There’s nothing like unpacking your cruise wear and finding your purpose in life.
Seriously. After a four-day bender in the Bahamas I’ve lost my dignity, my bikini bottoms, and all sense of purpose because I know the next 9months will be spent in a dimly lit office. But no. Knee deep in all the sand that shook from my sundresses, this 30-second spot came on during Jersey Shore - J-woww and I thought we were still drunk on daquiris.
One thing’s for sure, the Hooter’s marketing VP definitely was.
“The value of serving others”…indeed.
The Burger King said I could have it ‘my way’ with a side of fries. But sexy and successful? I knew I could have it all.
All I have to say is sign me up for Sid’s 10-year plan. Future Hooters alum?? Oh yeah. This gal.
Cruise 2010...ohhhh mai gaaaad. Any other blog would bring you bombshells in bikinis. I bring you this.
See Tbuk. See Dave. See Tbuk lick Dave from beasty, sweaty belly allllll the way to his lips. This just goes to show you that with a little sunshine, a few daquiris, and $65-bucks, you can in fact get us girls to do just about anything. Get it, get it!
Dave and I are close...as in, he sees that the copier is broken and bellows, "Hey where's that girl who knows how to fix this damn thing?" I'll never forget leaving the bar last week, he found me in the crowd. He winked, points to a group of stumbling beauties in short skirts, their shirts hanging off their shoulders and goes to me, "Gazelles...it's like picking one from the herd." And off he went to stalk his prey. Bless him.
After witnessing the belly-licking debacle the last thing I remember from Day 1 is Dave passing me below deck with Tbuk over his shoulder. I thought waking up with bite marks was bad...til I found Tbuk by the cabana the next morning.
So yes. Facebook albums confirm: cruise season was a solid success. Be jealous of The Office and twenty-somethings.
These days, morning traffic is enough to send me over the edge. Forget about fighting for a parking spot - instant seizure.
Random outbursts, flying objects; that stuff's kind of frowned upon in a professional setting. Ask The Hoff how to combat twenty-something stress.
Cubicle veteran, The Hoff, has an entire shelf of squeezable objects. A sweet face and pleasant demeanor, with her collection she's now got emotional armor of steel and rock solid forearms.
Think of it this way...one stress ball for traffic, a separate one for an angry office manager, one for Mom's orders, another for spilling your coffee, one for that 5pm deadline (or you're fired), another for leaving your cell at home, and a few for those Saturday mornings spent in The Office. The Rubix Cube keychain is actually used to send you into a straight up cubicle coma.
Not every kid on the t-ball team gets one of these trophies. Just us monkeys tethered to the Polycoms. Everyone's got a few 'notches in their belt', but how many stress balls do you have in your cube?
Suing Post for 'misrepresentation' - really Hogan? Who peed in your Corn Puffs?
What gets me through the day is caffeine and cereal.
The Red Cross attendants never laugh when I say that my blood type is "bold roast, 2 Splenda, french vanilla creamer," but I still think I'm a riot.
Otherwise my day starts and ends with a bowl (or four) of Kashi, Reeses Puffs, Chex, Lucky Charms...whatever is within arm's reach. Not picky. Just hungry. It's like crack.
Speaking of crack, I've always wanted to try it...twenty-something lifestyle has me running on 4hrs of sleep each day. But let's face it, I went to school for business. If a dime bag costs $80, how many boxes of cereal could be bought instead?
That's why when Hulk Hogan gets his tights in a bunch over a Post Cocoa Pebbles commercial, I become severely disenchanted.
A) You ran around fake slamming other men in spandex (we all know how i feel about spandex) into a mat. You're an entertainer. Right in line with strippers.
2) You had a reality tv show on MTV, but a kid's cartoon about breakfast cereal pisses you off?
furthermore) Your products include Hulk Burgers ...sold at Walmart...and Hulk Energy drinks. You need all the publicity you can get.
If we have learned anything from Bill Clinton, Tiger Woods, and Paris Hilton - it's that ANY publicity is good publicity.
Didn't you see the fairy movie with The Rock wearing a tu-tu and waving a wand?? Get it?? Now can you smell what I'm cooking, bitch?
There were 52 of us, mostly twenty-somethings. What happened on the cruise? You wouldn't believe me if I told you. But there is something to be said for international waters and having the Bermuda Triangle wreck your moral compass.
Since I have absolutely no business recounting details, I thought I'd brainstorm some taglines...
