at work i listen to iTunes radio. and today, "jet" came on and i started cracking up. i immediately thought of dancing in mike's room at nick snow's birthday party. and then of the picture of athena, joe, and matt's legs.

thank god for my desk being up at the front secluded from everyone. they would've thought i was crazy.

Oh and Happy Birthday to my brother Juan!

BEST. SUMMER. EVER.

I AM SO FREAKIN' HAPPY. which should make y'all happy cause happy anna is the best anna. well i mean, i think so.

1. i LOVE my internship.

2. i passed accounting!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

3. i'm starting to think i may be able to graduate on time in may '07. i have to figure this out with my advisor. but i think it's possible. and if so, that would be AMAZING.

4. i'm almost 21. i can feel it getting closer and closer.

this summer is awesome so far. and it's only the first week.

not that y'all really care (well maybe you do. i don't know. depends who you are i suppose, whatever that means) but, i start my internship tomorrow! and i'm psyched. and i'm nervous. but mostly psyched. woo woo.

ok that is all.

this must be like a major insight into the male psyche for you, huh?

So, last night I got this call from Ian Bock. He invited me to a bar with him and his friends, all male, 3 of them graduating seniors at NYU. Considering I had no plans I went to meet them thinking that I would leave shortly after my arrival. I get there and they're all sitting at a table enjoying their liters of beer. Coincidently, the table next to us consisted of all male NYU grads also with some fellow uncomfortable girls. I ordered 0.5 liter because, well, a liter is like really big, especially for me, obvi. However, I guess the waiter didn't hear me and brought me a liter (ugh). This ended up being a good thing considering the conversations these boys were having...

Now, I've hung out with Ian and his friends before and they don't really care if there's a girl in their presence: they're talking about whatever the fuck they want. Thus, I heard about the girls they slept with, which hand they prefer to masturbate with, the strangest places they've had sex, how many girls, etc. You get the idea. Every once and a while, a couple of the guys would look over at me and apologize for the content of their conversation. I just nodded, smiled, said it was ok and once my beer was gone, I would just check out. One of them made the point that hearing all this must be giving me major insight into the male psyche. In a way, yes. But for the most part, no. Because I could really care less about which hand they use to masturbate.

In the end, we went to another bar, I ended up getting really drunk, shamelessly flirted (poorly) with one of Ian's friends and invited said friend to my birthday party. My birthday, mind you, isn't for another month and the party is far from planned. Ha. Ha. OY, OY, OY!

soooo...it really WAS an underwear party.