 2012

2012-01-12T16:04:00.000-05:00

Quick! Someone pinch me!

Maybe it's the insight that comes with age, but every year really does seem to get better and better for me. If the first couple weeks are any indication, 2012 is likely to be simply divine.

In all of the life categories that matter, I feel on top of the world. My family is healthy and happy. My friends and social life are vibrant and fulfilling. My work is better than ever. And even my dating life, invariably the question mark, might even be leading all of those categories.

In the last month, my work has taken me on quite a ride. Some weeks it seems surreal to be bouncing from some of the world's best cities. Boston, Chicago, San Francisco, Atlanta, London, and of course the city where my heart lives, New York.

As I walked back to my hotel from dinner tonight down the streets of London soaking in every bit of of the charm and sophistication this city exudes, I had one of those moments where you just want to take a mental snapshot so you can remember every detail. Quite simply, I just wanted to freeze time to make sure I didn't lose a single second or detail.

So cheers to 2012. May it be the best year yet in this crazy, wonderful, mysterious Life After Athens.

JLH

Damn Good Dawg

2011-11-21T21:35:00.001-05:00

It is a day of truly mixed emotions for the Bulldog Nation.

On the one hand, it’s the beginning of Clean Old Fashioned Hate Week, one of my favorite of the year.

With Georgia’s win Saturday against Kentucky, we clenched as Eastern Division SEC Champions. Our beloved head football coach, Mark Richt,began the season with many doubters, but has replaced all doubt with renewed energy and excitement for the program.

But even with all this, today marks a day of great sadness for all those who bleed red and black. Our venerable announcer and famed college football broadcaster Larry Munson died yesterday.

He holds a place of incredibly high esteem in the hearts of all Georgia fans. If you asked fans who in the history of the program best represented the UGA spirit, I suspect you’d hear Munson’s name more than any player or coach. He was legendary longbefore he died, and even before he retired in 2008 at age 86.

Munson’s calls were the kind that transported you just by listening to them. Though some of his most remembered calls were made before I was born, you can still feel the energy and passion just by listening to them. Run, Lindsay Run. My God a freshman. Sugar falling out of the sky.

I was lucky enough to have met Larry Munson a handful of times while I worked for the UGA Athletic Association as a student worker in college. I was luckier still to have been a freshman still soaking in Georgia tradition when Munson made his infamousHobnail Boot call. I remember what it was like to watch a Georgia game with the sound all the way down while listening to Munson, and for that, I’m grateful.

Though we knew this day was coming, I cried when I heard about his passing nonetheless. For a man larger than life, this news struck me as nothing less than personally devastating.

Larry Munson, damn good Dawg, you will be missed.

JLH

2011-10-22T09:10:00.004-04:00

Sometimes, a girl just needs to vent. A few things that bug me:

People who claim they listen to any kind of music "except country"
Misuse of there, their and they're
Toms shoes
Subway panhandler sob stories and how they always begin with "Attention ladies and gentlemen" and end with "God bless you all"
Anything Florida Gator
Ugg boots on anyone older than 15 or younger than 11
People who wear sweat pants, yoga pants or any workout gear to airports or on planes
Anyone who says they could never live in NYC and has never even been to the city
The feeling the morning after going out when you realize you can't account for the last of the cash in your wallet
That fully half of the recently tagged photos of me on Facebook were taken in wedding photo booths
How I'm starting to sound like my parents when I make statements about things that happened 10 years ago in college and how it feels like just yesterday
Every Old Navy commercial
When my DVR doesn't record House because the baseball game ran long

JLH

My Longest Relationship

2011-09-04T09:55:00.003-04:00

How fitting it is that when I refer to my longest relationship, I am talking about my city and not a man.

It's hard to believe that it's been 3 years today since I arrived in New York on a one-way ticket with just four suitcases.

While it wasn't exactly love at first sight, it was pretty close. And like any other relationship, we've had our ups and downs-- New York and I-- but we've also grown to love each other.

I know you're thinking that a city can't love someone, but you'd be wrong. This city has a way of drawing you in like few other places I've ever been.

It's that electric, indescribable feeling you get just walking down the street. Or the undeniable energy you can sense all around you. It's the little moments, hard to describe but impossible to ignore.

I think this one's a keeper.

JLH

Pardon My Absense

2011-08-18T09:19:00.003-04:00

You'll have to excuse my hiatus from blogging. But really, would you bother blogging if this was your view from the back deck of your house in the Hamptons while you vacation for a week? Yeah, me neither.

JLH

Top 10: Ways You Can Tell I am OLD

2011-08-03T21:28:00.003-04:00

Y’all. I am getting OLD! (Related: I turn 28 in two weeks. YIKES!)

So, here is a top 10 list of ways I can tell I’m getting old.

10. No one cards me anymore. Not at the liquor store... Not at the bar... Not at a restaurant in Georgia where they are required by law to card anyone under 35.

9. My roommate who is moving out is having a relaxing dinner with girlfriends for her birthday instead of the bar crawl we had originally planned.

8. They aren’t even doing bouquet tosses or garter throws at the weddings I attend anymore because NO ONE is single!

7. I am getting sappy. I cry when I watch Extreme Makeover Weight Loss Edition. Watching my best friends get married? Forget about it.

6. I’m always in bed by 10 p.m. on weeknights. Worse, I feel it when it’s later.

5. I find serious joy in making homemade hummus and trying new recipes.

4. The highlight of my week so far was finding the perfect antique secretary for my living room.

3. My doorman is seriously concerned for my welfare whenever I come home after midnight...
weekends included.

2. My most exciting plans this weekend are a golf lesson and a trip to the flea market.

1. It’s really more about quality than quantity of wine these days. That pretty much says it all.

And yet, I still somehow hold the reputation for being the wild one with many of my friends from back home in Georgia. If you ask me, that just sounds like a challenge.

JLH

Single and Complete

2011-07-20T21:18:00.004-04:00

I have always identified myself, however incorrectly perhaps, as contently self sufficient. Even when in a relationship,I'm so stubborn that I find it difficult to escape my own irrational independence.

But I really do enjoy it being just me.

My plans are often made at a moment’s notice, because there is no one to check with or answer to.

My goals, ambitions, desires and self satisfaction all belong to and rely solely on me, because there isn’t anyone else to account for.

But yet it still bothers me that the first question people often ask when they haven’t seen me for a while is Are you in a relationship?

I feel like screaming, YES! I’m in dozens of relationships every day of the week! You see, they’re called friends. And colleagues. And Family. And my doorman and dry cleaner and manicurist and golf instructor. And yes, too, the men I date.

My life is abundantly full with so many people and the uniqueness that each of those relationships bring to me.

So why all the focus on finding someone to marry once you reach my age? Surely no one I know would argue that life suddenly holds more meaning the day you start wearing a wedding band, least of all my married friends themselves, I’d suspect.

I know my fellow single friends can commiserate with me when I say that I don’t understand the condescension I still face from people who suggest that single folks are somehow incomplete. I know they mean well when they make comments about how there are PLENTY of men out there who’d be LUCKY to be with me.

If only you weren’t so picky….

You’ll meet a guy when you’re least expecting it…

If you’re just happy with yourself, love will come to you…

 Excuse me while I barf at all of these implications, even some that I have subscribed to in the past, but WHAT A BUNCH OF NONSENSE!

I’ll say it again. My life is abundantly full with so many people and the uniqueness that each of those relationships bring to me.

And I’m thankful for this article that reminded me how true that is.

JLH

Sexting Summer

2011-07-03T18:51:00.002-04:00

Dating is so strangely seasonal in Manhattan. Almost every year since I’ve lived here, my dating life has followed seasonal patterns that include a major spike once the weather gets warm and near hibernation in the winter months.

So it was no surprise really that my dating, and particularly first dates, have picked up recently with the arrival of summer. But similar to much of my dating past, this dating season hasn’t been without its follies.

By way of providing a bit of background, I’ll let the record show that I would hardly consider myself a prude. I’m comfortable having intimate conversations with friends and regularly serve as a sounding board for friends who are too embarrassed to have conversations about their sex life with other people.

That said, I’m also still a Southerner at heart and there are just some things better left unsaid, as I still prefer at least some degree of mystery to remain in my dating life, especially with a new guy.

Enter my most recent first date. He was everything I’d hope to find in a NYC guy. He’s handsome, smart, charming, witty, incredibly confident and is even from Virginia-- a quasi-Southern boy!

So, you can imagine that I’d be excited after a very fun and comfortable first date last Friday.

But then shit got weird.

This is where maybe I clam up and start hearing my mom warning me about men not wanting to buy the cow when they get the milk for free. Or whatever... I’ve never been one to get too wrapped up in silly, old fashioned constraints like that.

This is also where where insight from a slutty 15 year old might prove helpful, because I was feeling a lot of pressure to have regular “sexting” sessions with this guy. He wanted to talk dirty, and definitely expected me to reciprocate.

When I’m tipsy on a Saturday night, I can see where that could be fun, at least with someone I was comfortable with and had had more than one date. It’s possible that I’ve lost touch, but his expectations and definition of normal simply did not match up with my own when it came to this particular issue.

So here I am, single in the city again. At least it’s summer and I’m sure to meet my next summer love soon.

JLH

A Day at the Beach

2011-05-30T19:01:00.002-04:00

As summer officially kicked off this weekend with Memorial Day, a few friends and I packed our beach towels and umbrellas and headed to Long Beach.

Before my first trip to Long Beach, I had visions of hoards of Jersey Shore wannabes taking over the beach. Except for the average number of tattoos per person resting squarely in the 4.3 range, it’s a delightful place for an easy beach day for those city kids looking to escape the Manhattan heat.

For my NYC friends who haven’t been, here’s what you need to know:

-Take the LIRR from Penn Station to Long Beach. Select the getaway package, and the total cost will be only $21 including round trip train tickets and a one day beach permit. Bought separately, this would be $36, so it’s a great deal.

-When you arrive, there is a Five Guys, a grocery store and a few other places to pick up snacks, drinks or something for lunch.

-While they do allow food and coolers on the beach, alcohol is strictly prohibited and there are patrollers actively looking out for this and issuing citations.

-We took the 8:45 a.m. train and arrived on the beach just before 10. We had our pick of spots on the beach, which was rather crowded by noon.

-Umbrellas and chairs are available for rent on the beach or you can pick up that stuff in the Penn Station KMart like my friends did ($17 to buy an umbrella vs $15/day to rent one).

Let’s go to the beach!

JLH

How to Survive the Sweltering NYC Summer

2011-05-28T11:18:00.003-04:00

I moved here in late summer 2008. When I arrived, it was hot, sticky and humid, and I was consistently uncomfortable.

I soon realized this was because New York, as a city, doesn’t really do central air conditioning. Apartments are equipped with shoddy window air conditioners that are both noisy and inefficient. Stores just keep their doors open for relief from the intense heat of the concrete jungle to save money from running A/C. Subway cars are supposedly cooled, but it’s often not enough and that certainly doesn’t save you from the intense stuffy heat that is a NYC subway platform during the summer.

So here it is, my humble guide to how I manage the city’s summer heat for those who can’t spend the entire summer in the Hamptons.

Take the bus. They have some of the best cooling going in the city, and aren’t packed like the subway, which I actively avoid during the entire summer.
Leave yourself extra time and walk slowly. New Yorkers are constantly in a hurry, and thus can be seen walking in a pace that is akin to a healthy jog wherever they go. SLOW DOWN and you won’t be quite as hot.
Walk on the shady side. The skyscrapers provide tons of shade, and typically one side of the street offers more shade than the other depending on time of day. Avoid the sunny side, and you’ll stay much cooler. I cross the street A LOT during the summer.
Eat cold foods. I swap my regular joe for iced coffee and smoothies* or yogurt for oatmeal. I avoid turning on the oven and even the stove when the mercury rises above 80.
Take cool showers and skip the hair dryer. I’m addicted to drying my hair, but on the hottest days, even I will let mine air dry. It’s the only way I show up to the office without being an over-heated hot mess.

See everyone at Boat Basin and Frying Pan because summer is officially here! Stay cool this summer, NYC!

*JLH's Favorite Smoothie Recipe
Handful of frozen fruit of your choice (I like raspberries and strawberries)
A couple heaping tablespoonfuls of plain, nonfat Greek yogurt (like Fage)
1 banana, cut into 5-6 pieces
Orange juice as needed for liquid
Blend and enjoy! I find that using frozen fruit instead of adding ice makes it really creamy and gives great flavor.

JLH

Homesick for High Harbour

2011-04-26T19:24:00.002-04:00

The meaning of summer is so different to me than it once was. Nowadays, I look forward to vacations at the beach, playing tennis when the weather is nice, traveling to attend my friends’ weddings and a lighter load at work.

But I’ll forever associate those warmer months with the many summers I spent as a camper and counselor at a place that brings a smile to my face just by mentioning it, Camp High Harbour.

My brother used to say that there were two times of year: camp and waiting for camp the rest of the year. Those ten weeks every summer truly were what we most looked forward to all year.

Soon, the campers will start lining up at Totem Turns in their parents’ big SUVs stuffed with trunks, sleeping bags and, for the experienced campers, maybe some costumes and construction paper so they will be prepared to compete for the all-important spirit stick.

The staff will gather on the porch on Sundays to prepare for the week ahead. The brooms will be ready for birthdays and The Order of the Broom. Duct Tape Man will be on call just in case camp needs to be saved from renegade cowboys or evil elves.

Even though I haven’t been there in years, I know there will be times again this summer when I look at my watch and think about how, maybe at that very moment, everyone at camp must be doing cabin cheers outside the dining hall waiting for lunch to start or shouting at the old lady across the lake or playing push off the mat.

I know I’ll think about the many friends who I’m still close with today, and those too who I haven’t seen in ages. It’s impossible to reminisce without thinking about both the good times, like the feeling of accomplishment when you taught a camper to get up on water skis for the first time, or even about the bad times, like when I got yelled at for encouraging topless tubing on girls’ staff day.

The memories made at that place are unforgettable and the friendships, irreplaceable. For those lucky enough to be spending this summer at High Harbour, I hope you know how quickly the time will go by and how one day you’d give anything to go back.

JLH

Rare Form

2011-04-15T22:35:00.004-04:00

"Can you really call it being in rare form when it happens regularly?"
-my coworker today when I came in with my signature hungover Friday bagel breakfast

Showing My Age

2011-04-12T18:45:00.005-04:00

It's not really the obvious signs of aging that trouble me. No, the gray hairs that are so determined to show through my dark brown hair and the under eye circles that require an increasing amount of concealer are the easy parts of getting a little older.

What I truly didn't expect is the increasing toll age is attempting to take on my social life. Where I was once partying until well into the morning and rallying the next day, now I'm in bed by midnight when I go out and still feeling the effects well into the next evening.

But how can this be? I certainly don't feel any older. I still have all of the curiosity, joie de vivre and enthusiasm even for the small things that I did at, err, more tender ages.