"Cruise 2010: If the ship's a-rockin, don't come a-knockin"
"Hey mon ya got a leaky nut"
"Meet me at Dazzle"
"Cruise 2010: Take a bite out of life"
"You know what? I'm not sorry - go ahead - cuff me!"
And don't worry. Walking outside on lunch it was a mere 50 degrees and I was sweating profusely. Then I was cornered by Christian missions. On the bridge. They had granola bars.
Don't the know it's cruise season?? By this time tomorrow, I'll be poolside under an umbrella, sipping on my pina coladas and cruising towards the Bahamas. Here my mom is trying to pack me with cute gym clothes for when I use the ship's facilities. Bless her heart. But we expect to be sauced by 8:38am sharp. The most extensive fitness wear we'll need is a set of floaties.
The idea of vacation, time off, is utterly baffling. I can barely handle the greeters at Wal-Mart and homeless people in the alley - how will we be expected to carry on in public?
But if it's anything like Modelland, Hanks may never come back...
... (pronounced "Model Land") that takes you to a fantastical place you've never seen, or heard about, or read about before…Where dreams come true and life can change in the blink of a smoky eye." – Former supermodel Tyra Banks
Golly. One things for sure. After this four day bender, we'll definitely return with as many brain cells as Tyra.
2:59pm. Cruise Control...Do Not Disturb.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
"I only work with people who are honest." -CLICK-
Why don't more people like talking to us? We are only claiming to work with your respective association/chamber/business group and demanding your credit card.
Well, kiddies. Congrats on hitting the books for four years. Now you have a piece of paper to prove that you are just as average as the next yahoo. It's your non-stop ticket to Cubicle Land.
But we've all been there. And are all rooting for you. Even former VP, Al Gore...
And because I'm pressed for time, please entertain yourselves, and celebrate your mediocrity:
In the name of Social Media (which, by the way is NOT fbook, twitter, youtube...those are websites acting as vehicles that project social media. not that i made that mistake in the morning meeting or anything)
...but yes. In the name of Social Media! Let's all take this half-decade mark as sign. Not sure what for. But definitely a sign. Ah, youtube. You keep me young.
Even if you're not in Cubicle Land, you're one of us. Twenty-somethings alike. Crushed beneath the social constraints of overarching consistency and a need to fit in. With Facebook, Twitter, blogs...everyone is just trying to stake their claim. Busy building a unique identity, as if to scream "yo bitch, I'm special."
Totally intriguing. Very black market.Cubicle Land is seething with talent. We're just confined and limited in means. Over the cube walls you're just another voice reading off just another script, but you will meet the most insane people here.
Meet Miz, get a knuckle sangwich. Meet J-Woww, slam the panic button. Meet Nealon and his biceps (and Hannah Montana), melt into a puddle at his feet. And the list goes on...it comes with the cube. Perhaps out of boredom, out of insanity, from talking to miserable people all day - ya gotta find a way to stay sane.
And ya gotta love a good freak flag. Like our little Miss USA reppin' the slutty, naughty side in all of us:
She's beauty and she's grace, she's Miss United States...atta girl! First Arab-American to win; years under a hood did wonders for this one. Shawty get loose.
"Don't hate if you ain't" - J Fizz (fist pump!)
I'm still trying to quell the uproar from my spring break 2009 pics - like when our bus caught on fire. I won't even try to explain the banana boat.
Then there's Lady Gaga...who's just Satan incarnate.
After a wonderful birthday dinner with my family at a fine Macaroni Grill establishment, I had an 'oops'.
So the family dog, Lacy, got ahold of the leftovers because I forgot to put them in the fridge. And I had to shove Hydrogen Peroxide down her throat and expect to be sitting outside with her every half hour tonight. Great.
Once again Google comes to the rescue:
Thanks to the Animal Poison Control Center website...tomatoes, pasta, and chicken are non-toxic to animals. Although I don't know how well that peroxide is going to sit.
Whatever. She's eaten a poison rat bar, hyper-caffeinated chocolate covered coffee beans, been hit by a car and she is STILL alive. As in: all of my attempts to euthanize her have failed.
When does the beer can feature become a staple for my cubicle?
So I just got into a verbal battle with a little office wench.
Miss Chrissy was getting all hot and bothered by the fact that I was ASKING for 15minutes of her time (at no charge) - finally I said that she sounded like she was questioning the validity of the program, blah blah blah.
Then.
I said if it's not something they were interested in, I'd go ahead and start contacting X, Y, Z (specifically naming their competitors). Then Chrissy went into an all-out meltdown.
