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.
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Friday, December 30, 2011
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.
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.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
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.
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.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
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.
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.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Possibly the worst timing
So this embarrassing story number 439849.
Today, Claire (she's always around when the worst happens) and I were dancing in the front room of our sorority house. We were dancing with scarves, which is a different story. But anyway, we were choreographing a special number, and no one was around, so I jokingly said, "And then the next time around I'll be NAKED."
And I turned around and the house boy happened to be walking through the room.
First of all, I was kidding. Completely kidding.
But he said "Nothing I haven't heard before!"
Embarrassed, I apologized and assured him I was kidding as he walked away. He didn't really say anything..
Needless to say, I will never be one of those awesome girls who goes on a date with the house boy.
Today, Claire (she's always around when the worst happens) and I were dancing in the front room of our sorority house. We were dancing with scarves, which is a different story. But anyway, we were choreographing a special number, and no one was around, so I jokingly said, "And then the next time around I'll be NAKED."
And I turned around and the house boy happened to be walking through the room.
First of all, I was kidding. Completely kidding.
But he said "Nothing I haven't heard before!"
Embarrassed, I apologized and assured him I was kidding as he walked away. He didn't really say anything..
Needless to say, I will never be one of those awesome girls who goes on a date with the house boy.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Embarrassing
Hello! So I have embarrassing stories to tell.
Okay so first. My backpack was extra heavy today. So I walked out of Bennett and a boy was kinda following me. Not like stalking me but just walking behind me. But I dropped my phone (and it didn't have the case on- thanks Katie) so I bent down to pick it up and my backpack was so heavy that I fell over. My ass hit the ground. I FELL. In front of a boy.
So I spent the rest of my ten minute walk to the music building replaying that moment and repeating "I literally just fell on my ass" in my head. (Its like in Bridesmaids when Lily is like "I literally just shit myself. I shit in the street. I shit in my shorts...I shit myself.") Because I honestly couldn't believe that I wasn't smart enough to take off my backpack before picking up my phone that was on the ground.
Story number 2: When I sleep, I usually wake up at random times throughout the night. Well, last night I did that and I happened to check my phone and I had a text from a boy. So I guess I was really eager to text him back (bad) so I typed out a response and hit send. Well, when I woke up for real he had texted me back with "..."
that's never a good sign. So I looked at what I sent him and it said this, verbatim: "Oh damn I though were. Lay well guess what I did"
....what. the. hell. So now I'm in the awkward "I have to text you again to make sure you know that I'm normal and I was just 85% asleep when I sent that" phase.
Story number 3: I just swallowed my gum. It hurt and Claire laughed at me.
Story number 4: My history paper is due tomorrow. I've done one paragraph. This paragraph is saved on my laptop. My laptop decided that today is shut down every two minutes and really piss off Andi day. Whatever. Just means God wants me to write my blog on Claire's computer and not worry about my paper til later.
Bye lovely people!
Okay so first. My backpack was extra heavy today. So I walked out of Bennett and a boy was kinda following me. Not like stalking me but just walking behind me. But I dropped my phone (and it didn't have the case on- thanks Katie) so I bent down to pick it up and my backpack was so heavy that I fell over. My ass hit the ground. I FELL. In front of a boy.
So I spent the rest of my ten minute walk to the music building replaying that moment and repeating "I literally just fell on my ass" in my head. (Its like in Bridesmaids when Lily is like "I literally just shit myself. I shit in the street. I shit in my shorts...I shit myself.") Because I honestly couldn't believe that I wasn't smart enough to take off my backpack before picking up my phone that was on the ground.
Story number 2: When I sleep, I usually wake up at random times throughout the night. Well, last night I did that and I happened to check my phone and I had a text from a boy. So I guess I was really eager to text him back (bad) so I typed out a response and hit send. Well, when I woke up for real he had texted me back with "..."
that's never a good sign. So I looked at what I sent him and it said this, verbatim: "Oh damn I though were. Lay well guess what I did"
....what. the. hell. So now I'm in the awkward "I have to text you again to make sure you know that I'm normal and I was just 85% asleep when I sent that" phase.
