I wish I could sum up my love and devotion to each and every rude person I've met this past week in one general letter, but I cannot. Truthfully each one deserves their own few inches of Biggity Blog space.
To the Wal-Mart parking lot man:
I never knew this would be the day my life would change. What began as a normal trip to the grocery store soon became an afternoon of pure, unadulterated passion. How quickly I did judge those who lazily leave their shopping carts in the paths of vehicles capable of doing massive damage to property and people! If I would've known you were a part of such an elite group, I would've have held back such vicious words. I remember the moment of our meeting clearly. I was unloading groceries and so were you. Fate? I think yes. I pushed the random (but blessed, obviously) basket into the holder followed by my own. How lucky I am that you were so kind to leave yours for me to put away! I was frozen with bated breath. My fingers clenched tightly around the bar of the cart as you walked towards me. The wind caught your magnificent mullet and for just a moment, so precious, the clouds broke to cast a ray of sunshine to glint off your yellow and rotten teeth. My mind and heart hoped you would come and rescue your abandoned basket from me and return it. But no. You bestowed that duty upon me. Thank you, kind sir. Thank you for giving me further reasons to prove what is so beautifully wrong with America. I bid thee well.
Jerk.
To the lovely con-artist woman:
Work can be such a bore. Anyone can attest to that. How lucky I am that you would choose such a day to call ME. My heart leaped as I heard your friendly, monotone, smoker's voice crackle through my cell phone. It was such a beautiful sound really. Like unicorns weeping sugar tears into a river of chocolate with gummy bears floating on LifeSavers. Ahhhh, bliss. I love that I always have you as a friend to advance your financial situation by attempting to con me into purchasing an extended warranty on a car you know nothing about. Just like ObamaCare...pre-existing conditions? Who cares? Ahhh, YOU are a friend. As much as this is a love letter to my new-found friend, this is an apology. I apologize for being so rude when you interrupted a busy day at my sole means of earning a living. Really, I should be more concerned with making sure YOU have a great day. My snarky ways are often unnecessary. Your wit of "Damn, lady, pull the stick out of your butt" continues to make me giggle in the warmth of our friendship glow. I am so sorry. Please forgive me. You have a swell day.
B-word.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Interesting Person #4
Hello friends.
So I've searched the earth far and wide to bring you IP #4. OK, that's a lie; I haven't really looked at all. However, one did just happen to appear. I will warn you, friends, this is not a happy tale. It is not sad. It is creepy. That's right. I've decided to give you a brief insight to what a creeper magnet I truly am.
A lovely Sunday it was. The sun was shining and off to Barnes & Noble did my roomie, Katie, and I trot (drive) to study. All seemed well. We didn't have to fight any junior high students for a study table. Which brings me to a brief point. If you are one of those inconsiderate tools sitting at a study table drinking a cup of coffee/laughing at a decibel not fit for human ears while you can clearly see two young ladies lugging heavy bags with laptops and books in search for such table--MOVE! I will not apologize for giving you the stink eye or for making you the subject of a defamatory blog. Anyways, back to the subject. We found a table...with an outlet. Big deal, actually. While setting up our materials, a guy (I can't say man because I don't think he qualified, but he wasn't a boy) turns and begins small talk. We respond thinking he's just friendly. Well, friendly he is. So friendly in fact that one could assume he might have a girl shoved in his trunk! I don't know how this always happens to me! This makes twice in the past week I've had to dodge a creeper. While I'll be the first to admit that the female gender can be crazy, obsessive, dramatic, emotional...blah blah blah, all of that in no way entitles a guy to be a 'Ted Bundy'. I don't know if you've been watching The Bachelorette but that Kasey character is case and point number one. Crazy much?! And Ali didn't even flinch at the tattoo. I guess to spare his feelings, but if it had been me -- this is how that convo would've gone.
Crazy Kasey: "I got a tattoo to prove that I'm here 'to guard and protect your heart'."
Me: Security! We've got a crazy bleepity-bleep-bleep-bleep over here! Listen, Kasey, you need to check yourself into an asylum. Give me your shoelaces, Kasey. Don't fight the straitjacket."
Done, and done. Girls, don't spare their feelings. When they're creepers...call them out! You wouldn't beat around the bush with an alcoholic or a guido would you? No. Stop doing these creepers any favors and send them to a support group.
