Hello all from my blue chair in the corner of my room,
I am currently sitting here trying to type up a study guide for my exam tomorrow while sipping on some hot green tea with a blanket draped around my shoulders with the blinds open. Some guy walked by about fifteen minutes ago and blatantly stared into my window. We made awkward eye contact. Perfect way to start my day.
Today I would like to take you guys to a dark scary place. It is a place that all men/women do not wished to ever visit. Pause for dramatic effect.... The friend zone! Yes, we have all been friend zoned at least once before, probably by someone you really like. That is typically the way it goes. You can never run a touchdown into the friend zone of someone you don't really care to date. That's life I suppose.
When I was in high school, I was dating this boy named Kyle. We used to be friends in middle school. Probably what we should have stayed. I was a mean girl, and he was so sweet. Not so much anymore from what I understand. What a shame. There was this other boy (who I ended up dating for quite some time) who I liked a lot. From the moment I saw him, I didn't stand a chance. He'd break my heart some day, but he could have run over me with a steamroller and I wouldn't have minded at the time. I was head over heels infatuated. Turns out, he liked me too but had a girlfriend. He didn't break up with her quick enough for me. That is where Kyle came in. I friend zoned this boy for a long time. And it drove him absolutely insane!
One day, he had had enough of the friend zone. We already knew we liked each other, but I refuse to wait on people. He had his chance and he blew it. He would be waving the friend flag for quite a while. He came over to my house and interestingly enough, I was attempting to bake a cake for Kyle's upcoming birthday. He said he would help. If a girl invites you over to help her with a project she has going for another boy, you are so deep in the friend zone that you might actually have to fight to smell fresh air. Boy brought a movie that he claimed was his favorite of all time. Anyone want to take a guess at what that movie was?????
Ah, I'll tell you anyways. He brought "Just Friends" with him that day. Of all the freaking movies. I knew what was going on, but I played it like I didn't notice. He wanted me to see that people in the friend zone are capable of being more. He was trying to say, "Hey, I am better than the boyfriend you have. That cake should be for me. Get your ass over here and come snuggle up under my arm and let that thing burn!" Sadly enough, at some point I gave in. The cake was a hot mess, I am no Martha Stewart when it comes to baking from scratch. Cooking from scratch is more of my thing. So I let the big chocolate mess sit on the counter while I watched the movie with him. I was in some deep crap for this boy. I was in trouble. But he was safely in the friend zone and he knew it. He was going to have to put in some man hours to claw his way out of it. Eventually, (5 months later) he was out of the friend zone and into a whole knew zone with me. He probably should have stayed in the friend zone in hindsight. Oh well, you live and move on.
So, let's go through and talk about ways you can identify whether or not you have been given the friend zone penalty flag.
1) If you ask a girl to dinner and they suggest lunch, you are in the friend zone. Night time suggests being close and holding hands under a table, while the afternoon promotes kicking back at a not so romantic spot where there are bound to be other people in close proximity, making being close an issue. Lunch is for boyfriends and girlfriends, not someone trying to be one. Now, breakfast is a totally different story. Breakfast is hot. If you are asked to breakfast, you are safe. For the adults, if you stay the night with someone and they ask you to breakfast instead of just running to get to their daily to do list, you are safe.
2) If you only receive text messages from this person of interest and no phone calls, you have been friend zoned. Texts are impersonal, phone calls are deep. That's just how it is.
3) If you go on a date and the date refuses to hold your hand that is sitting in an inviting position on the movie theatre chair so close to your arm you can feel the heat radiating off of it, you have been friend zoned. If this happens, save your dignity and run screaming in the opposite direction! You have definitely been friend zoned.
4) If you go out on a date and the date insists on paying for their own dinner after fifteen minutes of bartering back and forth, you have been friend zoned. Most girls will give in eventually, knowing they were just trying to be polite and not wanting to give off the gold digger vibe. But if in the end, if she pays, you have been friend zoned.
5) If there is no awkwardness between the two of you, you have been friend zoned. Friends are easy to talk to, to be around, to do anything with. Awkwardness is for two people who legitimately like each other and do not know how to express it. Thus, the awkward feeling at the end of the night when you don't know if you should kiss or just run and leave before stuff gets real. I don't mean so awkward you don't know what to talk about, I mean just the tiniest bit of awkwardness is enough to keep you safe from the friend zone a bit longer.
6) If you lean in to kiss a girl and she turns her cheek, you have been friend zoned. A girl may say she is just playing hard to get. Bull crap. If she likes you enough, she wants that kiss like she wants a new pair of Jessica Simpson pumps or a new puppy. She will return the kiss, even if it is just a peck kiss, if she is has any interest in being more than just friends.
7) If you only talk during the day and have no communication at night, you are in the friend zone. Girls, especially, like to talk at night when they can't sleep or when they are bored. I say this from personal experience. If we aren't texting you at night, you can be sure there is someone else who is not in the friend zone that we are.
8) If you are not already dating but a girl is dragging you to the mall to go shopping, you have been friend zoned. Unless you know the initial attraction is already there, then you are fine. Hey, you might get lucky in one of the dressing rooms (huge fantasy). However, if you have no idea where you stand with this girl, do not go shopping with her. It also depends on the type of shopping. If a girl is going shopping for a dress and invites you to come, you have been friend zoned. If she asks you to go shopping and then drags you into Victoria Secret and asks you how things look or if you like certain things, you may be safe.
9) If the girl you are interested in is telling you all about her problems with men, you are in the friend zone. If she is constantly blathering to you about how so and so doesn't like her or there is one guy she keeps bringing up, you are in the friend zone. She is trying to beat it into your brain that there is someone else that she likes. This guy may be real or fake, fake because she would rather be with an imaginary man than you. She could be testing the waters to see if this will make you jealous if she does like you. 99 percent of the time, this is not the case.
10) If a girl keeps reiterating that you are "such a good friend" you are waaaaaayyyyy deep in the friend zone. So deep, you are never coming out. The reason we are saying it over and over is because we have figured out that you like us and we do not like you back and are trying to keep you in the friend zone before things get weird and we can no longer hang out with you. We want to keep you around, but not like that.
11) If a girl avoids touching you, you are in the friend zone. If we like you, we will touch you. All over. We will touch your arms, your hair, your nose, your lips, your butt, anything that can be touched will be christened with our fingers at some point. Also, if she recoils from your touch, you are in the friend zone. We love when boys play with our hair, tickle us, hold our hands, put their hands on our legs, etc. If you aren't getting to do any of this, you are in the friend zone.
12) If a girl tells you that you are just friends, that's all you are. Period. You have been officially friend zoned. Stop attempting to bring yourself out of it. They could be sending you all the signals in the world but if she says it, that's all you are, a friend.
Now, be fully aware that there are exceptions to all of these rules. That exception will probably be the person you fall madly in love with. There will be a girl who will not hold your hand in the movies but then kisses you like you have never been kissed when the night is over. There will be someone who talks about how miserable their love life is and she/he is trying to gauge your attention to see if you can be a knight in shining armor to come rescue her. Unfortunately, this is normally a one time thing. If you are lucky, it will be a last time thing.
Sorry gents, my analogies and stuff really work better from a girl's point of view. I have tried to work y'all in as much as possible. Just replace girl with guy where it is appropriate. It will save me from trying to make things sound good and failing miserably. Anyhow, there will be someone who breaks all of these rules. You will feel you are so far in the friend zone that there is no hope and somehow you will be snatched out of it at the last second when you are so close to giving up. And the person who saves you may not be the person you are interested in.
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Deep Blue Sea
Greetings from my dark quiet room,
I am supposed to be sleeping right now as I have class in about t- minus 7 hours. We have a guest speaker that I was supposed to do research on... that I admittedly did not do. Oh well, I guess she can tell me all about herself tomorrow during her little presentation. I am dreading the morning. Earlier tonight, I went back to the gym for the first time since before the weekend. I know, I know, super lazy. But I worked out for two hours and some change, and when I came home my shirt was soaked with perspiration. My roommate Chelsey wanted to go to Olive Garden and I was starving so I quickly took off my sweat drenched clothes and put on something else. When I took my bra off, it was two totally different colors. I was mystified! I showed Chelsey who thought it was just a two toned bra. No girl! That is my fat weeping because I beat it to death tonight at Cardio Party. I am almost 100 percent positive that I will absolutely without a doubt not be able to move tomorrow. These Tally hills should greet my calves with open arms tomorrow.
My other friend Chelsea and I have decided to go on vacation this spring break to Panama City beach. Neither of us are beach ready (she is, she's hawt fellas!), so we are committing to each other to get ready to break some hearts on the white sandy shores of the coast this summer. After we finished our Cardio Party class, we looked into the mirror and vowed to not look like we did at that moment when we arrived to the beaches. We even shook hands, pinky promised and kissed on it. Not kissed on the mouth you perverts, kissed hands while our pinkies were locked. That is some deep stuff. Like a binding curse or something. I am afraid what will happen if I don't keep my end of the promise, I might get struck down by lightening or eaten by a shark.
Speaking of sharks, I have a pretty funny story to tell. It was not what I was going to go with originally, but since I just said shark and my mind works in weird ways, I'll go ahead with this one. The other one can wait.
Every year before school ends, Discovery Channel presents the scariest small series special ever, Shark Week. Let's talk about this for a minute. Why in the wide world of Africa would you run this special on TV a week before all the little kiddos get out from school and practically trample each other trying to get to the beach? I mean what are they trying to do? I'll bet the Florida Tourism industry doesn't appreciate it very much. They probably all take huge Valiums to get them through the week as people cancel their hotel reservations due to survival of the fittest mode kicking in. Nothing is a bigger turn off to the water than watching someone on Discovery Channel get bitten in half.
