Drinking Alone

Drinking alone is like having erectile dysfunction - it's only embarrassing if it happens too often.

Last night, I decided to crack open a bottle of wine and enjoy it while I did laundry and the dishes, unwinding from the day. I don't usually feel inclined to do this, but since I'm going to Vegas this weekend and Australia next weekend, I wanted to clear the fridge out. Alcohol has a way of evaporating in this apartment if left unattended for too long. As I worked up a slight buzz, I got to thinking about why I sometimes like to drink alone. What is this called? Meta-drinking?

Last summer, at the height of my quarter life crisis, it wasn't uncommon for me to kill a case of Stella every couple of nights. It was part stress relief, part thought tonic. You know how drunk people come up with ridiculous ideas? I was hoping one of those ridiculous ideas would actually translate into a viable option. When painted into a corner, I will try anything to get out. In any case, I did feel more pensive and insightful after a couple of drinks with myself.

(Side note: I think part of the stigma behind drinking alone is the type and quantity of the alcohol consumed. One beer, that's fine. A six-pack of beer touches on the borderline of acceptability. A bottle of wine? Ok. A six-pack of wine because Safeway gives you a 10% discount? Not so much. Two-thirds of a bottle of Knob Creek neat because you like the taste? That only happened one time, and never again.)

Anyway, before this moment of self-reflection got too deep, my roommates and their friends came home and dragged me out to a bar, to turn my buzz into full blown drunkenness. So, just like curing erectile dysfunction, the best way to fix drinking alone is finding good partners to help you out.

Boulder Outdoor Survival School

Last August, I read about the Boulder Outdoor Survival School (BOSS) and decided that this was something that I wanted to do. I went on a 7 day field course from May 27 - June 2. This is my journal. It's equivalent to a 9 page Word document, so it's pretty long, take your time. That's what she said.

Day 1 – Impact

• We’re standing in the parking lot of the Travelodge, waiting for the shuttle to pick us up. Someone jokes that he’s never seen a group of people about to go on vacation look this nervous.
• The 1.5 mile run at altitude takes a lot out of me. I’m in pretty decent shape, but I can’t breathe. I’m a little wary of what lies ahead.
• We meet our guides, Laurel, Mountain Mike, and Susan.
• It’s finally time to go! The van drops us off and we start hiking.
• We’re night hiking in the woods with a full moon. It’s so bright that our shadows are visible.
• The desert sand is not a good place to spend the night. Our guides headed for the trees and made themselves a nice bed of pine needles. Ewing and I froze our asses off. Our guides spooned to stay warm. Ewing and I “hucklebucked”.
• This was the coldest I’ve been in a long time. I awoke multiple times during the night to move my fingers and toes so I wouldn’t lose any of them.
• I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve woken up from the cold. At this point I was starting to get mad at the sun for taking it’s damn time getting up. This night is starting to feel like a week.
• We paid for this? Really?
• The sun is finally up! Sweet salvation! Heat! Light! My spirits are infinitely improved.