So it made me wonder, at what point do you start feeling as though you've outgrown your youth? I suspect the answer is that you never do, really. I still get excited about so many things that I was sure I'd eventually grow out of.

College football season because it gives me license to day drink every Saturday during the fall.

And random, boozy Thursday nights when I stay out way too late... like I did last week.

And spontaneous weekend trips with friends just because I have nothing to hold me back.

And flirty texting back and forth wtih some new guy that I'm not even sure I'm into yet.

And I don't see any of that changing. I may be getting older, but that certainly doesn't mean I'm giving up on the things that keep me young.

JLH

Oh What a Night!

2011-03-14T18:18:00.003-04:00

Sometimes plans just don’t go as you expect. Take this past Saturday night, for example. I was thrilled for a night of Thai takeout and wine with two of my favorite girls.

So excited, in fact, that at 6:15 I was in pajamas in my apartment awaiting the arrival of my friends when one of them called, I thought, to say she was on her way.

Instead she told me I needed to rally, and quickly. Her boss had just come to her with tickets to a black tie charity ball because clients had canceled last minute. The tickets were hers, but she had to be dressed and at the event by 7:40, barely more than an hour to spare.

Calls were made, hair and make up was done, dresses chosen, and in all five of us girls were able to make the quick turn from after-work to glam. We arrived at the New York Public Library ready for our fancy evening out.

But something wasn’t quite right. There didn’t seem to be much activity, and there were people just hanging out on all over the stairs on the front entrance. And then we realized the doors were locked.

After a little bit of checking around, we realized there had been a mistake and the ball was actually scheduled for next Friday. All dressed up and nowhere to go, we decided to make the best of the evening by going to a nearby Italian steakhouse called Bond 45.

Our super cute waiter asked us where we were coming from, and after explaining our sad story of being jilted for the ball, someone suggested tequila shots. Which we took. And then the restaurant manager joined in on the fun, taking shots with us and bringing out two bottles of prosecco for us on the house.

Being the group of over-served, giddy girls that we were, we flirted shamelessly with our hunky waiter. For no one in particular that we can be sure of, he left us his phone number, which admittedly might be fake.

*Note the middle initial on the name. Well thanks for that, John H. Murray!

It was one of those nights that could only happen in New York, and it’s one of the many reasons I love this crazy place I call home.

JLH

A New Outlook on Dating in the City

2011-02-28T19:49:00.002-05:00

I’ve blogged the subject to death already. Dating in Manhattan is an experience so unique that I sometimes have trouble explaining just what it is that I find so frustrating.

My biggest complaints are typical of New York women.

-All of the good guys are married or gay

-Women far outnumber the men here (as confirmed by census data, as if you couldn’t tell by standing in any restaurant or bar on a weekend)

-Men are so accustomed to beautiful women throwing themselves at at men that they really don’t have to try

-Everyone who lives in NYC is either at the top of their field or moved here to try to get there, which equals intensive hours at the office and not a lot of time to meet people yet alone time to actually date

But I’ve come to a conclusion that those are all just mercifully pitiful excuses. And I’m done buying into them.

I’ve fought really hard for a lot of things in my life big and small. Getting admitted to UGA. Receiving that bid from a sorority I wanted. Breaking into an industry that is notoriously tough for females. Leaving my friends and family to fulfill that dream of living in Manhattan. Getting that promotion and job I wanted after I had a little more experience. Finding that perfect NYC apartment.

So why do I expect not to put in that same fight into finding someone really wonderful? If I’m the bright and confident woman I purport myself to be, then it’s time for me to act like it and start making decisions that will lead me to what I want.

And that starts now. I’m excited to see what this year in NYC has in store for me.

JLH

My Brief Stint as an Auburn Fan

2011-01-14T19:42:00.007-05:00

Those who know me know are surely aware of my passionate love for my Georgia Bulldogs. In a decade or so of being a Dawg fan, I have been so thoroughly conditioned to hate all things orange, that what I’m about to share will certainly out of character, and perhaps even a bit sacrilege.

Last week, my brother, Patrick, and I traveled together to Glendale, Arizona to watch his beloved Auburn Tigers play Oregon for their shot at a national championship.

And I had the time of my life.

Sure, adjustments had to be made. I had to concede to Auburn’s bizarre tradition of greeting each other by saying War Eagle, which has never made sense to me since their mascot is a tiger.

I was forced to get on board with cheering for a team that wasn’t Georgia.

And I wore orange.

But despite it all, it was an amazing trip made better by Auburn’s nail biting defeat over Oregon in the final two seconds of the game. Seeing Patrick as happy as I’ve ever seen him in 25 years made all of the effort of finding flights, tracking down an available hotel room and securing tickets all worth it.

But just so everyone is clear, I still bleed red and black even if I did have a temporary lapse in orange.

JLH

An Open Letter to NYC Tourists

2010-12-19T13:55:00.002-05:00

Dear NYC Visitor:

Welcome to our fair city! There are a few things every Manhattan visitor should know before they step foot onto our magnificent island.

Everything is expensive here, especially in the tourist areas. Plan accordingly and stop whining.
Stopping in the middle of the sidewalk during rush hour on 5th Avenue to take a picture of Saint Patrick’s Cathedral will result in getting bumped into by a New Yorker trying to commute home. You’re lucky they’re just bumping you and not giving you a swift kick to the nuts instead.
Everyone here is in a hurry. All the time. Stopping me to briefly ask directions is okay; continuing the conversation by asking about recommendations for restaurants and shows is not. That’s why Google exists.
One of the most amazing things about this city is the vast array of choices in food. You can have authentic cuisine from anywhere in the world. So, don’t mind that I’m definitely judging you for taking a break from sightseeing to have Subway or Chipoltle.
The subway is designed to get you where you need to go quickly, and it does indeed go fairly fast. This means that you do have to hold onto the rails if you don’t have a seat. I’m not amused when you fall into my lap or on top of me because you thought this was some sort of airport tram and you could ground yourself with a wide leg stance.
There is defined escalator etiquette here: stand right, walk left. We’re not being angry NYers by telling you to move aside; you’re being an arrogant, rude tourist by insisting on standing next to your friend instead of moving over.

If you don’t like anything I have outlined above, please feel free to hail a cab. They would be happy to take you to the airport so you can go back to wherever you came from.

JLH

In My Life

2010-12-11T09:29:00.005-05:00

New Yorkers have a special relationship with celebrities; we mostly ignore them.

The modus operandi when you see a celebrity in NYC is to ignore him or her and allow for them to peacefully continue enjoying a meal, running an errand or seeing a show. It would be considered quite gauche to stare or ask for a picture. Plus, New Yorkers are used to such sightings and are too busy to give it much thought.

Since living here, I’ve had a few good sightings. Ethan Hawke. Adrian Grenier. Parker Posey. Alec Baldwin.

But Thursday night was the mac-daddy of all celeb gawking. Paul McCartney was having a drink at the same hotel bar as me on the Upper East Side after my company Christmas party.

A Beatle. Sir Paul McCartney. An actual living legend. Possibly the most brilliant composer and musician on the planet. EVER.

And while other people were certainly taking notice of his holiness being in our presence (my dad asked if I was close enough to be in his aura), an amazing thing happened: nothing at all.

No one was trying to sneak a picture. No one asked for autographs. Everyone just let him and his companion enjoy their evening.

I may never have a better sighting than this one, and that is alright by me.

JLH

Song of the South

2010-11-21T19:45:00.004-05:00

I never stop laughing at the little differences between the people who grew up near the city versus my own Southern upbringing.

Last week I was talking to some co-workers about what would be on their Thanksgiving menus. I mentioned that two of my favorite dishes are my grandmother’s sweet potato casserole and her dressing. I got blank stares until someone translated my Southern speak into the more Yankee friendly terminology, stuffing and yams.

That of course got us to talking about some of the slight, yet real ways that the vocabulary can differ by region.

I call any athletic type shoe a tennis shoe. Here, it’s a sneaker.

What’s the sweet stuff you put on a cake? I’d say icing, but here it is definitely frosting.

Naturally being from Atlanta, I call every carbonated beverage a coke. If I had to use a more generic term, I’d say soft drink. Here they say soda, and thankfully no one really calls it pop. How dreadful!

It’s not suckers and ice pops here; it’s lollipops and popsicles.

People still say they hear a bit of a Southern accent, though I’m not sure I’d agree. Occasionally when making phone calls for work, I can tell the person on the other end of the line is being too quiet and probably isn’t listening to me anymore. I’m almost always greeted with a Where are you FROM? followed by an I knew I heard a drawl!

Just another one of those subtle things that reminds me I really am far from home. I’ll certainly be happy to spend an entire week in Atlanta for Thanksgiving so I can soak in some of the South!

JLH

It's Great To Be A New Yorker

2010-11-05T11:20:00.002-04:00

There are so many reasons to love this city, and the Village Voice captured 50 pretty great ones in this article.

JLH

This is why I'm HOT!

2010-11-04T19:50:00.003-04:00

This is how I know I’m getting old:

-My hairdresser told me I’m not quite there, but I'm getting close to needing a little help (read: chemical help) to cover my gray hairs.

-My facebook was blowing up with babies in costume the day after Halloween instead of drunk girls in slutty costumes.

-After watching the Georgia/Florida game on St. Simons Island, we skipped the Village bars in favor of a rousing game of Apples to Apples at a friend’s condo... And we really liked it.

This is how I know I’m too connected:

-Between work and personal cell phones and land lines, I have 4 phone numbers representing 4 different area codes in 3 states.

-I use Facebook and Twitter, and I also blog (duh).

This is how I know I am not ready for kids:

-I get annoyed that everything is a blessing after people have kids. For instance, “we were so blessed that Little Johnny finally slept through the night.” Well, we’re all glad that you got 8 uninterrupted hours of sleep, but if that’s a blessing, then my life must be pretty close to divinity.

-My longest relationship since college didn’t last as long as a pregnancy.

And I wouldn’t change a thing.....

JLH

When I Was Your Age...

2010-10-27T23:22:00.002-04:00

Despite living in arguable the most vibrant city in the world, lately I have been hovering precipitously near the edge of acting like a boring adult rather than a care-free twenty something. It’s time to spice things up.

It seems that for every wild weekend I have, I’m paying for it in lack of sleep and compensating by becoming increasingly lame.

For instance:

Good- My wine store guy knows my preferences in wine very well.
Bad- Because I spend too many nights getting wine buzzed at home in my pajamas while hanging out with my roommate.

Good- I have been on a travel binge lately that included champagne in Paris, Chianti in Tuscany and beers in Boulder.
Bad- I missed my couch so much that I find myself lacking motivation to get off of it.

Good- It’s football season, which means day drinking and a general acceptance of higher than normal intoxication are the norm on Saturdays.
Bad- I can hardly handle going out on Friday nights, and late nights on Saturday are a thing of the past. Marathon drinking = reliably in bed by midnight for old ladies like me (kidding, sort of).

Good- My bank account thanks me for choosing to stay in more often
Bad- Not meeting new guys and going on more dates = not being treated to dinners at fun restaurants in the city = complete waste of being a single, twenty something Southern girl in NYC.

I’ll ask for the help of my friends, acquaintances and random blog lurkers to make sure I don’t fall victim to being less fun even as I get a little older. The litmus test for any activity I consider should be:

Is there a strong potential for soloing?
Will there be copious amounts of drinking involved?
Does it require putting on clothes that don’t have elastic waistbands?

If the answer is no to more than 1 of those questions, we have a problem and I request immediate intervention.

JLH

Beers, Breakfast & Bulldog Football

2010-09-22T14:50:00.004-04:00

The muggy New York summer is finally over, and the crisp feel of fall has arrived, which only means one thing. It's. Football. Season.

Naturally, my partying entitlement is rising to the occasion even if the Dawgs aren't. For the first time in a decade and the entire Richt era, Georgia started the season 1-2 (0-2 in SEC play).

A new tradition has emerged this season, and it definitely keeps me from being too homesick for Athens. My great friend and #1 Dawg fan, Mack, and I have been meeting for breakfast and PBRs before the Georgia bar opens each game day morning.
We get plenty of strange looks when we crack open our first two beers each at 9:30 a.m., but that certainly hasn't slowed us down. Neither have the servers who actually had to check policy this week to make sure they were really allowed to serve beers that early.

There are worse ways to spend Saturdays.

JLH

Seriously?

2010-09-22T14:42:00.003-04:00

Something is seriously wrong when 5 of the top 10 singles on iTunes right now are songs by the cast of Glee. Am I the only one who thinks that show is AWFUL and annoying?

And this is coming from someone who NEVER misses an episode of Gossip Girl and has every Taylor Swift song ever recorded on my iPod.

Dear iTunes, please help me by listing bad top 40 songs from actual artists so that I can add to my drunk dance party playlist. TYVM.

JLH

I'll Think About It Tomorrow

2010-08-24T22:02:00.003-04:00

Last week, I added one more candle to my birthday cake, 27 this time, and it marked yet another year where I put off the whole growing up thing until next year.

Since I was very little, my sweet, Southern grandmother has given me Gone With the Wind collectible items like figurines for holidays and birthdays. She tells me that I remind her of Scarlett O’Hara because of my stubborn nature, fierce need for independence and often fiery personality.

The comparison isn’t completely without merit. I am stubborn. I can’t stand the thought of not being able to do it all by myself. I can be every bit as vain, spoiled and spiteful as Scarlett. However, with all of that comes great passion, ambition and loyalty too.

This year on my birthday, I did a lot of self evaluation. Measuring by many of the traditional markers of adulthood, I am decidedly lagging behind. While I am financially independent and gainfully employed, I am not married (or even seriously dating) and am obviously without children.

A generation or so ago, I would already be considered a spinster. Luckily today, I’m just an average New York girl. I was just promoted at work. I’m traveling to Europe with great friends next month. My favorite things to do are meeting up with friends for a glass of wine or to try a new restaurant. And I’m happy, so very happy in fact.

Then, the day before my 27th birthday, this article was published in the New York Times. There is an actual term for fellow Peter Pan syndromers like me, and it’s called “emerging adulthood.”

Obviously this didn’t surprise me, as I’m currently living this emerging adulthood and have plenty of friends doing the same. What is interesting is that by their count, I have actually completed 3 out of the 5 milestones of adulthood including completing school, leaving home and becoming financially independent. WHO KNEW?

Perhaps it’s my similarities with Scarlett that keep me from worrying about leaving my carefree days as a twentysomething behind. As her famous line goes, I’ll think about it tomorrow.

JLH

White People Problems

2010-08-13T09:23:00.007-04:00

Sing-Alongs
Tags: Atom.com,Atom Originals,Atom Blog,Upload Videos

*Thanks to jonnysblog.com for the imbedded video

Y'all, I have a whole BUNCH of white people problems myself. I mean, just this week.....