Of course, I am a freak and enjoy stuff like this. Not the being bitten in half stuff, just Discovery Channel in general. I turned it on the other night hoping it would be a boring program and that I would be able to study. Bad choice. I ended up sitting on the edge of my seat with my eyes fixated on the screen. You would have thought I was one of the ones who discovered the strip of African rainforest that has yet to be explored, I was so into it. Needless to say, my parenting book sat on the other end of the couch like a teenage boy on his first date with a girl.
I watch Shark Week every year, all day long. I get so hooked. The shows give me awful nightmares sometimes, and then I hate myself for watching them. And for at least a month after, I refuse to get into any kind of water. I'll barely get into my own swimming pool even though the most dangerous thing in there is that freaky little vacuum thing.
Well, I broke my cardinal rule last summer when Destiny insisted that we go to the beach. So, I loaded her, my brother Tyler and He Who Must Not Be Named into my car and we went to Jacksonville beach. I told them on the way there that I was NOT getting in the water. They all told me I was stupid and that nothing was going to happen. Liars.
When we arrived, it was extremely hot and the water looked so inviting. The waves that washed up on the sand were like old friends waving me over for a visit. I became hypnotized and started to walk out into the water. It felt so good on my toes. Ah, what the heck, I thought. We all started a little game of catch with a Nerf football we had brought with us. No sooner than I got knee deep, I felt something. Something= worst pain I have ever felt in my life.
I freaked out and screamed like a lunatic thrashing in the water. Somewhere in my mind I thought, "Oh my, I have been bitten by a shark. That must be what this feels like. I am dying." Destiny swears to this day that I screamed I had actually been bitten and that people looked at me. I hope I didn't. I wouldn't put it past me though, I am way over the top sometimes.
Well I wasn't dying. I didn't see any blood so I started to rationalize that something else had gotten me. Maybe a sting ray or a jellyfish. By this time, my bf came over to get me and he carried me up out of the water. As I was being toted like a child, I looked. Sure enough, I had fallen victim to the vicious "bite" of a jellyfish. I could make out the little warps from where its stingers had touched my flesh. I was freaking out.
The thing about jellyfish venom is it is a neurotoxin, meaning it messes with the nerves in your body. My toes kept curling and uncurling involuntarily and there was a particularly nasty throb going up my thigh too close to some things for my comfort. I was whimpering about it while Dest, Tyler, and he stood around me. I was begging for anything, anything to make it stop. Destiny said for someone to pee on it. My boyfriend said, "Really?" Even though I was not in the mood to play around I proceeded to tease him. I pleaded with him to pee on my foot. After he asked me if I was sure, he proceeded to unzip his bathing suit. Before he could cast out his own line I yelled, "Are you stupid? There are children around! Put that thing away!" Haha, that still makes me laugh. Goes to show you how dumb he was. He was actually going to whip his penis out in front of God and everyone else. I have a terrible sense of humor.
I was so angry at them for making me get into the water. Of course, I went on my own free will, but I like to blame them when I tell this story. They dragged me out there against my better judgement. Terrible people really. Just kidding I love you Dest and Tyler.
I am a very dramatic person, so for the next two weeks I took pictures of it to document my battle scars. It actually looked really cool until my skin started flaking off. That was gross.
Lesson to be learned from this, do not watch Shark Week and get in the water a few days later. Bad things are bound to happen. Also, do not get into water you can't see down into if you are a scaredy cat like me, or just in general don't do it. Thank the Lord Panama City beach has water bluer than the prettiest pair of blue eyes I have ever seen.
I am supposed to be sleeping right now as I have class in about t- minus 7 hours. We have a guest speaker that I was supposed to do research on... that I admittedly did not do. Oh well, I guess she can tell me all about herself tomorrow during her little presentation. I am dreading the morning. Earlier tonight, I went back to the gym for the first time since before the weekend. I know, I know, super lazy. But I worked out for two hours and some change, and when I came home my shirt was soaked with perspiration. My roommate Chelsey wanted to go to Olive Garden and I was starving so I quickly took off my sweat drenched clothes and put on something else. When I took my bra off, it was two totally different colors. I was mystified! I showed Chelsey who thought it was just a two toned bra. No girl! That is my fat weeping because I beat it to death tonight at Cardio Party. I am almost 100 percent positive that I will absolutely without a doubt not be able to move tomorrow. These Tally hills should greet my calves with open arms tomorrow.
My other friend Chelsea and I have decided to go on vacation this spring break to Panama City beach. Neither of us are beach ready (she is, she's hawt fellas!), so we are committing to each other to get ready to break some hearts on the white sandy shores of the coast this summer. After we finished our Cardio Party class, we looked into the mirror and vowed to not look like we did at that moment when we arrived to the beaches. We even shook hands, pinky promised and kissed on it. Not kissed on the mouth you perverts, kissed hands while our pinkies were locked. That is some deep stuff. Like a binding curse or something. I am afraid what will happen if I don't keep my end of the promise, I might get struck down by lightening or eaten by a shark.
Speaking of sharks, I have a pretty funny story to tell. It was not what I was going to go with originally, but since I just said shark and my mind works in weird ways, I'll go ahead with this one. The other one can wait.
Every year before school ends, Discovery Channel presents the scariest small series special ever, Shark Week. Let's talk about this for a minute. Why in the wide world of Africa would you run this special on TV a week before all the little kiddos get out from school and practically trample each other trying to get to the beach? I mean what are they trying to do? I'll bet the Florida Tourism industry doesn't appreciate it very much. They probably all take huge Valiums to get them through the week as people cancel their hotel reservations due to survival of the fittest mode kicking in. Nothing is a bigger turn off to the water than watching someone on Discovery Channel get bitten in half.
Of course, I am a freak and enjoy stuff like this. Not the being bitten in half stuff, just Discovery Channel in general. I turned it on the other night hoping it would be a boring program and that I would be able to study. Bad choice. I ended up sitting on the edge of my seat with my eyes fixated on the screen. You would have thought I was one of the ones who discovered the strip of African rainforest that has yet to be explored, I was so into it. Needless to say, my parenting book sat on the other end of the couch like a teenage boy on his first date with a girl.
I watch Shark Week every year, all day long. I get so hooked. The shows give me awful nightmares sometimes, and then I hate myself for watching them. And for at least a month after, I refuse to get into any kind of water. I'll barely get into my own swimming pool even though the most dangerous thing in there is that freaky little vacuum thing.
Well, I broke my cardinal rule last summer when Destiny insisted that we go to the beach. So, I loaded her, my brother Tyler and He Who Must Not Be Named into my car and we went to Jacksonville beach. I told them on the way there that I was NOT getting in the water. They all told me I was stupid and that nothing was going to happen. Liars.
When we arrived, it was extremely hot and the water looked so inviting. The waves that washed up on the sand were like old friends waving me over for a visit. I became hypnotized and started to walk out into the water. It felt so good on my toes. Ah, what the heck, I thought. We all started a little game of catch with a Nerf football we had brought with us. No sooner than I got knee deep, I felt something. Something= worst pain I have ever felt in my life.
I freaked out and screamed like a lunatic thrashing in the water. Somewhere in my mind I thought, "Oh my, I have been bitten by a shark. That must be what this feels like. I am dying." Destiny swears to this day that I screamed I had actually been bitten and that people looked at me. I hope I didn't. I wouldn't put it past me though, I am way over the top sometimes.
Well I wasn't dying. I didn't see any blood so I started to rationalize that something else had gotten me. Maybe a sting ray or a jellyfish. By this time, my bf came over to get me and he carried me up out of the water. As I was being toted like a child, I looked. Sure enough, I had fallen victim to the vicious "bite" of a jellyfish. I could make out the little warps from where its stingers had touched my flesh. I was freaking out.
The thing about jellyfish venom is it is a neurotoxin, meaning it messes with the nerves in your body. My toes kept curling and uncurling involuntarily and there was a particularly nasty throb going up my thigh too close to some things for my comfort. I was whimpering about it while Dest, Tyler, and he stood around me. I was begging for anything, anything to make it stop. Destiny said for someone to pee on it. My boyfriend said, "Really?" Even though I was not in the mood to play around I proceeded to tease him. I pleaded with him to pee on my foot. After he asked me if I was sure, he proceeded to unzip his bathing suit. Before he could cast out his own line I yelled, "Are you stupid? There are children around! Put that thing away!" Haha, that still makes me laugh. Goes to show you how dumb he was. He was actually going to whip his penis out in front of God and everyone else. I have a terrible sense of humor.
I was so angry at them for making me get into the water. Of course, I went on my own free will, but I like to blame them when I tell this story. They dragged me out there against my better judgement. Terrible people really. Just kidding I love you Dest and Tyler.
I am a very dramatic person, so for the next two weeks I took pictures of it to document my battle scars. It actually looked really cool until my skin started flaking off. That was gross.
Lesson to be learned from this, do not watch Shark Week and get in the water a few days later. Bad things are bound to happen. Also, do not get into water you can't see down into if you are a scaredy cat like me, or just in general don't do it. Thank the Lord Panama City beach has water bluer than the prettiest pair of blue eyes I have ever seen.
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Many Happy Returns
Hello all for the second time tonight,
I was determined that that last post that I posted literally five minutes ago would be my last. However, it was brought to my attention that my very dear friend Ashley Weil has a birthday today. Happy 22nd love! I hope you have a wonderful day and I hope you get lots of presents and birthday cake! Actually, I saw your birthday present on Facebook and it is beautiful! I don't think I will be getting a car for my upcoming 21st. You could always lend me the one you got a few months ago... Perks of a family member in the car business!