'THAT IS VERY RUDE TO SAY THAT YOU ARE GOING TO CALL SOME ONE ELSE - YOU ARE ASKING ME TO PAY AT LEAST $1,000 FOR SOMETHING AND THAT IS NOT HOW YOU SELL A PRODUCT'
FYI Chrissy: THAT IS EXACTLY how you sell a product. Allow me to give you an insight to this million dollar company that I work for. Do you think we sit in a meeting from 8am-9am every morning because it helps coffee digestion? Maybe expecting a little nugget of knowledge pertaining to the WorldWideWeb will be thrown our way? No. We learn to spin a web of words to trap your dumb, unassuming ass and then drown you in your own doubts. Then I make phone calls, show you web stuffs that will make you giddy, then demand your credit card while threatening (in a very nice way) that I'm going to contact your direct competitor if you don't.
Go screw. That's why you work as some ones bitch, scheduling appointments all day (oh...fuck. bad analogy). I meant: That's why you make a lot less money than me.
**the only thing I did learn from this was, had I kept my cool, I could have talked circles around Chrissy til she was dizzy and writing down the appointment by sheer centripetal force of pen-in-hand**
Breaks my heart. I didn't even cry that hard when I found out the Tooth Fairy wasn't real (mostly because I knew that Santa still was).
Such pure passion - a raw, unadultered love for his team. It's a good thing he's not a Bills fan.
And top it off with Canada's golden child, Sid Crosby [Penguins], being cut off ...Canadiens with a solid 5-2 kabosh on the Habs/Penguins series. Do you think his parents mentioned that Crosby then opted out of the Canadian team roster for the world championships?
You bet I'm stocking up on Blue Lights and maple syrup munchies for the rest of the Stanley Cup tourney. I'll even postpone tanning, and Tivo Grey's Anatomy to cheer the Canadiens on. Their season was baloney and they don't even deserve a shot. But by God, if those Habs don't win - that lil bro is never going to be the same. C'mon guys, do it for the kids.
ALSO DO IT FOR CORKEY - THIS IS HIS SHOUT OUT FOR THE GREAT TIP ON THE GREAT VIDEO. seriously tho thanks corkey (la-ROCHE!)
This week I am living the Barbie Dream Life here in Upstate New York: A house with a yard, white picket fence, and free Wi-Fi from the neighbors. Sipping my morning pot of coffee, Charlie (the quintessential family dog) romped freely in the yard. But the brief stint house-sitting, dog-sitting will soon come to an end.
Then it's back to Saturday morning mimosas in the kiddie pool of my parent's back yard. Maybe digging the ol' Dunkin uniform out of the dresser isn't such a bad idea.
For years Mattel has had us thinking that Barbie's Dream Home comes custom with a corvette, a dashing husband, and carefree days of shopping and gossiping. They left out the part about Middle Management Ken working extra hours and the soccer mom mini van. No. McValue Barbie is the real American hero. Not only a 9-5er during the week, but she's working double shifts on weekends so she can buy that new Civic and make rent. She tailgates the Bills games, does laundry at her parent's house, meets up for happy hour.
So when do they introduce the rest of her hometown crew - Pizza Delivery Ken, Telemarketer Todd, Part-Time Secretary Skipper? Those crazy kids.
Ah. Cruise season. Corkey and Miz have purchased their couples tanning package. Nealon's all cut and throwing weights. The 9th and 10th floor gals are detoxing (pretty sure I heard someone crying in the women's bathroom during lunch...it's Free Pizza Wednesday at The Office...can you blame her?).
Online shopping for cute bathing suits, trying to focus on the leads you have to dial - the week has been a struggle. But overall, J-woww and I aren't really finding 'carb-less' cruise prep too demanding...
Rack of ribs. Cucumber/tomato salad. Baked beans (hey, they're legumes!)...
Carb-less Dinner at Dinosaur - $15 Walkie Talkies for the ship - $43 Money Spent on Daquiris - $200+ A Camera Full of Blacked Out Memories - priceless
Sometimes I think "wow, it just can't get any better than this"...and somehow, it just does.
Fruedian slip from a Golf Channel reporter, Win McMurray, on the latest Tiger Tales takes the cake. Calling "his 'bulging disk' a 'bulging d--k,'" regarding his withdrawal from the final round of Player's Championship. Chalk it up to a dumb white chick; there's nothing like a good pull-out...I mean...withdrawal to get Tiger back in the spotlight.