So there ya have it. IP #4 is Mr. Creepy-shove you in a trunk-dude.
Have a BIG day, and don't forget your pepper spray.
So I've searched the earth far and wide to bring you IP #4. OK, that's a lie; I haven't really looked at all. However, one did just happen to appear. I will warn you, friends, this is not a happy tale. It is not sad. It is creepy. That's right. I've decided to give you a brief insight to what a creeper magnet I truly am.
A lovely Sunday it was. The sun was shining and off to Barnes & Noble did my roomie, Katie, and I trot (drive) to study. All seemed well. We didn't have to fight any junior high students for a study table. Which brings me to a brief point. If you are one of those inconsiderate tools sitting at a study table drinking a cup of coffee/laughing at a decibel not fit for human ears while you can clearly see two young ladies lugging heavy bags with laptops and books in search for such table--MOVE! I will not apologize for giving you the stink eye or for making you the subject of a defamatory blog. Anyways, back to the subject. We found a table...with an outlet. Big deal, actually. While setting up our materials, a guy (I can't say man because I don't think he qualified, but he wasn't a boy) turns and begins small talk. We respond thinking he's just friendly. Well, friendly he is. So friendly in fact that one could assume he might have a girl shoved in his trunk! I don't know how this always happens to me! This makes twice in the past week I've had to dodge a creeper. While I'll be the first to admit that the female gender can be crazy, obsessive, dramatic, emotional...blah blah blah, all of that in no way entitles a guy to be a 'Ted Bundy'. I don't know if you've been watching The Bachelorette but that Kasey character is case and point number one. Crazy much?! And Ali didn't even flinch at the tattoo. I guess to spare his feelings, but if it had been me -- this is how that convo would've gone.
Crazy Kasey: "I got a tattoo to prove that I'm here 'to guard and protect your heart'."
Me: Security! We've got a crazy bleepity-bleep-bleep-bleep over here! Listen, Kasey, you need to check yourself into an asylum. Give me your shoelaces, Kasey. Don't fight the straitjacket."
Done, and done. Girls, don't spare their feelings. When they're creepers...call them out! You wouldn't beat around the bush with an alcoholic or a guido would you? No. Stop doing these creepers any favors and send them to a support group.
So there ya have it. IP #4 is Mr. Creepy-shove you in a trunk-dude.
Have a BIG day, and don't forget your pepper spray.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
TV gradebook
When it comes to TV, there's the good, the bad, and the downright ugly. So ugly in fact that producers of said hideous shows often gather in rituals of torture. That's right, they shop for Ed Hardy and get their tips frosted. Ugh...I'll pause to let you vomit. But every once in a while, there's a true breakthrough. Like a unicorn galloping over a rainbow ridden by Santa. You can't believe your eyes, but there it is. A myth proven true that is so beautiful you can't tear away your eyes. But they usually cancel those shows after one season, so that's why you're still an unbeliever. Yes, I'm still bitter about Freaks and Geeks.
I love TV. Which probably attributes to many of my problems, but in my defense I am a much wittier and socially-conscious individual than when I used to see sunlight every single day. Silver lining, anyone?
Seeing as this is MY blog with MY thoughts, I feel like I can say what I want. So please read.
The Office- Let's begin with the obvious. The theme song is my ringtone. I have a poster, my browser is Office themed. There is a slight obsession. But lately, I fear for the integrity of my favorite show. Let's face it Jim and Pam were so much cuter when they were just that. Jim...and...Pam. Not Jam or Pim...or with a freakin' baby. I'm a fan of marriage, but let's be honest - the only person we care about finding wedded bliss is Michael. If you're female, you want to be able to fantasize about cute, adorable slacker Jim and not mortgage, boss, no-longer-look-in-the-camera Jim. Step it up, people. The Brits are winning.
The Biggest Loser- I love it. With my whole heart and soul. I love Bob Harper. I like Jillian Michaels, but not when she perches on the machine like a vulture. Too much, Jill, too much. The only slight problem I have is that it's apparent some skinny b-word thought of the title of the show. Double-edged sword. Do you REALLY want to win that award?
Glee- This is the unicorn I was referring to. However instead of mounted by Santa, this fine steed is ridden by Ms. Sue Sylvester. A vision in velour track suits, Sylvester brings back to TV what we've been lacking since the day of Roseanne. Classless, rude, biting wit. Oh how we've all missed a woman who doesn't give a damn. Oh, and the singing is quite nice too. Perhaps dim the light over Shuester's life (who cares?) and redirect to the true stars. Kurt, Mercedes, Brittany, Artie and Puck deserve some time in the limelight.