I cannot believe it was a year ago that I met Ashley. That day, I gained a roommate and a life long friend:
I came home from school one day about a week before Ashley moved in. Cassie was already back at the apartment from school. She informed me that we would be getting a new roommate. Ugh just freaking great! So far, Cassie and I had avoided the random roommate. However, we had gotten rid of three roommates recently. One went home to be breastfed for the rest of her life, one was Cassie's ex boyfriend, and the other went back home for family issues. So here we were, getting stuck with a random. Taytum came in and we all pondered aloud what she would be like and what was wrong with her if nobody else wanted to live with her.
Ashley arrived on a particularly nasty day for me. I was sent home from work for being "racist." Really? Me? I am sorry if I got a little touchy when a table full of middle aged church ladies, who just happened to be black, in their huge hats barked orders at me like I was an animal. One lady practically threw her plate of perfectly cooked pancakes in my arms, disgusted because they were not brown enough. The party started out as five, and eventually grew to eight. Cracker Barrel has this ridiculous rule: eight bring a date. This means that if there are eight or more people, you have to have someone else help you serve the party. I didn't think mine really counted since the 8th person showed up after everyone else got there food. Apparently, I was wrong. I can honestly say though, it wouldn't have mattered if these women each had a personal server. They would have been just as demanding and just as picky. I hate to sound like I am grouping people together, but they were that "type." I could always tell if guests were the "type" when I asked how they were doing and introduced myself. If they replied good or gave me something to go on to let me know they were decent people, they were not the type. If they immediately demanded coffee or tea, they were the type. These ladies were definitely the type, making orders like terrorist demand things in hostage situations. "Eggs really done with brown on them" = "I want fifty million dollars and a private plane ride out of here?" In the end, I ended up crying in the freezer after my asshole boss yelled at me in front of all of my co-workers. My friend Chelsea came and found me. She knew I was in there, she knows me too well.
Anyways, I was sent home. I was in a fit that someone had the audacity to call me racist. I grew up in Baker County where racism runs through people more than blood does. But I never considered myself to be one of them. I don't care if you are purple, people are people. Actually, I would probably like you more if you were purple, it's my favorite color. I had tear stained cheeks and was screeching into my phone to my Nanny when I walked up to my apartment. I saw a girl unloading her things and carrying them into my house along with the help of a guy. It could only be one person, my new roommate. She proceeded to say hello and I just looked at her and said, "You really picked the wrong day to move in," and brushed past her. Poor girl. She probably thought she was about to be condemned to a life of a bitch roommate.
Later on, I apologized and explained. I got my first good look at Ashley. She was tall and enviously skinny, and had a cute little hair cut. She had on running shorts and a t-shirt, she must work out. She didn't give me that weird vibe I normally get about people who are sketchy, but then again I never was good about sorting people out for myself, only for others. No weird piercings, she didn't smell bad. Hmm, I wondered why she wasn't living with people she knew and why she picked us? The girls who worked at the front desk of Boardwalk liked to gossip with Cassie and Taytum told them that Ashley had went through a list and hand selected us to be the ones she boarded with. Hmm...
Cassie, Taytum, and I learned that Ashley's birthday was the next day. Without her knowing, we went to Publix and got her a cake. Later that night, we surprised her with it. We all became friends instantly while we sat there talking and eating. A bond only a cake like that could have created. I think she was touched that three girls she had known for a little more than a day would recognize and celebrate her becoming 21.
Ashley's friend came to town. Apparently, she was from the middle of nowhere a few states away and was ready to throw down with her newly 21 year old bestie. She did what any good friend would do, got her drunk as skunk and held her hair back later that night. Cassie and I went somewhere and came in to see her holding a mop bucket on the bed puking. Poor girl! It was a sight though, one that I frequently laugh about because she tried to reintroduce herself to us.
We figured out there was nothing wrong with Ashley. She was as normal as any of the rest of us. Probably more so really. It was her jerk roommates who she was trying to escape from that led her to us. So thank you assholes, you lost an incredible friend to us.
Now here we are a year later. Ashley has graduated from FSU and doesn't live with us anymore but we all still talk and we miss her so! Many happy returns girl! I love you and miss you and Taytum being here everyday! Please make it up for my bday if you can. I may need you to hold back my hair and prevent me from introducing myself to people I already know!
I was determined that that last post that I posted literally five minutes ago would be my last. However, it was brought to my attention that my very dear friend Ashley Weil has a birthday today. Happy 22nd love! I hope you have a wonderful day and I hope you get lots of presents and birthday cake! Actually, I saw your birthday present on Facebook and it is beautiful! I don't think I will be getting a car for my upcoming 21st. You could always lend me the one you got a few months ago... Perks of a family member in the car business!
I cannot believe it was a year ago that I met Ashley. That day, I gained a roommate and a life long friend:
I came home from school one day about a week before Ashley moved in. Cassie was already back at the apartment from school. She informed me that we would be getting a new roommate. Ugh just freaking great! So far, Cassie and I had avoided the random roommate. However, we had gotten rid of three roommates recently. One went home to be breastfed for the rest of her life, one was Cassie's ex boyfriend, and the other went back home for family issues. So here we were, getting stuck with a random. Taytum came in and we all pondered aloud what she would be like and what was wrong with her if nobody else wanted to live with her.
Ashley arrived on a particularly nasty day for me. I was sent home from work for being "racist." Really? Me? I am sorry if I got a little touchy when a table full of middle aged church ladies, who just happened to be black, in their huge hats barked orders at me like I was an animal. One lady practically threw her plate of perfectly cooked pancakes in my arms, disgusted because they were not brown enough. The party started out as five, and eventually grew to eight. Cracker Barrel has this ridiculous rule: eight bring a date. This means that if there are eight or more people, you have to have someone else help you serve the party. I didn't think mine really counted since the 8th person showed up after everyone else got there food. Apparently, I was wrong. I can honestly say though, it wouldn't have mattered if these women each had a personal server. They would have been just as demanding and just as picky. I hate to sound like I am grouping people together, but they were that "type." I could always tell if guests were the "type" when I asked how they were doing and introduced myself. If they replied good or gave me something to go on to let me know they were decent people, they were not the type. If they immediately demanded coffee or tea, they were the type. These ladies were definitely the type, making orders like terrorist demand things in hostage situations. "Eggs really done with brown on them" = "I want fifty million dollars and a private plane ride out of here?" In the end, I ended up crying in the freezer after my asshole boss yelled at me in front of all of my co-workers. My friend Chelsea came and found me. She knew I was in there, she knows me too well.
Anyways, I was sent home. I was in a fit that someone had the audacity to call me racist. I grew up in Baker County where racism runs through people more than blood does. But I never considered myself to be one of them. I don't care if you are purple, people are people. Actually, I would probably like you more if you were purple, it's my favorite color. I had tear stained cheeks and was screeching into my phone to my Nanny when I walked up to my apartment. I saw a girl unloading her things and carrying them into my house along with the help of a guy. It could only be one person, my new roommate. She proceeded to say hello and I just looked at her and said, "You really picked the wrong day to move in," and brushed past her. Poor girl. She probably thought she was about to be condemned to a life of a bitch roommate.
Later on, I apologized and explained. I got my first good look at Ashley. She was tall and enviously skinny, and had a cute little hair cut. She had on running shorts and a t-shirt, she must work out. She didn't give me that weird vibe I normally get about people who are sketchy, but then again I never was good about sorting people out for myself, only for others. No weird piercings, she didn't smell bad. Hmm, I wondered why she wasn't living with people she knew and why she picked us? The girls who worked at the front desk of Boardwalk liked to gossip with Cassie and Taytum told them that Ashley had went through a list and hand selected us to be the ones she boarded with. Hmm...
Cassie, Taytum, and I learned that Ashley's birthday was the next day. Without her knowing, we went to Publix and got her a cake. Later that night, we surprised her with it. We all became friends instantly while we sat there talking and eating. A bond only a cake like that could have created. I think she was touched that three girls she had known for a little more than a day would recognize and celebrate her becoming 21.
Ashley's friend came to town. Apparently, she was from the middle of nowhere a few states away and was ready to throw down with her newly 21 year old bestie. She did what any good friend would do, got her drunk as skunk and held her hair back later that night. Cassie and I went somewhere and came in to see her holding a mop bucket on the bed puking. Poor girl! It was a sight though, one that I frequently laugh about because she tried to reintroduce herself to us.
We figured out there was nothing wrong with Ashley. She was as normal as any of the rest of us. Probably more so really. It was her jerk roommates who she was trying to escape from that led her to us. So thank you assholes, you lost an incredible friend to us.
Now here we are a year later. Ashley has graduated from FSU and doesn't live with us anymore but we all still talk and we miss her so! Many happy returns girl! I love you and miss you and Taytum being here everyday! Please make it up for my bday if you can. I may need you to hold back my hair and prevent me from introducing myself to people I already know!
Writer's Block
Hello all from my awkward crossed leg position on the couch,
I am having serious writer's block and decided to ask two of my beautiful roommates what I should write about tonight. Chelsey is neck deep in a personal project that I am dying to see the end product of. So my only response was from Cassie, who is laying on the adjacent couch twirling her feet and browsing pinterest. She said, "You should write about how cute Matchew is." Matchew translates into Matthew from baby talk to English. As adorable as he is, I do not think I can make a whole blog about how he looks like Ben Affleck's little brother.
