Saturday post! Yeah, I know, I rarely blog on the weekend, but I'm supposed to be writing a paper, so why not stop by here and update you all on my thoughts, first? Yeah, great idea, I know. So, basically, the little nugget of info that's been on my mind lately is about boys. Not just males in general, but guys that hit on girls knowing they have a boyfriend. Or guys in a relationship who ask other girls on dates. Like, what is going through their brain? I swear, some of the synapses are working backwards or something.
I understand the appeal of a girl in a relationship to other guys. Generally, they seem more confident and disinterested, which poses a challenge. And guys love challenges. But I don't think they've finished the thought process. They think "Oh, I can get past this goalie boyfriend of hers and then..." and they seem to forget the end of that, which basically goes "and then she might date me and then go around flirting with other guys while we're dating just like she did with me." Really, fellas, you want to date that? I don't. Which is why I don't understand guys who seek out other girls while they're already dating someone.
First of all, you're so insecure that you can't dump a girl you don't really like and be single? Strike one. Secondly, if that girl dates you, she's just going to make your life a living hell not trusting you because you got with her in such a sketchy way. Strike 2. And you're just going to do the same thing to her. Strike three. See, boys, you've got no chance before you've even started, so just quit while you're ahead. You're not that cute anyways.
Alright, it's the weekend and I have to go write about my experience in a pawn shop (which I'm sure you'll hear about, too) so I'll keep this one short.
Love,
N
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Thursday, March 29, 2012
The Canadian Border is the Mason-Dixon Line?
Happy Thursday! It's bright and sunny here in the paradise I call home. That's right, ladies and gents, I am from perfect, amazing, sunny, gorgeous Florida. Which isn't the South, although technically it is the most south. I know it's shocking that I'm not a southern belle, raised on sweet tea and chivalry. It seems that everyone I follow on Twitter or interact with on social media is suddenly a southern-freaking-belle. Guess I'm the odd man out. I'm not really upset about it. I just am a little confused as to when Oklahoma started being considered the "good old south?" Isn't that the Mid-West? Or am I just a really bad cartographer? (That's a person who makes maps, for all of you kids out there skipping class and dwindling away your intelligence.) It's like suddenly, everything is a southern thing, too. Oh, you drink wine in Tennessee? How southern of you. You have a Lilly Pulitzer sorority print wallet in North Carolina? Southern. You wear Nike running shorts in Georgia? Well slap my ass and call me Sally, you're a southern-god-damn-belle.
I get the whole God-fearing-bourbon-drinking-SEC-football-loving-truck-driving-country-music-listening southern boy thing. It's sexy. What isn't sexy is everyone trying to play to a stereotype that somehow became cool because of Twitter. Maybe it's just because there's not much else to do in the middle-of-no-where-Arkansas except tweet about wearing pearls and drink with fraternity guys. Don't get me wrong, I frequent my Twitter more than some would prefer, and I do like me a nice fraternity gentleman, but I've got this whole other slew of things to do in life that make becoming the perfect southern belle last on my list.
In fact, I feel like I really have the best deal here. I grew up living on a beach. I go to college 30 minutes from where everyone goes on spring break. I can get a tan in January and keep it until November. There's something charming about a beach-side town, about the temperature reading at the bank reading 102, about getting caught in a 4pm rain storm. There's a lot to be thankful for, not having to shovel my car out of snow, or skid on ice, or run the heater 4 months out of the year. I'm not saying that North Carolina isn't gorgeous, and that the south doesn't have its charm, and I blast Blake Shelton in my little SUV like it's nobody's business... but all of America isn't the south, and these 50 states have so much to be appreciated aside from Mason jars and front porch swings.
I get the whole God-fearing-bourbon-drinking-SEC-football-loving-truck-driving-country-music-listening southern boy thing. It's sexy. What isn't sexy is everyone trying to play to a stereotype that somehow became cool because of Twitter. Maybe it's just because there's not much else to do in the middle-of-no-where-Arkansas except tweet about wearing pearls and drink with fraternity guys. Don't get me wrong, I frequent my Twitter more than some would prefer, and I do like me a nice fraternity gentleman, but I've got this whole other slew of things to do in life that make becoming the perfect southern belle last on my list.
