Okay. Just blame it less on my laziness and more on the lackluster events of my life.

BUT. Here's something that is not lackluster: the baby girl growing in my sister's belly. If you are even a cousin of a friend of a distant neighbor of the past, you've probably heard about this already. But, I'm sorry I'm not sorry. Because I love (insert baby's name here) and I don't care who knows it.

So, for a complete look at the shower that honored afforementioned baby last weekend, please visit my sister's blog here.

Yes, I could resummarize on my own blog. But if it ain't broke, don't fix it.

Really?

That was the post I left you with?

Yikes.

I'm terribly sorry.

This whole transitioning into a functioning member of a non-college society thing caught me off guard, I have to say.

I will try to be better. If anyone has faithfully kept me around.

public service announcement

One of these days, all of my pent up aggression in my past-- about thermostat setting, recruitment drama, really loud trucks, certain memorable hellacious conversations, repetitve noises, men who call women crazy, people who bump into you but just let YOU say sorry, ALL OF IT. is going to land on some poor, innocent, unsuspecting soul. After something really tiny. Like someone not using their turn signal. or trying to charge me the going rate for a movie.

And it, will not, be pretty.

BAHAHAHAAAAAHA

I can't wait to graduate so that, on Mondays, I can stop feeling like my life is going to amount to nothing and I will just die and no one will really care and OH MY GOSH I AM DROWNING IN THE DOOM.

Why Monday, you might ask?

Because that is the day I go to class.

Wait... what's that? Hey, K-State administration, please refer back to that statement.

I am at an internship that I really like. but when I have to go to the class that I am required to take along with it, I feel like dying. It feels like a checklist of things that certify that I will, in fact, never get a job that makes a difference in the world. Tonight, for instance, we took a poll of who was going to go to grad school. I, of course, was the only one saying I would NEVER go back to school unless it was of the culinary specification. We then had an hour-long discussion about why everyone should go to grad school.

Thank you, for making me feel like I have failed again.

p.s. SORRY my blog is so boring but I cannot accept full responsibility seeing as how blogger takes 7 million decades to download a picture so.............................................................................................................................. ya know.

I judge you if...

I hate the phrase, "No shit, Sherlock."

I think the first time it was used, it was really clever. Maybe Sherlock Holmes had just come out. And people were all into it. And the first guy that said it got a huge laugh.

But now, only tools use that phrase. Every time I hear it, it's like I'm listening to someone say "expecially," "expresso," or "supposeably."

I hate that phrase.

Dear Metabolism,

I’m going to be honest with you. I thought things were going fine. I could eat what I wanted, within reason, and you would keep my body more or less acceptable looking. We needed each other. We were disappointed in one another when we had a lapse in communication amidst Chipotle or Tricia’s Raspberry Black Bean Dip. But we kept strong.


That is, until I roll over one morning to find you GONE. NOT THERE. ABSENT FROM MY LIFE. All that was left of you was a quickly-scratched goodbye notifying me of your escape, located conveniently on my ABS AND THIGHS. How are you going to just leave me helpless? I mean, what do you expect me to do without you? I have tried 100-calorie snacks. Yogurt as my lunch. For the love of all things holy and good, I HAVE TRIED WORKING OUT. But I just can’t replace you. I see you everywhere. Skinny girls at the rec. Skinny girls at work. I am pretty sure you have a hand in keeping every pound my mother eats off her body…

And yet, here I am, my empty life devoid of a metabolism with average adolescent rate. Growing by the minute. Stuffing my face with carrots instead of KitKats, and still failing.

Why can’t I quit you?

Please come back to me soon. The rec is a cold, dark place. I promise to swear off Chipotle. For a while….