-I was out of starch and my linen dinner napkins were still wrinkled after ironing them

-I had to stop at 2 different markets to pick up ingredients for veal marsala

-My dry cleaner couldn't get a stain out of my silk dress

-Someone told me I was being moody after a few days on the South Beach diet

-The hotel where I really wanted to stay in Paris next month was fully booked for my dates

-My DVR didn't record Project Runway

It really, really sucks that life can be so unfair sometimes!

JLH

Up in the Air

2010-08-12T18:02:00.004-04:00

Through a combination of work trips, a passion for personal travel and a near constant stream of dear friends’ engagement parties, showers and weddings for me to attend, I spend a good amount of time at airports.

Luckily, pleasure reading and unlimited cocktails at Delta Sky Club’s make it tolerable; nonetheless, it’s a humbling experience traveling among the great American public.

Why, for instance, do so many people insist on wearing their sunglasses as they board a flight? I’m doubting by both the fact I don’t recognize you and that you are occupying a middle seat in the third to last row that you’re a celebrity craving privacy by hiding behind those shades.

Another curiosity are those who seem patently unaware of modern travel regulations. I understand that not everyone is a frequent traveler, but for those who don’t travel often, perhaps spending 15 minutes browsing the airline’s published travel tips would be helpful. WHAT? I can’t bring my full size shampoo bottle or perfume and you want me to take my SHOES OFF?

To me the absolute worst part of the entire travel experience is the boarding process. As a frequent flier, I’m lucky to be upgraded to first class much of the time and even when traveling in coach, Delta allows early boarding for elites in the first boarding group, which theoretically should limit the hassle.

Instead, when I arrive at my gate, there is often an army of passengers planted firmly in front of the boarding door, elbows out intent on not allowing anyone by who needs to pass. Then when early boarding is called, they rush the gate before their zone is called in hopes of securing precious overhead bin space made even more valuable since passengers are trying to avoid exorbitant baggage fees set by the airlines. Quel nightmare.

But even though travel can sometimes be stressful, annoying and simply unpleasant, it plainly beats the alternative of staying home.

Just in the past year I’ve been able to finance trips with miles that would have otherwise been impossible. Girls weekend in San Francisco and Sonoma. Free last minute tickets to Atlanta. A roundtrip first class ticket to Paris and Florence next month. My flight to Denver in October for the Georgia/Colorado game.

Now, when I think of the hassles of air travel, I try to push the negative thoughts aside and focus on the adventure awaiting after my flight lands. Safe travels to all my friends, and I’ll see you on our next trip.

JLH

Not Getting Any Younger

2010-08-08T21:28:00.006-04:00

Lately I’ve become very aware that I cannot party and quickly rebound as easily as I could a couple years ago. When I was fresh out of college, I could go out until last call and go out for late night on a Friday and still have plenty of spunk in my step to do whatever I pleased on Saturday before doing it all over again.

These days, I’m almost always in bed by 1 a.m. on weekends and still feel the pain the next morning. This weekend, I decided to test my upper limits as we celebrated my best high school friend’s bachelorette party. Even though it was just two nights, tonight I’m feeling like I did coming back on the last night after a week of college spring break.

Friday:

All of the girls gathered at Chastain Park Amphitheater for a throwback favorite concert, Cyndi Lauper. Even though the rain tried to dampen our fun, we stayed dry in spirit with plenty of wine and champagne.

Surprisingly, most of the concertgoers were men instead of the girls night out groups I had anticipated. Of course it was predominately gay men and transvestites, and the group in front of us absolutely loved the group of 17 girls celebrating a bachelorette party who were at our tables.

One of the men worked as an AirTran flight attendant and was passing out wing lapel pins. He told us we were all official Trannies for the night, and we wore our pins proudly.

As much fun as we had, I knew the real throw down was coming the following night.

Saturday Daytime:

The ladies reassembled at Lake Oconee Saturday for a day on the lake and a night filled with plenty of cocktails, lingerie and other girly fun.

We got a late start on the day thanks to an aggressive Friday night, but rebounded and were excited to get out on the water in our pontoon boat. We decided to go to the Ritz for a late lunch and some drinks.

There, we noticed a group of attractive guys around our age hanging out at the bar. It occurred to me that it was a bit strange to see that type of group pampering themselves with drinks at the Ritz unaccompanied by wives or girlfriends. Our bride was wearing a veil and it was a large group of girls, so it didn’t take long before we noticed them noticing us.  

Before leaving, we asked them to snap a group picture, which they obliged. After a bit of small talk and playing the name game, we parted ways and headed out.

Or so we thought. The boat’s engine wouldn’t turn over, and we weren’t going anywhere.

They saw us struggling with the boat and came over to help us. And by help, I mean they tried turning the key (which clearly we had already done without success), and jumped on the boat with some beers throwing out potentially made-up boat jargon like master power and faulty bilge pump.

When the marina finally fixed our boat, we invited our new friends to come out on the boat with us and pulled over for my personal favorite activity, floating on a life jacket with a cold beer.

Saturday Night:

Since we hung out with the Ritz guys for longer than we had expected, we all had a pretty good buzz when we got back to the lake house. There was no time to slow down, so we powered through it.

We sipped on champagne, wine, mixed drinks and my specialty bachelorette cocktail of the evening-- pink panty pull downs-- before playing a game with the bride-to-be. Essentially we asked her 25 questions about the groom and required her to take a Jello shot for each wrong answer.

Even though she answered the questions with such conviction, she got enough wrong to make things very interesting.

Before long, we were back at the Ritz for a night cap, staying until just after their published closing time.

*****

Even waking up Sunday with a pounding headache and the shakes, the weekend was a spectacular success. Our bachelorette can now officially marry her groom knowing she had a fabulous last big night out before her big day.

JLH

It's a Date

2010-07-24T17:50:00.005-04:00

People are always asking me what it’s like to date in the city. I’ve been here for 2 years and had only one serious relationship, so the rest has been a lot of casual dating. And casual might indeed be too casual a term to describe it.

There are some things about dating here that make it like no other place. For one, the type of people who tend to live here are motivated, career-oriented risk takers who like a challenge and are rarely satisfied. No matter where you go, there are beautiful, confident new people to meet.

The result is a dating pool that is never very engaged with anyone they’re seeing and is always looking for the next best thing. I can’t tell you how many attractive, interesting, successful men and women I know in this city who are single but would like to date more and just haven’t had the kind of success they’d like.

Meeting plenty of people is never the problem. If you’re not meeting new people every week, you’re doing it wrong. In fact, with all of the cultural activities, events and work connections, it would be harder NOT to be exposed to new potential dates.

But making a real connection with someone in a city filled with distractions can be frustrating and difficult. And finding someone who you you have a lot in common with in a city where people come from all over the world to live is often a challenge.

People have told me that my (barely perceptible) Southern accent is charming at first, but ultimately seems unrefined and unworldly. My desire to one day move back to Atlanta to settle down, also persona non grata for a lot of men who can’t see themselves working anywhere outside of Manhattan.

I recently decided to give online dating a try after being encouraged by countless people who had either had success that way themselves or known others who had. While I can’t say that it’s a perfect fit for me, it has given me a lot more confidence, which let’s face it, is always attractive from a dating perspective. It’s interesting to see the types of men who have written to me or “winked” at me (bonus points for anyone who can explain the point of that!).

So for tonight, I’m off to meet some friends for a Saturday night out, and who ever knows what a Manhattan Saturday night might bring.

JLH

Taking a Stand

2010-07-01T20:29:00.007-04:00

I get asked why I'm single a lot. A LOT. SOMETIMES MULTIPLE TIMES PER WEEK. And it's making me crazy.

If I knew of some easy fix that would make me irresistible to my very own Mr. Wonderful, then I'm sure I wouldn't be single. But there are lots of reasons that I am, so instead of asking me why, I am going to start referring people to the following list.

1. I am picky and still well under 30, so I think I'm entitled. Hell, I'll probably still be picky if I'm 40 and single. WHAT OF IT??

2. I am comfortable with myself and don't need someone else to make me feel complete.

3. My social calendar is hardly lacking, and I'm never sitting around wishing I had someone to go do things with.

4. I refuse to date someone I don't see myself with just to have someone to take as my +1.

5. Historically, I've figured out pretty early on in relationships whether or not there is any real potential. After I have accepted that you're not "it", I can't justify waiting around to see if anything changes (and it never does).

6. I LIVE IN NYC for crying out loud! I don't know the statistics, but I would guess that less than 5% of college educated, young professional Manhattan types are married before age 30. It might skyrocket to something like 25% are married by 35, but even that sounds like a stretch based on my social circles.

7. I'm still not sure what I want. I learn something new about myself all the time, and every relationship teaches me so much. I've got a better picture of the right guy for me than I did a few years ago, but sometimes it feels like a moving target.

With all of that said, if anyone knows an intelligent, confident, tall, attractive, single man in NYC who wants to get to know a spunky, Southern, wine-loving blogger, please send him my way.

JLH

An All Access Look at JLH

2010-07-01T17:35:00.007-04:00

I like to think I’m a fairly complex individual with many faces; however, you wouldn’t know it by reading this blog. Here are a few aspects of my personality you might not know (with celebrity references, just for fun).

MARTHA STEWART I have a serious love affair with HGTV. As in, I watch it constantly and DVR my favorite shows. Whenever I do buy a house, I can already tell I’m going to be the type who is never satisfied and always coming up with new projects.

RACHEL RAY I enjoy cooking and trying out new recipes. The latest success was a veal marsala with mushrooms, asparagus and tortellini polished off with a bottle of wine and a fantastic evening of catching up with my sorority little sis.

CLARK HOWARD I rarely make any large purchases or buy anything electronic without consulting consumer reports. I once spent over an hour researching hair dryers.

MATT LAUER I am a serious early riser. I have to fight with myself to stay in bed past 8 am most weekends regardless of how late I stay up or how hungover I might be later.

MONICA GELLAR Perhaps not a “real” celebrity, but I might be as neurotic about cleanliness as she is. Sometimes I find myself straightening a hand towel in the bathroom or organizing the mail so it doesn’t look messy and wonder wtf is wrong with me.

OPRAH Ok, so I might not have my own book club with millions of followers, but I do love to read! The last few books I liked were Chris Cleave’s Little Bee, Amy Greene’s Bloodroot (a must read for Southerners), and Steig Larsen’s The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.

NICK SABAN Not only does the man love college football, but his heart truly lives at Lake Burton just as mine does. I spent over 10 summers there growing up at Camp High Harbour, and nowhere makes me feel more peaceful or heavenly than that magical place.

JLH

Sounds About Right

2010-06-02T21:35:00.007-04:00

As if I needed another reminder that I’m living like a college kid, here's yet another ridiculous situation I managed to land myself in.  Today after work, I went to the Hudson River park with a friend to catch up and enjoy some homemade hummus and a bottle of wine.

We sat and chatted about fellow coworkers, gossiped about boys and judged all of the people jogging by us. In other words, it was a perfectly normal summer hump day happy hour, outdoor style.

A parks department SUV pulled up beside us, and I commented that I was annoyed they were blocking my Hudson River view. Before long, an officer approached us and asked for identification. Uh oh....

We happily obliged without a hint of sass or disrespect and listened what he had to say. He observed our wine bottle wrapped in a paper bag as well as two empty plastic cups. There was no denying what we were doing, and we certainly didn’t try to refute it.

After about ten minutes of supposedly running our licenses (can the NYC Parks department even do that??? I think it was for show), he presented us each with $25 citations. He was quick to tell us that the fine could have been much greater, but he was letting us off easy this time.

All the while, we continued our plan of conversation and enjoying a beautiful summer evening, even taking time to pose for some photo opps. It was plainly obvious that the officer had hoped for us to at least act inconvenienced if not downright aggravated.

In the end, we laughed off the fine and enjoyed the rest of the night. Once again though, my actions and the situations in which I find myself have reminded me that while some folks my age are making mortgage payments and acting responsible, I’m assuming the forever Peter Pan role of getting busted by the cops for boozing in the park.

JLH

Ring That Bell

2010-05-25T22:21:00.006-04:00

Please forgive me as I’m about to take a departure from my typical blog post to share in some nerdy job-related excitement. For reasons I won’t bore you with, my company, Knight Capital Group, began listing our stock on the New York Stock Exchange.

There was a corporate contest to determine who would be present to ring the bell today on our first day listed, and I was chosen!

Please see below for my winning and exceedingly dorky entry. The only way to describe the experience is to call it surreal. Everything they do at the NYSE is very formal and reeks of elitism (which of course I secretly loved). When we arrived, we were given a gold-plated, engraved name tag and a medallion commemorating the event.

Of course, Knight seized the opportunity to plaster our brand anywhere we could. There was a sign the size of the entire Exchange, the sidewalk was wrapped with an almost saran wrap thing with branding, and the logo was shown on any available screen on the trading floor.

While this probably wouldn’t be very exciting for many people, I walked around with a giddy, childlike grin the entire time and acted like a virgin on prom night. I had several take-aways from this experience.

I am so low maintenance that a name tag and a paper weight was enough to get me excited
There is a high likelihood that I am going to start trolling Wall Street before and after market hours for hot guys in suits
I can wear a plastered smile for HOURS without stopping
I really do have the best and most supportive friends and family around
NY/NJ men are not as tall as Southern guys.... see me towering over them all in my low heeled pumps (ok maybe not towering, but I think I'm the tallest one in the group photo??)
Did I mention that I am powerless against a good looking guy in a suit?

Thanks to all who checked on me today, sent your congratulations or made fun of me for being such a finance nerd.

 The contest I won? Answer this: What do you believe this listing will mean for Knight? I’m guessing my publicly traded company’s CEO did NOT expect to receive a haiku as an entry, but I’m glad he was amused enough to not immediately disqualify me........

In just a few short years, we’ve seen Knight come so far 
With hard work and innovation, we keep raising the bar. 
Great management and our people have kept us inspired 
And the progress we’ve made should certainly be admired.

Adding products and value from smart acquisitions to new hires, 
And listening closely to both sellers and buyers
 It’s what our clients already know 
That Knight is the best, we’re ready to show.

On a global stage with the best in the biz is where we belong
 And with our new KCG listing, that shouldn’t take long 
Competing with the mid tier is something we’ve already outgrown
 It’s time to make Knight the premier firm anyone has ever known.

What a long way we’ve come from NASDAQ market maker to here
 And we’ll blaze new paths listing on the NYSE and Euronext without fear. 
It’s been a long time coming, Knight is ready to suit up 
And show the rest of the street and the world just what we’re made of!

JLH

Right On

2010-04-24T21:46:00.003-04:00

If you've read my blog, well EVER, then you know about my commitment issues. So when I stumbled upon this someecard, I couldn't help but smile.

It's always nice to know that at least someone gets me.

JLH

Turning 25!

