And then there were none.

I was going to make up super fun stories about my weekend so that you
would be entertained but then I realized that I never tell super fun
stories and I don't even think I could make up a good one. I can tell
you about how Sunday afternoon around kick-off time I started having a
mental breakdown and decided to be anti-social even though I spent the
morning making delicious food for the Super Bowl Party. Just as I was
turning my phone off, you know to make certain I could be as
anti-social as possible, a certain boy calls wondering where I might
be and of course I answer it because I am a girl. Where are you he
asks, on my way I say. So I meander to my vehicle and I turn up the
R&B really loud as if to force this bad mood out of my ears and I
start crying like there isn't a tomorrow or a next day.

So I cry cry cry for a couple of blocks and then I stop at the light
and all of the sudden it occurs to me that if someone were to ask me
then and there what it was I was crying about, I wouldn't have any
semblance of an answer. Therefore I stop the silly crying because I am
a logical human being in an illogical world. I was totally and
completely fine for the rest of the night except for when this strange
little man kept telling me I had no right to be critical or judgmental
of football players because I have shiny hair and good skin. I will
attribute those comments to the bottle of champagne he was
protectively carrying around because I still haven't figured out what
the connection between the quality of my hair and my ability to
analyze football have to do with one another.

Rule number one is, in group settings, if you ignore me for long
enough, I will flirt with your friends and they will like it.
Actually, I will probably flirt with your friends even if you don't
ignore me and you will like it. I will also wear my new, magnificent,
probably too tight, disgraceful low rise jeans and it will drive you
very insane and I will love it. I love being a girl, I really do.