In the midst of writing this, Chelsey picked up some cough drops she bought earlier. Poor thing is sick. They are the Cepacol brand and are supposed to deliver a gentle warming sensation to relax the throat. She started to complain about how it was more like a forest fire than a sip of hot cocoa. The box ways warming on the front with a flame design underneath. They should have made the flames bigger, Chelsey keeps choking on the dangerous drop.
This reminded me of a funny story a friend of mine told me. This person shall remain anonymous as the story is kind of revealing and sexual. Let's just call this person Ann (ann= anonymous). Ann and a special person decided to experiment with a warming lubricant. The bottle persuaded them with the idea of a gentle warming sensation that was sure to give the sex a little kick. Unfortunately, the kick Ann received was more like being pile driven into a fire. She said she was on fire and that this product burned soo bad that she had to have it taken off right then by use of extreme measures (Ann's partner had to remove it by maneuvers of tongue). Ann said they would never use this again.
I feel bad for Ann. I couldn't imagine that kind of pain. It makes me cross my legs real tight if I try to think about it. But I can't help but laugh at what that was probably like. I would have freaked out if I felt the heat of that branding iron. It must have been awkwardly funny and probably something they will never forget.
I love how awkward stories turn into memories that I can laugh about later. It may suck at the time, but sometime in the future, my friends and I will laugh about it. I have one from this past weekend that was awful at the time, but just mere hours later I was cracking up telling Cassie about it.
As you all know, I went to Hamburger Mary's this weekend to chill with the drag queens. I said last time that my night ended when I got home. However, it did not. I proceeded to text someone who I enjoy late night canoodlings (canoodlings= staying up late talking about nothing in particular, amongst other things like sleeping) with. He was awake and drunk from a late night out. Somehow, like a few times before, I was easily enticed into joining him that evening at his place to hang out. His house is not right up the road like Sarah's is (perfect for our canoodlings), it is a good 45 minutes away. That may not seem like much but at 3:00 am, it is quite a drive. I cranked up my Hip Hop of 2000s radio and hopped on a creepy old back road.
Side story- Before I was out of the city limits, I stopped at a gas station to get a water. While there, I saw someone from the past. Sterling West was standing in line ahead of me. We went to high school together, except he was older than me. It was definitely him, just skinnier. He recognized me before I realized it was him. He came up and hugged me and asked how I had been. I told him I was doing pretty great, shockingly nothing earth shattering is going on in my life right now. Sterling proceeded to look around my shoulder and asked, "Is your boy out there with you?" I told him no, he was not and that we were no longer seeing each other. He asked why. I told him, "I am not up to his standards. Apparently, I do not look good enough for him." Of course, I was being sarcastic about the standards. I rolled my eyes and laughed when his eyes got huge. My one raised eyebrow told him I was not kidding. The sweet man behind the counter said, "Well, I don't know what he was looking at, but it sure wasn't you." Thank you kind sir at the gas station next to the China Buffet in Macclenny. You made my night.
I was back on the road heading out into the wilderness. I have this insane fear/fascination/obsession of deer on the side of the road. When my senior sweetie use to drive me home late at night from Jacksonville, I would stare out the window looking for them. When I would see one, I would freak out and scream "DEER!" and point frantically out the window like a child at a candy store. Somehow, he never saw them. I was always a little delayed in my reactions. Throw me a ball and it will smack my face, and then five seconds later my hands will grasp for the ball. I have also dropped my Iphone on my face several times while texting in bed. Text on your side folks, do not hold it over your face. That inflicts some serious damage.
That night I watched for the deer and when I saw a pack of like ten or so, I mentally willed them to stay on their side of the road. I really did not want to die because some buck ran out on the road. Nor did I want my car Mildred the Mazda to take a hit. She is fragile.
I arrived to my almost destination after a little over half an hour. The roads were in my favor that night, nobody on them except for the deer. I couldn't quite recall where he lived in this particular neighborhood so I asked for the address. I didn't get a response. A few minutes before, he said he was laying down and would leave the door unlocked for me so I could just walk in. Maybe he was asleep I thought. Drunk and 4 something in the morning were the perfect concoction for checking out for the night. No problem, I'll just find his truck which means I'll find his house which means I'll find a bed I was suddenly craving, along with a cold pillow that I could snuggle with. If he was asleep, we could just canoodle in the morning.
After an hour of circling the neighborhood, 57 attempted phone calls (literally, I freaked out with how insane I probably seemed... 57), and about 6 texts that got angrier and angrier as time went by, I gave up. I could not find his house. My Sherlock Holmes abilities had failed me. I seriously considered parking along the sidewalk and passing out. I was scared I would wake up to someone staring at me. I took a deep breath and hit the long ride back home. This time, 45 minutes seemed like 45 hours. My pandora station was the only thing that got me through it. I arrived home at 6 in the morning. I had literally watched the moon cross in the sky. Once I dragged myself up the stairs to my loft, I enabled the do not disturb settings on my Iphone. Not as kinky as it sounds but it is a nifty little device. I did not want anyone calling me until at least noon, nor did I want to receive the 20 odd text messages I always woke up to. Between Sarah, Destiny, and Kim I always had a page or two of some light reading to enjoy in the morning.
Sometime around 11, the beast awakened. I looked so ugly when I actually got out of bed. Probably a good thing my friend did not see me. I looked like hot damn. FYI, looking like hot damn is bad. It is Cassie's version of you look like crap. Of course, only this expression could be made up by her. Hot damn includes having mascara smeared down your cheeks from sweating it off in the night, lipstick smeared like you made out with a pig, and haystack hair. After I cleaned myself up, I looked at my phone. I had two texts from my friend apologizing for what had happened and swearing he would never do that to me on purpose. I felt bad, he was really sorry. I couldn't stay mad. He will make it up to me, he just doesn't know it yet.
I let it go, but I had a nagging question that was bothering me. I texted my friend and asked him where his truck was. He said it was in the shop and that he had a rental. It was being worked on because a deer ran into the side of it... I am not even going to go there.
Moral of the story, do not try to go visit a drunk man in the wee hours of the morning, they are like babies with warm milk and pass out cold. Or maybe the moral is this, ask for the address before you begin the journey or end up looking like a pedophile scoping out a new neighborhood for signs of children. Seriously, when I think about how crazy I must have looked (had anyone actually been out at 4 in the morning) all bent over the steering wheel, squinting out the windshield, I just giggle. There's always a crooked silver lining to every story, even if it is only to say you have a story to tell.
I am having serious writer's block and decided to ask two of my beautiful roommates what I should write about tonight. Chelsey is neck deep in a personal project that I am dying to see the end product of. So my only response was from Cassie, who is laying on the adjacent couch twirling her feet and browsing pinterest. She said, "You should write about how cute Matchew is." Matchew translates into Matthew from baby talk to English. As adorable as he is, I do not think I can make a whole blog about how he looks like Ben Affleck's little brother.
In the midst of writing this, Chelsey picked up some cough drops she bought earlier. Poor thing is sick. They are the Cepacol brand and are supposed to deliver a gentle warming sensation to relax the throat. She started to complain about how it was more like a forest fire than a sip of hot cocoa. The box ways warming on the front with a flame design underneath. They should have made the flames bigger, Chelsey keeps choking on the dangerous drop.
This reminded me of a funny story a friend of mine told me. This person shall remain anonymous as the story is kind of revealing and sexual. Let's just call this person Ann (ann= anonymous). Ann and a special person decided to experiment with a warming lubricant. The bottle persuaded them with the idea of a gentle warming sensation that was sure to give the sex a little kick. Unfortunately, the kick Ann received was more like being pile driven into a fire. She said she was on fire and that this product burned soo bad that she had to have it taken off right then by use of extreme measures (Ann's partner had to remove it by maneuvers of tongue). Ann said they would never use this again.
I feel bad for Ann. I couldn't imagine that kind of pain. It makes me cross my legs real tight if I try to think about it. But I can't help but laugh at what that was probably like. I would have freaked out if I felt the heat of that branding iron. It must have been awkwardly funny and probably something they will never forget.
I love how awkward stories turn into memories that I can laugh about later. It may suck at the time, but sometime in the future, my friends and I will laugh about it. I have one from this past weekend that was awful at the time, but just mere hours later I was cracking up telling Cassie about it.
As you all know, I went to Hamburger Mary's this weekend to chill with the drag queens. I said last time that my night ended when I got home. However, it did not. I proceeded to text someone who I enjoy late night canoodlings (canoodlings= staying up late talking about nothing in particular, amongst other things like sleeping) with. He was awake and drunk from a late night out. Somehow, like a few times before, I was easily enticed into joining him that evening at his place to hang out. His house is not right up the road like Sarah's is (perfect for our canoodlings), it is a good 45 minutes away. That may not seem like much but at 3:00 am, it is quite a drive. I cranked up my Hip Hop of 2000s radio and hopped on a creepy old back road.
Side story- Before I was out of the city limits, I stopped at a gas station to get a water. While there, I saw someone from the past. Sterling West was standing in line ahead of me. We went to high school together, except he was older than me. It was definitely him, just skinnier. He recognized me before I realized it was him. He came up and hugged me and asked how I had been. I told him I was doing pretty great, shockingly nothing earth shattering is going on in my life right now. Sterling proceeded to look around my shoulder and asked, "Is your boy out there with you?" I told him no, he was not and that we were no longer seeing each other. He asked why. I told him, "I am not up to his standards. Apparently, I do not look good enough for him." Of course, I was being sarcastic about the standards. I rolled my eyes and laughed when his eyes got huge. My one raised eyebrow told him I was not kidding. The sweet man behind the counter said, "Well, I don't know what he was looking at, but it sure wasn't you." Thank you kind sir at the gas station next to the China Buffet in Macclenny. You made my night.
