Gasoline, Chocolate Milk, Victoria's Secret

Hello all,

I am so thrilled to tell you all that I have been getting some of male attention lately! Yep, you heard right, members of the male gender have been noticing my existence! Unfortunately, this has me involved so you all know that there is some sort of a catch.

This past week I was walking out of my apartment singing the only way I know how: terribly. I had my back facing the stairs as I locked up my fortress. Upon turning around I almost ran smack into this guy who was also making his way down the stairs. "I am so sorry!" I exclaimed. He smiled and said it was alright and continued to go on his way.... The end....





Nah, I am just kidding! That would be the saddest blog post ever if that is where it ended. This boy turned out to be my neighbor. He was pretty cute too. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he turned back to me and said, "Would you like help with those?" pointing to the large trash bag, purse, and package I was carrying with me. I was sort of caught of guard by this sweet gesture that this stranger. Was he really about to walk all the way back up the stairs to help me with my things? I quickly decided that I would feel bad if he did in fact trek back up the stairs so I kindly declined his offer. He still waited for me at the bottom of the stairs. We chatted about the music they are always blaring in his apartment. Usually loud music at 1 in the morning has the same effects of a crying baby on an airplane for me. I told him that I was so fond of his music choices, that the noise wasn't bothersome, giving my hair a light toss with the hand that wasn't clutching a Hefty bag.

My version of flirting>>> others' versions of flirting


My second encounter with the rare good looking man was at a concert performed by none other than the king of sexy himself: Luke Bryan. I donned my cowboy boots and hit up the concert with some friends of mine to see this country boy shake it for me like I was the only one in the audience. As much as I melted over his southern drawl and purring, my chances of having a flirtatious anything with Mr. Bryan has about as much a chance of happening as does the government sitting in a Khumbaya circle sipping hot chocolate spiked with Bailey's deciding how to end this shutdown.

It was towards the end of the concert. I had walked away from the stage with Hunter, Lew and Hunter's cousin. We had been standing for about 6 hours straight and as captivating as LB is, I refused to stand in hot breath cloud emitted by every girl in the greater Tallahassee area that hung over our prime stage center location any longer. I sat down on the grass for a little bit a little further away from the crowd, thoroughly enjoying watching Lew and Hunter trying to spit some game at these two girls. I am so proud to say that I think they were both successful, as they both danced for a while with their intended targets. I stood back up just in time to watch a drunk girl step on a water bottle and fall on her ass right in front of me.

Gett'er done son!

I tried to help her up but she was being really prideful/drunk and didn't want any help. When she moved away I noticed a nice looking gentleman in a plaid shirt standing rather close by. He was texting very intently on his phone, probably looking for his friends. After about ten minutes, he turned and walked over to me and asked me a question.

"Has anyone told you how beautiful and sexy you are tonight?"

I stopped, looked all around me and when I saw nobody standing remotely close I said, "No, actually no."

"Well, I just wanted to let you know that you are beautiful." He also told Hunter's cousin that she was very pretty too upon noticing her. I was thinking he was drunk, but his face wasn't ruddy with the afterglow of too much booze. He extended both of his hands out to us as if he were a preacher wanting to pray. We both took them hesitantly and he twirled us around before taking off into the night. He was a country fried Zorro, and I am pretty sure that he was dead serious.

Now, we all know that when I am involved in the story, absolutely anything that can go wrong will in fact go about as bad as a neglected Easter egg on a spring lawn. This last little love story is about as "NO" as you can get.

I was getting gas earlier tonight at Murphy's right up the road from me. It has the cheapest gas and a handsome cashier who normally works the late shifts. I made my way up to the cash register clutching a small bottle of Borden's chocolate milk. I have a very soft spot in my heart for chocolate milk and Borden's is my favorite brand. I hadn't had it in a while and I figured it was worth the short wait in line for me to have it tomorrow for breakfast. I reached the register and noticed two very large beer bottles sitting close to the lottery tickets. I kind of chuckled and asked the cashier if someone underage had tried to purchase them. And this is how it went from here:

"No, actually, they are his," the cashier said pointing to a very large, very bearded upper forties Tarzan (but not in a good way) looking man.

Tarzan walked over beside me and reached his arm around in front of me to grab his bottles of booze.

"Well, damn, these have already gotten hot..." he complained about his lukewarm beer upon touching the bottle, "But not as hot as those things," He goggled looking directly down my tank top at my boobs. SERIOUSLY!?

