Crush #4- The End/Blueberry Pancakes

HELLO EVERYONE
I have not blogged in ages. But I can DO IT NOW BECAUSE IT'S SPRING BREAK! Yay!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

honestly I'm a little delirious cause I had coffee and wrote a paper and watched once upon a time (great show) and now I'm wired and exhausted at the same time.

Okay so here's the deal. I can't do crushes anymore because (sometimes when I type the word "because" I say it in my head slowly like that lady from monsters inc in the beginning when she's like "leaving the kid's door open is bad beeeeeEEEcaaaUSE..." does anyone know what I'm talking about? tweet me if you know what I'm talking about. your tweet must say "@andaleee I know what you're talking about." just like that. nothing else. then I will feel validated. anyway.) because we have now reached high school years with people I still talk to regularly/ people who read this blog/ friends of people who read this blog/ friends of cousins of dogs of sisters who read this blog and I don't want one of my ex lovers (if they can be called that) to text me and be all "WTF?!?!? u blogged about me ur so weird" or worse "WTF?!? u blogged about me ur so hawt let's rekindle R flame"

But, that being said. There is one final crush that really, TRULY, 100% FOR SURE deserves to be blogged about. He earned this one.

Basically, he's very attractive. Or he was. People have a habit of showing their true selves and then becoming completely unattractive in every way possible that it is to be unattractive. Did I just type that sentence?

So. He was very attractive. So I did some major creeping, found him on facebook, FRIENDED HIM (you must never ever do this, young ones. do not friend boys you don't know. that leads to what I like to call a bad road. BAAAAAAAAAAD ROOOOOOOOOOAD.)

He accepted my request. Stupid idiot. Why would he do that? He didn't know me.

Anyway. I kind of stalked him. From this, a weird friendship grew (?) (I don't understand either.)

Then we had each other's phone numbers.

BING BANG BOOM I was head over heels. I texted him way too much. WAY. TOO. MUCH. (don't do this either, young ones.)

He. Was. not. into. me. Like the movie, but worse because it was high school and everything is worse when you're in high school for some sick, twisted reason. (But really- everything is worse. Classes are mandatory, you think everyone TRULY AND DEEPLY cares about how your hair looks every day, and you still live with your parents 24/7 and they think not vacuuming your room = mortal sin. Then you get to college and it's like I'LL SKIP SURVEY OF AMERICAN HISTORY JUST THIS ONCE CAUSE IT'S AT 9 AM AND I'M REALLY FREAKING TIRED BUT REALLY IT TURNS INTO 6-7 TIMES AND I STILL GET AN A, + YAY NIKE SHORTS AND NO MAKE-UP EVERY DAY AND WHO CARES, + I DON'T EVEN OWN A VACUUM!!!!!!!)

Anyway. Girls are weird and they think when a guy acts like he's not into you it means he secretly writes you love poems and has your picture hanging all over his closet. This is simply not true. If he's not into you, he's not into you. Bahdabing. Great mystery of life solved.*

*But sometimes I forget this mystery has been solved. I admit it. Sorry.

So yes, I texted him too much and I acted really stupid and blah blah blah blah but the point is that he is still a jerk. Why? You may ask.

Because.



...




 I can't really post the reason(s) on the internet.

(If you really want to know, just shoot me a text and I'll tell you.)

And now I'm wondering why I'm writing this blog in the first place.

I guess the point is that even if someone is super super super HOT caps lock HOT, you should never, ever lower your standards for them, nor should you ever let them make you feel insecure. Because I did both of those things, and all it did was lead to a lot of this:

Me: I'm funny and cute and smart and all around pretty cool, WHY DOESN'T HE LOVE ME?
My insecurities: Obviously there is something wrong and I'm not good enough so now it's time to beat up on myself etc.

OR:

Me: (aloud) I'm funny and cute and smart and all around pretty cool, WHY DOESN'T HE LOVE ME?
Awesome friends: How about you be quiet right now?


The "awesome" part of that was not sarcastic. They were (and still are) awesome for trying to point out what I was doing to myself  by constantly questioning why he wasn't into me. I was just too much of an idiot to listen to them.

