Dear Zooey Deschanel,

I want to be you. I want your wardrobe and your delightfully quirky attitude.

Love,

Bess

I heart Netflix.  I have been a loyal subscriber for 4 years or more now.   I love the red enveloped surprises that come straight to my door.    I’ve had an interesting experience with Netflix this week.

1)  I’ve been Netflicking season 1 of Northern Exposure.  I never watched this show growing up and was only vaguely aware it existed.  I didn’t even know that John Corbett/Aiden was on the show as a main character!  And seriously, ladies, how adorable is he in this show?!

Right?!?  Super adorable.

Even though I’ve only gotten through Season 1, I find it completely delightful.  The characters are fun and quirky – kinda like the town folk of Stars Hollow, CT (home to my Gilmore Girls).  And Dr. Flieshman is precious and his cliche New Yorkness is endearing.  The great thing about watching a show that has already been canceled is that I don’t have to worry that I won’t have room on my dvr/time in my life to watch it.  There’s no commitment.  It simply augments my life when I need more tv – like in the summer when everything is a rerun and Daisy of Love is already over (and she totally picked the wrong guy).

2) Madea Goes to Jail.  Worst piece of crap movie that has ever existed.  For some reason Matt and I got this idea that Madea Goes to Jail will be this wonderful and hilarious piece of cinema.  WRONG.  We watched in with undying anticipation last night.  We got our dinner ready and prepared for the gut bursting laughter.  WRONG for the following reasons:

a) Madea is maybe in 30% of the movie.  That 30% was actually entertaining but that’s it

b)  Madea is only in jail for legit 30 mins

c)  The rest of the movie is about a prostitute that is trying to get off the streets – talk about downer.  And this is not just any prostitute.  It’s RUDY HUXTABLE.  What would Dr. Cosby say?  And, it’s hard to believe a crack addicted prostitute would have such white straight teeth.

My first ever blog entry was my Celebrity Top Ten list.  It’s been suprisingly long since then so it’s time for an update:

1.  Don Draper – In his office, on his desk with my dress still on

2.  Leonardo DiCaprio – Now, in modern day, not just as Romeo or Jack Dawson.  I was Scorsese DiCaprio

3.  Michael Cera – He’s so adorable and awkward and precious.  I’ve dedicated a few blogs to him already so I won’t go into too much detail about my love.

4.  Seth Rogen – FAT.  I like him chunky as previously discussed.

5.  John Krasinski – In a cardigan in the library

6. Chef Tom Colicchio – In the kitchen with food and stuff

7.  Fleet Foxes – All of them and we’re all wearing plaid and in a field

8. Rhett Butler – carrying me up the stairs in our mansion in the South while Atlanta burns.

9.  Jimmy Stewart – Philadelphia Story as he shouts, “C Dexter Haven!”

10.  Robert Redford – The Way We Were

Alt 1:  Elvis the War years

Alt 2:  Ryan Gossling

Alt per Jenn’s suggestion:  Marlon Brando – Streetcar Named Desire

In the most completely non ironic sense, 5ive is soooo my jam. Loved them when I was younger. I did a choreographed number to this song when I was a camp counselor. It was the hit of closing campfire.

Were you nervous? Did I keep you on the edge of your seat? Here is the conclusion to my EuroTrip Tale. I hope you enjoyed:

I woke up to a beautiful Spring day, that however, did not prevent me from crying in my bed for about an hour. Then I thought, “Bess, suck it up. There’s nothing you can do about it now. Go put on the cute trench coat and skirt you got yesterday and do something.”