Day 2 – Impact

• We hiked for a little bit, to a little creek, and adjacent to it were these red sandstone mountains that crumbled when you touched them.
• I climbed to the top of a hill in between two of the sandstone mountains and had a great view of the valleys in between.
• Sitting by the creek, I noticed that by simply tilting my neck, I could amplify the sound of rushing water. I’ve never paid attention to details like this before.
• Laurel demonstrated first how to make a bow and drill set, and then how to make fire with it. This is very cool.
• I dropped a deuce in the woods today. It was probably the grossest thing I’ve ever done, although it wasn’t the grossest place I’ve ever pooped. The flies swarming my payload, however, did add to the effect.
• Sage is proving to be a very versatile bush. We use it’s branches to make fire and its leaves as toilet paper. What else can I use it for?
• We stop and build our fire tools some more. My fire set is looking pretty sad. Ewing is the only one out of our group to successfully make fire.
• We hike and hike. Uphill and downhill. Pass cryptobiotic soil. It takes 50-200 years for some of these structures to form, and we can easily crush it with a careless step. Sometimes survival is easy, sometimes survival is hard.
• The day gets worse. The combination of fatigue, hunger, lack of sleep, altitude acclimation, and dehydration is starting to take its toll. I’m starting to breathe heavily and my heart is pounding. And it’s only mid-afternoon.
• We pass a pool of stagnant water. The girls decide it would be a good idea to fill up. I, however, am a pussy and think that there will be better streams later on, like there have been earlier in the day. With the (false) promise of running water ahead, I elect to not fill my bottle right now. This was a mistake.
• The day drags on. Ewing is starting to show signs of mild dehydration. His breaks are getting longer and longer. I take his pack for one uphill climb. It must have been a 60 or 70 degree incline.
• Other members of the group are also showing signs of exhaustion.
• This hill does not stop. It just keeps going. What motivates me is that this is exactly what I’ve asked for.
• We get halfway up the hill and take a break. I turn around and bask in the view that I just earned.
• During this break, I take a little nap. The first of many. I have never fallen asleep this quickly.
• Up again, another hill. We pause every couple of minutes for various members of the group. I fall asleep during every one of these breaks.
• We’re almost at the top. Mike says he cannot move his legs and urges us to go without him. Laurel says that we all go together. It’s a moot point, he has to go, there is no rescue team coming. We all motivate him. Ewing and I do a beautiful rendition of the Star Spangled Banner to boost morale.
• I’m really thirsty. I haven’t had water in some time now. I get one sip of water from Laurel. I feel like I’m cheating.
• It’s cold, but I’m sweating. I had put on my Under Armour earlier to stave off the cold, but now it’s working against me. I’m losing water that I can’t afford.
• The darkness is messing with my mind. I’m seeing things and shapes that are out of place. My only concern is to keep moving.
• I start to visualize food and candy bars.
• Every hill we climb, I wonder if it’s the last one. It never is. We’re at about 8000 feet right now.
• We’ve been night hiking for some time. At every break, I sit down and fall asleep. I’m not the only one. Our guides do a good job of motivating us.
• Laurel’s no swearing rule goes out the window.
• Former Army and Navy guys claim this is harder than anything they’ve ever done. Marathon runners agree with them. I feel better about myself.
• I went to the store and I left. I left because I thought it was right. Left right left right. My mental cadence keeps me going.
• My goal for tonight is to never be the one to request a break.
• One foot in front of the other, Laurel urges.
• In the distance, I see people stopping. I hasten my pace. But they haven’t stopped. The moonlight is playing a cruel joke.
• I’m pretty dehydrated at this point. At every possible camping site, I wonder if this is where we’re going to camp. It never is.
• We come across a muddy puddle in the middle of a clearing. Laurel says to fill up whenever you can. I won’t make the same mistake twice.
• Walking in a straight line is next to impossible at this point.
• This muddy water is the best I’ve ever tasted. The aftertaste, however, reminds me of manure.
• What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right?
• Someone asks when we’re going to stop. Laurel responds, “Have you ever read the Robert Frost poem, ‘Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening’?”. Asshole. Miles to go before I sleep.
• I’m basically sleepwalking at this point, not unlike a zombie.
• We come to a clearing. I see people sitting down, and I join them. I’m asleep even before my ass hits the ground.
• The guides rouse us. To go see some bullshit plant that Laurel found when she was peeing. What the fuck.
• She launches in about how this plant has edible roots and tubers. I’m sleeping on my feet at this point, I don’t care.
• Laurel mentions something about the tubers being able to feed 12 people when this particular plant blooms, once every five years. My eyes open at the mention of food. Fireman Mike volunteers to dig them up. They strongly resemble bananas.
• Could it be? Are we finally done with Impact?
• The guides break out herbal tea, and we gather round and share our thoughts. Food and drink have never tasted this good.
• A fire pit! Ewing makes a fire, and we gather around it. He’s a hero. Fire has a magical way of boosting energy and morale.
• With our blanket packs, we sleep a lot more comfortably compared to yesterday. Four of us spoon like we were taught. It’s still cold. Various body parts go numb during the night. From the cold or sleeping on the ground, I don’t know.
• I go to stand by the fire and marvel at the simple pleasures of life. I’m not sure how long I slept, but it feels like enough.
• We pile wood on the fire and bathe in the smoke. It’s a new day. It’s a good feeling to know that I can handle whatever comes at me.