I was back on the road heading out into the wilderness. I have this insane fear/fascination/obsession of deer on the side of the road. When my senior sweetie use to drive me home late at night from Jacksonville, I would stare out the window looking for them. When I would see one, I would freak out and scream "DEER!" and point frantically out the window like a child at a candy store. Somehow, he never saw them. I was always a little delayed in my reactions. Throw me a ball and it will smack my face, and then five seconds later my hands will grasp for the ball. I have also dropped my Iphone on my face several times while texting in bed. Text on your side folks, do not hold it over your face. That inflicts some serious damage.
That night I watched for the deer and when I saw a pack of like ten or so, I mentally willed them to stay on their side of the road. I really did not want to die because some buck ran out on the road. Nor did I want my car Mildred the Mazda to take a hit. She is fragile.
I arrived to my almost destination after a little over half an hour. The roads were in my favor that night, nobody on them except for the deer. I couldn't quite recall where he lived in this particular neighborhood so I asked for the address. I didn't get a response. A few minutes before, he said he was laying down and would leave the door unlocked for me so I could just walk in. Maybe he was asleep I thought. Drunk and 4 something in the morning were the perfect concoction for checking out for the night. No problem, I'll just find his truck which means I'll find his house which means I'll find a bed I was suddenly craving, along with a cold pillow that I could snuggle with. If he was asleep, we could just canoodle in the morning.
After an hour of circling the neighborhood, 57 attempted phone calls (literally, I freaked out with how insane I probably seemed... 57), and about 6 texts that got angrier and angrier as time went by, I gave up. I could not find his house. My Sherlock Holmes abilities had failed me. I seriously considered parking along the sidewalk and passing out. I was scared I would wake up to someone staring at me. I took a deep breath and hit the long ride back home. This time, 45 minutes seemed like 45 hours. My pandora station was the only thing that got me through it. I arrived home at 6 in the morning. I had literally watched the moon cross in the sky. Once I dragged myself up the stairs to my loft, I enabled the do not disturb settings on my Iphone. Not as kinky as it sounds but it is a nifty little device. I did not want anyone calling me until at least noon, nor did I want to receive the 20 odd text messages I always woke up to. Between Sarah, Destiny, and Kim I always had a page or two of some light reading to enjoy in the morning.
Sometime around 11, the beast awakened. I looked so ugly when I actually got out of bed. Probably a good thing my friend did not see me. I looked like hot damn. FYI, looking like hot damn is bad. It is Cassie's version of you look like crap. Of course, only this expression could be made up by her. Hot damn includes having mascara smeared down your cheeks from sweating it off in the night, lipstick smeared like you made out with a pig, and haystack hair. After I cleaned myself up, I looked at my phone. I had two texts from my friend apologizing for what had happened and swearing he would never do that to me on purpose. I felt bad, he was really sorry. I couldn't stay mad. He will make it up to me, he just doesn't know it yet.
I let it go, but I had a nagging question that was bothering me. I texted my friend and asked him where his truck was. He said it was in the shop and that he had a rental. It was being worked on because a deer ran into the side of it... I am not even going to go there.
Moral of the story, do not try to go visit a drunk man in the wee hours of the morning, they are like babies with warm milk and pass out cold. Or maybe the moral is this, ask for the address before you begin the journey or end up looking like a pedophile scoping out a new neighborhood for signs of children. Seriously, when I think about how crazy I must have looked (had anyone actually been out at 4 in the morning) all bent over the steering wheel, squinting out the windshield, I just giggle. There's always a crooked silver lining to every story, even if it is only to say you have a story to tell.
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Drama Queen
Hello my fellow night owls,
My previous post was about some ultra fabulous drag queens and the subliminal message they send to others. After the idea was graciously given to me by the lovely Kaliee Raulerson, I would like to tell you all of a time that I was on a stage. It is one of my fondest high school memories and I believe that I would not be who I am today if I had not experienced being a part of a high school play.
Let me just start with saying that I think everyone should participate in high school drama. Do at least one play! I tried to persuade Cassie to be a tree or a rock several times. You don't have to have a big part to matter or even a part at all. If it is not your thing to be onstage, do something behind the scenes. If you have graduated already, check out your community theatre. There were always adults performing at the high school.
We all know how clique-y high school is. Nobody really hangs out with anyone else except their own circle of friends. Plays open you up to a whole new group of people, and I think that is just splendid. Everyone needs to get out of their comfort zone at some point. Theatre may be the easiest way to do it, too. Nobody gets a concussion from reading lines on a stage, unlike someone who has never picked up a football and decides to try out.
My love for movies, especially dramas, started early. Fox and the Hound was extremely traumatic! When I was a little girl, my daddy told me I should be on The Young and the Restless because I was such a drama queen. In high school, I decided to give my flair for the dramatics some exercise and I tried out for BCHS's production of Dracula.
I really didn't know what to expect when I walked in to the auditions, I figured I would wing it as usual. Mr. Gerard gave me some hope as he gave instructions on how the auditions would go, we could talk in a British accent if we could do one! I was immediately ecstatic! Finally, all the many hours of watching Harry Potter over and over would pay off. When Mr. Gerard called my name on the long list of students to go up and read lines, my heart sank to my feet. I was so scared. I have no idea why I was scared, I never got "stage fright" from anything like reading in front of a class. I did my best, letting my inner Hermione talk for me, and read my lines. I returned to my seat not knowing how to feel about it other than, "Omg, that was so fun!" Mr. G called me up a few times to read, but I didn't think anything of it because that's what he did with everyone else, too. At the end of auditions he told us he would post call backs the next day on the cafetorium door. Yeah, that's right, our school is so poor they combined our cafeteria and auditorium. I love it though, and wouldn't have it any other way.
The next day I was at lunch and saw a crowd of people around the door. CALL BACKS! I had completely forgotten. I approached the door, trying to plan it to where it didn't look like I was looking just in case I hadn't been called back. I didn't want to feel bad with everyone looking like, "That girl obviously sucked." To my delight and complete surprise, I was called back! I did mental back flips, since I couldn't do real ones. Well, I could, but they were inconsistent and sometimes ended with me on my face instead of my feet. I went to call backs and tried my hardest to be good. Mr. Gerard, aka fantastic play director, announced that the final list of assigned roles would be posted in the same spot the following day.
I practically ran up to school the next day, but stopped short of the double glass doors. I was nervous again. What if I did that all for nothing? What if he had really thought I was stupid and just wanted to keep me up there doing a crappy accent for kicks and giggles? After saying a small prayer, I began to look down the list, and my heart dropped and then sky rocketed back up to my throat. I had made it! I was Lucy! I didn't even know who she was except for the few lines of hers I read, but I was her and she was me! At that moment, I had never been more excited for something! Hmm, I really am dramatic, high school play= highlight of my life?
Play practice was to begin immediately. I cannot express how much I enjoyed these rehearsals. I made friends with people who I would never have hung out with in a million years. I don't mean that in a bad way, I just mean I never would have met them had it not been for this experience because most of them were older than I was and in different classes. Jamie Allyn is probably one of the coolest people I met. Something about her wreaks awesomeness. I found it amazing that she could transition from vampire chick to pageant queen. Kudos Jamie! I love your versatility.
I think the part of Lucy was perfect for me. She was a freak! Her attitude and personality went from poor and sickly little dove to vixen like flirt to murderous villain. The flirting with Dr. Van Helsing, aka Garret Lucas, scene was my favorite! I will mention here that I was dubbed Class Flirt as my senior superlative. Probably the proudest moment of my life! Josh Mobley and I have a picture in the yearbook amongst the Class Beauties and Most School Spirit that I will treasure forever. Anyways, Garret was tall, cute, and had a nerdy swagger with his little glasses that he wore that made the scene realistic for me, and it was by far the best. I loved being able to play someone else for a while and do different roles within the role. I put on that red scarf and lipstick and bam! I was someone entirely different from who I was at school. And I got to use this otherwise useless talent of doing accents. I was using that British accent so hard I feel like I should have been breaking for tea time and saying Lou instead of bathroom.
Also, I got to be killed on stage. Absolutely awesome! I loved screaming at the top of my lungs with fake blood running down my chin when Dr. Seward, aka my dad in the play, aka Spencer Norman Gerard, drove the collapsible stake into my heart while I lay in my coffin.
I even got my little sister involved in the play. Nina was about 6 at the time. She played a little girl from the town that I was terrorizing called Hampstead. I got to pick her up and pretend to bite her on the neck and throw her limp body on the ground. It is an experience unique to us that I will never forget.
Might I add, I got to wear porcelain fangs that were super cool and super uncomfortable. They gave me a terrible lisp that I hope was not obvious to the audience. Polydent is disgusting, I hope I never have to have dentures. Take care of your teeth people, you do not want that pink blob of awfulness anywhere near your tastebuds. Also, fake blood tastes like absolute sh&%. All the girls who got to use it, including myself, would run and spit it out gagging over the sink. It's a taste I never got used to. I'd have to equate it with licking the bottom of a shoe that was dipped in rubbing alcohol, add a dash of melted plastic. I don't actually know what any of these things taste like, but if I had to imagine...
I had several other small parts in The Wizard of Oz and Snow White. I got to be a belly dancer, a crow, an Ozian, and much more. I loved being other things and changing costumes and putting on the different make up! The more the merrier really.
Before I performed with my high school, I had never seen a play of any kind. Now I am proud to say I am an avid Wicked freak! It is the best Broadway play ever and I have the soundtrack on my Ipod. The point is, this experience opened a door for me that I had not noticed was in my imaginary hallway of possible doors. I love theatre and everything it embodies. So, to Mr. Gerard, I am forever thankful. Thank you for offering me that opportunity my sophomore year. I will never forget it.