American Idol- I love you Ellen, don't you ever forget that, but I secretly hope Ryan Seacrest will fall down those stairs every night and suffer a penis injury. Though the verdict still isn't in on the existence of rumored falice.
Parenthood- Breakout hit. Bravo Lauren Graham. Can I be you when I grow up?
Jersey Shore Remember my reference to Ed Hardy and frosted tips? Here's the cess pool. Forget the recession. Why the hell is this being given media precedence over...well anything. Someone should be stabbed with Pauly D's hair, smothered by J-Woww's boobs, and have to spend an hour teaching Snooki the Pythagorean Theorem.
True Blood- Porn with a gap-toothed smile. Though all my friends love it? Maybe I'm missing something?
Bachelor/Bachelorette- Jake is engaged to canned meat (Vienna sausages). That's enough said. Too soon to tell about Ali. Though she still has that wrestler on there. Um...ewww.
Drop Dead Diva- You probably haven't heard or seen this because it's on the estrogen channel...oh excuse me, Lifetime. But there it is, amidst all the wife beaters, alcoholic psychopaths, and teen moms. Witty, smart, funny, and some really hot men? Lifetime did something right.
Teen Mom- My uterus is officially closed for business.
Alright, that about does it for right now. There might be a follow-up. If there's another TV show that strikes my fancy or causes me to question if I'm existing in some weird parallel universe.
Comment. Pass it on. BIG love.
***This is dedicated to my roommate, Katie-bug. Without whom, I would feel foolish for hip-thrusting while watching the hot shirtless men on The Bachelorette. She encourages it.
I love TV. Which probably attributes to many of my problems, but in my defense I am a much wittier and socially-conscious individual than when I used to see sunlight every single day. Silver lining, anyone?
Seeing as this is MY blog with MY thoughts, I feel like I can say what I want. So please read.
The Office- Let's begin with the obvious. The theme song is my ringtone. I have a poster, my browser is Office themed. There is a slight obsession. But lately, I fear for the integrity of my favorite show. Let's face it Jim and Pam were so much cuter when they were just that. Jim...and...Pam. Not Jam or Pim...or with a freakin' baby. I'm a fan of marriage, but let's be honest - the only person we care about finding wedded bliss is Michael. If you're female, you want to be able to fantasize about cute, adorable slacker Jim and not mortgage, boss, no-longer-look-in-the-camera Jim. Step it up, people. The Brits are winning.
The Biggest Loser- I love it. With my whole heart and soul. I love Bob Harper. I like Jillian Michaels, but not when she perches on the machine like a vulture. Too much, Jill, too much. The only slight problem I have is that it's apparent some skinny b-word thought of the title of the show. Double-edged sword. Do you REALLY want to win that award?
Glee- This is the unicorn I was referring to. However instead of mounted by Santa, this fine steed is ridden by Ms. Sue Sylvester. A vision in velour track suits, Sylvester brings back to TV what we've been lacking since the day of Roseanne. Classless, rude, biting wit. Oh how we've all missed a woman who doesn't give a damn. Oh, and the singing is quite nice too. Perhaps dim the light over Shuester's life (who cares?) and redirect to the true stars. Kurt, Mercedes, Brittany, Artie and Puck deserve some time in the limelight.
American Idol- I love you Ellen, don't you ever forget that, but I secretly hope Ryan Seacrest will fall down those stairs every night and suffer a penis injury. Though the verdict still isn't in on the existence of rumored falice.
Parenthood- Breakout hit. Bravo Lauren Graham. Can I be you when I grow up?
Jersey Shore Remember my reference to Ed Hardy and frosted tips? Here's the cess pool. Forget the recession. Why the hell is this being given media precedence over...well anything. Someone should be stabbed with Pauly D's hair, smothered by J-Woww's boobs, and have to spend an hour teaching Snooki the Pythagorean Theorem.
True Blood- Porn with a gap-toothed smile. Though all my friends love it? Maybe I'm missing something?
Bachelor/Bachelorette- Jake is engaged to canned meat (Vienna sausages). That's enough said. Too soon to tell about Ali. Though she still has that wrestler on there. Um...ewww.
