22/365 ▲

Tuesday, August 31



Still getting used to the hair...
My blog will be celebrating its 1 year birthday in 2 weeks!

The eyes are lookin' weird today. 

So today I was driving and I saw one of those license plates that said, "I'd rather be dancing."  You know the ones I mean.  They have them for basically every hobby.  I'm sure they have one that says, "I'd rather be collecting stamps!"  Point is, I found myself mumbling, "yea, well I'd rather be sleeping, or eating cheese, or fabricating my diploma...but you don't see me with a license plate for THOSE now do you?"  

There's almost always something else I'd rather be doing instead of what I actually have to be doing.  (This is especially true when I'm trudging around on campus in 100 degree, water logged air and running late to class.)

Here are the top 10 things I'd usually rather be doing:

1. Eating cheese and/or drinking wine.  Cheese is my one weakness.  It is impossible for me to practice any sort of self restraint when it comes to cheese.  There's no such thing as too much cheese in my world.  I'm also becoming more of a wine person.  I still don't know anything about it...what makes it good, what kind you're supposed to drink with what foods, etc.  I know what I think tastes yummy and I know that I can get it CHEAP.

2. Napping.  Napping is good for you.  I used to not be able to nap, but now there's just something wonderful about sleeping when it's broad daylight outside.  I feel like I'm rebelling or something.  Take your traditional sleeping practices and shove them! 

3. Spending money I don't have on things I can't afford.  Wait, I still have bills to pay and 3 more weeks left in the month?  Yea, I think I'll go spend 100 dollars in Forever 21.  I never said my logic was flawless.

4. Snowboarding.  I love mountains, I love cold weather, I love snow and I love going fast.

5. Photoshopping pictures.

6. Playing dress-up and tearing my closet apart.  I'll try the same outfit on 100 times when I have time to waste at home and love the way it looks until it comes time to actually wear it out of the house.  

7. Watching Friends re-runs.  I love all of the Friends, but I do play favorites.  1. Chandler, 2. Phoebe, 3. Joey, 4. Rachel, 5. Monica, 6. Ross. 

8. Downloading music.  Legally, of course.  Those entertainers work hard for their money and they are not at all over paid so I would never think of starving them of their meager salary! 

9. Laying by the beach or sitting on the front of a boat getting my hair blown to shreds.  I love to hear my skin sizzle.  I also love playing hood ornament for friend's boats.  I'm good at it and I don't even pretend to know anything about owning a boat so I shirk any responsibilities when it comes to that.

10. Scrap-booking.  I've mentioned before that I'm obsessed with pictures.  I am equally obsessed with page design. 

What am I, 5? ▲



So, I was commenting on someone's post today and this was my word verification:


"Butusoor."  Naturally, I rearranged it in my head to look like, "Buttasaur."

Then, I envisioned a bunch of big-bootied dinos rockin out with Sir Mix-a-lot.

Today has been a really good day, which is surprising because I did not get nearly enough sleep last night. My brain would NOT shut off.  I kept having to get up, turn my light on, and write something down because I knew I'd forget if I didn't.  This went on for at least two hours.  I was getting frazzled, Bella was getting agitated with the constant movement, and I was on the verge of implosion.  I finally managed to settle down and drift off and catch some Zs before 9:00 rolled around.  


21/365 ▲

Monday, August 30



Chopped the hair offfffff.
So fresh and so clean clean.


I only took about 2.5 inches off but this is as short as I think I've ever had it.  All of the dead ends are GONE so it looks/feels a lot healthier. YAY.

Truth ▲



I think boys are stupid and there's always a reason certain ones shouldn't be in your life anymore.  Stick to your convictions, especially about the liars, cheaters, and "I think I'm so cool that I can treat you like dirt and get away with it" types.

RAWR.  Feeling fiesty today!

Getting my hair cut. There will be pictures.

Not feeling the LDR today... ▲

Sunday, August 29



LDR means Long Distance Relationship if you didn't catch that.


