Gobble

Ok so with Thanksgiving just around the corner, I figure instead of being ranty and awful and bitter like usual, I'm going to make a list of ten the things I'm thankful for. Of course these aren't the only things I'm thankful for, but if I listed out everything I was thankful for I'd be here for days. If you love my cynicism and want your view of me to remain as one of bitterness and sarcasm, don't read this post.

So, I'm thankful for:

1. Chipotle

One of these recently came to Lubbock and I am SO happy. My best friend and I are obsessed and every time I'm in there, I think of her. And guacamole.

2. People who play air instruments

Air guitar, drums, bass, piano, trumpet... The list goes on forever, but one thing remains the same: it is incredibly entertaining to watch. I would like to get ahold of an air band and maybe see if they'll play my next party.

3. Texts from Last Night

People say that this website is so "out", but I beg to differ. If you're not aware, this website is full of anonymous, hilarious texts sent in by people all around the world. Sometimes they're random, sometimes they're drunk, but they're always pretty funny. If I feel like by day is going crappy, within 4 minutes of being on this site I can find someone whose night was 10 times worse.

4. TLC Reality Shows

Among these are: "I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant", "Say Yes to the Dress", "Sarah Palin's Alaska", and my main squeeze "Sister Wives". I know I've mentioned these all before, but they're too good to not mention again. They offend me, make me laugh, make me cry, but most importantly, make me wonder what the eff people in this world are thinking. Like on "I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant", for instance. If you are having sex unprotected, get sick in the mornings, gain weight solely around your midsection, and stop getting a visit from the big red monster every month, I don't know how you don't pick up on your pregnancy. Quite mistaking kicks for gas pains, you hillbilly. If any of these shows has a marathon, I have to cancel my plans for the day. It gets bad.

5. Glee

My Tuesdays mean something again.

6. People's Sexiest Man Alive Issue

Not only was this year's Sexiest Man Alive title give to the most deserving of candidates (Ryan Reynolds), but this issue constantly reminds me how ok I would be with being cradle robbed. I have a thing for older guys. Not like Hefner old, but like 40's-50's. Case and point: Richard Gere. I spent about 20 minutes last night telling my boyfriend about the hots I had for this silver-haired fox, Harrison Ford, Dennis Quaid, Robert Downey Jr. and Jon Bon Jovi. I don't know why I'm such a perv.

7. Four Lokos

They're gone now, but were wonderful while they lasted. If you're unaware, Four Lokos are an energy drink and alcohol all rolled in to one heart damaging little bundle. I decided I had to stop drinking them, then the FDA followed. I trend-set. They have been recalled and are not allowed to be sold again due to the fact that they cause heart attacks. RIP Lokos and RIP Loko Thursday.

8. Febreeze

It just smells so effin' good.

9. My Makeup

Without it, I look like a leper and scare children. Trust me, you're thankful for it too.

10. The Obvious

This is the obvious one that everyone says, but it's definitely my most important. My family and friends. I have the most amazing family.

My mother is hands down the most incredible woman I know. She's amazingly loving and just enough of a crazy ass to make things interesting. If I can grow up to be even a single ounce like her, I'll consider myself lucky.

My dad is a total badass and I love him for it. He's a man of few words, but he cracks me up a lot of the time. He's the hardest working man I've ever seen, and I consider myself fortunate to have him around.

My sister is the cutest thing to ever walk this planet. I'm so proud of her and who she is becoming, even though it trips me out that she's going in to middle school. She's my little love button and I miss her so much.

My friends of course. The old ones: Meg, Alex, and Steph. The new ones: Taylor, Leah, and Kalli. And of course, Curtis, the in between. They've helped me through different phases of my life, and regardless of how long we've been friends, they always been supportive of everything I decide to do. That's the most important thing.

Lastly, the family I'm spending my Thanksgiving with. I'm not coming home this year. Instead I'm spending the holiday with my boyfriend and his absolutely amazing family. They have been so welcoming to me and I sincerely couldn't ask for anything more.

Anyway, everyone. Sorry about that cheestastic moment. I hope you all have a great Thanksgiving! Eat plenty of mashed potatoes and get tons of sleep!

Love,

Sydney

Obsession of the Day is going to be my Thanksgiving List's Honorable Mention:

Chelsea Handler's interview special

"He's Just Not That Into You" (book and movie)

My academic advisor

and Lubbock, TX

MAGNUMMMS

Ok errbody. I've been feeling particularly uninspired until about 20 minutes ago when the ridiculousness of our generations pop culture came up and bitch slapped me. Ready? Go.