Story number 3: I just swallowed my gum. It hurt and Claire laughed at me.
Story number 4: My history paper is due tomorrow. I've done one paragraph. This paragraph is saved on my laptop. My laptop decided that today is shut down every two minutes and really piss off Andi day. Whatever. Just means God wants me to write my blog on Claire's computer and not worry about my paper til later.
Bye lovely people!
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Today
Hey guys. So I haven't blogged in a while but I haven't really had much to talk about because my life is a crazy mess of chaos, but its fine. I shall just tell you about my dad.
I wrote dad. I meant to write day.
But my dad's pretty cool.
Anyway. My day.
So today actually started last night but it was actually today. I woke up at midnight and for some reason I felt like I needed to set my alarm for 8:20.
Side story- I never set an alarm. I always wake up on time. Yeah, I'm a freak.
But for some reason I thought I needed to set an alarm. So I did. At midnight. So then I wake up again at 7 AM and I'm freaking out because I'm thinking that my clock is messed up and its actually 9 am (daylight savings makes me paranoid about time, I guess) so I check the clock on my phone and its 7. So I go back to sleep and I wake up at 8:20 to the most GD annoying alarm. Its blaring. BLARING.
So I get up and go to my voice lesson where I suck because I'm singing this mermaid song with all these runs and they are hard, to say the least.
So, then I eat my strawberry pop tarts. Then I go to theory where my friend Bernardo and I share some Cheezits. Then the cheezits made me nauseous.
Then I went to choir. Then I decided to walk to the union to get a coffee because I was starting to get a lack of caffeine headache.
On my way to the union I tripped and stumbled and then laughed loudly about it to myself and then realized what an embarrassing person I am.
Then I went and ate lunch and went to psych where we learned about disorders.
Then I came home and procrastinated homework, took a nap, went to a philanthropy event with my favorite Kaci.
Then I came home to find my roommate rearranging my room. Without me. Then I helped them finish and it looks great and my bed is high up and now I feel like a princess. I also successfully avoided homework some more.
Then I practiced some ear training (the class of satan, as it can also be called) and then I showered and now I'm writing a blog.
Nothing exciting happened unless you count the fact that I achieved new levels of laziness by avoiding homework and working out.
okay wow. what a waste of a blog.
I wrote dad. I meant to write day.
But my dad's pretty cool.
Anyway. My day.
So today actually started last night but it was actually today. I woke up at midnight and for some reason I felt like I needed to set my alarm for 8:20.
Side story- I never set an alarm. I always wake up on time. Yeah, I'm a freak.
But for some reason I thought I needed to set an alarm. So I did. At midnight. So then I wake up again at 7 AM and I'm freaking out because I'm thinking that my clock is messed up and its actually 9 am (daylight savings makes me paranoid about time, I guess) so I check the clock on my phone and its 7. So I go back to sleep and I wake up at 8:20 to the most GD annoying alarm. Its blaring. BLARING.
So I get up and go to my voice lesson where I suck because I'm singing this mermaid song with all these runs and they are hard, to say the least.
So, then I eat my strawberry pop tarts. Then I go to theory where my friend Bernardo and I share some Cheezits. Then the cheezits made me nauseous.
Then I went to choir. Then I decided to walk to the union to get a coffee because I was starting to get a lack of caffeine headache.
On my way to the union I tripped and stumbled and then laughed loudly about it to myself and then realized what an embarrassing person I am.
Then I went and ate lunch and went to psych where we learned about disorders.
Then I came home and procrastinated homework, took a nap, went to a philanthropy event with my favorite Kaci.
Then I came home to find my roommate rearranging my room. Without me. Then I helped them finish and it looks great and my bed is high up and now I feel like a princess. I also successfully avoided homework some more.
Then I practiced some ear training (the class of satan, as it can also be called) and then I showered and now I'm writing a blog.
Nothing exciting happened unless you count the fact that I achieved new levels of laziness by avoiding homework and working out.
okay wow. what a waste of a blog.
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