I got a free shirt last night at Poor Pauls. 



Let's be honest, who doesn't love FREE STUFF!! Even though I look anything but thrilled in this picture...


I love this poem by e.e. cummings.  (No I'm not being lazy with my capitalization, that's how he wrote his name.  He's the one who's lazy with capitalization.) 


i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
                                  i fear
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)







Sorry if I'm triggering your gag reflex right now.  I woke up this morning moderately hung over and trying to remember all of the ways I made a fool out of myself last night while rampaging around Tallahassee with my Grandlittle and a few other sororstitutes.  I can only say one thing...SOO MANY FRESHMAN.  And one of the things I hate about Tallahassee is that the slut-o-meter is off the CHARTS, especially when all the leetle freshmen are parading around in their "dresses that are actually shirts but hey I'll be drunk and won't care if my butt cheeks are showing." 


POINT IS, when I woke up this morning, I wanted nothing more than to roll over and squish my nose into boyfriend's shoulder and go back to sleep.  Alas, he was not in bed next to me but 6 hours away in SC probably sleeping and not missing me at all.  Just kidding.  He always misses me because I'm great and not annoying and never call him at 4 am to tell him about the amazing chicken nuggets I just ate. 


And here is a funny picture of Smelly Belly.





20/365 ▲

Saturday, August 28




Wearing the new skirt =)

Bedroom Makeover ▲

Friday, August 27



I have a problem with pictures.  I just need them to be everywhere.  My room looks so cluttered because I have a bajillion frames, a memory board, and four cork boards full of pictures.

Anyway, in May when my mom came down, my room started undergoing a makeover of sorts.  We got a new bedspread/curtains, recarpeted, and a few other things.  4 months later and I decide to change a few more things.

Here's what it looked like before:
This is what it looks like now:
Here are a few of my favorite changes:
Before, I was using a whole drawer to put my jewelry in.  Now, I have an entire new drawer to put other stuff in and my jewelry has a special home.
I've put my two favorite throw blankets and an extra pillow in this little thing.  Before, I'd just been draping my blankets over my footboard and it looked really messy.

Anyway, I just felt like posting this.  I also reorganized my closet and took a TON of stuff to Goodwill!

TGIF ▲



First week of school = finished!

I celebrated by taking myself to the mall and going out on a limb by purchasing this:

That's not me.  I haven't been that skinny since 2nd grade.

I usually stay away from high-waisted, tight, mini skirts like this because I have such big hips.  They tend to accentuate my curves way more than I'd like.  There's a thin line between sexy curvy and "who let you out of the house looking like that" curvy.  But I decided to try it, so I bought a cute tank top to wear tucked in with it.  Maybe I'll post pictures of myself wearing it once I work up the nerve to go out with it on. 

Also still working on a post with interesting subject matter.  

19/365 ▲

Wednesday, August 25




Oh hey.  This is my giant face all up in your business.

Just a question for anyone who wants to answer...

what's on the top of your bucket list?

School! ▲

Monday, August 23



So, since it's past midnight, today is officially the first day of school.

Off to see my advisor bright and early for my graduation check and then lunch with 100 and some of my favorite girls at the sorority house.

Class at 5:15.

Here are three things I want to do more of this fall:

1. Embrace my naturally curly hair.
2. Be more diligent about my gym routine.
3. Wake up earlier.

Hopefully I will have time to sit down soon and write a long, meaningful post - potentially about how much I enjoy FSU's graduation requirements.


111 days until Mike and I are at my dad's house in Italy! 

18/365 ▲

Friday, August 20




Marc Jacobs - Daisy
One of my favorites.

Whopper of an About Me ▲



After much deliberation and debate amongst myself, and also after some inspiration from Emmy in Progress, I’ve decided to bore you all with an incredibly elaborate and prying post about who I am!

Brace yourself for the most serious post I ever have and probably ever will publish, 
And please leave your judgment at the door.