1. "Firework" by Katy Perry

This song is the tits. It's that inspirational "don't worry about being such a screw up because you can still get a job on a street corner" kind of song. Well, I feel inspired anyway. The music video, however, is neither the tits nor is it inspiring . Go watch it or this part isn't going to make sense. So Katy is just singing her little baby heart out, having a great time on a balcony when all of a sudden....HOLY SHIT SHE'S SHOOTING FIRE OUT OF HER LADY BITS.

At least try not to hit the bystanders...

So don't get me wrong. I love Katy Perry and, if given the opportunity, I'd probably be down for making out with her. That being said, she looks entirely too much like the fembots in Austin Powers.

Don't even try to tell me you don't see a similarity.

Please don't think that the metaphor is lost on me. I get the whole firework=independence/determination/coming to terms with how wonderful you are. But to say that everyone is special and perfect in their own way is sort of the nice way of saying no one is. You were all thinking it, I just said it.

Anyway, so as all these people find their independence and love themselves for who they are and all that stuff they begin to...burst into flame? Also, how much would it suck to be one of the people who didn't actually get to become a firework, but instead just get a bunch of gunpowder all over your clothes? A lot...that's how much.

Then after all these people find their independence is where I get lost, because the camera cuts to a woman giving birth for no apparent reason. So think of the cheesiest birth scene you've ever viewed and then add a Fourth of July fireworks display. Those poor doctors.

That's all I'm going to say about this music video. Too much pregnancy and fire. Bleck.

2. Public Service Announcements

OH MY FRACKING GOD. There is a new PSA out concerning safe sex courtesy of the Candies Foundation. It's called the "Pause Before You Play" campaign and guys, this one is a doozie. The spokespeople? Mike "The Situation" and Bristol Palin. I, for one, am so SICK of seeing Bristol's face around. Her poor child is going to be so aware of how unwanted he or she is by the time it hits puberty that the parent-child strain is going to be out of this world. For a mother who is so in the media, I'm surprised I don't know the sex of Bristol's baby. Coincidence? I think not.

So the PSA goes on and has Palin advocating abstinence while Mike advocates safe sex through condoms. My favorite part of this whole thing is when Palin says something along the lines of "Mike, I just want you to practice safe sex". Then, Situation whips out a pack of Magnums. I don't know what is more offensive: The thought of The Situation have sex with anyone or the idea that a white guy is trying to convince the world that he uses Magnums. You're Italian, Mike. Not black. He's not even that Italian.

3. Sarah Palin's reality show

Is this even necessary? Sarah Palin is a joke, but as much as I want to hate her, I can't. She just so gosh-darn cute and Alaskan when she runs around with bears and shit. I smell an Emmy coming on.

Alright guys thats all I have for today!

Thanks for reading!

Sydney

Obsession of the day: Taylor and Leah

Chicka Chicka Yeaaaaahhh

So as I sit here drinking my coffee, listening to "Colorblind" by the Counting Crows, and blogging, I can't help but feel more and more like Carrie Bradshaw by the second. And I love it.

That being said, my life has been a series of the most unfortunate events lately. Want to know why? I thought you might.

1. My academic advisor openly laughs at me.

Long story short, I'm having some issues with the registrar here at the lovely Texas Tech University. They messed up my credits and I've been taking a class that I shouldn't have to (and failing it....twice) and now they want me to clean up after them. Hit em, Wreck em, Texas Tech?

Anyway. I've been pretty tight with my advisor the last few weeks and she's been helping me work it out. At one point, she openly laughed at me through an email. Here's the actual email:

"The English department has sent it to the registrar to resolve. HAHAHA! We'll keep trying."

Excuse me...what the HELL are you laughing at?? I'm trying to graduate, here. Your laughter is not appreciated. You wont think this is so funny when I punch you in the jaw.

2. I have been run over.

One of my worst fears is the bikers on campus. They freak the hell out of me because I'm always afraid they're going to run someone over. Coincidentally, that someone was me yesterday. I'm walking along minding my own business, when out of nowhere, I'm knocked flat on my back in the middle of the science quad. I'm pretty sure this bike had a motor in it, too, because he was going entirely too fast. Or at least it felt like it.

I know I probably shouldn't have been concerned with this, but when I was falling, I was making the UGLIEST face ever. You know when you do something and you can just feel yourself looking like an idiot? That's what this was.

I have the overwhelming feeling that I looked something like this.

I guess this isn't necessarily a series of events, but if it's all the same to you, that's what I'll call it. I have to go to class now, kids.

Thanks for reading today!

