Bow Wow, Bling Wow

Well kids, here we are. Another weekend, another update. For most of the weekend, I worked. But Saturday evening I had the pleasant surprise of one of my sorority sisters coming into town so you know what that means...shennanigans. 

Only with sororities sisters is it appropriate to crash DJ Bow Wow and get engaged to a bouncer all in one night.
— Autumn Lee (@thejanklife) October 6, 2013

Awesome. Glad to see that spelling mistake made it's way in there. Thank you, non-auto correcting Samsung Galaxy for showing off the best of all us sororities girls. 
Shennanigan One: Bow Wow Earlier this week, I got invited to a fundraising event that one of my classmate's had planned. It was a charity ball for Breast Cancer Awareness featuring none other than DJ Bow Wow. That's right ladies, Lil Bow Wow is all grown up and DJ'in. Tickets were, even by charity standards, a little steep for my waitress blood. So instead, I bribed my seesters with some leequor and convinced them that we could, indeed, crash the Bow Wow concert. I don't think my heart has pumped so hard since I walked up the stairs ever. 

Elevator pictures: proof that I was literally excited enough to pee my pants a little.

Unfortunately, we were stopped at the door by my friend the event planner who gave me a hug, told us we were under-dressed and promptly sent us on our way (making Monday and Wednesday classes potentially the most awkward thing ever). We did however, meet Bow Wow's bandmates (I did not know DJs had bands? Mayhaps they were pulling my leg?) and I got a bracelet from one of them. But the night was not fully lost...
Shennanigan Two: Bling Wow I found myself a bouncer and got engaged! It was magical. A bride-to-be's mother broke into my bathroom stall and borrowed toilet paper for her shwasty face daughter (legit, I was still peeing on the toilet) and later that night, the darling bachelorette lost her bling. Much to my luck, a handsome stranger (COMPLETE WITH A FULL BICEP MICHIGAN TATTOO DUUUUUUH TRU LUV) picked it up and gave it to me. Now we are in love. 

Just kidding. 
But we did spend the rest of the night meandering around Art Prize (God bless a man who doesn't care if you ask him to take 10 photos of you in front of a statue for your blog) and I learned all about him. We both love road trips and are the youngest of multi-sibling families with wide age gaps. And we love Michigan. Do we need anything more? He is moving to Montana in November to work as a "Mountain Safety Operator" at some resort. AKA I am going to Montana in November to drink hot chocolate by a fire in a lodge. He also spent the majority of the night grabbing my bling and whispering "so much responsibility now."
Like I said kids, I may not be good at breaking into Bow Wow concerts,  but I am fabulous at getting strangers to tell me their life stories in 50 seconds flat. 

How To Get a Man Friend in 5 Easy Steps

1. Find a perfect stranger.

2. Be sure to share all your best traits, like your inability to take shots, your awesome skills of making ghetto friends in the bathroom and skipping down sidewalks. 
3. Develop a special nickname and refer to them only by that nickname. Do not stop to question whether they like it. 
4. Don't tell them you're moving to another state.
5. Be sure to reference yourself as a "12 year old girl" as many times as possible.

*These tips not guaranteed to work for everyone. 

Success (and failure) stories always welcome. 

Mitten Pride

If you read my blog yesterday, you know that for a while now I've been in this awkward "transition" period oh wait that's called 20something life in general. Now that all the right things have been tied up neatly on my end, I'm so happy that I can finally share with you the big change coming my way:

I'M MOVING BACK TO MICHIGAN!

I am SO excited to get back and get going on this next adventure called grad school! 
For your daily dose of Unreal awkwardness, please visit the lovely Patricia over at Kisses and Croissants. She's put together an awesome Throwback Thursday post about "The Craziest Thing You've Done for Love." Some of them are crazy stupid, some are crazy romantic...either way, they're all such a fun idea. So. Want to know what the dumbest thing I've done for love is? Here's a hint: it involves one of my favorite things ever, road tripping. Go check it out!

Say What?

Hi kids!!
I'm back! Did you miss me? I missed you! It seems you have all been wildly busy. My bloglovin feed is at like 184 unread posts or something ridiculous. Goodness! Many thanks to Kimberly, Patricia and Maggie for taking over for me while I was gone. 
Oh goodness. I know I'm supposed to post photos of my time or glorious moments learned...but I'm really struggling to compose complete sentences. So instead you get this:
Things that make me go:

1. When someone says they have to dry clean something because they've already worn it once.

2. When Levi's conducted an ad campaign to save water by washing your jeans after you've worn them twice, not just once. 

3. When I see the Starbucks barista's backwards tattoo of the New York state outline. Every. Damn. Day. Is that the right way? No, no that's really backwards. Yeah, yeah I'm right. 

