Grilled Cheese and Cupcakes

I've been reading a lot of blogs lately... well not necessarily reading. Some I skim, some I pass right over (sorry dear, no, I have no interest in your family's happenings) and some I go back to the very beginning to avidly read and become involved in the progression. Each writer (predominantly women, at that) has their own individual persona, something that makes them stand out from the rest of the loonies with access to a computer and internet.

Hello, lovelies. I am Lola, aged 22, and spending as much time as possible these days in New York City. To be more specific, I spend a good deal of my spare time in one specific pub one specific avenue, books in one hand and drink in the other. You may be one of the 39402 people who ask me how I can possibly study in a place like that, but I'll just point you in the direction of my transcript from last semester and then politely ask you to fuck off. Well, in my mind, that is.

I've been a regular at the pub for about six months now, with the exception of time away while I tried to convince myself that this little spot was really a den of trouble. That didn't work so well, and I'm glad it didn't. Please don't send links and numbers to my local AA, because I assure you, you've got me painted wrong. I haven't been abused, I'm not an alcoholic, sexaholic, drug addict, or anything else you want to throw at me. The atmosphere is quality, the staff are.. well, an interesting bunch and I can't say enough about how clean the bathrooms are. Let's face facts - a clean pub bathroom is hard to come by.

I'm sorry I can't tell you where this beer haven is - anonymity and all that is very important. You would know who I am in a heartbeat, that girl on the side, stealing orange slices.