Boys…don’t read this

Sometimes I think that my life is separated into two very key stages of development: the stage in which I used to laugh at the “old” ladies, who openly and shamelessly farted in public restroom stalls….and the stage in which I joined them. I guess I really could have just said “childhood” and “adulthood” here but then I would have completely missed the golden opportunity to use the word “fart” and share WAYYY too much personal information. And I’d just rather not that that risk.

Rain, Rain, Go Away

Rainy days are pretty funny, especially on our campus. They seem to be the one day in which we all decide to forego both our peripheral vision and any chance at a rear view. We don these massive domed hoods and become walking mushrooms, only to try and achieve one last attempt at looking MORE stupid by running into each other due to our compromised sight. That and it’s just gorgeous outside.


The kid I’m babysitting just warned me that they say the “F-word” once in the movie he’s watching, then proceeded to close the door and turn the movie’s volume down. Thanks for saving me from THAT bullet, little buddy.

…I guess I really can’t blame him though. When I was younger, I used to distract my parents or ask them to check something in the other room when I knew a particularly juicy scene was coming up. “Hey Mom…can you go fix your hair?” *lets out sigh of relief as Mom leaves and Hilary Duff and Chad Michael Murray start mackin on screen* That’s right. You’re welcome, Mom.

P.s. I’m sorry for how cynical my posts have been recently. It’s just been one of those weeks. And if you can’t be honest to your internet diary, then to whom can you be? ….actually I’m 99% sure that’s not legit and that’s not a saying. *retracts statement*