In fact, I feel like I really have the best deal here. I grew up living on a beach. I go to college 30 minutes from where everyone goes on spring break. I can get a tan in January and keep it until November. There's something charming about a beach-side town, about the temperature reading at the bank reading 102, about getting caught in a 4pm rain storm. There's a lot to be thankful for, not having to shovel my car out of snow, or skid on ice, or run the heater 4 months out of the year. I'm not saying that North Carolina isn't gorgeous, and that the south doesn't have its charm, and I blast Blake Shelton in my little SUV like it's nobody's business... but all of America isn't the south, and these 50 states have so much to be appreciated aside from Mason jars and front porch swings.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Pick Up Lines and SAT Vocab
It wouldn't be a typical day in my life at work if I didn't get hit on by a nerd. Let me clarify that I consider myself a raging nerd, and my boyfriend is kinda nerdy too, so I don't mean that in a negative way. It's actually kind of a compliment. But still, back to the whole hitting-on-me thing. It's always awkward. Always. It went a little something like this:
"Hey, you're that girl from the lab."
"Yep, I'm on my way there now."
"What's your name?"
"N. You're Chris, right?"
"Yeah. So do you like your job?"
"Yeah, it's pretty easy."
"So, you're graduating in May?"
"Yep, pretty excited about it."
"So, do you have a boyfriend?"
"awkward laugh Yes, I do."
"Ahh, figures..."
And then I just awkwardly giggled and walked away. I mean, honestly, props to this kid for actually saying hi to me and making a move. It took my boyfriend, like, 3 months of us "hanging out" for him to finally man up and ask me to "grab food" at Ale House. It's flattering to get hit on, regardless of if you're in a relationship or not. It's still equally as awkward for me, though. Like, what do I say to that whole do-you-have-a-boyfriend question? "Sorry?" "Yeah he's great?" Sorry sounds like I wish I didn't, and saying how great he is seems kind of offensive. Maybe this is just all going back to me being more awkward than a turtle turned upside down when it comes to flirting. Oh well.
This really wasn't what I planned on writing about today, but I guess life happens when you're busy planning things, or something... I can never remember all those overused quotes by dead people. Regardless, I need to touch on this. "What!?" you ask, as you scoot forward in your chair in anticipation. Okay. I swear there is a contest going on in my Political Ideologies class that I wasn't informed about. Every week, there's a competition between students on who can ask the most front-loaded, controversial, annoying question to the professor. I think there's extra points for the kid who can throw the most SAT vocabulary words in there, too, regardless if they make sense.
And then, the professor, like any good professor, will answer the question completely competently, in a way that everyone can understand. Not that I actually understood what the jackass in the back row was asking, anyways. But he'll fire back, asking "well what if the historic friction in the 19th century were to have evolved more like Wilson predicted, eroding the social fabric and leading to a perfidious proletariat...." Shut. Up. We were being lectured on social security in the United States. Did you find that run-on sentence of crap in the gutter? Thanks to you, Mr. Smart-Ass-Who-Likes-Hearing-Himself-Talk, instead of ending class early, we're staying after time to finish the actual material.
So, yeah, that really grinds my gears.
Love,
N
"Hey, you're that girl from the lab."
"Yep, I'm on my way there now."
"What's your name?"
"N. You're Chris, right?"
"Yeah. So do you like your job?"
"Yeah, it's pretty easy."
"So, you're graduating in May?"
"Yep, pretty excited about it."
"So, do you have a boyfriend?"
"awkward laugh Yes, I do."
"Ahh, figures..."
And then I just awkwardly giggled and walked away. I mean, honestly, props to this kid for actually saying hi to me and making a move. It took my boyfriend, like, 3 months of us "hanging out" for him to finally man up and ask me to "grab food" at Ale House. It's flattering to get hit on, regardless of if you're in a relationship or not. It's still equally as awkward for me, though. Like, what do I say to that whole do-you-have-a-boyfriend question? "Sorry?" "Yeah he's great?" Sorry sounds like I wish I didn't, and saying how great he is seems kind of offensive. Maybe this is just all going back to me being more awkward than a turtle turned upside down when it comes to flirting. Oh well.