I believe that a kind word has the power to change a life.  I believe in myself most days and on the days that I don’t, I believe in my ability to turn things around.  I believe in using sarcasm on a daily basis and that straight answers are rarely to be given.  I believe in the happiness that seeing an old friend brings and in the healing ability of slow, sappy, love songs. 

I think I have a lot to look forward to.  Sometimes I think I’m lame and sometimes I think I’m awesome.  Some days I think I’m impossible to love and some days I think I’m too emotional, too moody, and too fat.  Other days I think I’m beautiful and wouldn’t change a thing.

I want to be happy forever and I want to do whatever it takes to make that possible.  I don’t always know what that is but I have faith that whatever happens, happens for a reason.  I want to make the people around me happy, too.  I want to be a role model.  I want to be envied for my personality, not for my possessions.  I want to rely more on myself and less on others.  I want to keep in touch with the people who are important to me.

I love my life…most days.  I love eating breakfast at two in the afternoon and the way Tallahassee smells after a late summer storm.  I love my parents and my best friends.  I love having one man in my life that I can dedicate my heart to.  I love Bella and the way she loves me back.  I love getting new perfume and the way clean sheets feel on freshly shaved legs.  I love drinking too much wine and eating too much cheese.  I love being smart and witty.  I love being so close to being able to call myself a college graduate. 

I hope that my philosophies pay off one day.  I hope our country gets smarter by the next election.  I hope my children love me.  I hope I make the right decisions even though I know I sometimes don’t.  I hope my wrong decisions lead me somewhere better than I expected.  I hope my family knows how much I appreciate them.  I hope I never take a passing smile for granted and I hope that I get better at saying goodbye.  I hope I never have to say goodbye too soon. 

I don’t believe that life is completely random.  I don’t believe in abortion even though I used to think I had to.  I don’t believe in second-guessing gut feelings.  I don’t believe in walking really far when you can drive.  I don’t believe you can ever have too many clothes.  I don’t believe in homophobia.  I don’t believe in forcing your opinions onto others.  I don’t believe you can ever have too much cheese.  Ever.

I feel fat right now because I haven’t been to the gym since April.  I feel like I should apply myself more.  I feel the need to reorganize my bedroom and to take a car-load of things to Goodwill.  I feel empty when I’m uninspired and I feel like I will never be a successful writer.  Sometimes I feel like all of my dreams are pipedreams and sometimes I feel like I could rule the world.  I feel like I ought to be better at multitasking.  I feel like some of the most beautiful things are also some of the most underrated.

I need to be reminded sometimes.  I need reciprocation.  Sometimes I need space to breath but sometimes I need to be wrapped up in a hug so tight I think you’ll never let go.  I need my camera, my cell phone, and my laptop no matter how pathetic it makes me feel to be so technologically dependent.  I need pedicures and manicures and I always need a massage but I also need to spend my money on other things.

I fear the uncertainty of the future and I fear that I waste too much time trying to delay the inevitable, whatever it might be.  I fear that I won’t be prepared to make it on my own when the time comes.  I fear that I’ll never reach my full potential and I fear that I’ll be okay with that.  I fear that I’m going to lose people along the way to where I’m going.  I fear that I’ll die and nobody will miss me.  I fear that I dwell too much on the past and I fear that I regret too many of my choices.

I hate people who think they are more important than I am.  I hate people with a gross sense of entitlement.  I hate people who have opinions simply for the sake of having an opinion.  I hate onions unless they are fried.  I hate meatloaf and stuffing, too.  I hate that I don’t like to cook.  I hate that I constantly compare myself to others.  I hate that life is a competition and I’m not competitive.



I hate that I don’t know who exactly I want to be.

Greatest Triumph?  When a teacher in my department who I loved and respected told me my submission was the best thing she’d read in a long time…and subsequently getting the only A in the class on the assignment. (Scoff if you must…I’m an average college student at best with the exception of my writing classes when I actually apply myself.)