The point of me telling this story is not to brag about a small role I had in a high school play. It is to motivate you all to try breaking out of your shell and doing something awesome. Do new, scary things and meet awesome new people. In a perfect world, I would love to act professionally. I may not be good enough with technique or really know what I am doing, but I have the heart and thirst to learn. If you think you can do something, even if you have your doubts, do it! One of my favorite quotes comes from the movie "We Bought a Zoo" and it says, "All you need is twenty seconds of insane courage and something amazing will come out of it." The memories I made and the laughs I had are enough for me to thank myself and God for giving me those 20 seconds that it took for me to push open the doors of the cafetorium and put my name on the sign up list of the auditions.
My previous post was about some ultra fabulous drag queens and the subliminal message they send to others. After the idea was graciously given to me by the lovely Kaliee Raulerson, I would like to tell you all of a time that I was on a stage. It is one of my fondest high school memories and I believe that I would not be who I am today if I had not experienced being a part of a high school play.
Let me just start with saying that I think everyone should participate in high school drama. Do at least one play! I tried to persuade Cassie to be a tree or a rock several times. You don't have to have a big part to matter or even a part at all. If it is not your thing to be onstage, do something behind the scenes. If you have graduated already, check out your community theatre. There were always adults performing at the high school.
We all know how clique-y high school is. Nobody really hangs out with anyone else except their own circle of friends. Plays open you up to a whole new group of people, and I think that is just splendid. Everyone needs to get out of their comfort zone at some point. Theatre may be the easiest way to do it, too. Nobody gets a concussion from reading lines on a stage, unlike someone who has never picked up a football and decides to try out.
My love for movies, especially dramas, started early. Fox and the Hound was extremely traumatic! When I was a little girl, my daddy told me I should be on The Young and the Restless because I was such a drama queen. In high school, I decided to give my flair for the dramatics some exercise and I tried out for BCHS's production of Dracula.
I really didn't know what to expect when I walked in to the auditions, I figured I would wing it as usual. Mr. Gerard gave me some hope as he gave instructions on how the auditions would go, we could talk in a British accent if we could do one! I was immediately ecstatic! Finally, all the many hours of watching Harry Potter over and over would pay off. When Mr. Gerard called my name on the long list of students to go up and read lines, my heart sank to my feet. I was so scared. I have no idea why I was scared, I never got "stage fright" from anything like reading in front of a class. I did my best, letting my inner Hermione talk for me, and read my lines. I returned to my seat not knowing how to feel about it other than, "Omg, that was so fun!" Mr. G called me up a few times to read, but I didn't think anything of it because that's what he did with everyone else, too. At the end of auditions he told us he would post call backs the next day on the cafetorium door. Yeah, that's right, our school is so poor they combined our cafeteria and auditorium. I love it though, and wouldn't have it any other way.
The next day I was at lunch and saw a crowd of people around the door. CALL BACKS! I had completely forgotten. I approached the door, trying to plan it to where it didn't look like I was looking just in case I hadn't been called back. I didn't want to feel bad with everyone looking like, "That girl obviously sucked." To my delight and complete surprise, I was called back! I did mental back flips, since I couldn't do real ones. Well, I could, but they were inconsistent and sometimes ended with me on my face instead of my feet. I went to call backs and tried my hardest to be good. Mr. Gerard, aka fantastic play director, announced that the final list of assigned roles would be posted in the same spot the following day.
I practically ran up to school the next day, but stopped short of the double glass doors. I was nervous again. What if I did that all for nothing? What if he had really thought I was stupid and just wanted to keep me up there doing a crappy accent for kicks and giggles? After saying a small prayer, I began to look down the list, and my heart dropped and then sky rocketed back up to my throat. I had made it! I was Lucy! I didn't even know who she was except for the few lines of hers I read, but I was her and she was me! At that moment, I had never been more excited for something! Hmm, I really am dramatic, high school play= highlight of my life?
Play practice was to begin immediately. I cannot express how much I enjoyed these rehearsals. I made friends with people who I would never have hung out with in a million years. I don't mean that in a bad way, I just mean I never would have met them had it not been for this experience because most of them were older than I was and in different classes. Jamie Allyn is probably one of the coolest people I met. Something about her wreaks awesomeness. I found it amazing that she could transition from vampire chick to pageant queen. Kudos Jamie! I love your versatility.
I think the part of Lucy was perfect for me. She was a freak! Her attitude and personality went from poor and sickly little dove to vixen like flirt to murderous villain. The flirting with Dr. Van Helsing, aka Garret Lucas, scene was my favorite! I will mention here that I was dubbed Class Flirt as my senior superlative. Probably the proudest moment of my life! Josh Mobley and I have a picture in the yearbook amongst the Class Beauties and Most School Spirit that I will treasure forever. Anyways, Garret was tall, cute, and had a nerdy swagger with his little glasses that he wore that made the scene realistic for me, and it was by far the best. I loved being able to play someone else for a while and do different roles within the role. I put on that red scarf and lipstick and bam! I was someone entirely different from who I was at school. And I got to use this otherwise useless talent of doing accents. I was using that British accent so hard I feel like I should have been breaking for tea time and saying Lou instead of bathroom.
Also, I got to be killed on stage. Absolutely awesome! I loved screaming at the top of my lungs with fake blood running down my chin when Dr. Seward, aka my dad in the play, aka Spencer Norman Gerard, drove the collapsible stake into my heart while I lay in my coffin.
I even got my little sister involved in the play. Nina was about 6 at the time. She played a little girl from the town that I was terrorizing called Hampstead. I got to pick her up and pretend to bite her on the neck and throw her limp body on the ground. It is an experience unique to us that I will never forget.
Might I add, I got to wear porcelain fangs that were super cool and super uncomfortable. They gave me a terrible lisp that I hope was not obvious to the audience. Polydent is disgusting, I hope I never have to have dentures. Take care of your teeth people, you do not want that pink blob of awfulness anywhere near your tastebuds. Also, fake blood tastes like absolute sh&%. All the girls who got to use it, including myself, would run and spit it out gagging over the sink. It's a taste I never got used to. I'd have to equate it with licking the bottom of a shoe that was dipped in rubbing alcohol, add a dash of melted plastic. I don't actually know what any of these things taste like, but if I had to imagine...
I had several other small parts in The Wizard of Oz and Snow White. I got to be a belly dancer, a crow, an Ozian, and much more. I loved being other things and changing costumes and putting on the different make up! The more the merrier really.
Before I performed with my high school, I had never seen a play of any kind. Now I am proud to say I am an avid Wicked freak! It is the best Broadway play ever and I have the soundtrack on my Ipod. The point is, this experience opened a door for me that I had not noticed was in my imaginary hallway of possible doors. I love theatre and everything it embodies. So, to Mr. Gerard, I am forever thankful. Thank you for offering me that opportunity my sophomore year. I will never forget it.
The point of me telling this story is not to brag about a small role I had in a high school play. It is to motivate you all to try breaking out of your shell and doing something awesome. Do new, scary things and meet awesome new people. In a perfect world, I would love to act professionally. I may not be good enough with technique or really know what I am doing, but I have the heart and thirst to learn. If you think you can do something, even if you have your doubts, do it! One of my favorite quotes comes from the movie "We Bought a Zoo" and it says, "All you need is twenty seconds of insane courage and something amazing will come out of it." The memories I made and the laughs I had are enough for me to thank myself and God for giving me those 20 seconds that it took for me to push open the doors of the cafetorium and put my name on the sign up list of the auditions.
Fit for a Queen*
Greetings from sitting in front of the TV watching Plastic Wives,
Yes, this is what my night has resorted to, eating cabbage and watching the most ridiculous network on television, TLC. Kathy Griffin revealed a shocking truth to the FSU student body at POW WOW this year that TLC stood for The Learning Channel... I never would have guessed. I suppose Gypsy Sisters Third Cousins Removed Weddings and Honey Boo Boo child marathons are really educational somewhere. I feel ashamed sometimes that this is what other countries think about our culture. Too shamed as Destiny would say. I am not hating on these shows, I sit here and watch them religiously. However, I wouldn't use them and educational in the same paragraph, let alone the same sentence. Anything that says, "a dolla makes me holla" is killing brain cells.
Speaking of women who look like men (I mean seriously, some of those "gypsies" are so unnatural looking it is scary. It's like they inject self tanner into their veins), I did something interesting this weekend. Taytum, Cassie, Destiny, Sierra and I all went out for a girl's night. Except this was no ordinary G.N.O, we embarked into the mysterious world of Drag Queens at a quaint little place called Hamburger Mary's.
For those of you who live under a rock, a drag queen is a man who dresses up in women's make up and clothing. I have to say, some of them looked really legit. Not the slightest penis bulge in sight. Destiny asked me what they did with their junk and I told her that if they didn't have an actual sex change, they simply tucked it up in their hiney crack. I have never seen an expression come across anyone's face like the one that she managed to make. It was a cross between, "Ow, I just stubbed my toe," "Ew, someone farted," and "Omg, that is hilarious."
I personally do not know how men deal with something swinging around in between their legs. I'd probably do the trusty tuck, too, if I was a man. Maybe I would like it if I was a man??? Hmm, these are the questions I ponder about while eating Sour Patch kids. Must be something in the candy. Like maybe that powdery sour stuff is really crack.
