Yesterday, I went up to New York so that I could check out the Teachers College campus. My best friend went with me, and thank god for that because she is my go-to NYC tour guide. She can get you anywhere you need to go, do it with spending as little money as possible, AND give serious attitude to anyone who gets in your way. I know, it's awesome.
Anyway, after we spent a few amazing hours wandering around Columbia, hoping for some Goodwill Hunting intellect to seep into our skulls, we headed downtown to get an early dinner. And guys? We found Heaven. No joke. In case you're interested, eternal bliss can be found in the East Village, at a small restaurant called S'MAC. This place serves the most amazing macaroni and cheese you have ever tasted. And not just your standard variety--no, this place makes mac and cheese an art form. And they serve it still bubbling in different-sized pans, covered in a crust of bread crumbs. Is your mouth watering? Cause it should be.
Ok, now my post was going to end there, but then I just remembered the cherry on top that made my day so perfect yesterday. So after loading myself up with as much mac and cheese as I could (and which sadly, wasn't even the whole serving) my friend and I headed over the Union Square to pick up some Jamba Juice. FYI, I am a slave to the sweet nectar that is Jamba Juice. I first discovered it in California, while I was visiting my boyfriend in college, and I have had an addiction to it ever since. Unfortunately, I haven't had it in over 2 years, since my boyfriend graduated from college, and there aren't any Jamba Juices in Wilmington. (Yet another reason why DelaWhere? sucks.) So last night, I was thrilled to get to taste that Jamba taste again. And then God gave me a present. When my drink was ready, some punk-ass girl swooped in, grabbed MY Jamba, and rushed out the door. What. A. Bitch. Nobody messes with my Jamba Juice! I was ready to throw down! Actually, it's me, so I just sort of stood there, blinking my eyes in a moment of stupor, with my mouth unattractively hanging open in surprise. Yeesh, why do I always have to be such a victim? I seriously need to toughen up and get some attitude before I move up to NYC. Oh, you're waiting for the good part? Well, the upshot of some whore taking my drink is that not only did they remake my 16 oz Strawberry Nirvana, but I also got a 22 oz Mango Mantra for free! I KNOW! It was awesome. Turns out, I ended up liking the Mango Mantra better than my original order. So thanks, random rude girl who stole my drink. You just made my day.
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