Miss me? Me neither.

I just wrote for about 20 mins, re-read what I wrote, scrapped it, and now here I am. Creative juices are just not flowing right now. I am back home after a nice weekend out at the beach. I swam in the ocean, relaxed, saw Alec Baldwin, tried to catch a blue fish bare-handed, ate well, hung out with family, and wore peach-colored pants. All said, it was a great weekend. I have a lot to say about b-school, and its social, political, and economic implications on my life. The Cliff's Notes to that blog will go something like this "good, whatever, uh-oh".

Before I get all serious I want to let you know that multiple people have said, "Finger, you are going to meet your wife at school". Friends, Mom,...I don't need this extra pressure, but I'm not going to lie, hopefully future Mrs. Finger is out there somewhere in the mid-west, sharpening her no. 2 pencils, preparing her trapper-keeper, and sitting at her computer blogging about the WASP-y Jew with a slowly receding hairline and a nice jumpshot she hopes to meet in Ann Arbor. It's not totally out of the question. But in the next two years it is going to be interesting to see how I can keep up and keep in touch with my friends. Some of them are getting married or are close to it and it's great that they are ready to spend the rest of their lives with someone forever and ever, with the same one person, for eternity. Forever, (cough), ever. Youcan'tchangethemeventhoughyouthinkyoucan (ahem). But anyway, I feel like by the time I'm done with school a bunch of my friends will be married. NYC is a funny place. I recently went to a baseball game with some guys and one guy was saying that he has been living with his girlfriend for 2 years (but had been dating her for 3 years) and now that their lease is up they are deciding where their relationship is going to go. If they continue to live together then engagement is probably in the cards at a point sometime soon, but if they don't live together, well...put a fork in it, it's kind of done. You know that guy you write your rent checks to every month, that fat bald guy who you drop off your checks with every month, you are telling me that this guy is going to force you into long-term life decisions? This I cannot understand. Sometimes I feel like every girl in NYC has an agreement with some secret underground leasing agent cooperative that says something like this:

"After 2 years raise my rent and the rent for my boyfriend's apartment just enough so that on pure economics alone it makes sense to move in together. If both you and I apply enough pressure then I can make the argument that we'll be saving money by moving in together and then I can somehow convince him to put a large portion of those savings towards my engagement ring which I've had picked out since our third date"

This is the reason 90% of you reading this blog even exist...rent increases made your parents move in together and 9 months later...you. Forget Elliot Spitzer, forget Barry Bonds, forget dog food contamination, this is a REAL scandal. When they uncover the office of this underground cooperative somewhere in Great Neck don't be surprised. You heard it hear first.