Day 3 – Group Expedition

• We learn topographical map reading and land navigation. If I had known this would play a larger part later, I would’ve tried harder to stay awake.
• We hike to a lake. Compared to yesterday, it’s a ridiculously easy hike. The lake is beautiful, and I am happy when Laurel says this is where we’ll be staying.
• The guides teach us field expedient ways to make shelters based on what we have. Ewing and I build a two man A frame shelter using our ponchos, complete with duff bed and rails.
• I think I’m starting to get sick. Laurel tells me to chew a clove of garlic and swallow it. It might be the placebo effect, but I feel better already.
• I’m still having trouble making fire. I have a feeling this will be a problem later on.
• We eat our food rations as a group. Potatoes, carrots, onions, and garlic, with lentils, quinoa, and vegetable bouillon. Fireman Mike cooked. It tastes delicious. I eat hearty out of my enamel cup with the popsicle stick spoon I made earlier in the day.
• This was the warmest I’ve slept all trip.

Day 4 – Group Expedition

• Our guides tell us about low impact camping and the Leave No Trace philosophy. Makes sense to me. We spend some time pulverizing the coals and scattering the ashes. We disassemble the duff bed and re-arrange the duff, and put the rocks back to a “natural” looking position.
• We hike through canyons and valleys. I’ve discovered that when you hike in sand or uphill, stepping on pinecones provides traction.
• It’s my turn to lead the group. The trail is easy, and so is the map reading. This is fun.
• My sore throat is feeling better. I think the garlic may be working.
• We come across an ant hill, and Mountain Mike says that ant eggs taste good. The way he says things, I always think he’s kidding at first. I eat a handful. They have the consistency of Rice Krispies and taste faintly of watermelon.
• Our destination is a little clearing in Stair Canyon. The guides say that we’ll spend a lot of time right now working on fire. I’m determined to get my fire started.
• I did it! I had to use someone else’s pre-made nest, that’s how in shock I was. I didn’t think that I could do it. This is an unbelievable feeling. I bet I’m wearing this dipshit grin on my face right now.
• The guides like to play mind games with us. It’s time for Solo already. No wonder they were so adamant about us all getting fire to work.

Day 4 – Solo

• It’s probably 5 or 6PM at this point. I’ve found my campsite and started to build a fire. This shouldn’t take long.
• However, the fact that I had only successfully done this once before an hour ago is in the back of my mind.
• I lay out my tools and get to work. I remember to set up my nest and kindling.
• Five, ten tries later, nothing. What am I doing wrong? Fifteen, twenty tries later. Finally! My first coal! I carefully move it over to my nest. There’s not enough baby food in there! My coal dies.
• I am frustrated. I let myself curse once and be angry for three seconds only.
• 25, 30, 40, 50 tries later. My spindle goes flying away from my bow. I curse. I search for it frantically in the waning sunlight. If I lose it now, I’m fucked. I find it in a pile of sticks that look just like it.
• I re-shape my spindle. I re-shape my drill stone. Finally! My second coal! The sun is about to set beyond the canyon, and although it isn’t cold yet, I know that it will be soon. I need this fire.
• The coal breaks into three little pieces. I move two of them to the nest. The nest glows a bit, but then the coals fall deep into it, suffocating them from lack of oxygen. I frantically try to salvage the third coal, but in my haste and panic, snuff it out with my knife instead.
• My drill hole is starting to wear thin. I spend 5 minutes making a new hole, and then decide that it is a poor investment of time at this point.
• My body is too tired to keep trying. My hand cannot exert any more downward force, and my shoulder cannot work the bow efficiently without getting tired. My knee is sore from kneeling in the rocks and the sand.
• I curse myself for my poor nest construction. Prior proper planning prevents piss poor performance.
• It’s getting late and the moon is out. I change into sleeping clothes and get into my Ranger roll. I go to sleep, wondering how many of my group members shared my evening.