This really wasn't what I planned on writing about today, but I guess life happens when you're busy planning things, or something... I can never remember all those overused quotes by dead people. Regardless, I need to touch on this. "What!?" you ask, as you scoot forward in your chair in anticipation. Okay. I swear there is a contest going on in my Political Ideologies class that I wasn't informed about. Every week, there's a competition between students on who can ask the most front-loaded, controversial, annoying question to the professor. I think there's extra points for the kid who can throw the most SAT vocabulary words in there, too, regardless if they make sense.
And then, the professor, like any good professor, will answer the question completely competently, in a way that everyone can understand. Not that I actually understood what the jackass in the back row was asking, anyways. But he'll fire back, asking "well what if the historic friction in the 19th century were to have evolved more like Wilson predicted, eroding the social fabric and leading to a perfidious proletariat...." Shut. Up. We were being lectured on social security in the United States. Did you find that run-on sentence of crap in the gutter? Thanks to you, Mr. Smart-Ass-Who-Likes-Hearing-Himself-Talk, instead of ending class early, we're staying after time to finish the actual material.
So, yeah, that really grinds my gears.
Love,
N
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Student Government and Africa
It's Tuesday! Trust me, it's not much better for me than Monday, but it's one day closer to Friday! The closer I get to summer, the more bitter-sweet this whole graduation thing is. I think I've decided to just stop telling people what I plan on doing afterwards. It's continually met with heads being shaken and scrunched up faces and "oh wow, I would never do that." Honestly, that is exactly the difference. It's not like I'm going to Africa with a hundred bucks to my name, no malaria medicine, and aspire to work for the Ugandan government. I'm moving to the suburbs of Washington DC. There's going to be a metro. Yes, my parents have made it very clear that Bank of Daddy stops, but that doesn't mean I'm completely incompetent to make my own money and live on my own. And no, I don't have a job lined up, but I really don't think it's as huge of a catastrophe as everyone is imagining. I'm not the only one "crazy" enough to do this, and it's worked out very well for my friends. So, kindly stop your doubting and negativity and go back to your... oh, wait, H&M wouldn't even hire you...? Yeah, stop talking please.
Also, if one more person asks me to vote for Student Government elections this week, I just may scream. Everyone on campus picks a side based on whoever they're friends with, and then advocates the crap out of a platform that will never be accomplished. It's basically like the presidential election, except not nearly as profound, and way more annoying. At least no one is stopping me on my way to class every 5 minutes wearing a yellow or black campaign shirt asking if they can walk with me and tell me about their goals... Remember my annoyance with "Union Wednesdays?" Well, it's like that, just on campaign crack.
This year, it's gone to a new level. I'm getting official university emails regarding who to vote for. People are texting me mass messages. Students are being offered pizza and cupcakes and probably sexual favors to vote for one party or another. In reality, at the end of it, whoever wins is going to accomplish the same things, regardless of the differences in the beginning. Everything gets so blown out of preportion. It's a huge deal to see which candidates the university tabloid is backing, who last year's president supports, and, of course, who is in the "more popular" fraternity, which obviously means they're better for the job. Give me a break. I know that elections for student body president are important, but they can really just chill out when it comes to nagging me.
I'm just thanking my lucky stars that I'll be out of here by the time the College Democrats get all wired up about the 2012 election and attempt to register every student, squirrel, and pigeon to vote. Thanks, but no thanks. Maybe if the Democrats gave out free pizza when I registered to vote, I'd be more willing. They're all about giving things away for free, right? But seriously, student government, settle down.
Love,
N
Also, if one more person asks me to vote for Student Government elections this week, I just may scream. Everyone on campus picks a side based on whoever they're friends with, and then advocates the crap out of a platform that will never be accomplished. It's basically like the presidential election, except not nearly as profound, and way more annoying. At least no one is stopping me on my way to class every 5 minutes wearing a yellow or black campaign shirt asking if they can walk with me and tell me about their goals... Remember my annoyance with "Union Wednesdays?" Well, it's like that, just on campaign crack.
This year, it's gone to a new level. I'm getting official university emails regarding who to vote for. People are texting me mass messages. Students are being offered pizza and cupcakes and probably sexual favors to vote for one party or another. In reality, at the end of it, whoever wins is going to accomplish the same things, regardless of the differences in the beginning. Everything gets so blown out of preportion. It's a huge deal to see which candidates the university tabloid is backing, who last year's president supports, and, of course, who is in the "more popular" fraternity, which obviously means they're better for the job. Give me a break. I know that elections for student body president are important, but they can really just chill out when it comes to nagging me.