4. When people brag about getting cast for America's Worst Tattoo on TLC. 

5. When someone wakes me up unloading the dishwasher at 1 am. But only half of it. And not the silent, plastic cups half. Just the loud clanging ceramic plates and bowls half. 

6. When I come back from a work trip and see my bed does not have four perfect pillows piled high by a kind wait staff. 

7. When this kid actually fell for my line "Can I take a picture of your butter balls?"

Hug Me Friday

Happy Friday, friends! I'm sure everyone's Monday (Tuesday?) weekend update posts will be nice and long to accommodate for the THREE DAY WEEKEND. Woot woot. What will I be doing?

A lot of this:

While listening to this:

(I heard a lot about this music video. And then I watched it and caught myself going "Dear God. I would actually prefer your to be naked MORE than you already are because your outfits are so hideous. Also, TI is the best part because he just looks so genuinely confused as to why he's there.)

While reading this:

Pre-ordered book magically popping up on my Kindle? Yes please. I'm a huge fan of his work. Hope this one lives up to the expectation!

And in case you choose to read some funniez while recovering from a delicious hangover sunburn, check these out:

Dating Disaster Funniez

The Five Assholes You'll Date In College

Part One

Part Two

Appendix A

This was the first thing I ever wrote on my blog when it started, 

and remains to this day my favorite post. 

It's sharp, witty, funny and sassy. 

Dating Disasters

First Impressions are Golden

GIF Letter Funniez

Letter to my Workout Instructor

Good Try

Dear crazy bitch...

Letter to the Graduates

Dear Dorota

Dear Dorota,

There are several reasons why you should come work for me instead of my bestie, Blair Waldorf. I love Blair, but now that she and Chuck are married...well, she doesn't need you. I need you. If you were to come work for me, here is what I would ask of you:

When I wake up, bustle into my room quietly but efficiently with Starbucks (mocha in winter, iced hazelnut macchiato in the summer). Get me my eye cream and moisturizer and make sure I put them on ASAP so they have the necessary 20 minutes to set before I put the rest of my makeup on. Make sure I am sitting up (because if I don't literally sit up I will fall back asleep immediately) with some perfectly fluffed pillows and my laptop. Before I awake, I would like you to scroll through my bloglovin feed and 'mark as read' all the posts you know I don't want to read--giveaways for birth control websites and 20-sponsor monthly giveaways (actually, if you could enter those on a separate account for me, that'd be great).

When I'm ready to move out of my bed, please have my clothes prepared for me. In the winter, I would appreciate you warming them up briefly so I don't freeze hopping from my jammies to my sweaters. Drive me to work and listen to me vent about anything and everything that strikes my fancy. During the day, glue yourself to country radio stations and complete all the ticket-giveaway contests they have. I want Florida Georgia Line and I want them now, dammit! After that, please find the exact STL location of Nelly's house because you know I want to meet him.

In the evenings, I would ask that you follow at a discrete pace behind me and Dasani so you can make sure this total stranger doesn't kidnap me. He seems like a well-meaning old man, but you can never be too safe.

On the weekends, please prep my beach bag. When I awake from my weekend naps, have a mango flavored alcoholic beverage waiting for me. When not occupied with these activities, please amuse yourself by finding answers to the following questions: Did Ryan Reynolds watch all six seasons of Gossip Girl before or after he married Blake? How does the eLibrary system work? How do I audition for The Bachelor? How do I capitalize on creating a cable channel that plays 24 hour Sex and The City marathons?

What do you say Dorota? Sound like a plan?

Love,

Top 5 Awkward Things to Call Your Ex For

I know. There are things like Google. Wikipedia. Self-help books. Friends.

But sometimes, you just need that one person. That one person you KNOW has the answer. Even if you know you're not supposed to talk to them, and there are other options. I am the worst at this (but, getting much better!).

Here are some awkward things I've had to call/text my ex for:

5. "I think your mom still has my TomTom charger, and since I'm moving halfway across the country...I need that."

4. "Where did you put that thing that I stole from that frat house when you moved out? Because I kinda need to return it..."

3. "Can you send me the amortization table you made for my student loans?"

2. "I think the Holocaust is stalking me."

