Why women need more than one girlfriend...
So they have somebody to talk to about their other girlfriend when they are currently pissing them off.

We all do it, even as adults when it's not spiteful or malicious. It goes something like, "I love her, you know that, BUT sometimes..." And then you and your friend can vent until next week when they are talking to each other about YOU. It's a vicious cycle really, a catch-22.

PS: Remember that 80s board game, Girl Talk? I used to play it at my friends house.

Coffee Talk in the Blogging World
According to BlogPulse the top 5 people currently being discussed the most in the blogosphere are:

1. Terri Schiavo
2. President Bush
3. Harry Potter
4. Michael Schiavo
5. Britney Spears

Kind of sad the Britney is in the top 5, ick!

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Tonight around 9:45 p.m. on the street parallel to mine, I passed by Jason Priestley walking with another guy and smoking a cigarette. He's not that tall, but has the same sideburns and killer smile that he always had. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt with an opened button down cotton shirt over it. I wouldn't have noticed him, but he smiled right at me and all of a sudden my mind clicked in recognition, hehe, as a result I'm still a little giddy :)

I left my cell in Hoboken
Better than my heart I suppose.

Last night, I went to Hoboken, New Jersey for the first time. I went via the Path Train, which is only a 14-min train ride from Manhattan. Hoboken is considered the hot spot for 20-somethings, but it was too much of a college boozing town for me. I was told that I looked like Sarah Jessica Parker by two guys, that was kinda cool, lol.

My friend and I ended up at Bahama Mamma's which had tiki-hut decorated bars and hiphop music. My friend, Stef had dancing fever because she danced for 2 hours on a raised platform, she dragged me up several times, but man it felt like a workout, I don't know how she was able to last that long.

Later, while jumping like a mock cheerleader to "Hey Mickey," the strap of my little Coach bag broke and crashed to the floor. I immediately gathered the contents that scattered across the dance floor, like my business cards.

An hour later on the Path train back to the city I realized my cell phone was missing (the third, mind you, in 6 months). So having no choice, I headed back to Hoboken for the 2nd time that night and begged the bouncer to let me back in without paying a cover. The bartenders said they did find a cell phone and I was so relieved until they handed me a Nokia and mine is an LG flip phone. Looking out of place, with my long winter jacket on, I went down on my knees onto the sticky floor near the dancing platform looking for my cell phone. A couple of guys were at first alarmed by my behavior but then asked me what I was looking for. When I explained that I dropped my phone, they gave me the 'good luck you drunk bimbo' look. I was just about to give up when I spotted my phone in the corner near a Heineken bottle. Relief is beyond the feeling that washed over me. I even hugged the mean guys who were pretending to help me, they kept repeating "your lucky" and indeed I was. One of the guys also said, "now that you got your phone why don't I give you my number." I laughed and headed for the train back to Manhattan yet again. When I got back I extensively cleaned my cell phone so now it is sticky and germ free.

Click Here to find out how I ruined my first phone.

My Toasty Apt Building
What condition are you about to have when you smell toast burning? A stroke? I think they say you're supposed to smell toast burning, but then again my dad had a stroke at the young age of 38 and he never mentioned such nonsense. Anyway, I digress.

Since moving into my apartment building, I smell toast on a daily basis even when I'm not toasting any. It comes in from my hallway at random times and smell's like someone is cooking grilled cheese or about to have eggs and toast. Several friends of mine have commented on it when visiting me.

I think the eccentric old guy on the first floor has a thing for toast. He lives by himself but also has two cats that roam the halls and meow like birds. I love cats and enjoy petting them, but I tell you their meows freak me out. His apartment is long and narrow, train style like and whenever he opens it I see lined up tin cans and hear Telemundo on the TV. He also carries in a classic red bicycle in and out but I've never seen him ride it, only carry it. The weird thing is I keep running into him around the city and I smile but he has no idea who I am, lol. I saw him in Central Park watching the Marathon in October and at the supermarket last week.

Blogging Beyond the Men's Club

Since anyone can write a Weblog, why is the blogosphere dominated by white males?

By Steven Levy
Newsweek
Read the full Story

Well, I love that I'm an oddity, sort of, and being among the female bloggers :)


Happy St. Pat's Day!
Despite being Italian my first name, Tara, is of Irish decent. In Gaelic it means 'The Tower' and Tara
is also a town in Ireland, where they used to crown the ancient kings. I've never been, only to Dublin, where being as name obsessed as I am, I took a photo of Tara Road and a leather shop called Tara Leather, lol.