2010-04-16T19:40:00.008-04:00

When I turned 25, my family gave me a very special gift. My dad bought my mom an Oyster Perpetual Date Rolex watch in 1985 when my brother, Patrick, was born. My mom had worn it ever since then until my 25th birthday, when she surprised me with it as a gift. Continuing that tradition, we presented Patrick with an Omega for his 25th earlier this month. I know it's not the type of thing I normally blog about, but he was so proud of his new watch and excited about wearing it, that I had to share the pictures.

Don't we look alike?? Where did he get that red hair from?

Checking out the new watch

Looking pretty good, Pat!

My Mom, Sharon (aka Shay). This is what 3 glasses of wine
looks like on her these days. What a cheap date!

Sibling love with some pretty sweet watches!

Happy birthday Patrick!! I had a great time celebrating and hope 25 has been great to you so far!

JLH

Buried Alive

2010-04-14T09:26:00.008-04:00

I have a problem with hoarding. Perhaps not in the traditional sense, but certainly a modern version.

I was going through my phone yesterday and noticed that I NEVER delete phone numbers. It's not really a conscious effort of mine, to keep everything from ex-boyfriends to acquaintances to people I met once and never even used their number.

So, I took a few minutes to scroll through all of the entries in my blackberry (some 342 contacts, I discovered) to see what skeletons resided within.

-The broker who helped me find my apartment (Broker Travis)

-A guy I met at a vineyard on my Sonoma trip (Matt Chateau St. Jean)

-My ex's mom, who I never called when we were dating but had for emergency purposes

-Many people who I met once and can only remember if associated with a particular place (Red Lion John, Matt Bro Jims, Judson Crown Room)

-Favorite take out/delivery places in Atlanta.... and shamefully, even Athens

-The Camp High Harbour emergency line

-Several guys I used to go out with who I DID actually take the time to delete after I realized how creepy it was that I still had their number

-High school and college friends who I haven't spoken to in 5+ years

While I don't think I've quite reached intervention stage, I am resolving to do a spring cleaning of my phone annually to clear out any cobwebs that clearly don't belong.

JLH

RIP to the Rose Guy

2010-04-01T11:38:00.006-04:00

Today is a sad day for Atlanta. Rober Hiestand, better known to Atlantans as the West Paces rose guy, passed away on Tuesday.

I have vivid memories of waving as we drove past him when I was a kid since we drove by him almost every day. My stepdad also frequently stopped to pick up flowers from him for my mom. He will be missed!

JLH

I Love My Friends......

2010-03-30T18:40:00.004-04:00

Friend: hans, did you see my email back or did it get stuck in your spam?
JLH: haha nope i bet it did go to spam..... wait what did you say?? lol
Friend: hahaha, i said that one of the starting bands is called the VAGINAS, hahahaha
Friend:and then i suggested we all go get tetanus shots before the show
JLH: that's a must. also maybe shots of alcohol
JLH: (this conversation is about to be posted to my blog btw)

Guy Friend: chicks just count on the guy having the house
JLH: and there's that
Guy Friend: I fully plan on owning my own place before wife and kids
Guy Friend: hell, wife isn't even a sure thing at this point
JLH: i'm 50/50 on the husband issue
Guy Friend: not sure you are suited quite yet
Guy Friend: no offense
Guy Friend: ha
JLH: none taken b/c you're right!
JLH: i wouldn't recommend you running out and getting engaged either
Guy Friend: i'm always right, bt thanks for striking the ego
Guy Friend: i'm perfectly suitable for marriage
Guy Friend: a girl would only be so lucky
JLH: (rolling eyes)

There IS Such a Thing as a DUMB Question

2010-03-23T17:18:00.003-04:00

Am I the LAST one to know about this???

You know how annoying it is when people ask you questions that are easily googled, but they want you to do it for them anyway? This site allows you to type in the query and then send a link with the response that will make your lazy, question-asking friend feel like an idiot. It literally types in their question and says something like ‘now was that so hard’?? Amazing.

JLH

Southern Ladies in NYC

2010-03-22T19:48:00.004-04:00

This just about sums it up. Enjoy!

JLH

Southern In The City

4 Years of Blogging

2010-03-07T12:33:00.004-05:00

Four years ago today, I decided to start over sharing with the internet world and began my blog. I had planned to acknowledge this milestone with a look back on some of my favorite posts, but I am too hungover to go through that exercise today.

I just tried to eat a few Wheat Thins to help get me over the hump, and the crunch sound when I chewed seemed so loud that it made my headache even worse. So, I abandoned any hope of a proper posting today.

Instead I'll just say thanks to those who have been there for the many memories this blog holds and for putting up with my narcissistic need to broadcast our experiences to the entire world.

JLH

The Difference a Year Makes

2010-02-24T21:31:00.004-05:00

From time to time I have these moments that make me realize that even as days and months seem to pass by so quickly, change happens right before my eyes and yet I hardly even realize it.

Here’s an approximation of what I was doing on this night for the last 10 years.

10 years ago- Just got my drivers license 6 months ago. Probably attended a Pope HS sporting event and then drove Kristin and JP around somewhere before meeting a group of 16 at Chili’s.

9 years ago- I’m spending the night at my friend James’s house (who had all the parties), but my mom thinks I’m at Gina’s. We’re probably drinking some God awful mix of golden grain and lemonade to celebrate winter homecoming.

8 years ago- BLACKED OUT (aka freshman year at UGA). Too cheap/poor to take the $3 cab ride back to the dorms, so I stumbled back in 30 degree weather wearing only tight black pants and a slinky sleeveless top. A coat would have cramped all that off the charts game I was rocking.

7 years ago- Power hour at Bourbon Street then off to the DZ/Beta social for the Hunters and the Hunted Social. There is a 10% chance I sleep in my own bed tonight. Much higher probability of crashing somewhere at Beta, at Lyle’s apartment or in Leigh’s room at the sorority house.

6 years ago- As house manager at DZ, I’m probably doing room checks for alcohol so I can sign off, but if you were to really check, there’s more booze in my room than anywhere else in the house.

5 years ago- Only 10 weeks left as a student at UGA, I’m at Cutters soaking up as much of Athens as I possibly can. Probably ducking into the ladies room when I see 3 different dudes I’ve hooked up with throughout college all at the same bar. Together.

4 years ago- Celebrating Kelly and Kelly’s engagement and realizing for the first time that my experience as a twentysomething were going to be very different from A LOT of my friends. Chugging too much champagne to compensate.

3 years ago- It might be a Wednesday night, but Beth and I probably went out in Buckhead since we could walk from our apartment (Fort Buckhead) and it was the only time in history Beth was single. Tomorrow, we will wake up with people in both of our beds plus 2 air mattresses and our sofa taken with crashers.

2 years ago- I’m on my hiatus from the world of equity trading and working for my family-owned roofing company. I worked 8:30-3:30 today, worked out at the YMCA while watching Oprah, came home and made a Rachel Ray recipe for dinner, and realized I was truly missing something in life, so.....

1 year ago- I moved to NYC! I just met a guy who has swept me off me feet and made me wonder if I had the whole living up the single life paradigm all wrong. Maybe all of these married people are doing it right?

Today- You didn’t think I’d fall that easily, did you? I’m doing just what I’m supposed to be doing as a 26 year old single gal in NYC. I live in a great apartment just blocks from Central Park. I have a good job that challenges me every day and sends me all over the country. I’m in love with the city and my friends here, both new and old. I have a supportive family who misses me but still encourages me to live the life I want.

JLH

The Fallacy of the Low Key Night

2010-02-08T19:37:00.007-05:00

There are some inevitable truths about life. One that occurs most often in my life is the phenomenon of saying that you're going to have a low key night then having a college style drinking spree instead.

You know the nights I'm talking about. After a long week, visions of pizza delivery, your sofa and on-demand movies are all you can think about at work on Friday afternoon.

But then someone texts you about happy hour, so you convince yourself that you'll just go for a couple drinks. Then around 5 a.m. you're eating that slice of pizza wondering what in holy hell happened to your quiet Friday night!

I made that mistake this weekend. After a bender weekend in Sonoma last week (See my blog and CDB's blog on the subject), my liver and my wallet both deserved a break. My sense of party entitlement, however, apparently thought better of it.

To protect the innocent, I'm going to yada yada over the details. Some highlights, as well as I can recall:

-Didn't go to bed before 5:30 a.m. either night

-Consumed an entire large pepperoni pizza to resolve 2 days of hangovers

-Drank my weight in yellow Gatorade

-Had to restock my Advil supply today

-Took whiskey shots with Jay from The City

-Didn't sleep in my bed either night

-Lost 1 earring -1 unexplained bruise on right leg

-Tequila shots and a solo dance session at Village Tavern

-Doorman can't look me in the eye today due to outrageous 3 p.m. walks of shame on both Saturday and Sunday

So if there is a road that leads to maturity and adulthood, I have lost my way once again. The more amazing weekends like this one I have, the less likely I find it that I'll ever make my way back to that road, and that's okay by me.

JLH

Sophistication in Sonoma

2010-02-05T18:23:00.008-05:00

I learned last winter that I needed to plan strategic trips out of NYC during the most brutal part of winter. So, a few of my favorite gals and I headed out to the West coast for a girls getaway to wine country.

We arrived on Thursday and spent the day sightseeing and experiencing all that San Francisco has to offer, or at least we can now tell you who serves the best cocktails and gives the most generous pours at wine tastings.

It goes without saying that we enjoyed visiting many different Sonoma vineyards. As a wine lover, this was the reason for the trip. However, a sophisticated weekend of wine and cheese was hardly what we had in mind.

After a zinfandel blending course, our sommelier offered to take some pictures. Apparently he moonlights as a glamour shots photographer because he prompted us to pose for some interesting and suggestive photos.

After two straight days of wine drinking, some people might have hit their wine quota and made the decision to explore other parts of Sonoma. Predictably, we didn’t pick this route. No, we hired a driver and had him take us to a strategic list of wineries throughout Sonoma County.

Early in the day, one of the girls on our trip instituted a no spitting rule. Being a group of type A go-getting, independent women, we followed the damn rules and swallowed like champs.

After 8 straight hours of wine tastings, we still weren't ready to call it a night. We headed to a local watering hole that featured Saturday night karaoke.

What happened next, no one is quite sure. We pieced together some clues á la The Hangover the next morning, but we may just never know for sure.

After hanging out at the karaoke bar for a couple hours (best estimate), the owner approached me and told me that our group needed to leave. I protested as any good over-served individual would do, but he felt strongly that we had to leave, and quickly.

We met some locals in the parking lot who suggested another nearby watering hole with live bands in the Sonoma square. We couldn't have been there for longer than two songs, and I felt a now familiar tap on my shoulder. Yep, the bouncer of the second bar shook his head and delivered the news that we also weren't welcome at that establishment.

Now, I can't be certain, but I'm thinking that these northern California types just aren't used to four good times Georgia gals coming in and living it up in their bars. We've all certainly had crazier nights than this (hello, Athens), but COME ON! It was the first time I can ever recall being kicked out of a bar, and it happened TWICE in the SAME NIGHT.

I guess the moral of this whole story is that spitting might be the smarter strategy, but swallowing is a hell of a lot more fun!

JLH

Secret Diary of a Commitment-phobe

2010-01-26T22:27:00.011-05:00

One of my favorite parts about dating is that you get to choose whomever you want to go out with. If you prefer tall, athletic men with brown eyes, then that’s who you date. And if you like smart guys with great taste in wine, then he’s your man.

But if you’re like me, your top criterion is unavailability. It’s practically magnetic, the way I’m drawn to men like this.

Have a job that sucks up all of your energy and free time with not nearly enough leftover to devote to a relationship? I’m intrigued.

Live in a city that requires me to fly to see you? Let’s get serious.

Dealing with a crushing fear of commitment and never made it to a 5th date with any woman? I’m sure we must be soul mates.

It’s hardly a new trend in my dating life. I spent most of my childhood, high school and beyond chasing after a guy who I knew was never going to reciprocate my feelings.

In college, it was the too-cool fraternity guys who were more likely to admit their secret love for romantic comedies than get involved in a serious relationship.

I guess it’s all just my way of avoiding the typical adult trappings of twentysomething life that still seem so surreal and far away for me, such as marriage and starting families. I’m 99% sure I’ll get there eventually, but in the meantime if you’re an unavailable guy emotionally, geographically or otherwise and are in the market for a girl to hang out with, you know where to find me.

JLH

Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes

2010-01-24T16:29:00.012-05:00

We say the two things that are certain in this life are taxes and death, but there is a third certainty, and it’s that change will always happen.

A while back, I blogged about how texting and dating didn’t mix. At the time, I couldn’t accept that a man I was interested in couldn’t simply pick up the phone to properly ask me for a date. But as certain as I was then, I’m as certain now that texting actually does have its rightful place in dating.

As is the case for many of my single friends, we’re busy leading independent lives and trying to establish ourselves in careers and new cities. With hectic work, social and travel schedules, sometimes I think it’s hard enough to fit in those dinners with friends, pilates classes at the gym and first dates with new crushes.

So when a guy I like sends a text to ask me to hang out or confirm the logistics of a date, I’m grateful to have such a convenient method for making plans. And I don’t think it kills the excitement of a new relationship or lets men off the hook to easily, escaping the potential for increased rejection with a phone call.

There’s also increased potential for witty, flirty texting that I have found greatly heighten anticipation for when I do finally meet up with a guy in person. With phone calls in the past, I don’t ever recall having the courage to be so forthcoming in playful flirting with a new guy.

The one caveat that I would offer on the subject is the frustration in what I would label aimless texting. If you have an end goal of asking me out, do us both a favor and get to that point quickly because isn’t that the essence of using a concise communication method like texting in the first place? An hour of back and forth about what we’ve been up to this week and what our plans are for the weekend hardly satisfy the goal of brevity in this medium of communication anyhow.

Those are my thoughts on the matter, at least until I’m out next weekend and aimlessly text you to ask what you’re up to tonight.

JLH

Too Many Babies, Not Enough Booze

2009-12-28T15:37:00.010-05:00

Mark this day as the moment my life path officially split off from the path the majority of my friends have taken. Maybe I’m a late bloomer in adulthood. Perhaps I will have that aha! moment sometime soon that compels me to settle down. More likely though, I’m just having too much fun and it will be a long while before I show any signs of stopping.

One of my friends pointed out that my last facebook album had more to do with engagements and babies than it did with bars and booze. Rather than accepting this as part of growing up, I took it as a personal challenge. 

Armed with a rejuvenated can-do attitude for soloing* in 2010, I am excited for what this year has to offer. While I may be getting older, it doesn’t mean I should slow down even if the ranks of my single friends are dwindling significantly.

Just since Thanksgiving, one of my good friends had a baby, two couples announced pregnancies and another couple got engaged. And we’re not talking about periphery, acquaintance-type friends. These are the type that I talk to frequently and hang out with every time I'm in Atlanta.

For my married friends who are huffing and puffing at my rant, those of you who didn’t drop off the planet the day you got married know who you are. In fact, I have great appreciation for people who can be married, even with kids, and are still fun to hang out with. It’s a rare balance to strike, but I must give my regards to those who can.