Greatest Regret?  Although it may seem trivial, I wish I hadn’t blown off a nice guy for a less nice guy simply because of the Greek letters he wore.  I don’t like looking back and seeing how shallow I was, how overwhelmed I was with status in the Greek system, and how I hurt someone’s feelings in the process of eventually getting my own feelings hurt.  In retrospect, I'm grateful for the way making such a huge mistake has changed me and put me in the exact spot I'm in now.  I also regret not listening to more of what my mom had to say.  (I’d pay to see the look on my mom’s face as she reads that…HA.)

Greatest Lesson? Well, to put it simply:

 

17/365 ▲

Thursday, August 19



Technically I should be on day...66 out of 365.  Had things gone the way I'd planned and if I wasn't possibly the worst procrastinator on the face of the planet.


It's hard to believe that I start my last year at Florida State on Monday.

Fall 2010 represents the end to so many things.  Unless I end up going to graduate school at FSU, this will be my last fall taking classes in my beloved Williams Building with all of the other creative writing nerds. It will be my last football season as an undergrad.  I know I'll always be a 'Nole...I grew up wearing garnet and gold and was taught from a young age that orange and blue are never to be combined.  Fall 2010 will be my last semester as an active member of Phi Mu.  I'll officially be a sorority alumna in December.

It will probably be the last fall I ever spend in my quiet little house in suburbia.  I've come a long way from my humble dorm on Dewey...not that I miss that sardine can one bit.  I don't.  I also don't miss having our peep hole repeatedly stolen in the middle of the night.  


I had the right half of the room.
It seems like it was only a few years ago that I was a super cool high school graduate.

Oh wait...it was only a few years ago...

Anyway, I guess I get a little nostalgic late at night and I know this post would have been more relevant if I had waited until Monday to share it.  I wonder if this will make my mom cry...                        

Hell hath no fury like the interstate ▲



Why driving on the interstate sucks:

Mr. Impatient Pants.

A. Mr. Impatient pants has to pass you on the right.  Sure, you just passed a semi truck and were waiting to be an appropriate distance in front of it before you got back into the right lane, but heavens to Betsy you’re just not getting over fast enough so Mr. Impatient Pants has to scurry around you in the slow lane.


B. Sometimes, Mr. Impatient Pants can only TRY to pass you on the right.  So what if you’re in the passing lane behind 4 or 5 cars all going the same speed around a streamline camper?  Mr. Impatient Pants decides he just can’t wait and he must go around you on the right.  You can’t let this happen.  You KNOW he’ll try to cut you off last minute so that he, too, can go around the camper.  You make sure there’s never enough room between you and Mrs. Mini Van from New York, even if this means tailgating her so bad you can see what radio station she's listening to.  It works, and Mr. Impatient Pants is forced to brake and wait his turn.  You feel like you’ve won.

C. Mr. Impatient Pants finally gets around you one way or the other and you barely see his car as he flies by.  You stop thinking about him and count to 10 to try to quell your road rage.  There are dogs in the car, for cheese’s sake.  Watch your mouth.  Then, less than 5 miles down the road, Mr. Impatient Pants has forgotten that the gas pedal exists and is cruising along at the speed of an injured earthworm.  Naturally, you ride up on his butt, cursing him for not understanding the meaning of cruise control and then pass him on the left.


D. Mr. Impatient Pants notices your license plate and thinks, “I ALREADY PASSED HER ONCE I CAN’T LET THIS HAPPEN,” and decides to make you his involuntary interstate leapfrog partner.  He cruises up at a steady 3 or 4 mph faster than you and then hangs out near your blind spot for a little while.  You are well aware of his presence and he is happy with himself for making your blood start to boil.  Finally, he increases his speed enough to pass you and then gently glides on over back in front of you where he feels he belongs.  Then he reduces his speed by a tiny fragment, enough so you notice that you’ve slowly started creeping back up on him.  “WHAT THE FRACK, DUDE!  PICK A SPEED! !#$!#%#W%&#%#%@$#%# YOU’RE RUINING MY CRUISING EXPERIENCE.”