1. "I can't tell if this is razor burn or bugs under my skin. You remember when you and your housemates got skivies and the whole place had to be fumigated? Well, how did you know those were bugs? What did your skin look like? Because I think I might have that."

Sorry.

A Love Letter from OTH GIFS

Dear Hannah,

In honor of your birthday, I am writing you a letter composed entirely(ish) of One Tree Hill GIFS. Happy birthday, sugar lumps of love.

Hannah, when you found me, I was all:

And you were all like, and I was like:

But then we became friends. And you didn't know me, but you agreed to go to a Purim Party with me anyways and eat Jewish bread and throw candy at a man in a hat who was supposed to represent a biblical figure and I was like:

"This could be the start of a beautiful friendship." (And if you're wondering what's up with my tongue I think we can just say I was probably licking alcohol off my lip after trying to pregame my Holocaust Literature class or just generally being a second-semester baller senior and eating a lot of McDoubles on your dorm room floor.)

And then we did fun things like Zumba and deep heart-to-heart talks in the arb and gas station slushies and Wednesday afternoon laze-sessions with our best friends Chuck Bass, Blair Waldorf and Nate Archibald. And it was the start of a most beautiful friendship that made my heart go:

And you were even sweet enough to go on late-night walks with me when Dan shot Keith and it was too emotional and I felt suffocated by the tension and drama. And that was cool too. 

And then I tried to be cool and role-model-y for you, but eventually you figured out I was a huge hot mess senior who didn't have her shit together...and you loved me even better. And that was even cooler. 

And now I'm running out of OTH GIFS. Because 80% of them are of the characters crying. They did a lot of that. So, I think this letter is done. But just know that I'm always, here for you, I love you to the moon and back and I think that you are one of the most wonderful, mature, faith-focused women I have ever met and it is such a joy and honor to know you and get to watch your life play out. 

All my love, Grand little. 

Love your Grandbig.

P.S. Other memories that make my heart happy, in honor of your birthday:

Learning to be a CHAMP in the library by wearing hoods and plowing through homework like no one's business. 

Doing the Waka-Waka zumba dance like champs. 

How much of a brat you were during Big-Lil Reveal. 

Post-Initiation bonding when you thought that I was just making you run errands with me. But really, after finding my car, picking things up from my ex-boyfriends house and getting my student ID...we did end up having fun =)

Having to immediately Skype after the season finale of Gossip Girl. 

Your ability to solve my love-life problems (Frequently by relating them to Gossip Girl characters which brings surprising clarity to situations. I should be worried, but I'm not because we understand...). 

Stalking you on the daily after I learned you would be my Grandlittle and interrogating you at the dinner table to learn more. 

PPS. Don't forget your Nate is waiting for you.

Chinese with a 6 year old

Since the last video of the love of my life brought so much joy, I decided to do another one.

This video was taken shortly after she asked me if the Chinese waiters stayed here for the night or went home to China.

Like I said, love of my life =) She did in fact succeed and I have five subsequent videos showing all the things she discovered she could eat with chopsticks. I'm off to celebrate my sorority's founding with (hopefully) cute old ladies, new friends and mimosas! Hopefully my niece's giggles have made your Saturday morning start off on the right foot.

XOXO.

Really? Really.

Things that normal give people a rush of endorphins but for some reason just make me angry: Working out and Fridays. That's right. I said it. I don't know why, but for some reason on Friday I am just irrationally annoyed by EVERYTHING. I know. I'm a hater. And since I am filled with angst and annoyances, I'm going to blog about them. Because I can. Here are some people I am not so silently judging today, and to all of you I say:

People who sit on checks and don't immediately cash them. You have money in your hand!!! Why not get those dollas?!?!? Also, I dislike the fact that they give me a false sense of security in my bank account. I don't actually have that amount, you're just SITTING ON IT. Also, if you are going to send me passive-aggressive emails about how you 'don't have that check yet', but when I write it you proceed to sit on it for OVER  A WEEK...I DOUBLE JUDGE YOU. Why were you so eager to get it, if you're not going to CASH IT????????

People who wear unnecessarily tight button-up cardigans with hoods (what) and cowboy boots. I'm sorry, but if you want to strut around and feel manly and Southern with your cowboy boots...then don't wear a cardigan a 12-year-old girl would.

People who are overly nice to everyone. All the time. No matter how much they actually hate them.

People who use sugary-sweet nicknames in a work environment. 

She's referring to me. I flipped out.