If there’s anyone out there who still feels like I do about growing up, I hope to hear from you soon so we can have a few beers together and make some bad decisions. You know where to find me.

JLH

*Note for those who don’t know what “soloing” is. My nickname is Solo. So if you’re soloing, it means you are having the best kind of night. Heavy drinking is involved. Being sketchy is paramount. Not caring about what anyone else thinks and generally having a hell of a time pretty much sums it up.

NYC Bubble

2009-12-09T17:49:00.012-05:00

Living away from your home city has a ton of advantages. New and different people. Exciting experiences. Expanded view of the world. The major downside? Life is still going on without you back home, and getting back in synch with the old crew can be tough.

I’m lucky that to have great friends who have been to visit me in NYC and keep me updated on all of the happenings of home. Still, every time I come home I am reminded just how out of the loop I really am.

Friends have hooked up, broken up, started new jobs, moved into new homes and all of the other life happenings you would expect for twenty-somethings, and I am woefully in the dark.

A typical conversation goes something like this...

Me: Wow, Tom and Mary look pretty cozy together.

Friend: Hansel, they’ve been hooking up for 2 months ever since that night at MJQ.

Me: What is MJQ?

Friend: Um, I can’t even talk to you right now. We only go there every weekend.

Me: Is it in Buckhead?

Friend: I haven’t been to Buckhead this calendar year.

So while I’m home for the holidays and staring at you blankly because I have no clue what you’re talking about, cut me a little slack. I’m living in a NYC bubble, and I’m happy here.

JLH

Yet Another Cocktail Party

2009-11-08T21:14:00.010-05:00

I’m no stranger to the annual late-October pilgrimage to St. Simons Island. It’s mine and many other people’s favorite weekend of the year, the Georgia-Florida game, better known to its fans as The World’s Largest Outdoor Cocktail Party.

The weekend follows the same basic formula every year, yet it’s unpredictability is a huge part of the appeal. We arrive late Thursday (or Wednesday for those die hard fans or college students), party on frat beach (more on this later) on Friday, gameday on Saturday, and finally a hungover drive home on Sunday while reminiscing about Georgia-Florida weekends past and planning cocktail parties future.

My crowd this year was a mix of college friends, past roommates, a first time GA/FL friend from NYC, and my current roommate who was kind enough to let us all stay at her beach house. The Atlanta crew picked up the New Yorkers from the airport Thursday evening, and we arrived sometime after 1 a.m. We stayed up late sharing memories, but have learned over the years to save up for what is to come.

Frat beach. How else can I explain it other than to show it to you:

If you’ve never been there before, start making plans to attend next year. It’s hundreds upon hundreds of people united by their allegiance to the Georgia Bulldogs and their love for day drinking on the beach who come together once a year to blow it out Georgia-Florida style.

But more than that, it’s a day where everyone arrives with one goal, and that is to have a great time. Remembering the day places a distant second.

The night gets hazy from here, but the pictures and flashes of memory compiled from the group tell the story...

Backbends, boxed wine, porch drinking, cab rides, tequila shots, dancing on tables, skinny dipping, climbing trees and sleeping in wet clothes.

Oh, and we’re all 26+ years old.

While the game may not have turned out how we had hoped, the weekend delivered on every expectation. I only hope that next year can top it.

JLH

It's My Blog and I'll Vent if I Want To

2009-10-17T13:33:00.012-04:00

It's cold and raining in New York, and the forecast for the remainder of the weekend shows no relief. I'm taking that as sign of my divine right to bitch in a public forum.

Texting is an unacceptable way to ask me out on a date.
The Dawgs have gone beyond their normal course of ruining my Saturdays and have really started ruining my fall. Willie Martinez, I'm specifically talking to you.
The more I fly with Delta, the more opportunities they have to make me hate them.
Getting under someone else is not necessarily the best way to get over someone, but it is the most fun.
Just because we used to date does not mean I want to receive drunken texts from you in the middle of the night. Or at least have some dignity and wait until the weekend.
Doing a keg stand while watching football in the afternoon = good. Not realizing that someone took a picture and immediately uploaded it to facebook = not good. Forgetting about it and leaving the picture up and tagged for a couple days = FML.
Yes, I'm wearing the clothes I went out in last night. No, I don't care for the judgmental looks you're slinging my way, doorman.

Ok that's enough for today. No one likes a whiner.

JLH

Gridiron Dreams

2009-09-08T19:01:00.011-04:00

When I moved to New York, there were certain things I knew I’d have to give up. Driving a car. Being there for every shower/engagement party/wedding. Going to all of the UGA football games.

Yet on Tuesday night last week, I realized I had a burning, deep desire to be at the Dawgs’ season opener. I just couldn’t miss it.

So, I did what any reasonable person would do and booked the first flight I could find to Dallas, Texas. Never mind that the game was four hours away in Stillwater, Oklahoma. My friends had thought of everything and secured a place to crash and a party bus bound for gameday glory.

I arrived on Friday and found my friend Colin’s apartment full of some of my favorite people and a few already empty cases of beer. I mentally prepared for the bender ahead and joined them in a few libations. We went through several rounds of pitchers over dinner, but generally took it easy in preparation for the big day.

Even though 6:30 came early, I literally sprung out of bed at the first sound of my alarm. GAMEDAY. Even with a full house of 14 sharing just 2 bathrooms, we were out the door and on the road promptly at 8 a.m. with the first round of beers, mimosas and bourbon and cokes poured at 8:01.

Our DJ Kevin kept us entertained with a solid playlist, and bartender Colin kept the cocktails flowing. Even a double tire blowout on the party bus didn’t slow us down, and in fact, it was more of a contributing factor to the fun.

The ladies smuggled airplane bottles in their bras, à la freshman year, and the party continued throughout the game.

We’re just going to pretend that nothing at all happened for the next three and a half hours or so. NOTHING. No embarrassing offense. No lack of defense. No absurd play calling. NADA.

The ride back was more somber, but truly not even a disappointing game outcome could ruin the weekend. There may not be that many more years when all of us can drop everything for a bender weekend of college football, but I plan to stretch it along as far as I can.

JLH

It's That Time Again!

2009-08-30T14:35:00.014-04:00

6 days... SIX DAYS PEOPLE....

until it's COLLEGE FOOTBALL season!

Tailgating, red and black, Firefly vodka, Beam and cokes, Red Coat Band, GLORY GLORY, sundresses and flip flops, road trips, Arch Bar shenanigans and all of the other many reasons to celebrate the fall are upon us. I can hardly wait.

There are so many questions about the season and the team and our tough schedule both SEC and non-conference, but none of that really matters anymore. In six days the Dawgs will take the field in Stillwater, Oklahoma and I will officially be unable to think or speak about anything else, and I like it that way.

For the next three months if you want to find me, I'll be at Firefly in NYC or in Athens or on the road following my Bulldogs. Anything else? I'll talk to you after the last bowl game is played.

JLH

The City, My City

2009-08-25T17:39:00.013-04:00

I am reaffirming my long held belief that everyone should live in the city at some point, at least for a little while.

In a few weeks, I will have lived here for an entire year, and I still feel like a NYC rookie. After moving to a new neighborhood, a decidedly more quiet/family/practically suburban area better known as the Upper West Side, I feel like I am experiencing the city for the first time again. Everything around me is new!

For instance, I'm going on a first date later tonight, meeting only for drinks. The idea of meeting just for drinks before I moved here seemed like a cop out, but now it seems like the best, and only, appropriate option. I can no longer imagine the horror, HORROR, of sitting through an entire meal with someone until after pre-screening them in a commitment-free, drinks-only meeting.

Should the initial date lead to dinner later on tonight or otherwise, then so be it. Who buys before they test drive anyway?

But when this guy asked where in my neighborhood we should meet for drinks, he was greeted with a less than sexy and smooth, Ughhhh... Well.... I did mention I JUST moved here, right? That's what google is for! Luckily he's practically a professional Manhattanite with a full 3 years experience in the city, so within seconds he was able to pluck the name of a date worthy wine bar that happens to be only blocks from my new place.

With enough restaurants and bars to try, not even mentioning the endless options for concerts, shows, museum exhibits and other activities, it's a wonder that I ever even spend time at my insanely overpriced apartment. Yet strangely, that's all just part of the allure that is this great, wonderful, center-of-the-universe city. For now, there isn't anywhere I'd rather be.

JLH

La La Bomba!

2009-08-10T22:46:00.005-04:00

Another friend assumed her place in the ranks of married life this weekend, and I was happy to be on hand to share in her joy by drinking too much in the best town in America.

While I've known for many years that Athens is a special place, it's true that absence makes the heart grow fonder and after many months of missing it, I was so happy to have a non football season excuse to go back. I've always believed that life is a series of lessons, and we're here to collect what we can from every experience, so the following are a few things that Athens taught me or reminded me this weekend.

1. Booze really does taste better when it is Athens priced.

2. Sundresses and flip flops are appropriate attire for all situations.

3. A meal with my girls at Last Resort can make me happy no matter what else is going on in life.

4. Weddings are better with mariachi bands and sombreros.

5. Arranging for transportation to the church, reception and back down town so you don't have to have to go back to get your car in the morning = priceless. Three cheers for the Game Day shuttle!

6. Going to a wedding without a date almost always ends up being more fun.

7. Having pokey sticks delivered after last call is the stuff dreams are made of.

8. I should never challenge groomsmen's fathers to tequila shot taking contests, as evidenced by this photograph.

Congrats to the newlyweds, Mr. & Mrs. Noah Goodwin. Special high fives and winks to the bride whose new monogram, V.A.G., will give us a supply of jokes that should last at least until we celebrate her 50th wedding anniversary.

JLH

Infinite Road Trip

2009-08-05T06:03:00.008-04:00

My life of late feels like a jumbled mess of changing itineraries, carry on baggage requirements, delayed flights and all of the other joys that come with frequent travel. I know I'm not even in the same league as many road warriors who take weekly trips and sometimes more than one per week.

Even so, I have been in 6 states in the last 7 days, including connecting flights through random airports, which is quite a whirlwind even for me. I've come to appreciate the little things in air travel that really do keep you sane.

*Medallion Status- I had never understood the allure of occasional upgrades and the relative few other benefits the airlines afford to its best customers. Now, even as a lowly silver medallion member on Delta, I can finally say that I get it. Just the free checked luggage and premium security and check in lines make it worth it. For me though, the benefit I appreciate most is speaking to a customer service agent on the phone who is in the US and goes out of their way to accommodate me as an "elite" customer.

*Sky Clubs- This has long been a favorite part of travel for me (See this trip), I have come to appreciate it even more this summer as airlines have started overbooking flights more and more frequently and the terminals have become unbearable oases of pedestrian travelers. If not for the relative calmness and free pre-flight cocktails, I'm not sure I could bear spending countless hours in airports.

*Taken just this morning in the crown room, approx 6 a.m. Woof!

*Routine- It's strangely comforting for the LGA Sky Club bartender to recognize you and start pouring your preferred cocktail before you even reach the front of the line. What's more is my now uncanny ability to time my departure from Manhattan nearly to the minute to allow for travel time to get to the airport (in a black car, obviously), then adequate time to pass through security, pop by the crown room to have a cocktail and check last minute emails, and finally arrive at my gate just in time to check the upgrade board and cross my fingers that I have cleared.

Life on the road is more good than bad for me, at least for now. I've had the chance to see some very cool places, and getting away from the concrete jungle every now and then is good for my sanity. For those brave road warriors out there, hopefully I'll run into you at an airline lounge or security line along the way.

JLH

City Livin'

2009-08-03T22:48:00.008-04:00

I just thought y'all would enjoy a glimpse of what living in NYC is really like. I bought this retro style chair on Craigslist from a guy who lives on a 5th floor walk up. This is what I went through (with help from my awesome roommates, thankfully) to get this into a cab and to our apartment in Chelsea....

Moving on Up!

2009-07-27T16:44:00.011-04:00

For those who have never had the pleasure, allow me to explain the exhilarating process that is renting an apartment in Manhattan.

First, you have to learn the lingo. Pre-war or post-war? Walk up or elevator? Brownstone or luxury high rise? Fee or no fee?

Then you have to navigate the complicated web of craigslist and brokers to find someone who will even show you an apartment. There are scarcely few buildings that you can even see without a broker. Whether or not you have to pay the broker for their services depends on how desperate the building management company is to rent the apartment, because sometimes when times are tough (like now), the management company will pay the broker so you don’t have to.

After spending an entire day apartment searching this weekend, Mary Logan and I had narrowed it to two beautiful apartments, either of which we felt were appropriate choices for us. The first was an elegant townhouse building with fifteen foot ceilings, closet space galore and an exquisitely renovated interior. We put in our offer only to find out the apartment would not be available in time for our mid August move in date.

So, over a glass of rosé on the Upper West side we debated our second choice apartment. It featured a beautiful pre-war building in possibly the most ladylike building I’ve ever encountered in Manhattan. It also had a doorman, elevator, incredible kitchen and every charming detail for which we had been searching. As luck would have it, the apartment also carried a broker’s fee of one month rent that our broker called non-negotiable.

Defeated, we started from scratch and began calling brokers from craigslist. Just as our disappointment was setting in that both of these apartments were out of reach, our broker called and said the management company had agreed to one month free rent to offset the broker fee!

Then the fun part began. New York apartments are so fiercely competitive that you have to prove your worth to the management company. They require no less than the following: employment letter stating compensation and length of employment, bank statements, tax returns, an application fee and a credit check. Even after proving that we could afford the apartment several times over, they still wanted more. As of Monday night, we are still waiting to hear from above if we are worthy enough to rent this apartment. I am inclined to believe it would be easier to buy a home in most areas of the country.

Now we wait. Hopefully our dreams of living in a lovely apartment near Central Park will soon be reality.

JLH

Back in the Saddle

2009-07-24T13:41:00.012-04:00

It had finally happened. The commitment-phobic, party-hard, good times girl found a great guy and fell for him. However, as a lot of you already know, I am single once again, and this weekend I am getting back in the saddle both figuratively and literally.

The fiercely independent part of me wishes I could say that I haven’t had any contact with my ex and I’ve been on so many dates that I can’t keep their names straight. But the past few weeks since we broke up have been tough. I have always had a profound sense of pride, so is difficult to admit just how heartbroken and lost I felt after we said our goodbyes.

I’ve done all those things girls do when relationships end including having my fair share of ice cream, crying to my friends on the phone and going through more bottles of wine than is even typical for me. I also cut 7 inches off my long hair and bought a few cute new dresses just to bring myself a little bit of change and to get a little control back in my life.

And as hard as it has been to let go, it’s also strangely freeing. Here I am once again a single lady in this big city, and it feels good.

A big step in the right direction is my good friend and soon to be new roommate, Mary Logan. She and I have known each other since we went to pre-school together at Northside Methodist, and I couldn’t be more thrilled to be moving in with her in a few weeks.