I was so stunned that I slapped my hand over my chest and turned away flushed. I was thinking it was either slap him or slap yourself, and in light of his gargantuan stature and my not so tough/short one, I chose the latter. Like I didn't have on a low cut shirt or anything. I had on a friggin' cardigan! There was nothing sexy about how I looked in my "running" shorts (let's be honest, I do not wear these to run), slicked back pony and sweater over tank. Hell, I didn't even match!

I was so shocked. Who just throws out that line in the Murphy's gas station right in front of the cashier and Jesus?

And y'all already know I say stupid shit whenever I get nervous, or just about anytime I feel any emotion really. I looked back at Ben, the nice man ringing me up, and said, "You know, they really aren't that great. I mean, they are, but it's mostly the bra. They aren't fake or anything. Victoria's Secret just does a mighty fine job with their products."

I think Ben struggled a little with finishing ringing up my gas and chocolate milk.

Cara's Rendition of The Voice

Hello loves!

For the first time this week I am logging on to my computer to do something other than homework. Okay, maybe I looked at Wanelo and Hautelook once or twice...okay okay it was 12 times! Or more like every time I opened Blackboard. I know, I have a problem.

I have been neglecting posting this for a while because it always slips my mind, but as I am watching Abbey Lee's Ultimate Dance Competition and The Voice , and as I think and pray for the very talented Sara Beth (a beautiful, amazing, musically and acting inclined woman from my hometown who was in a terrible accident today) I am reminded that I need to post this because this girl is definitely worth listening to. I filmed her in Key West at a raw bar. Okay, that sounds really awkward. I didn't like creep up behind her and film her eating oysters or anything. But she did something so bold that I felt compelled to take out my phone and record her beautiful voice.

My mom, brother Tyler, Bryan (Tyler's friend), and I were all starving after a long day of being tourists. My mom is really picky about her restaurants and so is Tyler, so trying to find somewhere they will both eat is challenging. I didn't much care for the dinner part. My main course for that night would be "Better Than Sex." We will visit that foodgasm later so I can take you through the whole sensually erotic experience.

Hot, sweaty and tired, my mom decided on a raw bar with a name I cannot remember. It had something to do with bikers though. Oysters aren't really my thing so I sipped a water and ate a side of boiled potatoes. I know, I am so strange! But it is what I wanted.

While I was happily munching on my bland potatoes, there was a very amazing male singer with the vocals to match that of my favorite male band The Script. He was singing me into a splendid stupor as I dazed out while staring at him singing. I may or may not have been daydreaming about me being the only one there, laid out on the bar while he sang to me and only me, and him taking body shots off my collarbone between songs. I mean most of my fantasies that week had to do with tequila, some body part and a sexy Key West man. When I was on the catamaran boat, it was the chiseled chap with the Australian accent, and in the chocolate shop it was the man with the chocolate key lime pie on a stick. What can I say, if it breathes and does something cool, I am probably thinking with my sexy cap on.

I was just in the middle of this talented man with the sultry voice licking salt off my neck when my day visions were interrupted. The future Jack Johnson announced that he had to step away for a minute. The band he was opening for was running late. He came back with whatever he retrieved to sing a few more songs in the meantime. Someone had requested a song that he declared was "out of his range." Some man in the back stood up and said "Sarah can sing it!" I turned around to see who was speaking. It was a man who was pushing an excited looking young girl up to the stage. If someone had been pushing me up on stage to act, I would have been fainting. But this girl looked so eager that I became suspicious. Oh no, this is going to be like a bad American Idol tryout, I thought as she walked up onto the stage practically bouncing on her toes as she adjusted the microphone.

This girl asked if anyone had any requests. "I don't know what I should sing!" she exclaimed as she blushed.

"Sing some Miranda Lambert," I suggested. I immediately mentally took back my suggestion because I knew I would be disappointed if she did one of my idols wrong.

"Which song?" she asked excitedly.

"Hmm, how about Mama's Broken Heart?" I offered.

After a few seconds of going over the lyrics in her head, she picked up her guitar and settled it across her lap. What she unleashed was talent rawer than the oysters the people around me were sickly slurping down.

I have to say, she did Miranda very proud with that song.

Everyone was so impressed that we all begged for more. My brother who was looking at her very intently asked her to sing something that she wrote if she did in fact write. Turns out she did. This is the song I recorded of her. Please excuse the guy in the powder blue shirt who can't make up his mind as to where he is going. The background noise and everything really don't do what I heard in person justice, but the video is still really good.

Her name is Sarah Spicer. She has a Facebook (I think) and I believe she sells music on itunes or Amazon. Something like that. Look her up and give her a like if you feel inclined to do so. I told her she was worth more than a small time blogger's post, but her face little up like a Christmas tree when I told her I wanted to post her video on my blog. She was the sweetest thing, and she really does deserve more than my little blog.