I'm just thanking my lucky stars that I'll be out of here by the time the College Democrats get all wired up about the 2012 election and attempt to register every student, squirrel, and pigeon to vote. Thanks, but no thanks. Maybe if the Democrats gave out free pizza when I registered to vote, I'd be more willing. They're all about giving things away for free, right? But seriously, student government, settle down.
Love,
N
Monday, March 26, 2012
Who Invited Karen?
Alright. I'm going to start this week off with some cold hard realizations right now. I hope you're ready, because this just needs to be discussed, Coffee and Dinosaurs style. If you haven't seen the old Dane Cook sketch about the friend nobody likes, you can watch it here. You guessed it, ladies and gents... today, I'm talking about Karen.
I don't actually have a friend named Karen, but everyone knows which friend I'm talking about. Those people who somehow always end up being invited to parties, yet no one actually wanted them there. They are annoying in ways you didn't even know were possible. There's a 99.9% chance Karen is causing drama, and it's almost as likely that she's flirting with your boyfriend or moving in on a guy she knows someone else is interested in. No matter what you do, though, you just can't shake off Karen.
You and your friends might nickname her the Psycho Space Invader so that you can alert each other when she's approaching you in a dark bar. You need the heads up to brace yourself for the whiny conversation about how her boyfriend hates her that is about to come. Seriously, though, how does Karen have a boyfriend, and you don't? Don't even try to act like that isn't going through your head. To be honest, Karen's boyfriend is probably the male version of Karen, and if he wasn't before, he is now that he's with her. And before you criticize me for being mean about someone who is probably a very loyal and nice friend, stop.
Karen is not nice. Or loyal. Remember the whole stealing-your-man thing? As in, she will walk around topless in front of your boyfriend on purpose. And did I mention that when she invites herself to hang out with everyone, she's usually the one talking crap about everyone who isn't there? Yep, she's always ready with a derogatory comment about that dress looking bad on you or ready to remind you of that one time you got a little obnoxious at a party. And God forbid some sexy man buys you a drink at a bar instead of her. She will pitch a whining fit until you leave with her, sexy-man-less. Seriously, Karen, no one likes a Debbie-Downer 24/7, so don't get all wondrous when no one answers your pitty-party texts.
Yeah, Karen sucks, and somehow we just can't get rid of her. Karens are impervious to even the most obvious of hints. Trust me, I've tried. I don't play this whole pussy-footing-around game. I once got the Karen kicked out of a bar. It was totally justified. She slept with the guy I had been dating. (I got him kicked out, too. Rude.) Somehow, she still tries to hang out with me. I can't be the only one with a Karen or two in my circle of acquaintances, can I?
Love,
N
I don't actually have a friend named Karen, but everyone knows which friend I'm talking about. Those people who somehow always end up being invited to parties, yet no one actually wanted them there. They are annoying in ways you didn't even know were possible. There's a 99.9% chance Karen is causing drama, and it's almost as likely that she's flirting with your boyfriend or moving in on a guy she knows someone else is interested in. No matter what you do, though, you just can't shake off Karen.
You and your friends might nickname her the Psycho Space Invader so that you can alert each other when she's approaching you in a dark bar. You need the heads up to brace yourself for the whiny conversation about how her boyfriend hates her that is about to come. Seriously, though, how does Karen have a boyfriend, and you don't? Don't even try to act like that isn't going through your head. To be honest, Karen's boyfriend is probably the male version of Karen, and if he wasn't before, he is now that he's with her. And before you criticize me for being mean about someone who is probably a very loyal and nice friend, stop.
Karen is not nice. Or loyal. Remember the whole stealing-your-man thing? As in, she will walk around topless in front of your boyfriend on purpose. And did I mention that when she invites herself to hang out with everyone, she's usually the one talking crap about everyone who isn't there? Yep, she's always ready with a derogatory comment about that dress looking bad on you or ready to remind you of that one time you got a little obnoxious at a party. And God forbid some sexy man buys you a drink at a bar instead of her. She will pitch a whining fit until you leave with her, sexy-man-less. Seriously, Karen, no one likes a Debbie-Downer 24/7, so don't get all wondrous when no one answers your pitty-party texts.