She has been away from NYC for most of the summer and is returning today. In celebration, our closest NYC crew is getting together for a Western themed outing including dinner at Ted’s Montana Grill and bucking bull rides at Johnny Utah’s.

After an especially emotional past few days as I’ve tried to let go, I made the decision to make tonight my true return to Manhattan style single life. Hopefully my bull riding skills and my finest cowgirl attire will be so impressive that the cowboys won’t be able to resist.

And as for the kind of New York experience that I moved here to have, I’m back, and all I have to say is giddy up and hold on tight!

JLH

Musings from Manhattan

2009-02-12T11:54:00.004-05:00

1. Everything in Atlanta moves so slowly, kind of like the traffic.

2. Bridges here have very funny names. For instance, Throgs Neck and Tappan Zee.

3. A little Southern charm will get you everywhere here, probably because people are so stunned that you are being polite to them for no apparent reason.

4. Anything can be delivered. Literally.

5. A 90 minute commute to and from work is considered normal.

6. Compared to the ridiculous outfit combinations everywhere in this city, the Olsen twins look almost normal to me in photographs now.

7. My recycling bin in Atlanta = diet coke cans and beer bottles. In NYC = most of the household trash, all rinsed and properly sorted.

8. Only people in the South get married before age 30 anymore.

9. People here stare at you, get over it. It most likely means they are admiring your bag (or shoes or coat or earrings or whatever).

10. I feel like a crazy bag lady. I’m always carrying an obnoxiously large bag wherever I go, but when you are routinely out of the house for 16 hours straight, you need stuff.

11. GET OUT OF MY WAY! Seriously, who just stops and stands still in the middle of the sidewalk?

12. “Republican” is a practically a bad word here, but everyone assumes that I must be one as soon as they hear my slight Southern accent (which they think is a thick drawl).

13. What you do, how much you make and who you know determines your entire identity here if you let it.

14. Public transportation is the only way to go. Cars are for suckers.

15. Every social activity in this city revolves around eating and drinking. Emphasis on the drinking. I am fitting in just fine.

JLH

I'm Back!!

2009-01-27T21:30:00.004-05:00

**Note: Recently an old friend inspired me to bring back blogging. I apologize for the hiatus and hope that you will keep me on my toes going forward.**

After renewing my interest in blogging, I decided to review the last couple years of my life via this blog. What I found was a startling irony that I certainly had not anticipated discovering. Despite all my best efforts since college to remain a care-free party girl with no intentions of growing up, I have indeed begun that process.

The one constant in my life post college graduation is that I have lived for the weekends. Mostly that has meant going out hard on both Friday and Saturday nights with my best single girlfriends as we navigated our varied goals of forgetting about the week, meeting up with our latest crush or just having fun together in the dive bars of Buckhead.

However, much has changed. Those single girlfriends have dwindled in number to the very last few, myself still included. My characterization of single has caught up with the rest of the adult world and is now defined as not married as opposed to not dating anyone.

My vigor for going out both weekend nights and even the occasional Thursday night has quelled in favor of one night out and one more relaxing night at home watching movies and having a glass of wine.

It's almost laughable to think back to the times living at Fort Buckhead where Roommate and I would bring home half the bar for late night because the 2 a.m. last call didn't mean the night had to end. Recently, even living in NYC where last call can be closer to 5 a.m., I can't recall the last time I wasn't in bed by 1 a.m.

The biggest change, however, is that I met someone. He's still new, and we're not trying to rush things, but it has at least occurred to both of us that it could be something serious.

Although this statement will likely cause him at least a mild level of panic, the concept of me getting married someday to someone doesn't plague me the same way it once did. I don't break out in a metaphorical rash or go into figurative convulsions just thinking of that level of commitment, although I still partly blame my attendance at dozens of weddings over the past couple years for numbing my resistance to marriage.

Even as I find my first few gray hairs (eeek! but true) and settle into a comfortable state of post-college adulthood, I am humbly reminded that some things will never change. Just this past Saturday night while visiting the new guy in Atlanta, I passed out fully clothed after going out to dinner and drinks so we could meet some of each others' friends. If my conception of true adulthood is true, then I am precluded at least to some degree because of regressions like that.

JLH

Big Apple Dream

2008-09-19T15:28:00.005-04:00

Finally fulfilling a dream that began over two years ago, I packed up and headed for the center of the universe, as I see it, landing squarely on the Upper East Side of Manhattan.

Before I left Atlanta for good, everyone wanted me to be sad, nervous or even a little scared, but anticipation and crawling-out-of-my-skin excitement would have more accurately described my sentiment. That blind optimism and thrill of all things new is still strong, two weeks into my New York City life.

My first weekend was predictably chaotic with my parents in town and Bed, Bath & Beyond directly siphoning my bank account dry. Then on my first day at work as I navigated multiple subway lines and the PATH train that connects Manhattan to my company's main office in Jersey City, NJ, I sensed that I have never felt more alive.

There are certainly adjustments to be made-- the cold stares as opposed to the warm smiles from strangers in Georgia; the fall chill on the streets yet sweltering heat on the subway platforms; the lightning fast pace that everyone subscribes to on the streets. Soon enough I won't think twice about those things and instead can focus on the many things to see, do and live in this place I now call home.

Of course I miss my Atlanta friends already and cringe when I think of missing UGA home games, friends' parties, sushi Mondays, dance parties at Cavern and all the other things that made my native city so special. It's even weird to think of life going on without me there, but i hope to incorporate all of my friends into my new city I adore so much already. Visitors are encouraged and requested at any time.

So goodbye for now, Atlanta. I'll visit often and think of you even more. And hello, New York, I look forward to getting to know you well.

JLH

Bar Golf

2008-08-26T17:53:00.004-04:00

When you’re working for the weekend, it is truly the little things that get you excited. After literally months of anticipation on my part, an event that I had been eagerly awaiting finally arrived this weekend. With such great causes for celebration as my 25th birthday and my New York sendoff, a dedicated group of day drinkers converged for our First Annual Buckhead Bar Golf.

The expectations were simple and included silly costumes and day drinking with a competitive element that made things interesting. The attire ranged from simple preppy to over the top madras to one fabulous friend draped in a make shift putting green. The players were ready for a shotgun start, emphasis on shot. With the afternoon in its infancy, shots were slammed, beer flowed readily and the mood was high.

Several golfers intent on winning the round started strong with a hole in one at each of the first few holes, scored by finishing a beer, shot and mixed drink within the hour allotted at each bar. These people impressed me.

The strange thing about wandering around the Buckhead bar scene with around fifty golf-clad twenty somethings on a rainy Saturday afternoon is that bars aren’t really prepared for you. They are open for business though, and eager bartenders pour with passion for this unexpected afternoon boost in tips.

The competition was steep by around hole 4 and simply drinking was no longer enough. One golfer whipped out a Chuggler from her purse (if you haven’t had the pleasure, please check it out here LINK) while others did keg stands inside a bar, which I didn’t even think was possible. At Kramer’s on a Saturday afternoon, apparently it is.

At some point my $7 clearance rack madras skirt started falling apart. I had a noticeable rip on my right cheek and the back slit crept up throughout the entire round. I pulled down my pink Lacoste polo and kept going even though pictures reveal that this clearly wasn’t helping my cause to keep covered up.

I heard a few brave souls finished the entire front 9, although I was clearly not among them. Even at my own party I managed to sketch off before the last hole.

My goal is to make this an annual event, much to the chagrin of the folks who are still feeling the hangover today. While I realize everyone is getting older and days like this are sure to become less frequent, I’m glad we could still come together and celebrate a day to remember the best way we know how, by drinking heavily and acting like college kids.

JLH

Happy Birthday Water!

2008-07-23T13:07:00.007-04:00

I have tried for many years to discover the perfect weekend, and now I have found it. This weekend’s Waterfest in Beaufort, South Carolina combined all of my very favorite things—drinking, boats and summer sunshine—with some sleeper favorites like an underwater camera, a belly flop contest, a sandbar and a karaoke machine.

Before we left Atlanta on Thursday evening, my drinking partner in crime and I had polished off a bottle of vino, kicking off the weekend with the proper respect that it deserved. By the time we hit Macon, we had finished our roadies and decided to pick up a case for the remaining three hour drive. Not to be outdone, our driver slammed back an entire bottle of Patron starting when we hit our destination street. We wouldn’t see him until the next afternoon.

We woke up on Friday morning scattered throughout our friend’s house, errr mansion, where we were staying. With only 15 minutes remaining until Chik-fil-A stopped serving biscuits, we jumped in the car wearing only pajamas, teeth unbrushed. As if they knew we were coming, they only had 11 biscuits remaining, strangely the exact number we needed for our hungover friends.

We spent the day drinking college spring break style at the pool, and when evening rolled around with more and more eager Waterfesters arriving, we early arrivers were in peak drinking form. The night’s details are hazy but I do remember beer pong, eating low country boil, lounging in the hot tub and waking up on a boat.

Then the day that changed my life arrived Saturday morning as I walked down the dock and back to the house. On the lawn I found the bottle of champagne that my friends had cleverly hidden inside the fridge for morning mimosas. The OJ wasn’t as lucky, as it had all been consumed the previous night. Undeterred, I chugged warm champagne until I thought I could stomach a beer. Obviously common sense had already been lost or else warm bubbly would have sounded far worse than a cold beer, even with my compounded two night level of hangover.

To really appreciate Waterfest, you have to visualize it. We pulled up on two boats with about thirty already intoxicated friends and all around us were hundreds of boats filled with similarly sloshed occupants. Some boats were parked along a huge sandbar, and Waterfesters were swimming onto it, careful not to spill their own beers. On our boat, two guys broadcasted a faux live radio show from a karaoke machine and gleefully declared that it was the water’s birthday and we had all assembled to celebrate.

Despite a few injuries, some that easily should have required stitches had anyone been in the condition to go to the hospital, the day was a bang up success. We drank, swam, chugged, danced, shotgunned and generally partied the day away. By the time we headed back home, I was in complete awe that one day could be that great.

So the bar has been set on how great a weekend can truly be. I suspect it will be hard to beat, but I intend to spend the entire year trying until Waterfest 2009 gets its chance to outshine this year’s celebration.

JLH

Death of a Phone Call

2008-06-05T13:17:00.004-04:00

It is a communication tool that I simultaneously love and loathe. What was once meant as a quick means of communication when an entire phone conversation was unnecessary, the text message has now taken on a life of its own and is ruining dating and people’s basic ability to communicate.

While I obviously appreciate the ease of e-mail and texting, I find myself longing for actual telephone conversation these days, particularly in the context of dating. What happened to men calling women they liked for dates?

I’ve seen it all in terms of these slack methods of communication. I’ve been asked on a date by text, and I’ve been broken up with by e-mail. I’ve had text message booty calls and e-mail responses to important voice messages that really required telephone interaction.

What really gets to me is how texting, at least as it applies to dating, has become a way for men to show interest and initiate hanging out with no more effort than moving his thumbs. Granted by removing the interaction necessary for a phone call, he is able to severely limit the possibility of rejection; however, it also removes the romance and intimacy that only face-to-face and phone contact bring.

One of my girlfriends gets fired up when men text her instead of calling, so I asked for her opinion when thinking about this topic. Within minutes of sending her an e-mail, she was able to rattle off several pages of text message grievances, examples included. She said, “[Texting is] non-confrontational and I think it hinders people skills. What's wrong with getting nervous and/or excited, with the possibility of failure, to interacting with a person!”

It’s true that texting allows you to say just the right thing or have time to craft a perfectly witty reply to my every comment, but as my friend said so eloquently in her e-mail, “Life is not always going to allow for minutes on end to think of the perfect response.”

She mentioned a story where she was hanging out at a friend’s house, and the guy she liked at the time was also there. He made no effort during the party to talk to her, so, frustrated, she left. Moments after leaving, he sent her a text asking why she left because he wanted to hang out with her, although obviously not that much or he would have made the effort while she was in the same room with him.

So unless you want me to think that you’re an adolescent girl instead of the real man you claim to be, skip the texts, e-mails and g-chatting and pick up the phone to call me. It will get you further every time.

JLH

Geriatric Spring Break

2008-05-20T22:17:00.004-04:00

**Editor's Note: It is with great pleasure that I introduce my latest guest blogger, KIH! Even as a third year medical student, she manages to party with the best of them, and for that, I will forever respect her. Enjoy!**

As I sit here having read the latest blog installment and review Hans’ revisions of my current resume in anticipation for applying for my very first real job at 25 years old, I figured I would go ahead and add a chapter to Hans’ strings of nearing-age-inappropriateness while I still happily have one year left as a graduate student.

I would like to fondly recount Spring Break 2008 (SB ’08). If I correctly count back to my first SB, which occurred in high school, this year officially counts as my 11th SB. That being said, it may as well have been one of my very firsts based on the events that occurred.

Shall I set the scene?
Location: Destin, FL
Dates: middle of March
Weather: perfectly balmy

The guests of the trip included 2 distinct groups: those that were married (or very close to marriage) and those that were not. We effectively had a “married people’s house” and a “single people’s house.” Although we planned to hang out together on the trip, be it known that we only did so for 2 nights. We living in the singles house probably smelled too much like alcohol all the time to warrant the married people’s presence :)

I missed the first day and evening at the beach due to delayed transportation issues. I did, however, get there around 11p.m., perfect timing to be picked up en route from Sandestin to the famous AJ’s Bar and Grill. As my buddy’s forest green Ford Escape pulled up and I prepared to put myself in the already crowded dogbox, I noticed everyone was drinking Miller Lite from cans! They felt that they had to stop at a gas station to buy beer on the way to AJ’s because they thought they may be in danger of losing their buzzes by the time they had picked me up!

When we made to AJ’s (all perfectly well intoxicated except sober me), we filed out of the car and into the bar. Before I could achieve my goal to chug many a beer to catch with my wasted friends, I realized that I had left my wallet in the Escape! My least-drunk-driving friend was not too pleased to drive back and allow me to fetch it. I subsequently retrieved it and proceeded to imbibe while listening to the not-so-good Southern Rock band with the college crowd. Of course, I finally reach peak drunk level the instant that we decide it is time to catch a cab home to the single people’s house.

The next obstacle was that of sleeping arrangements. As I was the latest in coming, I had no choice over where to lay my sleepy head. Of course, I was stuck out on the pullout couch with super-snore boy. Be it that he is one of my dearest friends, and I happened to be pretty drunk, sleeping next to him was near impossible. Thank goodness I only had to do it the first night!

Day 2 involved lovely sun and day drinking. We went to get dinner and then planned to hit up the ever popular “college night” at the “Twisted Pineapple” (or something like that?). Before we left, we decided to chug some beers and open the Cabo Wabo tequila that we had been saving. At this point my girlfriends and I thought it was an excellent time to pose like porn stars and spank each other while wearing teacher-style glasses. (Note that these pics were taken with an actual film camera!)