Day 5 – Solo

• I awake multiple times during the night to the incessant buzzing of mosquitoes and flies. Assholes. They bite my exposed skin, the area of my eyes not covered by my balaclava. Fortunately, the bites disappear in a couple of hours.
• I dream, my second night here to do so. Am I sleeping better, or just getting used to sleeping outside?
• One dream I have is about parts of my personality, personified. My Quitter portion is small, and the other parts get rid of her (yes, her) immediately. I’m pleased to find that I have not one but two personality parts that take charge. The issue at hand is the way I’m sleeping. They each offer good suggestions, but are unwilling to compromise. I wonder what the significance of that is. My Lazy portion sits back and awaits an outcome.
• I awake to the pre-dawn chirping of birds. I roll up my poncho and blanket, and change shirts and socks. I wait for it to get a little brighter before I go knock down my cairn, something I didn’t dare do in the dark last night. That would later prove to be a good decision. I mark my entrance path with a series of rocks. This would also prove to be a good decision.
• I climb back up and find a tree so I can make number two. I’m getting a lot better at this. For the first time in four days, I have a normal feeling BM.
• Now, where was my camp? I wander along, trying to find it. I climb uphill, downhill, left, right. Nothing looks familiar. Everything looks the same.
• I slide down a patch of soil. Unintentionally. The story of the hiker who cut off his own arm flashes through my mind. Is it a good thing that I’m wearing my knife?
• After what feels like an hour, I realize there are better ways to orient myself. I head downhill to the common path and try to locate my cairn.
• Son of a bitch, they all look the same. I backtrack two or three times, looking for the rock formation I had placed earlier.
• More time goes by. I didn’t want to do this, but I needed some confirmation that I’m still in the general vicinity of people. I hoot. Someone hoots back. I’m ok for now.
• I chance upon Allison walking to set her cairn. She was the second to be dropped off; I was the sixth. How did I get so far off course?
• I see Joe a minute later. He tells me to keep going. Finally, I find my cairn. As with yesterday, I try to let the fear and panic control me for only three seconds.
• After another 15 minutes, I find my campsite. It’s been too long. I tie a red bandana on the highest point of the tree that I slept under to avoid future mishaps. I eat two handfuls of gorp and decide to give the fire another try. I’m going to eat hot oatmeal this morning!
• My first coal attempt died in the nest. More dung! Elk dung is surprisingly good for use as tinder, as it’s just basically dried ground up grass particles.
• My spindle almost breaks. I have to reshape it to get it to fit. This better work soon or I’m going to have to make a new one.
• My second coal! I carefully place it in my nest. Softly I blow and apply more powdered dung. My nest is smoking, but I can’t see the coal. I rotate my nest and keep blowing. Finally! Fire! Yes!!!
• I resist the urge to quote Castaway.
• Fire is the devil’s only friend. My new friend is small and frail at first, but I nurse him to health.
• I find him bundles and bundles of food. I take revenge on the sage bush that kept poking me last night. You’re now food for my friend.
• I make a hot cup of oatmeal, with a bit of cinnamon. Oatmeal has never tasted this good. Despite all my previous mistakes, I’d managed to do something right. My fire placement is good, and I have reflector walls to keep my sides and my back warm as well.
• Confidence is a weird thing. Just knowing that I’ve made fire with this set before was enough to keep me trying again and again.
• I decide to spend the rest of the morning making more fireboards and spindles. I go and harvest a sage bush for this purpose.
• …Except after I get my sage bush, I spend an hour just sitting and staring at my fire, throwing more wood on it. I’m still amazed at myself. I find this wood that smells like honey barbecue when it burns. It’s delicious.
• Lunch consists of lentil and quinoa soup. It’s the best meal I’ve ever prepared for myself. I find cooking to be rather enjoyable, especially when you can eat alone outside with your thoughts.
• When’s the last time I took a nap under a tree? This is the most relaxed I’ve been all trip. The smell of honey barbecue in the air, a soft gentle breeze, and asshole flies that won’t leave me alone.

Day 5 – Student Expedition

• One by one we get rounded up and head back towards our guides, who were comfortably camped in the clearing. They greet each of us with hugs and handshakes. It’s like seeing family again.
• We share our thoughts, and Laurel initiates a little wilderness trivia game with prizes to win. I liked this part, she geared all the questions towards people who needed specific items. Mark the pilot was asked the cruising altitude of a certain Boeing jet, and his prize was a bottle of soap which he desperately needed. Allison won the duff bed that our guides had slept in. I immediately asked if she wanted to be bunkmates. That was probably the warmest I’ve ever slept that night.
• After showing us where to go tomorrow, and the recommended route we should take to get there, our guides departed. We ate as a group that night. I made the fire on the first try!
• Everyone pitched in their food rations for dinner. Selfishness and the individual does not exist at this point. Everything is shared. This is a good feeling for me. I’m starting to regain my trust in people. Allison and Joe take turns making ash cakes. Ewing roasts the rat that he caught. It was a good meal.
• The moon rises. I’ll never get sick of looking at it.