This is a picture from Paris, but I'm wearing the super cute trench I bought

So, that’s what I did. Without the ability to use any transportation, I just walked around the city. I took streets I had never taken before. I had been so arrogant, assuming that in my brief few months stay that I had come to know that city. I knew nothing. I discovered the true Prague when I was able to see it with no distractions, when my feet found each street on their own.
I started taking back alleys hoping I’d be able to eventually find my way back to the dorms. Behind my T-Mobile store there was a tiny walkway I went down. I felt like I had just found the wardrobe in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. There, in the middle of New Town, was a quaint little square with trees, benches, and local artists painting and selling their versions of Prague Castle. I spent much of the rest of the afternoon on one of those benches reading. Even though the book I was reading was great, I was much more interested in the people watching. There were obnoxious Italian tour groups singing at the top of their lungs, the quiet artist, and the locals on their way from the farmer’s market, and my favorite – the sandwich shop.
This sandwich shop became my haven for the rest of my stay. It undeniably had the best tuna salad sandwich I have ever eaten. I know you’re thinking to yourself, “No way Bess – not possible.” Let me reassure you – it is possible. I have no idea how to even begin to describe what made the sandwich so wonderful. It could have the fresh vegetables on the tuna or the fresh bread. It could have been the fact that everything else was so good that my mind somehow tricked my taste buds. Using the equivalent of about a dollar or so I bought myself a sandwich and sat for another hour.
Finally, I decided that there had to be more hidden gems in the city. I felt like I was digging in a vintage shop for the Channel bag that has been long since forgotten. After literally walking across one end of the city and down the other I found my second favorite find. Mountain Dew. Because I’m from a small Indiana town, I have a strong affinity for the caffeinated beverage. Apparently Europe has yet to discover the wonderful hyper drink. I couldn’t find it anywhere. I stumbled into a mom and pop shop to buy some cheese and crackers for dinner and there it was staring me in the face. The green neon bottle called to me.
I happily took my cheese, crackers and Mountain Dew to another park bench. At the bottom of Petrin Hill (a large park in the middle of the city), there was a street with a few grassy knolls that sat empty.

This is my Czech class on Petrin hill

I sat myself down to enjoy more of my book and snacks. As I sat there, a group of nuns, a young mother and child, and a few romantic couples on strolls passed by me. I was getting to see the real Prague. I could see the Czech people as more than the people that simply occupy my beautiful city. I saw them exchange whispers with the person they loved and cuddle their babies – the same experiences that unite people all over the world.
When I got home that night, it was finally late enough in American time that I could start making my multitude of phone calls. I was able to get all my credit cards canceled and new ones reissued without much hassle. However, they had to be sent to my parents and then my parents would have to ship them to me which added more days onto the “Traveler Check Budget” I was working with. I also left my parents a rather melodramatic message at their hotel saying, “Call Bess on her room phone because her cell phone was stolen along with the rest of her life. Please call immediately.” I think they thought I had been brutally abused and raped.
That night I found an old bottle of wine and proceeded to drink the entire thing while watching Gilmore Girls episodes on my computer until I passed out. The dorms did not have a corkscrew (hello this is Europe right?). So I dug out the cork with my knife, getting most of the cork in the actual wine. I had to work for my intoxication. So the evening may not have been the most Czech experience, but I was a little girl who didn’t find it safe to be out alone at night (and I just really love Gilmore Girls).

The next morning I did the same thing. I kept finding more parks to people watch. In one park, I watched, what appeared to be an adult acting class doing mime exercises (it was as entertaining to watch as it sounds). I even found an English speaking church to attend that was tucked away in a residential area of the city. Even though I knew no one at the church I felt warm and comforted by the message that things of this world and short lived and truly inconsequential (such as credit cards and cell phones). I knew by the end of my weekend that it didn’t matter if I had a cell phone or a credit card to abuse the exchange rate on or any other silly things that were lost with my purse.
I spent the best weekend of my semester listening to the city and what it was really all about. I still love the Charles Bridge, but I now know that the city is much more than the few touristy sites. It’s more than beautifully preserved architecture. It’s a city that breathes life of artists, lovers, and families. That takes in an orphaned college student without a sense of direction. I devoted a few days a week to reconnecting with my city the rest of my semester. My class schedule left me large chunks of time where everyone else was in class. Instead of napping in my room or hanging around school, I went out in the city. I read more books that semester knocking of park after park armed with my tuna sandwich and Mountain Dew.

And the Saga continues…

Much of this changed near the middle of the semester. One of my close friends, Jane, and I decided to spend the day out and about in the city, shopping, eating and eventually seeing a movie. I hadn’t yet seen a movie since I had been there and I had been dying to see “Brokeback Mountain.” Czech cinemas are slightly different than American ones. They don’t let you enter the theater early. You have to wait until it’s the exact time for the movie. Since we didn’t know this at the time, Jane and I sat down in the theater hallway surrounded by our shopping bags (the exchange rate was awesome – which lead to many impromptu sprees). Finally we were able to enter the theater. I sat down to take in the gay Western in Czech subtitles. As the movie started I realized that I couldn’t feel my purse under the seat. I quickly went back in the hallway to make sure I hadn’t left it, and I saw no sign of it. I just assumed I had kicked it far under my seat. I sat back and enjoyed watching Jake Gyllenhaal and tried to brush up on my Czech via subtitles. Unfortunately, “I wish I knew how to quit you” did not become part of my Czech vocabulary.