Bloggers who write a whole post declaring they "don't care about the drama." If you take the time to write a whole post declaring how much you don't care, you care. And that's fine. We don't care if you care. We care if you pretend to not care. Be real.

BUT

There was a silver-lining on this dim morning. A GROUPON for BASEBALL. I've never been to a baseball game, but since it's STL's city-wide obsession I have to go. A few of my girlfriends and I are going on Monday night. You know what makes baseball games so perfect (in my mind)? 

Hot dogs.

Single dads.

I'm dreaming of a plethora of single dads, just looking for an attractive, child-loving woman who doesn't shy away from a hot dog. That's right, single dads, I'm here for you. And if you're not there for me...well, there's always the baseball players to fall back on. 

HAPPY FRIDAY. 

Link up your twitter accounts this week to share some blogger love!

Where it all began

40 year old men love me. And strangers. Strangers love me.

Examples:

• 40 year old single dad who followed me around in the grocery store
• 40 year old man who came up to me at Starbucks and asked if I wanted to get coffee
• Homeless man who offered me his phone number because he "thought everyone could use a friend"
• Stranger who let me eat their hamburger
• Stranger who offered me a ride home from the Megabus
• 40 year old man in airport who told me I looked beautiful that day
• Three 40 year old men who came to my rescue that moment and helped me find a cab
• 40 year old man at Chicago Union Station bar who told me he "wouldn't creep on me too much"
• Stranger who tried to hook me up with his son at a bar
• Strange taxi cab driver who gave me a kiss on the cheek

And the list goes on and on. While I can't seem to find any men my own age to hit on me, never fear...a 40 year old is near. Sometimes I ask myself, why? Why me? Is it my baby pudge cheeks? My lack of makeup? My split ends? Do I look young enough to be a prize, but just hot mess enough to be attainable? When did this start?

Answer: 2006. Junior year of HIGH SCHOOL. And the proof is in this photo. 

My friends and I went to France on a school trip, and my friend Cade and I shared a camera. Flipping through our photos a few weeks later, we found this gem (ignore my model half-smile). 

WHO IS THIS MAN?!?!?!

I'll tell you who...my first-ever creeper.

The Unreal Life: attracting strangers and old men since 2006. A legacy of creepers. 

I was a weird kid

Hiiii Friends! I'm back! I missed you while I was off chasing cancelled planes and trains, gawking at the flooding and otherwise gallivanting through Michigan, my great love. I know on Mondays we talk about our weekend, but I'm not quite ready to. This weekend embodied the proverbial phrase, "a lot to chew on." I was hoping the weekend would give me a sense of clarity, a "yes, you belong here, proceed with Plan A" feeling, but somewhere between three missed planes, a train, and two cab rides to the middle of nowhere...I think I lost any ability I would have had to hear that message in my exhaustion and impatience.

So. New topic for today. I was a weird kid.

1. I ate butter. By the spoonful. 

2. I was obsessed with all miniature food. My father, loving, loving man that he was would make miniature pancakes. I was also obsessed with miniature toys. My friends and I spent hours and hours and hours of our life trying to craft miniature beds and clothes and accessories for our miniature stuffed animals.

3. Whenever the phone rang, I would drop whatever I was holding and scream "AH BYE YI YI" until someone picked it up.

4. I don't count like a normal human. Originally, I think I developed my countdown system so that it would make every exciting event seem like it was closer. But then...no one ever corrected me. Here's the "Autumn System" as my family still calls it today. In my countdown system, you can't count the day of and you can't count the day before. Because by the time you're at the day before, your event is practically already there. Plus, logically, if you count by "days" then at the day before, at no point are you 24 hours away from your event--it will always be less than 24 hours away and therefor you can't say you have a day left.

Example.

 If today is Monday, how many days until Friday? 2. That's right. Two. Because you can't count Friday and you can't count Thursday. 

Want an instant way to increase your optimism and joy? Employ the Autumn Method, where there are only two days to Friday.

5. I was every parent's nightmare. I got suspended once in kindergarten for making out with a cute little black boy in the sand box. I remember being incredibly turned off, however, when a few days later we planned a 'play date' and he wrote his address on a PURPLE piece of construction paper with PENCIL. Can you read PENCIL on PURPLE? No. I remember literally thinking "he is so STUPID" and never talking to him again.

6. I was a "pint of sass"...and I never grew out of it. That's right. To this day, I continue to be the sassiest person my family has ever had the misfortune of being related to met.My figure skating coach coined the phrase when I was a mere seven years old. Really, it's his fault. I hated it when he first said it, and the more he said it, the more determined I was to be as sassy as possible just to piss him off. Catch-22?