Day 6 – Student Expedition

• We pack up and head out at dawn. The group dynamic is amazing. Everyone gets along.
• …Until executive decisions have to be made. People have different opinions on the way things should be done.
• Fireman Mike steps up and suggests ways to get to where we’re going without spending a lot of time and energy. We agree to take a shortcut that involves going up and down a couple of steep canyon walls. It’s very hot and physically demanding, but I enjoy every second of it.
• I admire Fireman Mike’s leadership ability. He leads from the front, will never send someone in his place, and is a natural motivator.
• My hands and feet are swollen. It’s hard to make a fist.
• I see a lot of petrified wood along the way. I pick it up, thinking it would make for good souvenirs. This shit is heavy.
• I’m running low on water and starting to develop blisters on my feet. I’m fortunate enough to just now start getting them. Compare down, right?
• We reach the Moqui tanks just in time. I’m thirsty, and haven’t peed since we started hiking.
• There are hand and footholds carved along the walls. We imagine the Indians who had to carve these. We speculate about the battles fought over the water.
• The tanks are somewhat difficult to climb to. The water is filled with tadpoles and various other forms of life. I might have been a little naïve to expect crystal clear water. Gross, but the swimmers indicate that the water is safe to drink. Allison passes out iodine pills to treat the water. The aftertaste takes a little getting used to.
• We proceed to the rendezvous point. However, we get a little lost, and we don’t exactly panic, but things aren’t looking great either.
• I’m hydrating, but my urine is a dark yellow color. I’ve got less than a liter of water left at this point.
• Mark the pilot makes an announcement to the group. We’re slightly off course, and we should start rationing water. The good news is, we know where we are and where we should be.
• I have a nosebleed from the dry desert air. Son of a bitch!
• Fireman Mike says we’re going the right way. If he believes it, so do the rest of us.
• We stop and take a break at what we think is the rendezvous point. The flies are relentless. I replace my moleskins and air out my socks and feet. They smell like death.
• The group members who aren’t tired volunteer to hike to the spring. They return too quickly. We’re in the wrong place. Fortunately, the right place isn’t too far down the road.
• Joe, Fireman Mike, Ewing and I volunteer to go fill up water bottles. I’m tired, but this is the only way I can guarantee myself adequate water. I don’t dare drink my last couple sips of water until we reach the spring. Expectation is the mother of all goatfucks.
• The spring exists! It’s a corrugated metal tank with grass growing out of it, and the water tastes terrible, but I need it. My pee is golden. I chug two Nalgenes and help fill up water bottles.
• When we return, our guides are awaiting us with food. I’ve eaten pretty well the last two nights, to the point where I’m wondering if I’m the only person in the history of the world to gain weight on a survival course. We eat hearty and prepare for the final challenge.

Day 6 – Final Challenge

• Our final challenge is simply to walk along the road, guided by glowsticks that mark turns and hazards. It seems easy enough.
• I tell the story of Walmart walk, and explain how that was what got me through Impact mentally. Fireman Mike tells us that friendship is something to be cherished.
• Mark has bad blisters on his feet that make walking extremely difficult for him. Fireman Mike hangs back to keep him company. Mark is a trooper, and I feel like I have no grounds to complain about my own blisters.
• Son of a bitch, how long have we been walking?
• The tagline for final challenge on the BOSS website is “Just when you think it’s over, it isn’t.” I prepare myself for the mindfucks that they just seem to love to do.
  