Love,

Syd

Obsession of the day: Volleyball intramurals.

Chicken Wire is Obscene.

This is rant-ish. If you're having a shitty day and want to laugh at my misfortunes, continue to read. If you're having an amazing day and the tiniest piece of negativity would bring you down, by all means, move on. In the nicest way possible.

Leggings are NOT pants.

Why do we not understand this? I don't care how skinny and knock-kneed you are, leggings don't count as pants. I'll go ahead and put in an easy three step process so you can tell if you're wearing leggings as pants or not.

1. Look at your ass.

2. Can you see it at all?

3a. If yes: take your leggings off because that shirt you originally got for your illegitimate child at the Baby Gap doesn't cover speck of your ass, you big hussy. You look vulgar, put on some pants.

3b. If no: rock the tunic and leggings you're wearing and be on your way, foxy.

Do you have things that you do that piss you off every time you do them?

Like when you stub your toe, you want to go on a screaming rampage because it hurts so bad but you have no one to blame but yourself, right? Now, there is one thing that I do all the time that gets me legitimately baby-punching angry every time. When I rip my headphones out of my ears. Weird? Maybe. I put my ipod in my backpack side pocket, I drop my backpack on the floor, I rip out my headphones. It pisses me off to no end and I have no clue why. If I do it more than 3 times in one day, I'm in a bad mood for the next 12 hours. It's like being yanked out of my musical world and thrown in to Alcatraz. That's that.

Update on Willow Smith!

She went on The Ellen Degeneres show. It kills me slowly to say that. But, Ellen being the beautiful woman she is was on my side and underhandedly made fun of Willow especially every time Willow said the phrase "my career". Ellen then gave her a neck brace bedazzled with rhinestones and pictures of Ellen's face on it to protect her from any hair whipping injuries. Everyone should check out the interview.

That's really all I have for today. Nothing spectacular. Thanks for reading!

Love,

Syd

Obsession of the Day: Loko Thursdays.

Rock the Vote!

So today is election day. Go and rock out wicha cock out. Wasn't that the "Rock the Vote" slogan a couple years ago? Where's P. Diddy when you need him? Well, regardless, go out and vote! I mean....I don't vote. I don't understand politics and I don't feel like I should have the power to change the administration when I'm voting based on tie colors. The only reason I would go to political science class last semester was because I was hot for teacher (along with all the other girls in my class....cockblocks). Also, in the last 6 sentences I've used the word "cock" twice. Gross.

Ok so that was my public service announcement for the day.

Down to business.

Last weekend was Halloween! I was and Indian. Feathers, not dots. So I guess, if I wanted to be politically correct (which I never do), I was a Native American.

So, my first night out getting crunk I went party hopping with my girlfriends Kalli and Taylor (aka- referee and Snookie). So Snooks, ref, and I got wasted and had a fun but fairly uneventful night.

Next night, my boyfriend's brother's band was in town. (Sidenote: The band is called Spivey and you should all go check them out on Facebook or something. They're awesome.) So Curtis (the b.fran in case you forgot) and I went to watch the concert. We're just chilling and dancing around when in walks 4 giant dicks. No, I'm not talking about frat guys or obnoxious, bar hogging asshats. There were 4 guys dressed up as penises for Halloween. Don't believe me?

Suck on it... But don't really.

Sorry, guys. I don't have a lot to write about today. I hope everyone has an awesome day!

Love,

Sydney

Obsession of the day: Dolly Parton and Michael Buble's Christmas albums. And, yes, I start listening to Christmas music starting November 1st.

Whip It. Whip It Real Good.

Alright, chilluns. Here's the deal. I don't understand a damn thing that comes out of Hollywood anymore. Yes, we've had precious little gems like Britney Spears and Lindsey Lohan crotch sneak peeks, Avatar, and who can forget all those cheating scandals? But one thing that baffles my little peanut brain is the trend of exploiting your children to absolutely no end. Granted, if I have a pretty baby (I say this like I'm not going to end up alone with my cats) that little chalupa will be in beauty pageants and any money he/she wins will be used to buy my boxed wine and Xanax. Holla back, housewives.

I digress.

For one, Suri Cruise. I have seen this pint sized little mango margarita in more fashion blogs than I know what to do with. I, for one, think it's batshit crazy to be calling a 2 year old a "fashion icon". If I tried to rock the white tights, black flats, and little baby doll dresses with Scottie dogs all over them, I would look like a specialized prostitute channelling a creepy man's child fetish. Makes. me. cringe.