Anyway.



This is the ULTIMATE MORAL OF ALL OF THE STORIES COMBINED:

Find someone who loves you for who you are, just the way you are, right from the start. This will take years. Or maybe you'll be super lucky and meet them on a ship to America and you'll get to kiss on the railing of that ship in the sunset to beautiful Celine Dion music. Except one of them dies and the ship sinks so I guess they weren't that lucky.

Anyway. Yes. Find someone who loves you for who you are, just the way you are, right from the start. This will take years/months/weeks/days/hours/seconds/whatever. But the point is, you will find this person, you will never have to question this person's motives, and you will never feel like you need to change yourself for this person.

Because embarrassing crushes are great and hilarious to look back upon and share with your grown-up college friends, but the point is that all these horribly awkward crushes lead to someone that you won't do stupid things over (like posting song lyrics about them on your xanga (sorry not sorry) or writing really long, rude texts to them that you don't intend to send but then you realize by some horrible mistake it's no longer just a draft and you did send it (heh oops), or fighting with your best friend, or trying to get into heavy metal cause he's into heavy metal (you can replace heavy metal with various negative things in this instance) or any of the other stupid things we've all done. Mostly me.

And Elle Woods. Because she GOES TO FREAKING HARVARD to get Warner back (this is stalking to an extreme, there is no denying it) and embarrasses herself and wears a playboy bunny costume and then realizes that she's actually very smart and a guy who is way smarter, hotter, nicer, and all around better than Warner is in love with her JUST THE WAY SHE IS and then everyone's all belting "OMIGOD YOU GUYS WE GRADUATED HARVARD AND EMMETT AND ELLE ARE GETTING MARRIED LET'S SIIIIING AND JUMP AROUND AT THE SAME TIME AND SING SOME MORE"
(I'm allowed to say this because Legally Blonde is my favorite musical).

You won't feel the need to do those extreme/stupid/extremely stupid things because he won't make you feel the need to do those things. Instead he'll make you blueberry pancakes when you're sick (normally I'd say soup or something but blueberry pancakes sound really good right about now) and he will want to hang out with you during the day and he will want to meet your family and friends and even better, he'll want you to meet his family and friends, and he'll send you yellow flowers when the sky is gray and take you out dancing just so he can hold you close and wear your favorite color just so he can match your eyes.

Now I'm just quoting Enchanted and can I just say that that last line never made sense to me? Because my favorite color is PINK but my eyes are GREEN. So...which one is he wearing? You understand my confusion? If you do, tweet me saying "@andaleee, I understand your confusion" and nothing else. then I will feel validated.

Anyway this blog is long enough and also it's 2 am (but have you ever noticed that all sorts of things happen at two am? Just ask Taylor Swift. Pretty sure all her shit goes down at 2 am. Just listen to one of her songs. I'm serious.)

SO. Goodbye. As Ellen would say, "Be kind to one another," but more importantly, as I would (and do) say, "be kind to yourself" and wait around for Mr. Blueberry Pancakes rather than lowering your standards for Mr. #4/Warner/not nice guy, got it?

Peace. Punch. Captain Crunch.

Amendment to Crush #3

After consulting Jill, I have a revision for the blog about Crush #3.
This is in her words: 


" I was not dating [crush #3's brother]. All that happened was he kept asking me 
for hugs while he was dating Skylar (and I suspected something was awry) and 
then he told me he liked me that summer and I signed off aim because I'm dramatic."


So, I am offering my sincerest apologies for posting that she dated him, because she did not. 

Thank you.

Crush #3

CRUSH NUMBER 3. This is a great and fast story.

So, we met in 7th grade. He was in 6th grade. Scandy. Jill (my bff- see Crush #1 & #2) was dating his brother who was also in 7th grade.
So, somehow we found out we liked each other (probably AIM- classic). So one day during recess he asked me to be his girlfriend. I was wearing a pink abercrombie V-neck (why), a khaki skirt (Why?!), and birkenstocks (WHYYYYYY!??!?!).
Also, why do I remember this? I have no clue.