7. I was a klepto. When I was five, we moved from Detroit to Grand Rapids. I was pretty sad about it, but the part that made me saddest was moving away from my neighbor friend who had the world's cutest shirt that I was obsessed with borrowing. It had pink and black stripes and three pink heart buttons at the neck. I borrowed it at least once a week. I remember, very intentionally, the day before we moved asking to borrow it. She said, "aren't you moving?" and I said "Oh, not for like another week or two." Twelve hours later, the bitterness of moving was soothed by the sweet success of having my favorite shirt safely packed away.

I'll look for a better baby picture when I get home, but for now...enjoy this awful, awkward high school photo of myself. Why I thought this was a hawt pose, I'll never know. And yes, I used to dye my hair red.

That time I told my niece Mary was an attention-whore

I didn't hear the tornado sirens, but I did see the pack of five moms running in unison and that's kind of the same thing, right? That's right. I survived my first Missourah tornado.

Consequentially (not really, the storm has nothing to do with it) I am having immense writer's block. I read a blog today that really struck a chord with me when the writer said that blogging forces her to be more present in the moment and drag things out. Because really, our life is funny and it is adventurous, but so often we're waiting for "the next big thing" that we miss it. So, while I'm here, I want to remember being here. And a huge part of my life here in good ol' Missourah has been the kids I get to work with in the nursery. I recently realized that perhaps my sass has gone a little too far, especially when it comes to children. I imagine their not listening...but they could be...So for now, until my writer's block heals, enjoy the following sample of my sassy-child interactions.

12-year-old: hey! hey! hey! 

me: WHAT

12-year-old: i got a lunchbox (he has been repeating this for about 30 minutes, 

and I finally catch on)

me: yeah? did you get the velcro too? 

*12-year-old's mouth drops open in utter horror*: how do YOU know that song???

*church choir singing*

6-year-old girl: this music SUCKS

me: HEY. That is the music of the LORD. 

Israel (the special needs boy I watch, who has absolutely no sensory perception) has developed a new habit of whenever he's in a crowd, just putting his arm straight out (Hitler style, no joke) and pushing through into anyone in his way until they move. So of course, he does this to a 60 year old woman, and of course, his hand comes to the height of her butt. Which he proceeds to push on. For a few too many seconds. 

Me: Israel! If you're gonna touch her butt, you could at least say hello!

Creepy 70 year old man behind me: Heh heh, he's just starting early. 

And now...the grand finale. Throwback Thursday...to Christmas...me...and the love of my life...re-enacting the Christmas nativity story. Please enjoy the key parts where I teach her that:

 +Mary was "big and fat and pregnant and this made her very tired"  

+Jesus's "first friends were other animals in the manger, who he sometimes slept with but surprisingly never crushed him" 

+Mary loved all the attention she got when the three kings came bearing gifts

And yes, she does jump in shock when I sneeze at the end. Seriously. Best 5 minutes you'll ever spend.
(Also, sorry I'm not sorry I'm not a professional videographer and at one point my fat fingers cover the mic for like...a minute. But just turn your sound up, it's still gold!)

Like I said...I should watch what I say more...

Day made? You're welcome.

There's a Job for That?

Remember when you were a little kid and you would hear a really cool job title or description and just be in awe. I can do that? I can get paid to do that??? However, some jobs...I'm still not certain why/how they exist. Some jobs just make me laugh. And I don't understand them.

Example A: that awkward podium man on Jimmy Fallon
You know, that guy who just stands/leans on the podium and occasionally laughs into the microphone or repeats a word that Jimmy has said, and then Jimmy turns to him and stares and half-laughs as if podium-man's repeated word just made the joke 80 times more awkward funnier. WHO IS THIS MAN?!?!?! AND WHAT IS HIS PURPOSE???

Extensive Internet research reveals he is Steve Higgins, "Announcer." Really? His bio is pretty impressive. Former writer for SNL and The John Stewart Show. And now he leans against a podium.