"[Woods] says he's been playing with a bad neck for about a month and thinks it could be a bulging d--k," the broadcaster said Sunday in a voice-over before immediately correcting her faux pas."- FOXNews.com
Now that Tiger knows she's easy and sportscasters know she's soft, she'll just have to pull it together and face the music. She's just wants to know what the rest of America is wondering. Win, Win, Win - we can't blame you for being honest, but we can blame you for being stupid.
Poor lil Bombshell McMurray. She really was just another pretty face.
I know. You're expecting this blog write-up to be about J-woww...and I'm sorry to disappoint. It's actually about Claudia Garza, from an article which was submitted by J-woww [see article].
So CNN.com had a riveting write up on young Claudia who had a traumatic, FAT, existence but has turned over a new leaf. A lot of her grief came from her taunting older brother:
"While arguing with her older brother, their childish disagreements turned into insults directed at her: "You're fat. You're always going to be fat."...During dinnertime, her father would gesture at her from across the table, signaling her to only eat half of what was served. This happened at every family meal, giving her brother more verbal ammunition."
Guess what, Claud. My sister used to tell me the same thing. And then I'd make fun of her grades and would tell her that she'd serving up my McValue Meals in 12 years. That shut her up.
My favorite part is the photo caption that reads: "Claudia Garza said she had to wear adult Girl Scout's uniform as a child, because of her weight." As if being called 'Gordita' and sharing your weight problems on CNN.com wasn't enough - just supersize that dose of mortification and tell everyone you were not only a Girl Scout, but THE SASH SQUEEZED YOUR HANDLES!
Enough with earning your Girl Scout badges. Did anyone think to enroll this girl in soccer leagues? karate classes? Dude. My parents had me playing everything from t-ball, soccer, figure skating, tennis, rollerblading, basketball, ice hockey - putting my plump to good use.
Otherwise, I really can't comment because my yearbook pictures no doubt rival Claudia's. We would have been on the same kickball team in gym class. And wait til you see the updates after Cruise Week. I'll be the pale whale in a one-piece, sipping on a pina colada by the dessert buffet. Life's too short to be skinny and sober.
And contemplate the irony of this message on body image:
Take a minute (actually, 2 minutes and 13 seconds) to re-educate yourself on a piece of Hollywood film history...
Now, behold the crown jewel of the Middle East. While war wages on its turf, the chefs toil in the kitchen. Forget about the nukes... Here is the Guiness winner...a giant effing platter of Hummus:
Life plan: make enough money to comfortably support my lifestyle...with a job I enjoy
Back up life plan: marry rich.
Do you also struggle in the close? Is sales not for you? Well then you're probably more cut out for the domestic life. There's hope. Last week's issue of NewsWeek prepped me (in 13 multiple choice questions) for my tragic career as a Home Economist.
[these are compiled directly from the 1950s NYS High School Regents exams]
9.) Which of the following items is most important for a well-equipped medicine cabinet?
toothache medicine
sleeping pills
an antiseptic
a deodorant
a laxative
10.) Happy relationships for a young married couple are likely to be strengthened when the wife
influences the husband to spend all his leisure time with her
dislikes to see the husband show affection for his mother
resents the husband's being asked to work overtime
tries to make the husband overcome annoying habits
encourages the husband to join men friends sometimes for play and work activities
11.) The best choice of color for painting walls in a living room with a northern exposure is:
aqua
soft blue
apple green
dusty rose
turquoise
Riiiiight. Basically, after tanking the MC, I would have a lot of ground to recoup in the Essay portion: blinds can make it so that one does not know if a room is getting northern exposure or not so give me a can of hot pink paint and a Home Depot credit card; the only antiseptic I keep starts with "V" and ends with "odka" and it always gets the job done; as for strengthening a young married couple's relationship...I'm a strong advocate of the Three F's (as in: Friendship. Faith. and Frugality...duh!).
Currently checking Craigslist for my future mansion on Wisteria Lane and collecting recipes for my Recipe Scrapbook.
Driving on Saturday morning, at first I thought I was just feeling the caffeine withdrawal or the birthday celebrations, but no. This is what I saw on the curb to be taken away:
--> --> -->
Disregard the fact that I almost ended up in the guardrail. It's a glass door. With 'the shocker' slapped to it. Ha. Talk about sneaking in the back door.
Today I'm 23 and have officially hit my twenty-something stride. J-Fizz got me an official Bump-It (holla! fist pump) and a cookie cake (which I had for breakfast). Is this my initiation?
Game over America. Game over.