Drop Dead Diva- You probably haven't heard or seen this because it's on the estrogen channel...oh excuse me, Lifetime. But there it is, amidst all the wife beaters, alcoholic psychopaths, and teen moms. Witty, smart, funny, and some really hot men? Lifetime did something right.
Teen Mom- My uterus is officially closed for business.
Alright, that about does it for right now. There might be a follow-up. If there's another TV show that strikes my fancy or causes me to question if I'm existing in some weird parallel universe.
Comment. Pass it on. BIG love.
***This is dedicated to my roommate, Katie-bug. Without whom, I would feel foolish for hip-thrusting while watching the hot shirtless men on The Bachelorette. She encourages it.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Interesting person #3
What it do, baby boo?
So it's time for Interesting Person #3. Before I introduce you to this person, I'd like to pat myself on the back for what a stroke of genius this series was. People are practically knocking down my door to become an entry. It's OK, I am completely aware of my exceptionally amazing writing skills and how it might possibly boost you to stardom. I am accepting monetary bribes, by the way. I have never once claimed that my moral compass points due North.
Anyhoo, interesting person time. My interesting person for this entry is a man. An old man. His name is Eddie. I met this cute little oldie when my friend, Jade, and I were studying for a leadership exam in Barnes & Noble. Which by the way, should be an oxymoron. Who the heck needs to study for leadership?! And how on Earth am I expected to concentrate surrounded by all of those magnificent books? Sorry, back on track. Jade and I were discussing social behaviors (this means gossiping)and what-not when I took notice of the man at the table next to us. He was alone, drinking a cup of coffee. My first instinct was he was simply waiting for his wife. An hour goes by. Wow, his wife is a shoppin' fool. Another hour. Maybe she forgot him. Another hour. Eddie has finished his coffee, but is still smiling. At this point, I can no longer study. Ok, let's be honest, I was never really studying. We began to gather our things when Eddie speaks for the first time.
"I hope you girls do well on your test."
OK, you may not know this but I'm an emotional mess. I cry over commercials on a regular basis and don't get me started on sappy stories. So, as if on cue, tears sprung to my eyes.
"Thank you, sir." I began to stall a bit not wanting to leave him all alone. How would he get home? Did he have a home? God, is this a test?!
At that moment, one of the Starbucks girls walks over to the man. "OK, Eddie. Ready to go home? I'll go bring the car around."
"She takes me home. She doesn't have to, but she does. Every day."
All I need to say is I bawled the whole way home. So there he is, Eddie. I see him almost every time I go to Barnes & Noble, and my heart sings. God bless, that sweet little Asian girl. She's definitely earned two BIGGITY-BIG-BIG thumbs up.
Sorry that this post was slightly depressing and that I didn't mock or tease anyone or any situation. Next blog will be:
"TV line-up Gradebook" Do your favorite shows make the cut? Probably not, and even if they do. I'm going to make fun of them.
So it's time for Interesting Person #3. Before I introduce you to this person, I'd like to pat myself on the back for what a stroke of genius this series was. People are practically knocking down my door to become an entry. It's OK, I am completely aware of my exceptionally amazing writing skills and how it might possibly boost you to stardom. I am accepting monetary bribes, by the way. I have never once claimed that my moral compass points due North.
Anyhoo, interesting person time. My interesting person for this entry is a man. An old man. His name is Eddie. I met this cute little oldie when my friend, Jade, and I were studying for a leadership exam in Barnes & Noble. Which by the way, should be an oxymoron. Who the heck needs to study for leadership?! And how on Earth am I expected to concentrate surrounded by all of those magnificent books? Sorry, back on track. Jade and I were discussing social behaviors (this means gossiping)and what-not when I took notice of the man at the table next to us. He was alone, drinking a cup of coffee. My first instinct was he was simply waiting for his wife. An hour goes by. Wow, his wife is a shoppin' fool. Another hour. Maybe she forgot him. Another hour. Eddie has finished his coffee, but is still smiling. At this point, I can no longer study. Ok, let's be honest, I was never really studying. We began to gather our things when Eddie speaks for the first time.
"I hope you girls do well on your test."
OK, you may not know this but I'm an emotional mess. I cry over commercials on a regular basis and don't get me started on sappy stories. So, as if on cue, tears sprung to my eyes.
