Tomorrow is my youngest sister's fourteenth birthday. I remember being fourteen, it sucked. I had a bad hair cut, wore tapered jeans from The Gap, had braces, and I moved two states north halfway through my eighth grade year. My sister spends 1.27 hours on her hair everyday, she owns the entire contents of an Abercrombie & Fitch store, has perfect teeth, and is friends with the same people from kindergarten. Am I jealous? Sometimes. Seven years of separation is a long time. Really, she grew up in a completely different family than I did.
I was supposed to be very productive today, however, I am experiencing the worst hangover in the history of mankind which provides the most wonderful of all excuses to do absolutely nothing and feel at least partially justified.
The roommate and her boy had a fight over her keeping a toothbrush at his house. I wouldn't ever have thought twice about that. I am painfully oblivious to social dictates about appropriate relationship behavior. Logic would suggest to me that if I were spending the night somewhere often enough then it would only make sense to be prepared. But this comes from the girl who always carries a toothbrush and toothpaste in her purse so I guess I would never have to consider leaving it at some boy's house. To me, a toothbrush doesn't say "let's get married", it says "I would like clean teeth". I don't know.
I totally got called out for being a fake-smiler and fake-laugher last night. It is oh so true. I did a couple of cheerleading routines at the bar to prove that my fakeness is a direct result of my high school cheerleading career. Mmmhmm.
1 comment:
I would have liked to have seen your cheerleading routines.
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