Otherwise my day started the usual way. Morning cup of coffee. Check emails. Look up horoscope. Peruse the usual sites for weird news. And then two things happened:
Did you know that Mark Zuckerberg, founder of Facebook, used to carry around two types of business cards? One read: "Mark Zuckerberg, CEO." The other read: "Mark Zuckerberg, I'm CEO...bitch!" Too much too soon?
I am totally jacking up my business cards. They'll read "Nicole Lilia - Telephoneur Extraordinaire" or maybe "Nicole Lilia - EL PRES - I'm on it."
Taking the liberty of customizing everyone else's new business cards? Sure: "Miz - No? How Bout a Knuckle Sandwich."
"J-Woww - ...PARTY'S HE-YURRR"
"Hanks - I'll tell Vogel."
"Corkey - Vogel! allRIGHT!"
"Actually Nick - Sir."
"Weaver - totally x-treme"
"Colby - ..." (thing is. Colby's got the moves - he'll just toss out his card with a smooth wink and a head nod.)
"Kane-O - K.O."
I still gotta rep the 9th floor ladies: "HookerJones...THE. Hooker. Jones."/"C-dawg...Veteran Status"/"The Butler...Sorry Monkey."/"BuckWild...YaYYYYY"
Yesterday I was diligently completing my responsibilities at The Office instead of hap-hazardly blogging.
And therefore totally missed the opportunity to call out J-woww for taking a 'sick day'. Mono, sore throat, blah blah blah. While we were sweating it out at the 8am meeting, you were probably three margaritas into Cinco de Mayo celebrations.
It's tough to maintain a balance. Simply put, the week has been overloaded: Star Wars Day (May 4), Cinco de Mayo (May 5), My 23rd (May 7), and the crown jewel...Mother's Day (May 9).
Let me save you some time management troubles. Dust off your sombrero, grab a $10-dollar bouquet of roses at Aldi's, meet me for happy hour and may the 'fourth' be with you.
Here's what's up. I draw my life experience from several places: The Gym, Monday Morning Meetings, and Google. On a given treadmill workout, J-Fizz and I can cover most subjects from Tiger Woods to fashion faux pas. The Y can be circus...which is why I train in a more elite location, select number of people.
I deal with enough nuts on the phones for 9 hours each day. Why would I want to cruise next to Short Smelly Guy on the elliptical or battle through the less-than-modest locker room scene. No thanks.
The other gym junkies that I train with are unnnnreal, courtesy of J-Fizz's WTF ways. And they're all much more fit than me (FYI: a cube career comes complete with coffee breath, carpel tunnel, and gut). Anyways. Our sweet, 60-yr-old Mary-anne did a 72-mile bike ride this past weekend. Straight up BAMF. And she's ripped. Unfortunately her email shout-out sent a mixed signal, and we ran into all sorts of bad visuals. Think: dudes in spandex.
Hell. Freaking. No. The Gym's sugar daddy, Big Mike, thought he could sway us with the notion of some 'lycra' material. You know what their website boasts? That this 'intimate fabric is enchanting and inspiring'. Yeahhhhh boy. Spandex, lycra...that family of fabrics is about as hot as a fanny pack.
Now. Consider the fanny pack. A practical "luggage-ing" application for the on-the-go, competitive biker of the Twenty-First Century. Except not.
Anything you got strapped that close to your goods should probably be left at home. Locked up. And in the basement. Prime example of how to make a good deal go bad - FAST (tip is courtesy J-Fizz).
Big Mike came into the gym this morning proudly sporting his fanny pack. J-Fizz was practically dry heaving in the corner; rocking back and forth, chanting to herself, "LL Cool J. LL Cool J. LL Cool J..." The only thing that saved me was knowing I'd see Nealon and his tanned biceps at The Office in a few short hours. It was a close call...too close.
Yesterday I blogged about the audacity of the actual sign...and today I went ahead and dialed the number . Hanks' inquiry got the best of me.
And it was the message machine for Golisandro House Buyers ("press 1 for apartments for rent, press 2 for our lender program, press 3 to sell your house, press 4 for a fixer-upper, press 5 to refer a vacant house").
Check that. I just did a more efficient Google search, reaching out to credible resources like Manta and BBB. Finally I did reverse look-up and Googled the phone number itself. And it's actually the business line for another local house-buying company (not Golisandro...selective hearing) - but the business is incorporated and established. Their website seems pretty nice - but anybody can put a few pictures on a template - fantastic they're even hooked up to Facebook too.