"Thank you, sir." I began to stall a bit not wanting to leave him all alone. How would he get home? Did he have a home? God, is this a test?!
At that moment, one of the Starbucks girls walks over to the man. "OK, Eddie. Ready to go home? I'll go bring the car around."
"She takes me home. She doesn't have to, but she does. Every day."
All I need to say is I bawled the whole way home. So there he is, Eddie. I see him almost every time I go to Barnes & Noble, and my heart sings. God bless, that sweet little Asian girl. She's definitely earned two BIGGITY-BIG-BIG thumbs up.
Sorry that this post was slightly depressing and that I didn't mock or tease anyone or any situation. Next blog will be:
"TV line-up Gradebook" Do your favorite shows make the cut? Probably not, and even if they do. I'm going to make fun of them.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Adventures in Dentist-land
I love going to the dentist. I'm not talking 'fond'; I LOVE going to the dentist. There is no greater feeling than fresh, clean teeth but leaving the dentist is like getting a whole new set. The sun shines a bit brighter and for just a moment the angels harmonize on The Office theme song. That's my Heaven, OK? Don't judge. I know there are some of you out there that 1) don't go every six months (SHAME!) or 2) hate to go with a passion. If that is you, here is what you're missing.
My alarm beeps at 8 a.m. A sound that is normally the bane of my existence, I welcome its insistent chirping on this particular morning. I leap to my feet, face my mirror, and greet myself.
"Good morning you beautiful, sexy thang. Why hello teeth! My, you sure do look rough this morning! Calm your fears. Today is all about YOU."
I brush with extra vigor this morning making sure to hit every corner and crevice. Then, comes the floss. I only floss twice a year...the morning of a dentist appointment. Why? You'll find out later.
I drive TWO hours to see my dentist. He's been my main teeth man since I was five. No one knows these beauties the way he does. It's a marriage, my teeth and Dr. Meyers. From now on, refer to my teeth as mini Mrs. Meyers.
As I stroll through the door, I am a sight to behold. The epitome of good dental care. A breeze catches my brunette locks and the sun glints of of my mouth. I can hear a sharp intake of breath from the waiting patients. She's here. But today is not about me. Today is about my teeth.
I don't wait. Carmen is waiting for me. Today, I am the princess. I stroll to the back past all familiar faces. The dental hygienists call out my name and greet me. By the way, have you ever seen an ugly DH? I think it's like a rule or something.
Fast forward an hour. My teeth are perfect. Everyone has said so. I am the 'never needed braces' kind of person. Rare, I know. They have a new polish and gleam, and I can hear them rejoicing in my mouth. Today couldn't be more perfect. No cavities here. I used to be cavity girl, but no more. My DH comments on my excellent flossing, too. Sucker. Twice a year, baby!
My dentist loves me. Seriously, if I weren't a Red Raider, he would probably adopt me. Don't be fooled by our witty, cantankerous banter. This man wishes he could see me every day. We discuss life and God. I teach him about celebrity behaviors and how all white sneakers are NOT his thing, and he teaches me some Bible scriptures. You may think he's the more holy one, but my lessons are really important too. I ask him about the whole Jessica Simpson not brushing her teeth debacle and he agrees that she's disgusting.
There you have it. See what you're missing? It's like going to a revival, you leave feeling fired up. For weeks, I will commit myself to clear liquids and proper brushing and then lose my steam. It's all good though because I am a unicorn of dental purity.
My alarm beeps at 8 a.m. A sound that is normally the bane of my existence, I welcome its insistent chirping on this particular morning. I leap to my feet, face my mirror, and greet myself.
"Good morning you beautiful, sexy thang. Why hello teeth! My, you sure do look rough this morning! Calm your fears. Today is all about YOU."
I brush with extra vigor this morning making sure to hit every corner and crevice. Then, comes the floss. I only floss twice a year...the morning of a dentist appointment. Why? You'll find out later.
I drive TWO hours to see my dentist. He's been my main teeth man since I was five. No one knows these beauties the way he does. It's a marriage, my teeth and Dr. Meyers. From now on, refer to my teeth as mini Mrs. Meyers.
As I stroll through the door, I am a sight to behold. The epitome of good dental care. A breeze catches my brunette locks and the sun glints of of my mouth. I can hear a sharp intake of breath from the waiting patients. She's here. But today is not about me. Today is about my teeth.