Example B: the person who films intro/mood scenes
Ok, this one is hard to name. I'm talking about at the beginning of a reality television show (think Kardashians), where they just show a random conglomeration of people laying on the beach, walking in the street, or drinking a soda on a corner. Or on Oprah's Master Class we're their filming rain while having an emotional voice over from someone talking about their life lessons. I imagine their biggest concern being whether the story calls for pounding rain, torrential rain, spring rain, thunderstorm rain, or just a light drizzle. Will it be hitting a window, or a puddle? Will a random foot walk through it? If so, who is the random foot??? Also, for every one person who picks the type of rain to show there is also one "rain expert" if you will -- their boss who approves it and says "yes, that is the right rain!" Do you think they get really embarrassed if their boss is like "mmm I think this calls for rain on an umbrella, but good try."

Example C: Reality TV Reinactor-Actors
I'm talking about the people who fill in for "I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant." Talk about an awkward casting call. "We'd like you to be eating pizza and then suddenly give birth."

What jobs do you find insanely weird? 

First Impressions are Golden

It's no secret here that I like to endlessly mock my ex-boyfriends. But, I'm also good at poking fun at myself. It's important to have balance. So, today, I'd like to share Monogamous Mono Man's first impressions of me. First-meeting and first-impression stories are my favorite topics to ask of anyone. So, without further ado...

First Impression #1
MMM and I first met before we were even officially enrolled in the same college. We were both invited to compete in a 'Distinct Scholars' Scholarship Weekend' (Spoiler alert: when not perusing the Internet for the perfect GIF I am actually quite smart. MMM and I bonded over three things: vodka and nerdiness. Shoot. We don't have a third thing. Womp womp.). So anyways, here we are. Me, a terrified, anxious ball of nerves who couldn't remember the essay prompt and was scared shitless from an interview panel with six professors who asked me what I would say to an Arabian man who thought stoning his wife was morally acceptable. And MMM, a quiet, nervous white boy from an all-boys Lutheran school. We had to take a group picture, but the group was too wide for one shot. So naturally, all the girls had to sorority squat (foreshadowing of our bright future) in front of the boys. I was in front of MMM and accidentally hit with my boot-ay. Feeling quite sassy I turned around and said "I better not feel anything hard back there." Winner, winner chicken dinner. He confessed later that it was the dirtiest thing anyone ever said to him and the first thing he told all his friends about when he got home.

His reaction:

My reaction:

First Impression #2
MMM and I lost each other in the great sea of people that is a 1,000 person school and didn't run into each other until 3 years later, when we were juniors. We had traveled far from our nerd-days and entered into our frat-tastic days of drinking and partying. We all have that 'one spot' we went to in college, and mine was the Sigma Chi house. In Sigmachi, there were two bathrooms for parties: the first floor, dirty, sticky, smelly gross one or the basement, single one that was kept clean by a devoted group of three who kept it spotless for their shack-attacks (that's another word for sleepover partners, kids). Anyways. First impression #2: I kicked in (literally) the door to the nice bathroom downstairs and demanded MMM (halfway done peeing) get out because I had to go. He was very obliging.

His reaction:

My response:

The Final Rose First Impression #3
After yet another year, we found each other again. This time, relatively sober and fully clothed. I was at a 'Zookeeper and the Animals' party, fighting adamantly with one of his brothers over whether the feathers in my hair made me a turkey or a jungle bird. I voted jungle bird. MMM tried to come up the staircase and I blocked his way until he would vote. And that, friends, was our last first impression.

His reaction:

My reaction:

His mom's first impression
I made a holocaust joke. Which she didn't get. Womp womp. And hey--no judgies! My last French class was reading holocaust literature, in french, for four months straight. Dying babies and children and women and starvation and burning EVERY DAY. It was AWFUL. And sometimes tasteless things happen in the privacy of my sorority basement. Also, pre-gaming holocaust literature class does not make it any better. FYI. Take it from an expert.

___

God bless his little heart for making it through all those wildly awkward first encounters. Happy Friday, y'all. I'm off to make some bad choices and hopefully some more golden first impressions that I can blog about come Monday =)

Oh, and in honor of Back that Azz Up Friday (which has really boosted my day), I give you:

What crazy first encounters have you had?

Good Try

Good try, Missouri, for being almost classy till the end...

Good try, Taylor Swift, on trying to reach a new age demographic with your song "22" only to remind us you have the mental capacity of a 15 year old with the lyric line "you look like bad news i gotta have you oo ooo." Oh Tay Tay, stop being so predictable.

Good try, Facebook, on trying to influence Supreme Court decisions through your profile picture trends.

Good try, Wednesday, on trying to dampen my spirits. But I got a hot date and a cool drink waiting for me at the end of the week, and I'm feeling fine. 

Happy Wednesassyday, lovelies. What do you want to give a 'good try!' shout out to?