We could all stand to learn a thing or two from Reese

Elle Woods: "The rules of hair care are simple and finite. Any Cosmo girl would have known." -Legally Blonde

Mrs. Frye's inaugural spelling list of first grade contained some difficult words. Reduce, reuse, recycle and trash- to name a few.

I remember looking at the word recycle and being astounded. Seven letters! That was more letters than my age.

I also remember the feeling of panic I experienced when Megan, who sat next to me and colored so well, looked at the list and said, "This is so easy!"

So I studied. (And studied.)

I vividly recall sitting at the kitchen counter, while my mom poured frozen peas into our macaroni, saying over and over R-E-C-Y-C-L-E. It was like a little song.

I'm certainly glad I learned how to spell it, now that being green is cool (which is not what I learned in middle school...) recycling is the way to go.

A different kind of recycling seems to surround us, though. The more I read, hear and watch, the more I realize that everyone is continually recycling works of the past.

I think it's most evident if you compare Cosmo from month to month. Really, now, is there much of a difference between "12 Ways to Make Him Want You Bad" and "10 Ways to Make Him Want Your Bod?" In the end, Cosmo says it the same each time.

But I'm not faulting Cosmo. Everyone does it; Cosmopolitan is just a little more blatant about it.

The copycat phenomena is everywhere you look. Techno became so popular a few years ago because it's an art based on recycling the great things of the past. Of course it would thrive during our recycling-crazed time.

Michelle Obama
is gaining praise for recycling Jackie's look.

The Blacked Eyed Peas have been quoted saying that they try to emulate Earth, Wind & Fire.

Jerry Seinfeld even admits he has the same feeling- it's all been done before.

We've exhausted all of our ideas; now we're just disguising the old ones with new characters and technology.

On Sex and the City, Charlotte hosts a party where the guests bring a man they're no longer interested in, in order to trade with the other women. It's a male-recycling program, essentially.

I guess if we're recycling our trash we might as well go ahead and recycle our treasures too.

I've decided that an essential element of successful recycling is that you have to do it better than it was done the first time. It's kind of like a sequel.

No one wants to listen to Fergie's remake of Stairway to Heaven if she's going to ruin it. And no one wants to buy a headband made of recycled water bottles if the headband is ugly. You have to make it more appealing than even the original product was.

There was no pity for poor Reese Witherspoon when she attempted Legally Blonde 2: Red, White and Blonde. And yet, Broadway has embraced Legally Blonde: The Musical with open arms.

Reese learned the hard way; we all must take a lesson from her. If we're going to make something old into something new, we need to make it better (maybe if you're a bride, you can utilize something borrowed and blue in order to make it happen. That way, all four items are in one- talk about reducing waste.)

I guess there was a lot more wisdom wrapped up in that spelling list than Mrs. Frye originally realized. Can you imagine if she'd given us solveworldhunger as a word? The things I could have accomplished!

He takes Livestrong to a whole new level

"Well we had a good time, but time goes on. You didn't really want me until I was gone. I wanna get over you, before you get over me." Sheryl Crow, Over You

In general, whenever I tell someone I interned in L.A., the first thing they ask is, "Did you see any celebrities?"

I rattle off a short list, saving my favorite story, that Napoleon Dynamite was getting ice cream with his wife, for last. Even though Napoleon (I'm not even sure if he has a real name) has done virtually nothing since his breakout film, the story never fails.

What is it about celebrities? What is it about being famous? Why does it mesmerize us so?

You'd think we'd learn from Britney's Icarus-esque fall as she attempted to escape the paparazzi. Or maybe we'd even look deep into the reserves and take a lesson from Princess Diana.

And yet, we're all still hoping for our fifteen (or 45) minutes of fame.

I'm a big fan of questions. I'll admit, I've gotten myself into trouble for asking a few too many questions. Last summer, when Katie and I were doing long runs, she'd have to make a rule dictating the mile at which I could start speaking-usually around mile nine. 37 questions at 5.30 a.m. wasn't her favorite way to pass time during the runs. I can't blame her...

During my time as a professional-question-asker, I have found that if you ask someone what they'd like to be famous for, it's very rare that anyone says they'd prefer not to be famous at all.

Sure, sure, if I really sit down and think about it, it would be a hassle to have the paparazzi follow me and it would be annoying to be unable to run outside for a quick errand without being accosted. But at the same time, I sure would like to be the First Lady...

A small claim to fame I like to employ when I'm really trying to impress someone is that Sheryl Crow is my sister.

I know! Don't we look alike?

OK fine. She's not really my sister, but she is a fellow Theta.

So, essentially, Lance Armstrong was nearly my brother-in-law. He came to Christmas once when they were dating...(I wish!)
Lately, Lance has been making some waves (stirring up dust might be more biker-friendly, I guess). Some people seem to think that he has a little problem with duplicity.