I don't wait. Carmen is waiting for me. Today, I am the princess. I stroll to the back past all familiar faces. The dental hygienists call out my name and greet me. By the way, have you ever seen an ugly DH? I think it's like a rule or something.
Fast forward an hour. My teeth are perfect. Everyone has said so. I am the 'never needed braces' kind of person. Rare, I know. They have a new polish and gleam, and I can hear them rejoicing in my mouth. Today couldn't be more perfect. No cavities here. I used to be cavity girl, but no more. My DH comments on my excellent flossing, too. Sucker. Twice a year, baby!
My dentist loves me. Seriously, if I weren't a Red Raider, he would probably adopt me. Don't be fooled by our witty, cantankerous banter. This man wishes he could see me every day. We discuss life and God. I teach him about celebrity behaviors and how all white sneakers are NOT his thing, and he teaches me some Bible scriptures. You may think he's the more holy one, but my lessons are really important too. I ask him about the whole Jessica Simpson not brushing her teeth debacle and he agrees that she's disgusting.
There you have it. See what you're missing? It's like going to a revival, you leave feeling fired up. For weeks, I will commit myself to clear liquids and proper brushing and then lose my steam. It's all good though because I am a unicorn of dental purity.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Interesting Person #2
Hiya.
Well, it's time for interesting person numero dos! Let me just begin my saying that after only one post on this series, I've already come to the conclusion that interesting people are few and far between. Then I realized...DUH!...I only think that because I'm friends with most of them. I think a lot of myself, and you can't change it. But here are a couple of new people I've met this week.
So far this week, I've met Zach. Why is he interesting? He could be Will Ferrel's younger brother, and his alcohol tolerance is intense. I feel sorry for his fiancee.
I've met Braxton. Braxton is an uber-nerd who just graduated from Pepperdine University. He's taking a year off before going to grad school. I immediately thought FREE SPIRIT! Nope. He wants to write some non-fiction book about something nerdy without any references to death, tragedy or sex. Sounds like a B-U-M-M-E-R to me.
So, interesting person 2 is...drum roll please.... ROBIN MCNEESE!
Robin and I met Fall 2009 when we suffered through PR together and goofed off during EM&C together. Robin is a sorority girl...don't hold it against her. She truly broke the mold and is NOT a sorostitute. She's obsessed with Taylor Swift and John Mayer, so you can imagine her excitement when the two collaborated on a song for T-Swizzle's album. I had the blessing to have lunch with Robin every Wednesday this past semester. Her heart for God is amazing, and her wit is quick. She's honest and never backs down from who she is. Robin may not have found a cure for cancer or climbed the tallest mountain in the world, but she changed my life. She'll always be a dear friend. One day, the whole world will know Robin's name. And yeah, I'm totally gonna be the first person to have blogged about her which pretty much secures me a spot in her entourage. Boom boom pow!
Here's the link to Robin's blog. Follow it, love it, live it.
http://robinmcneese.blogspot.com/
BIG hugs! :)
Well, it's time for interesting person numero dos! Let me just begin my saying that after only one post on this series, I've already come to the conclusion that interesting people are few and far between. Then I realized...DUH!...I only think that because I'm friends with most of them. I think a lot of myself, and you can't change it. But here are a couple of new people I've met this week.
So far this week, I've met Zach. Why is he interesting? He could be Will Ferrel's younger brother, and his alcohol tolerance is intense. I feel sorry for his fiancee.
I've met Braxton. Braxton is an uber-nerd who just graduated from Pepperdine University. He's taking a year off before going to grad school. I immediately thought FREE SPIRIT! Nope. He wants to write some non-fiction book about something nerdy without any references to death, tragedy or sex. Sounds like a B-U-M-M-E-R to me.
So, interesting person 2 is...drum roll please.... ROBIN MCNEESE!
Robin and I met Fall 2009 when we suffered through PR together and goofed off during EM&C together. Robin is a sorority girl...don't hold it against her. She truly broke the mold and is NOT a sorostitute. She's obsessed with Taylor Swift and John Mayer, so you can imagine her excitement when the two collaborated on a song for T-Swizzle's album. I had the blessing to have lunch with Robin every Wednesday this past semester. Her heart for God is amazing, and her wit is quick. She's honest and never backs down from who she is. Robin may not have found a cure for cancer or climbed the tallest mountain in the world, but she changed my life. She'll always be a dear friend. One day, the whole world will know Robin's name. And yeah, I'm totally gonna be the first person to have blogged about her which pretty much secures me a spot in her entourage. Boom boom pow!