So then we started dating. But basically he wanted to hold hands and hug (scandy) ALL THE TIME. I mean all. the. time. And honestly I just wanted to hang out with my friends and talk about #3 (even though there was never much to say).

A week later he pulled me aside (and he was almost crying- I'm not joking) and he told me that I hung out with my friends too much and that I ignored him all the time.

Which was probably true. But it was also 7th grade, so..

So that really irritated me. So, we were sitting in the gym and  he tried to grab my hand (again, scandy) and somehow he shocked me. Well then, he looked at me and said "look at that, there's electricity between us."

My response: "I think we should break up."

So that's how it ended. He moved away after that year.

Then a few months ago I found him on facebook (don't ask me how). Then I was looking through his pictures and a lot of them were of a baby. So I did some serious creeping and yes- he had gotten a girl pregnant.

Needless to say, I picked a real winner.

Next up is Crush #4 which is actually a somewhat happy story.

#2 (hahahaha.... I'm immature)

Hi guys!
Alright so first things first: MISS AMERICA WAS RIGGED OR SOMETHING WHAT THE EFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF.

ok. got that out of my system.

Cool fact: I've always wanted to be Miss America. Cooler fact: I will never have the discipline, because I'm pretty sure you would have to work out all the time in preparation (I usually don't go more than three days in a row before giving up and eating Cinnamon Toast Crunch for every meal) and I'm also fairly sure they don't approve of swear words over there at Miss America. Therefore I am unsuitable. #sailormouth #notevenalittlebitsorry

Wow, I just became one of those people who uses hashtags outside of Twitter. Dangit. Lifelong promise to myself = broken.

Anyway,

CRUSH NUMBER TWO. Ah crush number two. It's good thing he doesn't follow me on twitter because he'd read this, then know it was about him, then he'd text me and be like "Hey Andrea! [because he's one of the cool people that calls me Andrea] Thanks for blogging about me!" and he'd be totally sincere and nice about it, but I'd just feel awkward. Anyway, Crush #2. We met in 5th grade. We were assigned to sit by one another at the only two-seater table (cause I went to Cool School where everyone sat at big tables instead of desks). I used to think this was a sign that we were MEANT TO BE.
We weren't.
So, fast forward to 6th grade. We liked each other and everyone KNEW we liked each other, but patience is not one of my specialties. So in science I passed him a note that said "Will you be my boyfriend?" (this is so incredibly embarrassing but luckily I surround myself with people who know how truly embarrassing I can be so it's not an issue) and he said "sure." (hahahaha, cue the british chick from Bridesmaids.) So that lasted about two weeks. Then he dated Jill (I think. I might be messing up the order) but luckily our friendship survived. Honestly I was probably more concerned with Birkenstocks (why?) and Abercrombie Kids clothes (again, WHY) than boyfriend stuff.
Then he moved to Nebraska.
So 7th grade happened with #3 who you'll read about later and then in 8th grade he returned! I mean it was a miracle! I thought we were MEANT TO BE! (because in 8th grade EVERYONE HAD A BOYFRIEND BUT ME. So getting a boyfriend > abercrombie clothes all of the sudden.)

So basically my 8th grade center part self spent all year obsessed with him and I think we were bf/gf (as they say) for a minute (literally) but I don't remember. Also I remember we argued a lot. #2, if you're reading this, I'm sorry. I was kind of a drama queen but it was hard not be in an 8th grade class of 12 people. Especially if you had a center part. (That has nothing to do with being a drama queen but I like to reiterate the fact that I HAD A CENTER PART because it's funny and embarrassing)

So then I changed schools and he moved to Houston (sad) and it should've been over BUT IT WASN'T.
Because during freshman year, we actually became friends. And not the middle school version of friends where you IM a lot and then become bf/gf (as they say) as a result. But real, "hey let's talk about important stuff" friends.

But of course, it wasn't possible for us to date because he was in Houston.