I guess certain fans feel that his bachelor mentality doesn't mesh well with his do-gooder persona.

Just because he won the Tour seven (thousand) times doesn't mean he can't enjoy a brewski, does it? Just because he has sold over 70 million Livestrong bracelets for cancer-awareness doesn't mean he can't follow in the footsteps of Hugh Hefner, does it?

Or maybe it does.

Maybe it comes with the territory of being the poster-boy for beating cancer. Maybe in order to be the hero against cancer, he has to be a hero to everyone-not just other bachelors (sorry Hugh).

I personally find it impressive that he has been able to link himself to Sheryl (go Theta!), Ashley Olsen (and her abundant success at 22), Tory Burch (ah, the shoes!) and now Kate Hudson. They add a little glamor to his resume.

In my opinion, though, if he really wants to be a hero, he should make an appearance at the Little 500 next spring. I mean, Obama did it. Is he too good for Obama?

Maybe Obama just isn't really his type.

A quick note...

Because I will be out of town, and I am uncertain as to what sort of computer access I will have, I'd like to wish everyone a fabulous Summer Solstice holiday. Being such a wonderful day as it is, I hope you all take advantage of the fact that it falls on a Saturday during this lucky year, and be sure to play outside a lot. Just embrace those extra hours of fun in the sun.

This is an A and B party. C yourself out.

"Same with Gretchen: the meaner Regina was to her, the more Gretchen tried to win Regina back. She knew it was better to be in the Plastics, hating life, than to not be in at all. Because being with the Plastics was like being famous... people looked at you all the time and everybody just knew stuff about you." Mean Girls

There is a reason that cliques triumph.

It feels good to be in. On a joke. On the gossip. On anything. It's a lot better to know what's going on on the inside than to be trying to figure it out on the outside.

This is one of those few things that people of all ages have in common.

In Mrs. Smith's kindergarten class, two boys, Alex and Carl, were playing at the Legos table. Legos were one of my favorite activities to play with my brothers, Duke and Sam, so I thought maybe I could join in. Sadly, though, when I tried to play, they told me that the Legos table was No Girls Allowed.

Right then and there, I had my first lesson in Darwinism. If I wanted to make it through kindergarten, I was going to have to prove to be the fittest. Not everyone could be the line leader with me. Not everyone could sit at the same lunch table. If I wanted to be in, someone else had to be out. (At the time, I think I looked at Alex and Carl and their Legos, looked at the dolls in the corner, and realized I had better options. Maybe I didn't get it completely just yet).

Middle schoolers get a bad reputation because of their blatant cliques, but they're certainly not the only culprits. No matter who you are or what you're doing, it definitely feels better to have the option of being included. (Even if you're too cool to choose to be in. Then you're that person that makes it better to be out than in and it changes the whole system. But, the point is, you originally had the option of being in.)

Along with this feeling of inclusion is a feeling of kinship with those around you. Inside jokes never get old because those who get the joke not only have a funny memory, but also have a sense of community with those around them. It's an understanding of something good and a feeling of togetherness.

Essentially, exclusiveness is the reason so many groups prevail. No one other than an IU student can understand the crazy karaoke lady at Bear's on Thursday nights. No one can understand just how incredibly insane Little 5 week is. No one can understand the traditions and spirit of being a Hoosier- it's our own little 30,394 person clique.

It's the same reason that religions are so strong. No matter how many times I ask my roommates Emily and Katie to tell me about their Birthright trip, I will never get it. They were there together, experiencing the oldest aspects of their religion. Regardless of how hard I try, I will not fully grasp the situation without physically going to Israel and reliving the trip with them.

In a way, it's what makes a generation strong. No one other than a Generation Y kid
can understand what it was like to watch TRL while talking on AIM to all of the people you spent the entire day with, everyday after middle school. (While wearing Soffes-rolled twice.)Similarly, Generation Y will never comprehend what it would be like to go to class without texting throughout the lecture. We will never know what it was like to grow up during World War II or Vietnam.

And our kids will never realize what it was like when the Twin Towers fell. It's inexplicable. We lack the ability to completely convey our emotions and this shortcoming ensures that some people will always be in, and others will always be out.

As much as I hate the hurt that immature cliques can cause (especially in middle school), maybe there is some good to it all.

I mean, who would want to work so hard in medical school if we could all magically experience the feeling a doctor has when he saves a life or delivers a baby? Grasping that incredible moment and being part of something so amazing makes us all strive for more.

Why would anyone take the risk of skydiving (without a parachute) if we could all experience the rush of wondering if you were going to survive? Who would run a marathon if we could all have the inexplicable runner's high without actually moving? Wanting to feel it, to be on the inside, is a reason to try harder.

Maybe cliques equal motivation.

I guess Regina George was really on to something...

Oh, you haven't seen Mean Girls? I would try to explain it, but you probably wouldn't understand.