Anyhow, back to the ultra fabulous queens. When we arrived at Hamburger Mary's there was a wait. We had made reservations under my name earlier that week when Taytum had this genius idea. However, being the divas that they are, the queens were running late so we had to wait at the cantina bar outside. We sat and talked overly loud for about thirty minutes before we got to go inside. You would have thought we were shouting across a football field. Nothing mixes better than a little Three Olives and girl talk.
Once we got inside and after Cassie asked/demanded we be sat closer to the stage, the show began. It was astonishingly great! They were hilarious! Their boobs all looked so real! Like real-er than mine! After an hour of feathered boas, extra high heels, and powder blue eye shadow, the show proceeded to end with a game of song suicide. This is where the queens come up on the stage and they play random songs and the queens improvise quickly with a made up on the spot routine. One of the songs was Supercalifragialisticexpealidocious (spell check flipped a lid when I typed this in. It's out of commission with a headache) from Mary Poppins. The queen from Orlando in a shiny, tight, gold dress with one boob concealed and the other exposed with a pasty on her nipple got shot dead with this one. She proceeded to shake her whole body at warp speed. The breast that was exposed was doing the helicopter, around and around in a distorted circle. I couldn't help but stare. I was hypnotized. Beware all drag queen enthusiasts, do not look into the boob! LOOK AWAY!!!!!
Some of the songs they played were country songs. Most of the restaurant guests piped down when they came on, except for our table. We all freaked out like we were at a Reba concert when Fancy came on. We got really vocal on the , "I might have been born just plain white trash" part, literally screeching at the top of our lungs. True Baker Countians. Sierra is not a Baker County native, but that night she was adopted into the family, where she will forever remain.
It was the perfect girls night, full of friends, music, fried mac and cheese balls and balls balls. Definitely one for the history books. My friends and I have made a promise that we will return to Hamburger Mary's soon. I have to say, it is on the list of future bachelorette events. I promise to always write about these outings and the craziness they bring.
I must say, I really admire these woMen. They embrace who they are and flaunt it hard. I have traits and aspects of myself that I do everything in my power to hide and conceal, but they let it all hang out. The queens taught me to relish in my weirdness (more so than I already do) and that you can never wear too much mascara. The subliminal message, I think, is this: be who you are, take risks, have fun and do not be ashamed of yourself. Don't wear emeralds in your imaginary crown if rubies are your thing. Something like that anyways.
Yes, this is what my night has resorted to, eating cabbage and watching the most ridiculous network on television, TLC. Kathy Griffin revealed a shocking truth to the FSU student body at POW WOW this year that TLC stood for The Learning Channel... I never would have guessed. I suppose Gypsy Sisters Third Cousins Removed Weddings and Honey Boo Boo child marathons are really educational somewhere. I feel ashamed sometimes that this is what other countries think about our culture. Too shamed as Destiny would say. I am not hating on these shows, I sit here and watch them religiously. However, I wouldn't use them and educational in the same paragraph, let alone the same sentence. Anything that says, "a dolla makes me holla" is killing brain cells.
Speaking of women who look like men (I mean seriously, some of those "gypsies" are so unnatural looking it is scary. It's like they inject self tanner into their veins), I did something interesting this weekend. Taytum, Cassie, Destiny, Sierra and I all went out for a girl's night. Except this was no ordinary G.N.O, we embarked into the mysterious world of Drag Queens at a quaint little place called Hamburger Mary's.
For those of you who live under a rock, a drag queen is a man who dresses up in women's make up and clothing. I have to say, some of them looked really legit. Not the slightest penis bulge in sight. Destiny asked me what they did with their junk and I told her that if they didn't have an actual sex change, they simply tucked it up in their hiney crack. I have never seen an expression come across anyone's face like the one that she managed to make. It was a cross between, "Ow, I just stubbed my toe," "Ew, someone farted," and "Omg, that is hilarious."
I personally do not know how men deal with something swinging around in between their legs. I'd probably do the trusty tuck, too, if I was a man. Maybe I would like it if I was a man??? Hmm, these are the questions I ponder about while eating Sour Patch kids. Must be something in the candy. Like maybe that powdery sour stuff is really crack.
Anyhow, back to the ultra fabulous queens. When we arrived at Hamburger Mary's there was a wait. We had made reservations under my name earlier that week when Taytum had this genius idea. However, being the divas that they are, the queens were running late so we had to wait at the cantina bar outside. We sat and talked overly loud for about thirty minutes before we got to go inside. You would have thought we were shouting across a football field. Nothing mixes better than a little Three Olives and girl talk.
Once we got inside and after Cassie asked/demanded we be sat closer to the stage, the show began. It was astonishingly great! They were hilarious! Their boobs all looked so real! Like real-er than mine! After an hour of feathered boas, extra high heels, and powder blue eye shadow, the show proceeded to end with a game of song suicide. This is where the queens come up on the stage and they play random songs and the queens improvise quickly with a made up on the spot routine. One of the songs was Supercalifragialisticexpealidocious (spell check flipped a lid when I typed this in. It's out of commission with a headache) from Mary Poppins. The queen from Orlando in a shiny, tight, gold dress with one boob concealed and the other exposed with a pasty on her nipple got shot dead with this one. She proceeded to shake her whole body at warp speed. The breast that was exposed was doing the helicopter, around and around in a distorted circle. I couldn't help but stare. I was hypnotized. Beware all drag queen enthusiasts, do not look into the boob! LOOK AWAY!!!!!
Some of the songs they played were country songs. Most of the restaurant guests piped down when they came on, except for our table. We all freaked out like we were at a Reba concert when Fancy came on. We got really vocal on the , "I might have been born just plain white trash" part, literally screeching at the top of our lungs. True Baker Countians. Sierra is not a Baker County native, but that night she was adopted into the family, where she will forever remain.
It was the perfect girls night, full of friends, music, fried mac and cheese balls and balls balls. Definitely one for the history books. My friends and I have made a promise that we will return to Hamburger Mary's soon. I have to say, it is on the list of future bachelorette events. I promise to always write about these outings and the craziness they bring.
I must say, I really admire these woMen. They embrace who they are and flaunt it hard. I have traits and aspects of myself that I do everything in my power to hide and conceal, but they let it all hang out. The queens taught me to relish in my weirdness (more so than I already do) and that you can never wear too much mascara. The subliminal message, I think, is this: be who you are, take risks, have fun and do not be ashamed of yourself. Don't wear emeralds in your imaginary crown if rubies are your thing. Something like that anyways.
Friday, January 25, 2013
Hazard to your Health
Hello all from the loft,
This is the name I have bestowed upon my humble housing accommodations in Glen. The loft is a one bedroom apartment stacked neatly on top of my barn. Yes, I do have a barn. I practically grew up in it. This probably has something to do with the way I act now. You know that old saying, "...must have been raised in a barn!"? Indeed, this applies to me. I had a room for all my horse tack and gear that I called my "office" and I would spend hours in there hiding from my Papa or Dad when I was mad at them. I used to tell them I was going to live out there. I probably would have, too, if Papa would have put a bed out there like he said he was going to. I think he didn't because he knew I really would stay out there.
Actually, I have two nicely sized homes that I could stay in, three if you count my Mom's in Jacksonville, but I choose to stay up here like a cardinal in her nest. I'm not sure why I picked the cardinal as my soul bird. Maybe because my Grandma likes them? What's your soul bird?
I told myself I was going to hold off on the lovey dovey crap for a few days, but given the things that I continue to see on Facebook... Well, I just feel it is necessary to discuss when you become a hazard to yourself, particularly to your heart.
I am a sucker for love. I believe in it and its potent powers to the fullest. It is one of the strongest forces that this world encompasses. This must be why it hurts so darn bad when love goes awry. This has to be why we equate breaking things when love goes wrong. It is so fierce, it can break you.
Typically, I say it is the person who does the hurting who is at fault. After all, you didn't ask to have your feelings crushed like ice for a Sno-cone. No, you didn't. However, I think it is safe to say that after you're waist deep in the bull crap, after countless chances, and 6th 3rd strikes, the heartache that don't stop hurting is now on your own shoulders.
I would like to start by saying, there is always that one guy/gal that you do stupid stuff for. For example, driving to your hometown that is 2 and a half hours away at 2 in the morning after you just worked an eight hour shit, uh.. I mean shift, just to cuddle and play guitar hero. However, let's not confuse this with acting stupid over someone. Acting stupid over someone is when the heartache becomes your own fault. These are the some of the ways that I try to not "act stupid."
When someone tells you that they never want to talk to you again, do NOT, I repeat do NOT: text, call, sign, talk, signal via smoke, send Hedwig with a message, or whatever form of communication you choose, this person. Especially, do not do it first. This person may have made a mistake in saying this. Now, how someone accidentally says don't talk to me again, I really don't know. That's like saying you accidentally took a whole bottle of Tylenol.... They didn't just walk up your nose. Perhaps tempers were running high and it just slipped out, they didn't really mean it. But when you call someone or make the first move after they have said this to you, you are basically saying, "Hey, that's okay! You totally just ran over me like a deer on the interstate but I am willing to forget about it." Good for you for attempting to be the "bigger person" but really it just makes you look like the bigger fool. It is the job of the person who said they never want to see you again to realize that their life is nothing without your awesome self and that they are miserable and will beg at your feet to get you back if you deem it necessary. If not, move on.