E. After what feels like a decade, you’ve failed at delaying the inevitable and you and Mr. Impatient Pants are bumper to bumper again.  You signal and get into the left lane, only to have him swerve in front of you because he waited until the last minute to pass the handicapped sticker driving the Buick.  You resist the urge to flash your brights repeatedly.  You also resist the urge to honk your horn at the risk of startling the handicap sticker into a heart attack and being the cause of a 10-car pile up. 
I wish I was from the Land of Lincoln.  Jealous.
F. Mr. Impatient Pants cruises along in front of you for a while with no real reason.  There’s nobody in the left lane as far as the horizon and he is still going slower than what you HAD your cruise control set at.  “THAT BASTARD IS TRYING TO GET ME TO PASS HIM ON THE RIGHT!  THAT SNEAKY S.O.A.B!” But you won’t.  You’re better than that.  Two can play at this game.  You turn on your right signal, as if you were going to go around him.  He notices.  He’s been paying more attention to his rearview mirror than to the road in front of him.  Before you have the chance to change lanes like he assumes you are going to, he eases over into the right lane in an attempt to thwart your plan.  HAHAHAHA.  You quickly take off your right signal and GUN IT to get around him in the appropriate passing lane.  You are the queen of the interstate.  “EAT MY DUST!”
Mr. Impatient Pants when he realizes he's lost.
The Ever Changing Speed Limit.
1. Sweet.  It’s 70…you set the cruise control at 79 and think you’re ready for an awesome interstate drive.  WRONG. 

2. Surprise! CONSTRUCTION ZONE!  The speed limit is now 60, the lanes are narrow, and there are seizure inducing concrete barriers on either side of the road!  Don’t sneeze or anything, YOU MIGHT DIE.  Let’s not even get into the lackadaisical lane philosophy of big rig drivers or the need for motorcycles to attack in packs. 


3.You pass into a new city and they’ve decided they need to be different.  Sure, it’s only a 5 mph change, but BY GOLLY they’ve made their point.  TAKE THAT, you cruise control dependent HACK.  I bet you’re driving an automatic transmission, AREN’T YOU?!

Fickle Speed Dude
1. Mr. Impatient Pants’ cousin from Pennsylvania.  Sometimes an annoying neighbor from New Jersey or North Carolina.  Either way, you hate them.

2. Fickle speeders think they are all that.  They whiz past you.  “THAT GUYS GOTTA BE GOING AT LEAST 500 MPH.  HE’S GOING TO CAUSE AN ACCIDENT!”  You think about how badly you want him to get pulled over.  You get tickets for going 6 over but this CLOWN can prance all over the road with no consequences?  You hate your life.


3. But then Fickle Speeder thinks he sees a cop car hiding in the trees and he slams on the brakes and coasts into the right lane.  You eventually pass him and the spot where the phantom patrol car was lurking.  “MAYBE NOW HE LEARNED HIS LESSON!”  


4.Wrong.  Fickle Speeder is back at it, weaving in and out of traffic, driving with his windows rolled down and really really really hoping every one notices how cool his Lincoln Navigator looks with the big Yankees logo across the back window.  You scoff at his skateboard brand bumper sticker and wish you could practice the pit maneuver on him.

Mrs. Mini Van from New York
1.She probably can’t even see out of her back window because it’s completely obstructed by her beloved stick figure family, pets included.  You keep your distance because you’re afraid one of the 242462 bikes tied to the trunk will be your new, unsolicited hood ornament. 



2. She’s a close relative to Mr. Impatient Pants, and is definitely a member of the Fickle Speed family.


Ms. This is My Exit.  LOL, J/K.
1. Ms. TIME is also Ms. WOO HOO I LOVE THE BRAKE PEDAL and Ms. Can’t Stand the Anticipation.  She knows her exit is coming up soon, she just can’t handle the waiting.


2. Ms. TIME puts her signal on 2 miles ahead of time.  She is exiting soon, she promises.  Ms. TIME wreaks havoc on the lives of Mr. Impatient Pants and Mrs. Mini Van alike.