Joe & Lisa seem like a nice young couple; entrepreneurs in fact, and about as American as they come. They clearly understand the value of being connected on the World Wide Web. So why the fuck are you slapping your business line on a piece of posterboard and sticking it into the grass with two metal sticks?? I make better signs for high school lacrosse games...and even for Weaver's soccer games. At least go to Kinko's, have something legible printed out..."$ for Houses"...seriously?
Have some pride. They could sell mansions and work exclusively with ROC's billionaires, but putting some third-grade artwork near a traffic light and calling it a Marketing Strategy...I can't expect you'll be attracting that high-class clientele. The only reason I drove past your sign was to drop off a couple of drunk college kids to a party. The only reason I called your number was because I'm a jerk and I'm bored out of my fucking mind. Do either of those characteristics scream 'target market' to you?
Corporate America's heart just broke. How could you.
For Joe and Lisa's sake. That sign better be a practical joke.
With Clinton, all you had to do was get a good look at Hilary and it pretty much verified any allegations of an affair. Likewise, all you had to do was listen to Mr. "dub-ya" Bush and you knew that cat wasn't getting any ladies on the side.
As for Obama, I really don't know what to believe. And in all honesty, it doesn't seem like anyone actually cares.
I just remember those morons who erupted in mass hysteria on the college green when Obama won the election - and ohhhh how I would love to rub this in their smug little faces. Somebody was sneakin' around with lil' miss Foxy Cleopatra...Vera Baker (gosh I kinda wish her name was Wanda).
Politics are a joke. But war is not. Although I toe the line of creativity/insanity, Idon't dodge bullets and risk mortality on a daily basis, while selflessly protecting our country. Lifeless deserts, mounting hostility, and Lady Gaga...? I salute you!!
Soldiers' rendition of Lady Gaga's "Telephone" - courtesy Ellen.com
Third blog in one day. Nothing like having to wear kiddie gloves when I'm wheeling and dealing. Hmm. I'm just as effective as blind airline pilot (yeah. I said it. what now??).
And not for nothing but my horoscope said it'd be a 5-star day. Plus! I'm wearing polka dot underwear (and if New Year's Eve taught us anything, it's that polka dots are lucky...). Yet I'm being raked through the uninhabited plains of Montana. Half that population probably doesn't even know what Google is!!!!!!
Right now I'm very disenchanted with the notions of climbing the corporate ladder, springtime, and Justin Bieber.
Thus I bury my woes in my favorite youtube clip.... and all is right with the world.
A lunch hour reprieve from micro-managing. There were a few things from this weekend that I need to address:
a) I went to the mall. This is a semi-annual thing for me. First stop was J Crew. And I was quickly reminded why I hate shopping: Brandi. Dear, sweet, obnoxious Brandi (or maybe her name was Brandon?). Sales associates who are not contained within a cubicle should be shot. Because if they do their job right, you want to jab them in the eye with a pointed object. I barely even looked at a cotton blend cardigan and she all but swooped in from behind a mannequin, practically drooling over my shoulders. Finally my mom and I just threw clothes at her and she ran off to 'reserve a dressing room' at hyper-drive speed. After some browsing, some dodging, I ended up in the dressing room not even with a pant leg removed when Brandi/Brandon started knocking down the door to see how 'everything was going.' Bravo sales tactics because I legitimately felt like crying when breaking it to her, looking deep into those large puppy dog eyes, that I did not decide to go with the gray cardigan.
2) Driving my sister and her crew to the community college dorms, could not pass up the opportunity to mold young minds. (please click on photo so you can see what it is)This sign reads "$ For Houses" and leaves a phone number. As TayTay and Slabby were doing shooters (of apple juice) in the backseat, my sister Beaner ran out to get a picture for me. A reality slap seemed too harsh at the time...just couldn't rain on their parade. So I'll do it here: Girls. Get your degrees. I don't know if this moron is ASKING for money or LENDING it. But this is why America is falling ass backwards. I know you guys used to go around throwing Wegmans cakes at cars, massacring bonfires and defying your parents' every wishes, but let me just say that "good judgment comes from experience...and plenty of experience comes from bad judgment." Therefore I can confidently say that, with a diploma in hand, you are going to blaze a fucking trail with all the hell you've raised. Don't let all of your groundings go for naught. Remember that time when The Parents caught you all with vodka-filled water bottles in your luggage just before your senior year spring break to Myrtle Beach? Use it as a building block on your way to success, don't let it be just another hand-painted poster at a traffic light on the highway of life.