Can we talk about this break thing? Okay, the term break is what we use as a get out of a relationship free card. By free I mean emotionally free from the inevitable break down from the dumpee. I mean, nobody wants to see someone else cry, that's sadistic. 99% of the time someone who wants a break wants a few weeks to chill out before he/she starts up a new relationship with the person they have been talking to on the side. It is not just the men who use this nifty tactic. Yes, women pull out the break card, too. We aren't innocent. I have whipped mine out a few times. I feel like a jerk about it, but at the time I was afraid I would hurt the person's feelings. But giving someone that hope, that small flicker of a flame when you know you aren't ever coming back from your break is far more wicked and cruel than just giving them a nice clean break up. It may suck at the time, for both people really. Nobody wants to see someone have a freak out and cry. If someone is telling you they want a break, do yourself a favor and just call it quits then. What most likely will happen is not something you want to stick around for.
Stop reading their social networking outlets. No Facebook, no Twitter, no Instagram, no blog (you know, for all my secret lovers out there). Do yourself some good and cut off all ties unless you are really over them. I refuse to add people to my means of social communication because of the simple fact that I do not want to see if they are having a great life without me. Because really, what if they are? How are you going to feel after you see something like an ex partying it up on a white sand beach with a beautiful new someone somewhere while you wallow in your robe with your new boyfriends Ben and Jerry? Not good, I'd imagine. If you can look at them, and smile instead of saying over and over that you are fine, congratulations, you are over it. If you can't, well you aren't ready to look at their stuff.
Quit being miserable! If you sit at home watching the Notebook and listening to old sad songs while wearing his old tshirt, you are never going to feel any better.I would say his/her t-shirt but boys really shouldn't wear their gf's tees. It's a bit strange. Go out and make new friends or just hang out with the tried and true ones who are already in your circle. Embrace being on your own. I personally have never had a problem with doing things by myself. In fact, I find it quite liberating and exhilarating to do things on my own. My friends think I am weird for going to eat lunch somewhere or to see a movie by myself. It is a little weird, but let's be honest, I am a lot weird. In a good way though. At least I think it is a good way.
I'd like to throw this in, stop whining about it on Facebook. You know, I thought girls would be worse about this, but I am starting to see it is the men who are the virtual whiners. You are supposed to be men for goodness sake! Grow some balls! Quit trash talking your ex, stop posting sad love lyrics, or talking about how lonely you are, just stop! It is not getting you the kind of attention you want from the new prospective women. Yes, we women like to take broken things and nurture them back to health, but not if it is going to bitch about some ex girlfriend every second of the day. It is decently okay for girls to post T. Swift lyrics, but come on guys! Have some backbone! Go out with your buds and drink some Buds if that's what it takes!
I will say, there will be a time and a person where none of this applies, where that tough boy/girl attitude just absolutely fails to stand up for you. You will have a heartbreak that will leave you wanting to go beat down this person's door in the middle of the night and demand a redo. You will call, text, send Hedwig with a letter or try anything to get them to talk to you. You will stalk their Facebook and act like someone who should be on the ID channel. You will post whiny T. Swift lyrics (applicable to girls only, guys should never!). You will not want to leave your room for anything other than food. You will listen to every sad song you can think of and then relate them all to you and your sad life. You will want to tear your hair out and cry and just have a mental breakdown from this particular break up. I have been there. It sucks. That is life. But I can say, you will get through it. Do not stop treading water, the island of relief is closer than you think.
So, don't give those 6th 3rd strikes, don't make excuses for someone who doesn't show any interest in you other than the negative variety. Leave with your head held high and crown firmly in place. After all, your king/queen is out there looking for you too, you don't want to look a mess.
This is the name I have bestowed upon my humble housing accommodations in Glen. The loft is a one bedroom apartment stacked neatly on top of my barn. Yes, I do have a barn. I practically grew up in it. This probably has something to do with the way I act now. You know that old saying, "...must have been raised in a barn!"? Indeed, this applies to me. I had a room for all my horse tack and gear that I called my "office" and I would spend hours in there hiding from my Papa or Dad when I was mad at them. I used to tell them I was going to live out there. I probably would have, too, if Papa would have put a bed out there like he said he was going to. I think he didn't because he knew I really would stay out there.
Actually, I have two nicely sized homes that I could stay in, three if you count my Mom's in Jacksonville, but I choose to stay up here like a cardinal in her nest. I'm not sure why I picked the cardinal as my soul bird. Maybe because my Grandma likes them? What's your soul bird?
I told myself I was going to hold off on the lovey dovey crap for a few days, but given the things that I continue to see on Facebook... Well, I just feel it is necessary to discuss when you become a hazard to yourself, particularly to your heart.
I am a sucker for love. I believe in it and its potent powers to the fullest. It is one of the strongest forces that this world encompasses. This must be why it hurts so darn bad when love goes awry. This has to be why we equate breaking things when love goes wrong. It is so fierce, it can break you.
Typically, I say it is the person who does the hurting who is at fault. After all, you didn't ask to have your feelings crushed like ice for a Sno-cone. No, you didn't. However, I think it is safe to say that after you're waist deep in the bull crap, after countless chances, and 6th 3rd strikes, the heartache that don't stop hurting is now on your own shoulders.
I would like to start by saying, there is always that one guy/gal that you do stupid stuff for. For example, driving to your hometown that is 2 and a half hours away at 2 in the morning after you just worked an eight hour shit, uh.. I mean shift, just to cuddle and play guitar hero. However, let's not confuse this with acting stupid over someone. Acting stupid over someone is when the heartache becomes your own fault. These are the some of the ways that I try to not "act stupid."
When someone tells you that they never want to talk to you again, do NOT, I repeat do NOT: text, call, sign, talk, signal via smoke, send Hedwig with a message, or whatever form of communication you choose, this person. Especially, do not do it first. This person may have made a mistake in saying this. Now, how someone accidentally says don't talk to me again, I really don't know. That's like saying you accidentally took a whole bottle of Tylenol.... They didn't just walk up your nose. Perhaps tempers were running high and it just slipped out, they didn't really mean it. But when you call someone or make the first move after they have said this to you, you are basically saying, "Hey, that's okay! You totally just ran over me like a deer on the interstate but I am willing to forget about it." Good for you for attempting to be the "bigger person" but really it just makes you look like the bigger fool. It is the job of the person who said they never want to see you again to realize that their life is nothing without your awesome self and that they are miserable and will beg at your feet to get you back if you deem it necessary. If not, move on.
Can we talk about this break thing? Okay, the term break is what we use as a get out of a relationship free card. By free I mean emotionally free from the inevitable break down from the dumpee. I mean, nobody wants to see someone else cry, that's sadistic. 99% of the time someone who wants a break wants a few weeks to chill out before he/she starts up a new relationship with the person they have been talking to on the side. It is not just the men who use this nifty tactic. Yes, women pull out the break card, too. We aren't innocent. I have whipped mine out a few times. I feel like a jerk about it, but at the time I was afraid I would hurt the person's feelings. But giving someone that hope, that small flicker of a flame when you know you aren't ever coming back from your break is far more wicked and cruel than just giving them a nice clean break up. It may suck at the time, for both people really. Nobody wants to see someone have a freak out and cry. If someone is telling you they want a break, do yourself a favor and just call it quits then. What most likely will happen is not something you want to stick around for.
Stop reading their social networking outlets. No Facebook, no Twitter, no Instagram, no blog (you know, for all my secret lovers out there). Do yourself some good and cut off all ties unless you are really over them. I refuse to add people to my means of social communication because of the simple fact that I do not want to see if they are having a great life without me. Because really, what if they are? How are you going to feel after you see something like an ex partying it up on a white sand beach with a beautiful new someone somewhere while you wallow in your robe with your new boyfriends Ben and Jerry? Not good, I'd imagine. If you can look at them, and smile instead of saying over and over that you are fine, congratulations, you are over it. If you can't, well you aren't ready to look at their stuff.
Quit being miserable! If you sit at home watching the Notebook and listening to old sad songs while wearing his old tshirt, you are never going to feel any better.I would say his/her t-shirt but boys really shouldn't wear their gf's tees. It's a bit strange. Go out and make new friends or just hang out with the tried and true ones who are already in your circle. Embrace being on your own. I personally have never had a problem with doing things by myself. In fact, I find it quite liberating and exhilarating to do things on my own. My friends think I am weird for going to eat lunch somewhere or to see a movie by myself. It is a little weird, but let's be honest, I am a lot weird. In a good way though. At least I think it is a good way.
I'd like to throw this in, stop whining about it on Facebook. You know, I thought girls would be worse about this, but I am starting to see it is the men who are the virtual whiners. You are supposed to be men for goodness sake! Grow some balls! Quit trash talking your ex, stop posting sad love lyrics, or talking about how lonely you are, just stop! It is not getting you the kind of attention you want from the new prospective women. Yes, we women like to take broken things and nurture them back to health, but not if it is going to bitch about some ex girlfriend every second of the day. It is decently okay for girls to post T. Swift lyrics, but come on guys! Have some backbone! Go out with your buds and drink some Buds if that's what it takes!
I will say, there will be a time and a person where none of this applies, where that tough boy/girl attitude just absolutely fails to stand up for you. You will have a heartbreak that will leave you wanting to go beat down this person's door in the middle of the night and demand a redo. You will call, text, send Hedwig with a letter or try anything to get them to talk to you. You will stalk their Facebook and act like someone who should be on the ID channel. You will post whiny T. Swift lyrics (applicable to girls only, guys should never!). You will not want to leave your room for anything other than food. You will listen to every sad song you can think of and then relate them all to you and your sad life. You will want to tear your hair out and cry and just have a mental breakdown from this particular break up. I have been there. It sucks. That is life. But I can say, you will get through it. Do not stop treading water, the island of relief is closer than you think.
So, don't give those 6th 3rd strikes, don't make excuses for someone who doesn't show any interest in you other than the negative variety. Leave with your head held high and crown firmly in place. After all, your king/queen is out there looking for you too, you don't want to look a mess.
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