3. Shortly after the signal goes on, Ms. TIME rediscovers her affinity for the brake pedal.  She’ll slow down and then speed up again just so she has one more chance to reduce her speed.  Oh, this is exit 174.  She needs exit 178.  SORRY Y’ALL! MY BAD! You hate her.  You get stuck behind her because all of a sudden the passing lane is hosting a parade that you weren’t invited to.
I googled  "annoying drivers" and this is what I got...
4. Ms. TIME finally exits and you are relieved until you find yourself introduced to a new and even more diabolical Mr. Impatient Pants...

And the journey continues! 

Us ▲

Monday, August 16



Mike is 32.  Sorry, I mean 28.  I’m 21.  To some, that’s an impossibly large age difference.  Not to me.  I don’t think about it or notice it when we’re together.  The only time I’m even really aware of it is when someone asks me, “isn’t that weird?”  No.  It wasn’t weird until you made it weird by asking if it was weird. Age difference shouldn't be a factor.  Of course, it would have been strange if we dated when I was 14 and he was 22...


This is Mike and me.  Sorry if the cuteness level makes your throw up in your mouth a little.


Aside from situations like that, the only other time I notice the age gap is when he references something from his childhood, or asks me about certain movies or TV shows.  For example, we’d been having some sort of discussion about The Matrix and then realized that it’d come out when he was a senior in high school.  I was 10 and watching things like My Dog Skip.  Mike could have been babysitting me while I was watching My Dog Skip.  


AWWWW.

Then yesterday, we were on Skype with my mom and somebody mentioned Lorena Bobbit.  I didn't know who she was.  My mom and Mike then proceded to ridicule me for being so ignorant.  SORRY.  I was 4 when it happened and have somehow managed to live my entire life without knowing about the woman who severed her husbands penis.  I feel like the crazy, diaper-wearing astronaut lady will be the Lorena Bobbit equivalent of my generation...maybe.

can't get this one centered for life of me...it won't work. BLERG! 
                        
Yes, the mustache was necessary.  And do you ever wonder why it's spelled, "mustachioed?"

Mike was also appalled at the idea that I didn't know who Lex Luther was.  *GASP* I know.  I don't know if this one is due to my age or the fact that I was raised in a household completely devoid of comic books or anything else of that nature.  Or maybe it's because I'm a girl and had never seen a Superman movie until Mike and I watched Superman Returns the other night.  Don't get me wrong, I love me some manly movies.  

After this whole debacle we were in the car with Mike's nephew, Logan.  Logan asked me if I knew who Lex Luther was now...and let me tell you, being mocked by an 8 year old felt GREAT.

16/365 ▲

Sunday, August 15




SOOO EMOTIONAL. 
haha.

Gosh my hair looks so ratty. bleh.



Wearing Mike's favorite hat. =) 

15/365 ▲

Saturday, August 14



I know it's evil, but sometimes I really wish I could laugh in the faces of people I knew way back when they thought they were better than I was.

Two posts in a row! Aren't y'all lucky!

Fierce.

Yes, those are 3D glasses.

So last night I tried staying up until Mike got home from work but he ended up not making it back to the house until after 7am.  I crashed around 6:30.  So close!  We spent today watching 30 Rock episodes and eating Chili and I have absolutely nothing interesting to say! 


14/365 ▲



I started this project over two months ago and barely have two weeks worth of photos to show for it...guess this is not going to be a 365 consecutive days sort of project...which ultimately defeats the purpose...but whatever.

Mike was nice enough to put up with me at Rye Patch the other day while we walked around and I took pictures/complained about the heat/sweated out every ounce of water in my body.  I did get some shots that I really like and you can find them on my flickr.

Today's self portrait has Mike in it...but seeing as it was taken with self timer and my tripod and I composed it without the assistance of any outsiders, I'm calling it a self portrait.  And since my fan base is basically me...I don't know why I bother explaining...and I apologize for the vast over usage of the ellipses in this post...

and I am also including this one because I just think he is so handsome.


this is a look of exasperation, not to be confused with attempted seduction.  

