Here's to You, Mrs. Robinson!

Had a glorious time last night with pals at the B-Bar! But I must admit, the transition from winter's clunky boots to last summer's open-toed heels took its toll on my footsies--ouch! I ought to wear them around the house for practice before going out until 5 a.m.

I wasn't planning on staying out uber-late. A friend was suffering from boy drama though and wanted to make out with a random, so LIGHT BULB! We went to stupid Bar None--the ultimate stupid college boy-clad diveish bar w/ dance floor where if you're lookin' to make out, it's the place to be. Every time I go there, I always vow I'll never go back. See? I told you I have no self-control. Unfortunately, she didn't make out b/c our prospects were sour. But I DID meet a nice young man. It was funny—I was slightly drunk at this hour of 3 a.m. He was on his cell, and I was just staring at him. He saw me staring, and where I'd normally look away (the flirtress that I am), this time I didn't. And we just stared at each other for about 2 minutes. I think I was trying to seduce him with with my eyes, but I probably just looked drunk and stupid. Found out his name's Joe, and he's in college. Here's to you, Mrs. Robinson!

I love being 22. It's such an age of self-discovery. My wise 25-year-old roommate laughs when I rant about my dramatic excursions with my G-friends. Apparently, life is quite different when you're 25. I want to go to Atlantic City and pull a J.Lo's mom. Any takers?