Yeah, Karen sucks, and somehow we just can't get rid of her. Karens are impervious to even the most obvious of hints. Trust me, I've tried. I don't play this whole pussy-footing-around game. I once got the Karen kicked out of a bar. It was totally justified. She slept with the guy I had been dating. (I got him kicked out, too. Rude.) Somehow, she still tries to hang out with me. I can't be the only one with a Karen or two in my circle of acquaintances, can I?
Love,
N
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Tony Soprano and First Words
Oh yayyy! It's Thursday, which is basically my Friday! Unless you count the doctor's appointment and test I have tomorrow morning. Which I'm not counting. Tomorrow my Daddy is coming to see me though! For those of you who haven't met my father, well... basically, I am his spitting image. I think it's weird when people say I look like my dad, because, uh, he is a man and I am a girl, and I don't think I look like a man. Appearance aside, my dad and I have such similar personalities it's scary. We both like aimlessly driving around. We both like country music. We both get really pissed off about nothing and then forget about it 6 minutes later. We both love beer and wine and food that's bad for us. And I'm pretty sure my father is equally to blame for my coffee addiction. My first word as a baby was "hot" because he used to hold me in one arm while he poured his morning coffee. Not to mention, that man is basically a bloodhound when it comes to sniffing out the nearest Dunkin Donuts. Doesn't matter that my mom makes a fresh pot of coffee every morning... he will drink that and still stop by the pink and orange drive through.
Did I mention my family calls my dad "Tony," like the Soprano's? Well, like I said, you've probably never met him, so you wouldn't get it, but I swear he looks like Tony. And he's obnoxiously Italian like Tony. And he wears shirts like Tony does, too. The whole mafia thing, well, that's not so accurate.
Anyways, the last time Tony came to visit me at school for funsies, he ended up becoming best friends with the presidents of 4 fraternities, going shot for shot with them at the local dive bar, and sleeping on my couch. Total freshman move, dad. My friends thought he was great, which probably had something to do with his $160 bar tab on free drinks night and his "life advice" chats. This time, we're steering clear of any establishment offering free drinks, or copious amounts of fraternity boys I could possibly be friends with. (Tony grabbed one guy by the shirt and yelled at another guy to not kiss my cheek. I thought it was hilarious. The boys didn't.) I'm excited. A little scared, but still excited to see him. Hopefully this adventure will be a little more tame.
It's weird how now that I've been out "on my own" for 4 years, I actually enjoy hanging out with my family. I have to endure the usual short lecture about being "cut off" come July, and I get reminded that I should be getting an oil change every so many miles. I usually just text my boyfriend whatever auto instructions my dad gives me, anyways.
Happy Thursday everyone!
Love,
N
Did I mention my family calls my dad "Tony," like the Soprano's? Well, like I said, you've probably never met him, so you wouldn't get it, but I swear he looks like Tony. And he's obnoxiously Italian like Tony. And he wears shirts like Tony does, too. The whole mafia thing, well, that's not so accurate.
Anyways, the last time Tony came to visit me at school for funsies, he ended up becoming best friends with the presidents of 4 fraternities, going shot for shot with them at the local dive bar, and sleeping on my couch. Total freshman move, dad. My friends thought he was great, which probably had something to do with his $160 bar tab on free drinks night and his "life advice" chats. This time, we're steering clear of any establishment offering free drinks, or copious amounts of fraternity boys I could possibly be friends with. (Tony grabbed one guy by the shirt and yelled at another guy to not kiss my cheek. I thought it was hilarious. The boys didn't.) I'm excited. A little scared, but still excited to see him. Hopefully this adventure will be a little more tame.
It's weird how now that I've been out "on my own" for 4 years, I actually enjoy hanging out with my family. I have to endure the usual short lecture about being "cut off" come July, and I get reminded that I should be getting an oil change every so many miles. I usually just text my boyfriend whatever auto instructions my dad gives me, anyways.
Happy Thursday everyone!