Day 7 – Final Challenge

• We keep walking. Mike Sutton, Dan, Ewing, and I amuse ourselves by playing the animal game. If you repeat one, you have to do a lap around the rest of us. It’s a fun distraction.
• The four of us plus Allison lie down in the middle of the road to take a rest. We tell dirty jokes to pass the time. The best one of the evening was: Why did the condom cross the road? Because it got pissed off.
• I think we all fall asleep at some point. I silently marvel at how we did so without a second thought for passing cars. We hadn’t seen a single car up until now. The road was so remote it wasn’t even painted. In retrospect, I really enjoyed this part.
• We get up when Mark, Joe, and Fireman Mike catch up to us. We all cheer on Mark’s tenaciousness.
• This road does not end. I’m furious at Laurel for doing this to us. I’m going to kill her dead. My anger drives me for the rest of the journey.
• We see glowsticks up ahead! They’re attached to the vans that initially dropped us off. But there’s no one there. The mind games continue.
• I understand the purpose of this now. The final challenge is to simulate walking to find help if your car breaks down in the middle of nowhere. You don’t know where it will be, and the uncertainty can easily turn into fear, panic, and anger. This was a good exercise in mental toughness. I think I’ve got plenty of that now.
• We see their fires in the distance. The end is in sight! We arrive, and our guides greet us with oranges and Gatorade. We eat and chat and sleep by the fire. This has been an incredible trip.
• Ewing gives Mountain Mike his official nickname.
• Laurel tells us that we hiked about 12 miles on Student Expedition, and an additional 12 for our Final Challenge. We did it as a group. I feel like I won at life.

Fuck Cingular, the New AT&T

(The blog is briefly back. At my sister's insistence.)

I got the Samsung A-707 phone last month. It's an amazing phone, the only drawback is that I had to get a new plan with Cingular, now the new AT&T. Is that not annoying to anyone else?

Anyway, I picked a plan, and then smooth talked the guy behind the counter into giving me 200 text messages and phone insurance for 5 dollars extra a month. I also got a free charger out of it. Turns out the joke's on me, not only did I not get any of those services, none of the 80 text messages I've been sending this month have reached their intended recipients.

Which, inconvenient as it is, is a relief, really. All this time I thought people were just mad at me.

Sometimes I Think I Do This On Purpose

I found this game on the internet: http://www1.rasterwerks.com/game/phosphor/beta1.asp

Basically, it's a first person shooter that you can play through your browser. It's got pretty good graphics, and you can network it to play with your coworkers also. Like they did in Stamford.

It's like I actually want to be on The Office.

Lottery Trumps Productivity

About half an hour ago, one of my co-workers casually mentioned that the Mega Millions is up to 370 million dollars. Sensing an opportunity for myself (and my work friends) to blow off work, I suggested that we all pool five dollars and go buy a bunch of tickets. That got the ball rolling, pun intended. Now we're all talking about what to do with the money when we win. I did a little math, I can make it rain every day for a year in Vegas. I wonder if the rest of the company will be pissed that we all quit on the same day.

Congratulations to Martin Scorsese

Well I'm an asshole. Twice.

The End of an Era

I spent the last four hours watching the last six episodes of The O.C. This was intentional, I purposely distanced myself from any spoilers up until now, to build up the emotional momentum necessary to power through such an event. As expected, I am not at all disappointed. But I do think that I might be outgrowing teen drama marathons...

A quick rundown of the end of the series. For starters, I totally called the Kirsten Cohen abortion back in season one, when she was talking Teresa out of hers. I don't think I've ever been this happy to point out that someone, real or imaginary, has had an abortion. Plus now shes knocked up again! Very appropriate for the over the top absolutely not believable at all category.

Adult love triangles involving the Bullet, Hercules, and Julie Cooper. Seriously, this show is about to end, and that's the best you can come up with? I am rather impressed with the clown porn theme.

An Oldboy reference! (The Korean movie that Seth, Ryan, and Sandy go see.) I think they secretly love Korean people on this show. Taylor Townsend speaks Korean. That's evidence of something, right?

The natural disaster episode. An earthquake rattles the O.C., Ryan has a glass shard in his side, Seth is driving to get help, they get a flat, and instead of trying to change it, they decide it'd be a good idea to WALK FOR HELP?? Come on, I know the show is getting cancelled, but this is a stretch, even for The O.C. If this show were ballsier, Ryan would've died.

Continuing with the fucking retarded theme (or am I just now realizing, in it's sunset, that this show is made for junior high and high school kids) but how does a one week pregnant woman who fell, a woman who got shot in the toe with a flare gun, and a rabbit get first priority in an emergency room in a city that just experienced an earthquake? Not to mention that they got there by pedalling a bike with a Radio Flyer attached to it Napoleon Dynamite style. This might be a good time to quit teen dramas forever.

And the entire fucking last episode. Ridiculous. But a very fitting ending.

Stay tuned tomorrow, when I, just like every other teenage girl blogger, lists their favorite The O.C. scenes.