But then he moved back! I'm not jokin! (cue the dad from Bridesmaids) I'm not jokin. So naturally, by my sophomore year when he was back here, I thought once again, that we were meant to be.
Well, we actually might've been meant to be if I hadn't thought we were meant to be. Get what I'm saying? So, anyway, I kind of realized it wasn't going anywhere and I stopped talking to him for a very long time, which was sad.

Then, just this last summer we ended up working at the same camp. No, we didn't rekindle our flame or anything but we did become friends again, which is nice. In the end, we just weren't meant to be anything more than friends. But he is a very wonderful guy and any girl would be lucky to date him.
So yay, happy ending and all that!

Next up is #3 who is by far the funniest story ever.

Every Crush I've Ever Had

HI FRIENDS.
 I have not posted in a long time because I had dead week/finals time (in other words gain weight from all the coke and chick fil a you consume and try to stay off facebook for more than a day time) and then I got home and I've yet to embarrass myself enough to blog about it. Amazing, right? Wrong. Because I just lied. I actually have embarrassed myself (shocking) I just haven't had time to blog about it...in other words I've been watching Harry Potter (cause I got all 8 movies for Jesus' birthday) and eating big chocolate bars in the shape of Santa.

Anyway, I have just one quick story before I get to the REAL blog. Today I had to move the cars to the vacant driveway adjacent to our house. I didn't really think it out. The result was that I ended up going barefoot. With an owl pajama shirt on. And nike shorts. I had just showered so my hair was wet. Anyway, all of this would've been fine but I forgot about one thing. Thorns. So after I parked the first car, I decided to cut through the neighbor's yard to get back to my house. But there were thorns. But I've been reading Hunger Games and Katniss, the protagonist, is really brave. Like so brave that she makes me want to do brave and adventurous things (like, brave in the action sense, like killing villains. Not brave as in asking for a boy's number or something, cause I do stuff like that). So I pretended that I was in the arena and I booked it back to my house. Well, I got several thorns in my feet. And after several swear words I pulled them out and drove the over car over to the driveway. So then I had to use the sidewalk (I live on a busy street) to get back to my house. So there I was (and I'll say it again): owl pajama shirt, pink nike shorts, barefoot, wet hair, walking along the sidewalk. I really hope one of my ex boyfriends saw me because I'm sure they'd say something like "WOW I SURE WISH THAT RELATIONSHIP HAD NEVER ENDED SHE IS TOTALLY LOOKING GOOD AND ABSOLUTELY SANE AS WELL."



..

not.

So, to the real blog. After consulting my friend Kaci, I have decided to do a series called "Every crush I ever had" based on another really popular blog (imitation is the sincerest form of flattery). I am doing this because a lot of my most embarrassing moments in my past have risen from these crushes.

So, #1. My first crush was 4th grade. #1 was a fifth grader. Scandalous. I didn't really like him until someone told me he liked me (that's how the best ones start). Anyway, he asked me to be his girlfriend via AOL email and gave me a ring (which I refused to wear to school but he played basketball with my brother so I wore it to the games on a necklace cause I was really cool) and sometimes we held hands. Then, like all good relationships, it came to an end. But naturally I was still in 4th grade love with him. My best friend Jill (who will turn up a lot in this series) and I made a music video to the song "Everytime" by Britney Spears in which I did what I'm sure was an amazing ballet dance to and we planned to give it to him so he'd know my true feelings. However, he started ignoring me completely on AIM so I decided against showing him the music video. (Thank the Good Lord Above because we ended up going to the same high school and I never would've been able to live that one down). And that was Crush #1 that I'd had at the age of 10.
The End. I mean To Be Continued.

The time I peed in Ballet Class

Hi friends.

So I decided to not tell a story from the present this time, and since I can't tell a story from the future, I'm telling one from the past.

The title says it all. The time I peed in ballet class.

So, I was eight years old when this happened, so obviously this isn't one of those accidents that just happens when you're potty training.

See, the thing is, as a child, I was actually very shy. I'm still somewhat reserved, but usually my weirdness overshadows that.

Anyway, I realized about 5 minutes into ballet class that I had to pee, and I couldn't hold it. But the thing is, I was too shy to ask to go to the bathroom, and even if I did ask, I didn't know where it was, so that would only cause a lot more problems than a shy little girl felt like she could handle.