Love,
N
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Leggings and Flirting
Today, I am wearing leggings. As pants. Suck it, fashion police. I've been feeling sick all week and I've worn all my Nike shorts and so leggings were my comfy attire of choice. It's okay though, because regardless of what some Victoria's Secret employee told me, my ass is about as saggy as Adele is over her ex boyfriend. Important note: she was an employee, not a model wearing the Angel wings. My point: I can wear leggings as pant and turn more heads than Janet Jackson at that infamous nip-slip Superbowl. Now that I've defended my attire...
I've been meaning to blog about this for a few days now, but it always slips my mind when I sit down with an open draft. Not today! What is this very profound and amazing thought that I'm so eager to share with you? Wait for it... wait for it... Okay, it's really not that profound at all. Apparently, I'm a huge flirt. Like, it's a serious issue. Since when did being friendly get classified in the "flirt" category? I really never noticed it. Like, yeah, I would strike up conversations with guys randomly and get bought plenty of free drinks at the bars, but I really just thought this was all due to my striking good looks. I thought the cute boys in class asked to join my groups because I'm incredibly intelligent. (Okay, I actually gave that one to my striking good looks, as well). Apparently, it's because I'm flirting. I swear guys, this whole time I thought being nice and personable was called being friendly. Guess I should have asked for a Webster's dictionary for my birthday.
I'm really not complaining. My boyfriend told me today that he is well aware of my flirt tendencies. He's a ladies man himself. It works for us, because we have this thing in our relationship called trust. So many of my peers seem to see problems with us trusting each other. I think they're the ones with the problems, to be honest. It gets to a point where I feel a little guilty that I'm apparently leading on the male population. When in reality, I could have sworn half of these guys are well aware of that guy called my boyfriend in my life. Maybe they just don't care. If I accepted every lunch, Starbucks, Diet Coke, or Adderall offer from these guys, I would probably be caffeinated and fed for a good month. I simply can't do it, though. Part of me thinks "hm, maybe they're just being nice, like I am," but then the common sense in my head knocks me upside the brain and yells "obviously they want to see you naked, ya tart." I've gotten very good at politely declining food and beverage offers. I will not, however, say no to class notes or a study guide. Sorry, nerdy N wins out on that one.
I guess my question is: can guys, with their phallus-shaped second brains, really be nice with honest and innocent intentions like girls can? Or am I a rare breed, confusing flirting with friendship?
Love, (but not in that way)
N
I've been meaning to blog about this for a few days now, but it always slips my mind when I sit down with an open draft. Not today! What is this very profound and amazing thought that I'm so eager to share with you? Wait for it... wait for it... Okay, it's really not that profound at all. Apparently, I'm a huge flirt. Like, it's a serious issue. Since when did being friendly get classified in the "flirt" category? I really never noticed it. Like, yeah, I would strike up conversations with guys randomly and get bought plenty of free drinks at the bars, but I really just thought this was all due to my striking good looks. I thought the cute boys in class asked to join my groups because I'm incredibly intelligent. (Okay, I actually gave that one to my striking good looks, as well). Apparently, it's because I'm flirting. I swear guys, this whole time I thought being nice and personable was called being friendly. Guess I should have asked for a Webster's dictionary for my birthday.
I'm really not complaining. My boyfriend told me today that he is well aware of my flirt tendencies. He's a ladies man himself. It works for us, because we have this thing in our relationship called trust. So many of my peers seem to see problems with us trusting each other. I think they're the ones with the problems, to be honest. It gets to a point where I feel a little guilty that I'm apparently leading on the male population. When in reality, I could have sworn half of these guys are well aware of that guy called my boyfriend in my life. Maybe they just don't care. If I accepted every lunch, Starbucks, Diet Coke, or Adderall offer from these guys, I would probably be caffeinated and fed for a good month. I simply can't do it, though. Part of me thinks "hm, maybe they're just being nice, like I am," but then the common sense in my head knocks me upside the brain and yells "obviously they want to see you naked, ya tart." I've gotten very good at politely declining food and beverage offers. I will not, however, say no to class notes or a study guide. Sorry, nerdy N wins out on that one.
I guess my question is: can guys, with their phallus-shaped second brains, really be nice with honest and innocent intentions like girls can? Or am I a rare breed, confusing flirting with friendship?
Love, (but not in that way)
N
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