After the movie, I picked up all my bags and still no purse. I looked under my seat, everyone else’s seat – still no purse. We checked with the front desk, fighting the language barrier (purse is somewhat difficult to charade) – still no purse. The manager helped us look-still no purse. The purse must had been left in the hallway for one minute tops, but that was enough time for someone to grab it, along with atm card, credit card, cell phone, phone card, transportation pass, student id, driver’s license, and all my cash.

As Jane and I walked home (because my transportation pass was long gone) the freak out ensued. I like to think I’m a pretty level headed person. I don’t get stressed out easily; I take things as they come. This was not the case on that walk home. Poor Jane. She had to listen to me sob, “What am I going to do? I will never be able to have any fun anymore. I suck at life. This wouldn’t have happened in America (uhhh yeah it would). Damn Communists.” My parent’s had just left Prague and had gone on to Greece, so I had no idea how to get a hold of them. I had no phone card to call my credit card companies and no money to buy a new one.
Luckily for me, I get my computer addiction from my family. My aunt happened to be on her aim at the time I got back from the movie. She was able to buy me a calling card online and give me my parent’s hotel information. I honestly have no idea what I would have done if Aunt B had not been online. If I had guessed I would say that I would have to return the trench coat I bought that afternoon, which would have resulted in a tailspin of depression. Plus I found the $100 in traveler’s checks that my dad insisted I get. Never mind that I told him that traveler’s checks were completely superfluous. For a moment, I exhaled a sigh of relief. All was well with the world once again. Then I remembered the plans for the weekend.
Our program had a required trip to Brno, the second largest city in the Czech Republic.

Being as I still had to work on canceling all credit cards and I really didn’t have much money to live on for at least a month. There was no way I could justify a trip that weekend. Let the freak-out commence. Every single person I knew in the entire country would be gone and I had no money. Awesome.

I was cleaning out some computer folders recently and found some interesting word documents. I found an essay I wrote for a friend for her graduate studies. She was compiling a book of people’s personal study abroad experiences.

Apparently I had a lot to say and wrote 7 pages. I will share it with you all in parts. Here comes Part 1.

Enjoy!

Second semester of my junior year of college I spent a semester abroad. There was a great deal of pressure to choose the perfect place to study. I had been concocting fantasies since I was a little girl about where I would study abroad. Would I be a chic fashionista in Paris sipping red wine wearing a Hermes scarf, an academic clothed in tartan in England discussing the rhetorical theories of Plato, or a free spirit in Italy stuffing my face with pasta and sweating in the disco techs with handsy Italian men? With so many possibilities how was I to choose? Finally, I tossed away my childish fantasies and logically reasoned that I should be a bourgeoisie hippie debating the merits of Kafka in Prague, Czech Republic. What was the big decision making factor? My brother heard it was cool. Ok, that may have not been the best reasoning, but frankly, it was better than some of my other ideas. I knew next to nothing about Prague before I went, I didn’t even know that spoke Czech there (which is possibly the ugliest language). Two bright pink suitcases later, I was there.
I may not have been debating Kafka, or even channeling my inner hippie, but I did manage to do some very Czech things. Mainly, drinking cheap beer.

As American students, we would spend our nights at the local bar drinking cheap Pilsners, dancing to American 80’s and 90’s music, and fending off hangovers with fried cheese sandwiches from the stands in the middle of Wenceslas Square. None of this ever involved Czech people, except for the bartender that kept our steins full, the dj who had to deal with our obnoxious screams every time he played “Come on Eileen,” and the lady at the cheese stand that had to interpret my “Dam si cislo piet” (I want a number 5). In our defense, it was not entirely our fault. One thing I learned early on was that Czechs are not known for their overwhelming friendliness. Whether it’s leftover from the Communist days or the intense cold of that winter, I’m not sure. The entire time we were there, zero Czech men offered to buy any of the pretty American girls drinks. After a few weeks, I did not even really care that I hadn’t met any Czech people. I was having a wonderful time anyway.

I’m putting this on my vision board:

I stole this pic from The Sartorialist. This woman is exactly how I strive

The results are in:

Me and EVERYONE ELSE likes their Seth as more of a fatty.

While I agree. Good for you for getting yourself into shape but stay true, Seth. Stay true