Here's the link to Robin's blog. Follow it, love it, live it.
http://robinmcneese.blogspot.com/
BIG hugs! :)
Monday, May 3, 2010
You're so vain. I bet you think this blog is about you.
I'm still waiting to meet interesting person numero dos...or have I met them? Hmmm... So that blog will be soon.
I realize that a lot of the time I sit and ponder a truly profound blog topic. Then, I slap myself and realize what an oxymoron that statement was. It's a blog. Further than that, it's MY blog. I don't have a profound bone in my body. I just get lucky sometimes. So, I'm just going to write about what I know, and the topic right now - Facebook pictures.
Have you ever really sat and thought about the different types of Facebook pictures? Or what they say about that specific person? Well, I've noticed that a) I scrounge every picture I have or have been tagged in to find something "Facebook worthy" and then b) I edit it. Take my current picture. I'm not going to lie; I'm lookin' fierce. Do I look like this every day? Psht. Hell to the no. But if it's on Facebook, it's official. I'm a stone-cold fox.
I'm really glad Facebook decided to stop posting in your News Feed when so-and-so changed their profile picture. Know why they did that? Because of that one girl who desperately needs a new picture every...freaking...day. I refer back to my first point. I go through pains and several editing processes to get one decent enough to represent my page. You have 165 picture of just you. I'm not going to say what that says about you. Ok, yes I will. Attention whore. There I said it, and I'm not the only one thinking it.
Oh, but I can't exclude the guys! I truly love the 80 pictures of you flexing in the mirror while you practice your blue-steel face. I truly go weak in the knees....from nausea. You toolbag. No matter. You're socially awkward and talk entirely too much about blood and dirtbike wrecks. Mmmm classy.
I can't hate on the couple pictures. I like those. Except when I see your tongues in that ever so important kissy picture. I'll leave it at that.
Please. For the love of all that is holy and good in the world, cease and dissist with the "why yes I was indeed spontaneously caught in this moment where I just so happen to look fabulous". You took it yourself. I see the tell-all wrinkles in the shoulder of your shirt. Busted.
Oh Facebook. Why do you do this to me? I used to be a perfectly non-judgemental person. Hahahahahaha...ok that was a lie.
BIG love.
I realize that a lot of the time I sit and ponder a truly profound blog topic. Then, I slap myself and realize what an oxymoron that statement was. It's a blog. Further than that, it's MY blog. I don't have a profound bone in my body. I just get lucky sometimes. So, I'm just going to write about what I know, and the topic right now - Facebook pictures.
Have you ever really sat and thought about the different types of Facebook pictures? Or what they say about that specific person? Well, I've noticed that a) I scrounge every picture I have or have been tagged in to find something "Facebook worthy" and then b) I edit it. Take my current picture. I'm not going to lie; I'm lookin' fierce. Do I look like this every day? Psht. Hell to the no. But if it's on Facebook, it's official. I'm a stone-cold fox.
I'm really glad Facebook decided to stop posting in your News Feed when so-and-so changed their profile picture. Know why they did that? Because of that one girl who desperately needs a new picture every...freaking...day. I refer back to my first point. I go through pains and several editing processes to get one decent enough to represent my page. You have 165 picture of just you. I'm not going to say what that says about you. Ok, yes I will. Attention whore. There I said it, and I'm not the only one thinking it.
Oh, but I can't exclude the guys! I truly love the 80 pictures of you flexing in the mirror while you practice your blue-steel face. I truly go weak in the knees....from nausea. You toolbag. No matter. You're socially awkward and talk entirely too much about blood and dirtbike wrecks. Mmmm classy.
I can't hate on the couple pictures. I like those. Except when I see your tongues in that ever so important kissy picture. I'll leave it at that.
Please. For the love of all that is holy and good in the world, cease and dissist with the "why yes I was indeed spontaneously caught in this moment where I just so happen to look fabulous". You took it yourself. I see the tell-all wrinkles in the shoulder of your shirt. Busted.
Oh Facebook. Why do you do this to me? I used to be a perfectly non-judgemental person. Hahahahahaha...ok that was a lie.
BIG love.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)