 Now, being the incredibly logical genius that I am, realized I was wearing a skirt over my leotard and tights, and it would make a lot of sense to just let out a little bit of pee at a time, about once every ten minutes.

Well, the thing is, it actually worked. That is, until we had announcements. Announcements happened at the end of class, right before we did one last combination. So, for announcements we sat on the ground and listened to the teachers talk about recitals and what not. So I was sitting there and I realized this was the home stretch- if I made it through this, I would be home free. So I'm sitting there and I let out what I thought was the last bit of pee. Well, it wasn't the last bit (how much did I drink?! I still wonder) and it wasn't a bit. It was a lot. A good puddle-sized amount.

That's right: the next thing I know, there is a little puddle of pee next to me (under me?) on the beautiful wooden dance floor. And this obnoxious child looks at the puddle and looks at me and says, "UM, I think that's PEE."

Well, no shit sherlock.

The next thing I know, I am being escorted to the bathroom where the rest of my pee goes to its proper place: a toilet.

Now, after class was over, for some sick reason, I was determined not to tell my mother. So, I got  in the backseat of the car and immediately began to complain that my leotard was itchy (This was pretty genius of me if I do say so).  My mom gave me permission to take it off in the car, which I happily did (there's no way I was comfortable in it after letting out sporadic little pees for the past hour in it) and when we got home, I proceeded to run inside and shove it in the bottom of my laundry hamper and then take a bath (wash away the shame).

I guess my logic was this: if I had to embarrass myself front of my whole ballet class, there was no way in hell I was sharing that humiliation with my mother. Or maybe I just didn't want her to have the shame of having an 8 year old who peed her pants in ballet class. Either way, she never found out.


And that, everyone, is one of the finest moments of my young life. The moral of the story is: if you have to embarrass yourself, don't let your mom find out. Also, don't drink a shit ton of water before ballet class, and finally, it really is okay to ask to go to the bathroom and to ask where it is if you don't know.

The Dog Days are Over

So, world. I have yet another brief but funny story to tell. I'm not going to give you the back story of the story because that would ruin the story.

So here's the story. Wow I just used the word story a ton. Haha. Story.
Today, Claire and I went to get Which Wich on campus for dinner. (I always type Wich Which first and then I use my logical reasoning and realize that doesn't make sense and correct it).
We write down our sandwiches and everything is going great. In fact, I am having a great day, completely void of any seriously awkward encounters. Huzzah, right?
Wrong.

So, we walk up to the register and the male cashier says, "Wow, I can smell one of you." And I just stare because I'm trying to remember if I put on deodorant this morning. Then he elaborates: "Your perfume."
Naturally, my big throws me under a bus and says, "It's not me, it's her." (I still love you, though.)

Interruption: if you work at Which Wich, don't comment on your customer's scent. They won't come back. You hear that, sir? I'M NOT COMING BACK. (Except in a couple of days I'll probably crave a grinder and and I'll break that resolution, but it's the thought that counts.)

Now here's the thing: I am NOT, I repeat NOT, one of those girls who overdoes the perfume.
In fact, I hardly ever wear it. This is because I am allergic to perfume and if I wear it every day in succession my eyes swell up and my throat becomes inflamed and I start developing a cough like a bark. (So pleasant). So I save it for special occasions.

Today was not a special occasion. See below.

So, after my big throws me under a bus, I immediately try to explain lest he gets the wrong idea. So, I say "Oh well, I put on perfume because I went to the Humane Society to play with dogs and then I smelled like dogs but I didn't have time to shower but I didn't want to smell like dogs so that's why*."


*verbatim

And he just says, "...Okay.**"

**also verbatim. Ellipses and all.

This was the truth. But, as Claire was quick to point out, I did not need to share all of that information.

I was just trying to explain why I smelled so strongly of Clinique Happy. Because I am not one of those girls who overdoes the perfume.

Anyway, the moral of the story is this: it is okay to not want to smell like dogs. It is not okay to share this information with Wich Which cashiers.