Status-post several shots of tequila and jello, we hiked it to the bar. The place was dark and strobe-lit, playing rap songs such as “Low” and “Dollar Dollar Bill.” Drink specials included $0.25 beer and $1 Jager bombs. Do you think this place was hurting for business? It was not too happenin’ besides our crowd of 15ish drunk, definitely post-college crowd. I got in a great dance with a young black dude that was eventually kicked out for taking off his shirt too many times. The night ended with me weaseling my way into one of the rooms with an actual bed and a boy walking in on my while I was naked. You can almost see it all in a bathing suit anyway, right?

Day 3 was a bit more laid back, as we were all recovering from the beginning of the week’s events and pretending that we were not hungover, although we clearly were. While one of the girls and I headed to the beach, most of the house stayed in nursing their headaches and nauseous bellies. Two of the boys took a trip to Pensacola (not that close!) to pick up some weed. They came back by mid-afternoon totally high and shared the wealth with some of the houseguests. The things some people do for pot… I just made myself a great screwdriver with the only available blueberry vodka that remained and blended in just fine. That night we took it easy and watched one of the March Madness basketball games.

Day 4 was the last day, thus warranting a blowout event. The boys got up early and went deep-sea fishing while the ladies stayed behind and got some sun. After finishing up nearly all the booze in the house, we returned from the beach and began to cook a wonderful fish dinner. Between showering, making salad and pouring wine, the meal became an excellent success, and I managed to keep my buzz up through the entire charade.

To honor the last night, we finished our tequila and Crown and moseyed back to AJ’s. This time the place was full of aged locals and the experience differed greatly from the other evenings full of fellow SB’ers. This night I met a current law student that said “Wow, meeting you guys here makes me feel less like a creepy old guy on SB”. What a compliment…. At least I got a few drinks out of him.

The best part of the last night was not discovered until the next morning, when a strange boy emerged from one of the bedrooms in clear dishevelment. The culprit friend of mine guiltily eyed us all as she left to take him back to wherever his home/hotel/condo/trailer park was. I guess an SB is never complete without a good old fashioned one night stand!

In summary, we drank way too much, played with people that still had fake IDs, and pretended that we were all much younger than our 25 plus years. I guess if you still are in school, why not just act it’s college all the time? I, too, wonder when it is that I will get the message that is it time to grow up. I am not yet willing to give up my binging college ways. How many undercover Van Wilders are out there with me?

KIH

What's Old is New Again

2008-05-19T10:05:00.004-04:00

Although it has been a common theme in my blog, it’s an issue that deserves revisiting. I feel as though there is a writer’s strike in my life, and I am living a perpetual state of re-runs.

Just when I feel that I’m making headway toward becoming a real adult and leaving my binge drinking, wild college times behind, I have a weekend like this one. Friday night I headed to the best college town in America to celebrate with one of my college roommates her graduation from law school. Naturally we partied hard complete with tequila shots at Firehouse, arguably one of the sleazier bars in Athens, and even danced on one of their benches like we were freshmen.

Battling hangover and general exhaustion, I rallied to make my way to Augusta, Georgia on Saturday night for the much anticipated wedding of some college friends. The guest list read like a membership roster from Animal House, and my behavior late that night further spoke to how much fun was had at this wedding.

Other than a scheduled scripture reader getting caught in traffic and missing the ceremony and an entire carload of friends going to the wrong church and nearly missing it, the wedding was flawless and absolutely beautiful. We danced, got drunk and started flirting with ill-advised long time friends to secure a late night make out… well, at least that was how it went for me.

After some late night drinking and dancing on the hotel penthouse roof, the few and the proud who still wanted to party moved downstairs into the single guys’ room. Without outing myself too much, let’s just say that a series of questionable decisions left me doing a five star walk of shame back to my hotel room after 5 a.m. I also helped add to the list of stories I’ll never live down and that my friends will surely make certain are brought up at every possible future opportunity.

But there is no room for regrets when you’re doing all that you can to have a good time, even if it means revisiting college levels of drunkenness or even former flames. I can certainly say I lived up to that self-imposed standard this weekend, and I’m looking forward to the rest of wedding season.

JLH

Cinco Wasted

2008-05-05T10:30:00.003-04:00

In a day that has become one of the most anticipated of the year, an extended group of my favorite day drinkers gathered on Saturday for the second annual Pancho’s Party.

We celebrated Cinco de Mayo a few days early this year, and I think the level of partying actually increased from last year’s infamous “cinco wasted” day. Starting off the day right, several of us arrived at Pancho’s by cab at noon.

We ordered margaritas, Dos Equis or whatever cocktails our moods prescribed and settled in for a long afternoon of day drinking. In my excitement of the day, I even forgot to eat lunch, a poor decision that would shape the tone for the rest of the day and night.

Sometime during the afternoon, I was able to steal my phone from my roommate, who had been hiding it from me knowing what kind of drunk dialing I’m capable of with the kind of tequila drunk I was riding. While a smart move on her part, she was too tipsy to properly guard my phone.

I managed to call a guy that I’ve been on a couple of dates with and set up dinner for later that evening. Around 6 p.m. when everyone needed a change of scenery, the crew moved to Fado’s, but I had reached that tacky level of too drunk to be in public, so my remaining sober friend drove me home.

With an hour until my date, I decided to rest my eyes for a minute. Of course I should have known that my catnap would turn into two hours of solid passing out on the sofa. I woke up at 8:15, an entire hour and fifteen minutes past when I was supposed to check in with my date, horrified yet still glaringly aware of how drunk I was even post-nap.

Surprisingly, he still wanted to have dinner with me. He came to pick me up, but by that time the Fado’s party had migrated to my house. I wasn’t quite finished primping, errr making myself look even the slightest bit presentable, when my unsuspecting date arrived to pick me up. Though he had never even met any of my friends at this point, he was exposed to the drinking equivalent of full frontal nudity of all my friends.

I thought it was a good test this early in a dating relationship for him to be exposed to a cinco wasted level of partying. Surely if he can handle that, he’d be better prepared for gamedays, summer pool days and other days of similar intoxication should we continue dating. If it was a test, I’d say he scored very high marks.

After grabbing dinner and drinks, we decided to lay low the rest of the night and watch a movie. Since it was almost 11 p.m., I felt sure the Pancho’s Party aftermath had left for the bars already. When we pulled up to my house and girls were dancing in the driveway, pizza boxes and beer cans were strewn around the house and the general level of wasted-faceness was readily apparent, we changed the plan to when in Rome and decided to contribute our fair share of the general level of debauchery.

So the Second Annual Pancho’s Party was a raging success, improbably exceeding last year’s fête. In the words of my roommate, we all got CINCO WASTED!

JLH

Keeping It Going

2008-04-24T20:11:00.005-04:00

We’ve all had mornings where we woke up and swore off alcohol forever only to go back to it the next weekend. I had a night like that this weekend, only it was more like three nights in a row.

I’ve spent some time this week trying to decide at what point you go from being a weekend warrior to a true alcoholic. If day drinking, taking too many shots, sleeping in places other than your bed, taking four different cab rides during the course of one weekend or playing drinking games to overcome a hangover make you an alcoholic, then perhaps I will research AA this week. But if instead that makes you a first class partier, then I say pour me another because this party is just getting started!

The weekend started off innocently enough as I went to a ladies’ poker night at a friend’s midtown loft. A group of otherwise successful women were reduced to a Texas hold-em style rowdy, raucous throw down after more than a couple champagne cocktails and other liquid goodies.

Thankfully the bubbly-induced hangover wasn’t enough to keep me in on Saturday night. What should have been a typical Saturday of sipping on beers with friends and enjoying the nice weather instead turned into more of a Bourbon Street inspired shot taking extravaganza. I awoke Sunday morning in the house of a guy acquaintance where I had no business being, so I grabbed my girlfriend sleeping on his couch, found the address on a piece of mail and called us a cab around 7 a.m. in order to avoid what certainly would have been an awkward morning.

Again this should have been enough to slow me down, perhaps a signal to my body to take it easy, but instead I had my kickball team over for some pre-game drinking. We played drinking games with beer, champagne, margaritas or anything else that was available.

So after the game, nearing the end of a series of poor weekend decisions, I determined that I would go to the after party at Felini’s for some pitchers of beer. Then when that ended, I followed the few remaining standing to the after-after party at Hand in Hand. At this point it should go without saying that I didn’t last long and ended up cabbing it home by myself for some much needed rehydration and sleep.

While my current lifestyle may not be maintainable, especially at the college-style levels I’m trying to keep up, I figure that I’m going to milk these last few be crazy with no consequences years for all they’re worth.

JLH

Marriage Death Penalty

2008-04-14T13:27:00.003-04:00

I’ve alluded before how I feel oddly trapped in a world distinctly sandwiched between being college-aged and being a real adult.

It seems like there was a moment senior year in college where everyone either decided to rise to the challenge of adulthood, getting married or getting serious about their career; or, the others chose grad school to prolong the inevitable growing up that graduating from college generally requires.

Until recently, I wondered if there was anyone else with me on this sinking ship of the few remaining in blissful single land. Every week brings another engagement or marriage, and the ever dwindling crowd of my single friends grows desperately fewer.

But that was before I discovered a seldom mentioned crowd: the I got married without getting lame crowd.

This weekend I attended a 30th birthday party for a guy I had never met. It was one of those Saturday afternoons where we started day drinking margaritas, and suddenly it was almost 9 p.m. and time to make some plans.

Upon arrival, I was amazed by the birthday boy and his wife’s very well-stocked bar complete with call brand liquors and every mixer imaginable. Their backyard was most impressive of all. It boasted a mini putting green, basketball court and cornhole game. The biggest surprise? No kids live in this house. It’s an adult only fantasy land.

Yet the greatest treat of the night was when the host and hostess passed out goody bags. These weren’t the candy and plastic toy filled bags you remember from childhood birthday parties. These contained only a mini bottle of liquor, a condom and a cigarette, for use in that order as the birthday boy announced.

So while I may complain about the couples who get married and disappear into the suburbs, never to be heard from again, I have renewed faith that marriage, for some, may not equal a social death penalty.

JLH

Every Day Should be G Day

2008-04-06T19:19:00.004-04:00

Despite the fact that it’s spring and it was pouring down rain, the girls and I had a great weekend of Georgia football and caused a little bit of mischief in Athens.

Like a lot of people, we were a bit worried about the nearly 100% chance of rain that the forecasters predicted but decided not to let a little thing like rain stop our tailgating fun for one of my favorite springtime events, UGA's football scrimmage, G Day. We pulled into Athens around 10:30, set up a bona fide tailgate in the Hull Street parking deck and tailgated as if it were the opening game of a national championship season.

With mimosas poured, a lovely spread of assorted chips and dips with some delicious brownies, we were ready to go… but apparently no one else was. By noon, we finally had several visitors to our tailgate and even listened to some old bulldog war stories from some seasoned UGA fans tailgating nearby. One new friend recounted how he was still mad at his buddy for getting married during what he thinks was the UGA-Clemson game of 1980. He gave us advice to never marry in the fall and certainly to never miss a game for a fall wedding because you never know when a historic moment in red and black might occur.

By game time, we were feeling a significant daytime buzz. The great think about G Day is that no one is checking your purse for liquor like they do during the season. Many of my friends openly drank from koozied beer cans in the stadium without regard. Perhaps one day the SEC will allow drinking in stadiums, but until then I’m content to laugh at the countless ways people are able to sneak in their bourbon and other similar contraband into the stadium.

Our college revival tour included stops at Transmetropolitan for dinner; Walker’s to meet up with friends; Cutters for some shots and NCAA tournament watching; Boarshead for popcorn and dollar draft beers; Five Guys for midnight snack hotdogs; and of course our favorite old hangout, East West.

A side note on Boarshead… they’ve renovated and it’s really lost some of its appeal. The vomit stained concrete floors have been replaced with gleaming hardwoods, and the once dingy and smoke-filled downstairs bar area has turned into a lodge style retreat complete with fancy light fixtures that keep the place much brighter than I care for in a dive bar like the Whore’s Bed. However, the dollar draft price for any beer they have on tap from 8-11 p.m. nightly… even Saturdays… more than made up for that.

However with a marathon drinking day like we had and after leaving a trail of debauchery through downtown like we did, we were ready to crash around 1 a.m. These old girls just don’t have it in us like we once did, not to say that we didn’t give Athens everything we’ve got.

JLH

One Tequila, Twenty-Four Tequila

2008-04-01T09:30:00.003-04:00

Oh, how this weekend was a sign of my desire not to grow up. My activities were so polarized as young and crazy twenty-four year old versus unwilling young adult.

Roommate and I threw our first get together at our new house on Friday night. The house has no nickname yet, so for now I’ll call it the Deer Club, a nod to our street name.

The party at the Deer Club was relatively tame until the end of the night. We had a gay friend in town and since the DC is walking distance to an infamous Atlanta gay strip club, we decided to check it out. It was just as seedy as I anticipated with my limited knowledge of strip club activities, but nonetheless an interesting experience.

Fast forward to Saturday morning, and now I’m furiously wrapping a birthday present for my friend’s son’s first birthday party. I spent my gay club hangover day with babies crying, kids buzzing around from a soda and cake sugar high and watching the kids bounce around on a moonwalk.

But the weekend was of course far from over.

My newly married college roommate, her husband and I drove straight from the birthday party to Athens for Barrister’s Ball, more commonly called Law School Prom. I was being set up with a second year law student on only the description that he is tall, confident and funny, which not coincidentally are my general date criteria.

After a quick turnaround from first birthday party cute to law prom sophistication, we were out the door to pick up my blind date and head downtown to a new-to-me restaurant, the National.

My first indication that the “prom” reference to Barrister’s Ball might actually have some footing was when my date walked out in a dark suit and turquoise dress shirt nearly the exact same shade as my dress, setting up what would be an entire evening of making fun of us.

So, my exceedingly handsome and perfectly turquoise matching date and I started our alcohol consumption, which wouldn’t stop until mere moments before we both finally crashed at the end of the night. Anticipating long bar lines at the ball, we polished off the better part of two bottles of wine with dinner. Not wanting to lose that kind of buzz, we never stopped double fisting throughout the entire evening.

But we weren’t stopping there. After sketching off immediately following the prom, we headed back to his house for some late night. A couple of Patrón shots later, everything gets a little fuzzy and the best case scenario I could have hoped for was that we both just passed out, which was essentially what did end up happening, thankfully.

The next day, I rushed back to Atlanta for some day drinking and a kickball game, just what I needed after 36 hours of straight drinking already to my credit for the weekend. Although I have to admit that I slowed my pace drastically by the time the game rolled around, I am just proud that I still have a sliver of the stamina I had in college.

While I may be hesitant, ok terrified, of letting my guard down and entering into true adulthood, I’m optimistic that no one will attach that kind of label to a girl like me who is clinging desperately to her early twenties identity even with mid twenties are approaching with alarming speed.