Bed time ▲

Tuesday, August 10



I love my boyfriend, but if you’ve ever slept in the same bed with anyone, whether it be your significant other or best friend at a slumber party, you know you’re bound to run into some issues during the night. 

I tend to be a bit of a picky sleeper.  I like to have a good amount of bed space, my own pillow, and my fair share of the sheets and blankets.  I also tend to be a violent bed partner, and should the equilibrium of my bed experience be thrown off, things can turn nasty.  And by nasty I mean you could end up with a bloody nose or bruised collar bone if things don’t go my way.   I’m also not embarrassed to admit that I’m a bit of a selfish sleeper (especially in my own bed), and I couldn’t care less if you think I stole the covers or hogged the bed…I was comfortable and asleep and not concerned for your well-being.

Anyway, this is for those of you who have never shared a bed before.  I want you to know what you have to look forward to.

1. You will end up laying on less than half of the bed.  Whether you are against a wall or not makes little difference.  If you’re on the wall side of the bed, at least you have a barrier to keep yourself from plummeting to the cold floor in the middle of the night.   But then you have to decide which of your extremities deserves more happiness.  This is a dangerous game to play and one or both arms will end up going numb.  You’ll most likely spend the night crumpled up like a dead bug in the crevice between the mattress and wall.  If you are on the side without the wall, time spent counting sheep is replaced with a combination of time spent practicing a meticulous balancing act and seeing just how thin you can make yourself.  You can fit anywhere you put your mind to.  This theory, however, does not translate well into skinny jeans.  If you are non confrontational (at least when awake) like I am, you will want the other person to be comfortable and will forfeit part of your half so that your bed partner can lay on an angle or jet their leg out at 90 degrees because who wouldn’t sleep better that way?  Just concentrate on falling asleep so you can be ruthless without dealing with any guilt about it later.

2. If you’re not a cuddler, the other person will want all of their body parts to be touching yours at some point during the night.  This could mean cheek to cheek on the same pillow, or the popular spooning position, or even completely pancaking their body on top of yours.  You will be miserable.


this picture is irrelevant but it made me laugh.  
from bittersweetcandybowl.com


3. Your bed partner will be an MMA fighter in their dreams and this can only end badly for you.  They might also be a ninja.

4.  You will eventually have to wear your retainer in front of them.  Nevermind that it is still pink and glittery just like you wanted in the 8th grade.  Straight teeth are important and the drool covered pillow and noticeable lisp are the price you pay for a million dollar smile.

5.  You’ll never wake up at the same time and you will spend hours in the mornings looking over to see if they’re awake yet.  They’ll be doing the same thing, but never at the same time as you.  And heaven forbid you whisper, “are you awake?”  NEVER try to simplify things.

6.  You will have to pee in the middle of the night.  Your full bladder will be compounded with the fear that you’ll wake your bed partner up if you move.  You will waste 10 minutes delicately folding over the blankets, holding your breath while you sit up, standing up in slow motion to avoid bed squeakage, tip toeing around the obstacle course that seemed to appear in the bedroom over night, and then fondling your way down the hall without light.  Why does pee sound so much louder at night?  Am I going to wake the neighbors, too?   This will go on until you realize you really don’t care if your bed partner wakes up because you know they won’t remember in the morning.  Which brings me to number 7…

7. This one is not at all directly related to my boyfriend.  You will have a bed partner that pretends to be awake when they are really asleep.  For instance, a bug will crawl on your face and your bed partner will turn on the light amidst your screams and cries of agony to help you locate the cause of your distress, only to be no help at all and not remember a single thing in the morning.  You would have been better off waking up your dog.  


Bella. =)

Life with Bella ▲

Sunday, August 1



So, Bella found a bug.  But then she lost said bug...



anddddd then she found said bug.





and we named him Frank...right before I squished his ass and flushed him down the toilet.

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