college counseling part deux

So, after the last article came out in the school papes I flew (that Friday, actually) up to Manhattan to interview at some fine establishments of higher learning. The first, Eugene Lang: The New School for Liberal Arts, was a bit of a bust- every kid there was desperate to be weirder and more artsy than the others. My tour guide, Monica, also reminded Dad of his college friend Dave, which is never a good sign. The kids on the tour were also mean to me because I wasn’t wearing leggings, cowboy boots, and a miniskirt. Sorry I prefer dresses. Assholes.
My interviewer was really nice, though. Warren Emanuel, an admissions honcho at Lang. He asked me questions like what books I liked and how independent I was (answers: Vonnegut and very) and then we decided that if I choose to go to Lang I’ll start a crossword puzzle club because crossword puzzles are hella dank and there’s no club devoted to them on campus. Tsk, tsk artsy fartsies.
Anyhoodles, I enjoyed my time in the city, got some sweet new duds (holla W hotel store!) and ate some freaking delicious Mexican food at Mexicano Rosa with Uncle Harry in the Village. Ugh, the greatest guac! But all in all, I was amped out of my little mind for Bronxville, which is why I went back to the hotel, ate again, woke up super early, and took the train from Grand Central with big BK.
It was freezing, but a still a perfect wonderland of different kids in scarves and sweatpants. And, to my surprise, there were lots of cute, straight boys. OMG! Because the ratio of women to men is staggeringly high and lesbians roam free among the ladies, it’s easy to turn into a four year les, but I mean, c’mon, it’s not Wellesley! And I’m sure that if I were to turn gay, they’d keep me just as warm on a long winter’s night… Anyway, our tour guide, Brian (or Bryan, idk) was a groovy Latin American studies major with Gwen Stefani hair and was legit as they come. He took us all around the pretty, little campus. I have to say, everything fit me to a fitted long-sleeved Tee except for the whole “phys ed credit” thing… everybody know mama hate exercise. Shit’s weak. But Dad and I had a blasty blast on our tour. And the kids were nice. I mean, really nice, and when I told them about the Lang kids they all had one thing to say: Assholes.
My interviewer for SLC was basically me with cuter glasses. She was glorious. Her name as Sarah and she made me lol all the while talking about Stephen Colbert and SLC’s many famous alumni (among them Alex Mac, who, according to Sarah, was a creepy goth chick… I believe it). She pretty much assured me that if I’m accepted I’ll thrive because there’s no environment as nurturing to the liberal arts as Sarah Lawrence. We talked about fantastic writing classes and theatre and…UGH! ACCEPT ME! I’m so desperate!
BK and I then ate some delicious pizza, went back to the Village, then the Upper East side, ate more, took a cab home, and slumbered once again in the W Times Square (a Eurotrash businessman’s wet dream). In the morn we walked around Time Square and Bryant park in only sweaters like badasses and then packed it up and took a cab to JFK. All I have to do now is reconfigure/ write all of my essays to make them SLC perf and send them shits in with my early decision agreement contract. Yeah, I said it… and you’re damn right it’s binding.