JLH

Game Over

2008-03-12T20:47:00.004-04:00

It’s begun already, that season that I both dread and eagerly anticipate each year. Wedding season 2008 kicked off this weekend.

Now, this wasn’t just any other wedding with an open bar and a bunch of my friends thinking they could still drink like they were in college and learning the hard way that they indeed no longer can.

No, this one was special because it was a senior year college roommate, sorority sister, workout buddy, vacation partner, knows all my secrets and has held my hair back kind of a friend. Although she’s been engaged for what now seems like an eternity, nothing could have prepared me for the weekend.

We had a girlier than girly day on Friday with a bridesmaid’s luncheon followed by manicures at a cute nail salon in Morningside. Then we rushed around to get ready for the rehearsal dinner with hair straighteners and pantyhose scattered around the two adjoining hotel rooms we all shared.

Probably the best memory of the entire weekend was an impromptu dance party in the hotel lobby bar after the rehearsal dinner. After having a few cocktails in the dull and nearly silent Emory Conference Center bar, we snuck upstairs and grabbed an iHome and a few iPods. We danced like no one was watching to some of our college faves like Man in the Mirror as well as some more recent songs like Applebottom Jeans. Sure, we got some stares, but it wore out the bride and she slept soundly through her nerves on the night before the most important day of her life thus far.

The wedding was just as beautiful and fun as we expected for the bride, an only child and daddy’s girl to a true Southern good old boy. I cried during the ceremony and cracked up hysterically at the maid of honor’s speech when she commented about the day she discovered the groom’s less than flattering underwear choice while doing some laundry.

One would think that as each of my friends are systematically lost to the dark side that I’d be inclined to couple off myself. Yet with each wedding I attend or date I go on, I feel even more inclined to embrace my remaining twenty-something years and get it all out of my system first. I think I’ll stick with that game plan that has served me so well in the past… for now at least.

JLH

Helluva Heinous Haircut

2008-03-12T19:59:00.003-04:00

***Editor's Note: Yet another fabulous blog in a series from my gal pal and frequent partner in crime, CDB***

In dire need of a hair solution, I consulted none other than my most stylish friend. She recommended a cut that I had coveted throughout all its media exposure: the Nicole Richie bob. Now, I know you are probably thinking, ‘if Reece Witherspoon’s asymmetrical bangs are five minutes ago, the Richie bob is straight up out!’

I am inclined to commission Jessica Shaw to include these items on her next edition of The Shaw Report, simply so I can determine what is ‘in’ with regards to hair styles. I have no sense of hip when it comes to this subject, hence my style session with stylish friend. She even compiled some of the best executions and angles of said bob to arm me with error-proof photo blue prints of my desired look. She also recommended a killer artist. How could this experiment possibly go wrong??!!

It went wrong. I came in with images of the Richie bob. I left with…Javier Bardem. Yes, I bear a chilling resemblance to the villain from No Country for Old Men. My initial reaction was that when I styled my hair at home, it would look more normal. No. It didn’t.

Then as I naturally encountered friends and colleagues, they would wince while forcing the obligatory ‘it’s…cute.’ The only thing that is cute about it is that 1 in 5 kindergarteners sport the same cut because the woman that birthed them insisted on ‘(soccer) mommy and me’ matching haircuts. Some folks avoid the editorial altogether, by simply noting the fact ‘you got your hair cut.’ I lost 5 inches and what feels like 5 pounds – very astute observation.

Others offered a little more: ‘I like the bangs’ or ‘the color looks good.’ I have never advocated the notion that avoiding - or intentionally leaving the truth unstated - is a lie. It is. I am now the victim of volumes of white lies.

I have an emergency appointment to have this rectified by the weekend, as I have no theme parties on the schedule that call for ‘villain’ attire. Let’s keep our fingers crossed, kids.

CDB

Dark Side of the Moon

2008-02-26T13:20:00.003-05:00

In less than two weeks' time, I'll be losing another great friend to the dark side that I call marriage in your twenties.

It's an affliction that has now overtaken what seems like the majority of my friends. New engagements seem to be spreading like an avalanche that absorbs everyone and everything in its path.

It's not that all of my crazy, young married friends have left my life completely; it's just that, as I've discussed many times before, they're too many life levels away from me for us to truly relate.

That's not to say that it hasn't been a good ride. I'd be remiss in my blogging if I didn't point out all of the positive factors associated with my friends' marriages.

Nearly every event leading up to the couple's milestone day involves a drinking activity. If invited to an engagement party, couples' shower, rehearsal dinner and the wedding, which could easily amount to four open bar events in the span of less than a year. Now multiply that by roughly the 6-7 weddings that I've averaged in the last few wedding seasons, and we're talking about some serious wedding related partying.

Of course no event better celebrates an impending marriage than the bachelor or bachelorette party. What a strange tradition we observe where the prospective bride and groom feel the need to get all of their boozing and wild shenanigans out of their system before they destine themselves to marriage.

I am a bridesmaid in a sorority sister's upcoming wedding, and we recently celebrated her bachelorette party. Without revealing all of the incriminating details, we told the bride that we were going to a dueling piano bar. Much to her surprise, the actual plan was to attend a drag show in Atlanta's gayborhood.

Other than one of the attendees being banned from the bar for getting sick on the sidewalk outside (luckily we were able to sneak back in through another door) and trying to dance at a club that turned out to be midtown's largest haven for douchebags, the night was a great success.

So while I may complain about all of the showers, weddings and losing friends to the dark side, at least I can always say I’m having a good time doing it.

JLH

Shards of Life

2008-02-11T15:40:00.001-05:00

***Editor’s Note: I am happy to announce a new guest blogger’s blogging debut. Thanks for the submission JLP! Keep 'em coming***

I realize we’re in February but this is still a valuable lesson we should all learn from…

I had high hopes for New Year’s Eve this year. Don’t ask me why, because we all know it never turns out as grand as we had originally hoped. Friends from college had planned a big reunion in Charlotte, and we had all the makings of a great night…friends I hadn’t seen in forever, a house with lots of space for crashing, cute outfits, an abundance of alcohol and pizza rolls (yeah I said pizza rolls, you know you like it).

The afternoon was spent in preparation for the upcoming festivities, which of course included making our own rendition of death punch. Despite our much decreased drinking tolerances, using an entire handle of rum with some fruit juice for coloring seemed like a brilliant idea. Said brilliant idea was taken a step closer to genius status when a friend realized if you mixed a glass half with our death punch and half with champagne you got a lovely carbonated kick. As our new drink morphed into the greatest drink on the planet, mass quantities were consumed. I’m sure you can imagine where this is headed, but you would be wrong… at least partially.

Fast forward to 11:15 p.m. and a last minute decision to switch party locations to a local club. We piled into taxis in hopes of making it before the stroke of midnight. We made it with time to spare!

Drinks in hand ready to count down while still scoping the crowd for the perfect New Year’s kiss, I found my ex-boyfriend. This is when a higher power decided to intervene in my life and teach me a very valuable lesson. Post detaching myself from midnight make-out with ex-boyfriend, probably because his current “girl” spotted us (whoops), I was making my way to the dance floor when a sudden intense pain ran over me.

Now in the state I was in, no pain should ever be felt. I hobbled outside into the light to realize my big toe looked like (graphic detail to ensue) an overcooked bloated hot dog that’s been put in the microwave (you know you’ve seen it). My friends are examining my wound and this would begin the argument over whether or not I need to go to the hospital.

Conveniently there was a doctor at the bar, so he called for some straight vodka and a lot of napkins stat. I’m pretty sure you can lose your medical license for performing a medical operation drunk… but at this point who am I to judge.

So said doctor proceeded to try and pull the glass shards from my foot while using the vodka to sterilize the wound. Well what was left of the vodka because my wonderful friends thought it would be put to better use if they drank it themselves.

So as the story goes I lose the argument and am taken by ambulance to the hospital where I proceed to pass out in a wheelchair for 3 hours because in the medical world of importance “foot trauma” is the lowest on the totem pole. At 4 am when I am finally being treated and coming out of my blackout/passout, I’m figuring that when you’re in a crappy situation all you can do is laugh, so I thought I would test out this theory.

The doctor asked me if there was any chance I could be pregnant, and although I thought my response of “only by immaculate conception” was a hoot, he however did not and then proceeded to stitch up my toe without waiting for the numbing medication to kick in. I think it was his own little F-U to all the drunks he had to deal with on New Years Eve.

Well thank you very much for letting me be your punching bag… in all honesty I probably deserved it. Oh and having it announced to my friends that I took it in the ass and then passed out before I could explain that I meant they gave me the tetanus shot in my ass, not the gross way. Predictably, that wasn’t one of my finer moments. Thanks karma… lesson learned.

Here’s to 2008… it can only go up from here right? Here’s my resolution, keep a look out for those shards of glass in your life (yeah that’s a metaphor).

JLP

No Children Allowed

2008-02-08T23:04:00.002-05:00

Tonight I got a rare and frightening glimpse of my possible future, and frankly, I’d be perfectly happy if time just stopped now.

At the request of a friend who now owes me the world’s biggest favor, I attended the variety show at the elementary school where she teaches fourth grade.

I have to admit that it was amusing. Awkward singing and kids forgetting their routines caused parents to fight back their laughter, while a few acts were even clever and endearing.

But mostly what I noticed was all of the kids. Tons of them. All shapes, sizes and levels of shrieking (especially when the Hannah Montana acts came on).

They screamed and giggled and ran around, and all the while the parents seemed completely unnerved by an auditorium full of my current worst nightmare.

It’s not that I don’t want kids. In fact, it’s the opposite. You don’t grow up babysitting and working away your summers as a camp counselor without a love for children.

Just not now. Not even soon. Not even approaching a time that might be related to soon. Or a time that has ever been close to soon.

I made a comment to that effect to my teacher friend in front of a group of dads during intermission. We didn’t speak, but I got an assuring look from them that said they understood my fear. They probably never thought they’d be hanging out at Mt. Vernon Presbyterian School on a Friday night for a talent show either. It’s just that at the end of the show, that’s where their night ends where mine is just beginning.

So for now I’ll continue to focus on being a twentysomething, care-free and delightfully child free!

JLH

Bye Bye Fort Buckhead

2008-02-06T10:18:00.001-05:00

Yet another sign that the best times are behind us, Roommate and I are moving out of our beloved apartment, Fort Buckhead.

After living there for a year and a half, we made the difficult decision that it was time to move. We were starting to run out of room there, so it’s on to the greener pastures of South Buckhead in a house with a yet to be determined nickname.

Naturally we’ll miss the extreme proximity to many of our favorite bars, and it probably won’t hit us until we realize that we can’t walk home anymore.

We had a good run there complete with plenty of kegs, late nights, air mattress hookups in the living room, sleep walking, game nights, iPod dance parties and other good memories.

It’s probably for the best though, considering we are starting to feel like sketch, out of place old people at some of our longstanding bar hangouts nearby.

The idea of moving is bittersweet, really. On the one hand, we’re gaining a garage, a third bedroom that I’m guessing we will quickly start referring to as the “shacker room,” and a much more central location. Plus we will literally be able to see the house of one of our favorite guy friends from our new driveway.

And I’m sure we won’t miss spending twenty minutes trying to explain to each new guest exactly how to find our place, get into the parking garage, find visitor parking, locate our building and level, punch in the door code, navigate to our apartment, and only then finally finding our favorite pre and post-gaming party spot.

But it was in that apartment that some of our best post-college memories were made, and for that we’ll always remember it fondly.

Late night may never be the same after we say goodbye to the infamous Fort Buckhead, and although it can never truly be replaced, I'll look forward to seeing what our new place has in store for us!

JLH

Stranded at the Drive-In

2008-01-24T13:34:00.001-05:00

Only three weeks into the new year and I’ve already experienced my first dating disaster of 2008.

Last weekend I met a big group of girls from my sorority for dinner and drinks. Towards the end of our meal, I couldn’t help but notice a table of four twenty-something guys a few tables over from us.

We were at a nice enough restaurant that it was definitely an unusual scene to see these guys eating together. Having already polished off the better part of a bottle of wine and at the prodding of my tablemates, I decided to approach them.

Gathering all my courage, I introduced myself to the guys and made small talk. It wasn’t hard to get their attention since they would have been blind (or gay I suppose) to miss the dozen and a half or so ex-sorority girls a few tables away.

They explained that they had gone to Georgia Tech together, lived in the neighborhood and had wanted to try that restaurant. After a few minutes of chatting, the funniest guy in the bunch asked for my phone number and we determined that we would all meet up later that evening.

And a while later, we did meet up. However, the one I had my eye on (we’ll call him Guy) was no longer with them. He had left to meet another group of friends. We had a good time with the guys, but you could tell that would be the last time we’d ever hang out with them.

The next night it snowed in Atlanta, so rather than braving the elements, Roommate and I decided to host a game night at Fort Buckhead. Sometime that night, I started getting text messages from Guy. He had asked his friend for my number and wanted to meet up.

Since I wasn’t going out that night, he asked if I’d like to meet him for lunch on Monday. I said I would, and he said he would call Monday morning with when and where to meet.

Needless to say, I never heard from Guy again. Nothing. Nada. Not even a text.
Thankfully if I was going to be stood up, this wasn’t the worst way. It’s infinitely better than waiting around at some local lunch spot hoping each time the door opens that it will be the person you are waiting for.

I understand waking up from a drinking induced haze and realizing that perhaps you’re not as interested as the liquor had indicated, but to completely back out from a lunch date without so much as a phone call is pretty pitiful. It’s not as if I forced him to ask his friend for my phone number.

It wasn’t exactly the first date of 2008 I was hoping for, but at least things can only go up from here!

JLH

Snowed In

2008-01-19T13:26:00.001-05:00

I know I have a great roommate for many reasons, but one of the funniest things she does is point out good looking men to me while we’re in public.

Like every good Atlantan does when it snows, Roommate and I ventured out in the snow to stock up on necessities in case we were snowed in this weekend. Unlike the typical milk and bread shopper, we made sure that we covered the essentials like frozen pizza, ice cream and wine.

At Kroger, Roommate spotted a good looking guy in the checkout line next to us. He was tall, well dressed and had a great smile. I briefly considered saying something, but with my ponytail, jeans and a fleece, I wasn’t feeling the confidence to approach a random man in the grocery store on a Saturday morning.

As luck would have it, we decided to stop by Blockbuster on the way home to pick up some movies. As we approached the counter, who did we find but cute Kroger guy? Assuming it must be fate, I made a terrible joke about how he must be following us. He laughed, as he obviously recognized us from the grocery store too.

He made casual conversation with us for a couple minutes and left. Immediately when he left, Roommate and I quickly agreed that we realized he was gay the moment he started talking. The Blockbuster clerk noticed our faux pas as he was gay too and obviously his gaydar had gone off long before ours.

So the oldest cliché of the Atlanta dating scene lives on… all the good ones really are taken or gay.

JLH