One family that I am absolutely in love with is the Smith family. Will and Jada Pinkett to be specific. Recently, though, there has been a phenomenon that I don't understand. Their son, whats-his-name Smith, has been in more movies than Meryl Streep lately. I understand him acting with his father in "Pursuit of Happyness" but that's about it. But, the real mind-bender lies within Willow Smith.

If you don't know who she is:

1. You probably live under a rock

2. Youtube her and her new song "Whip My Hair"

This may or may not be the absolute STUPIDEST SONG I've ever heard in my life. I have a long list of stupid songs in my back pocket as you might have guessed. These include: Big Green Tractor, Rain is a Good Thing, OMG, I Wanna Sex You Up, Billionaire, Alejandro... It's a pretty extensive list. But this boggles my mind. Has the Smith family ever heard of shaken baby syndrome? This poor little girl's eyeballs are going to detach and fall out of her head.

I'll go ahead and give you a couple lyrics that I hate because I know you're all waiting for it:

Hop up out the bed turn my swag on. Pay no attention to them haters cuz we whip em off.

I'm sorry...you're 9 years old. How many "haters" could you possible have? I jU$t d0Nt G3t iT.

Whether its black stars black cars im feeling it, but can't none of them whip it like i do.

Two things...

1. You can't drive.

2. What is a black star exactly? At the risk of offending anyone with my initial thought, I'll apologize now. But, does she mean famous black people? Perhaps the stars of "For Colored Girls"? I don't know. Either way you spin it, Willow Smith is feeling it. Thank God for that.

Also, I'm glad Willow realizes that she's the best at her craft. None of us could ever whip it "like she do".

When I'm down and I feel like giving up, I whip my hair back and forth

You whip your hair when you feel bad? Little girl, you need Jesus.

All my ladies if you feel me, do it do it whip your hair. Don't matter if it's long, short do it do it whip your hair.

Just so everyone knows, the hair whip is not length specific. Any of Willow Smith's ladies can do it too. Whenever we're down and out, all we have to do is whip our hair. Keep in mind to not get carried away. We can't whip it like Willow.

Sorry this post is such a beast!

Thanks for reading today, everyone!

Sydney

Obsession of the day: My atmospheric science professor who looks like Professor Trelawney from Harry Potter.

...For Miss Jenna

I'd like to go ahead and apologize for being such a deadbeat blogger lately. It's been almost a full month since I've posted, so I'm sorry.

So a couple of rant-y things/newfound obsessions.

1. Just so we're all aware, this part of the blog post is a little s-e-x-y, so if you're under the age of 18 or are my mother, please walk away from the computer screen. Just kidding, Mom. You can read this, but don't say I didn't warn you.

Now that I have only adults, I want to address my newfound guilty pleasure. This is porn in the form of songs, also known as "I Wanna Sex You Up" by Color Me Badd. This is the original boy band in my opinion. Granted, I know only one of their songs, but I say they're pioneers.

You know all that moaning and heavy breathing that artists do in their songs nowadays? I guess to simulate the idea that they just jogged 10 miles....right? Well, that was started by none other than Color Me Badd. Has anyone (including their manager) ever actually listened to this song or does everyone just get caught up in the "ah tick tock ya don't stop" part at the beginning like me? For one, the singer's voice in the first verse is so incredibly high I don't know what to do. His range is 20 times better than mine, so instead of beating him down, I'll chalk this one up to jealousy. Also, the lyrics of this song are so badd (notice the clever spelling), they're good.

Here's a couple of golden nuggets from this song:

"Girl you make me feel real good. We can do it till we both wake up"

Now, I'm not going to judge. I don't know what people are into, but why the HELL are you having sex while you're sleeping? I can't decide if this is entirely too creepy or a major talent. Props, CMB.

"Let me take off all your clothes. Disconnect the phone so nobody knows"

....Uhhh? Why does the phone have to be disconnected? I think this was an attempt to sound romantic, but of course I'm going to overanalyze it. I, for one, think he's doing the no pants dance with a grenade (Jersey Shore term for an ugly girl) and doesn't want his other high pitched buddies to know. That's just me.

Then, out of nowhere, something similar to a musical date rape happens. There is a segment of the song where homeboy just whispers sweet nothings (read: creepy ass phrases) into the mic/the girl's ear. He says:

Girl you make me feel so good. I just wanna, I just wanna look at you. Don't say anything at all. Just lay back and enjoy the ride, yeah.

Oh my GOD. This sounds like a semi-romantic gang bang. Poor girl needs to invest in a rape whistle and get the hell out of dodge because these boys are fixing to run a train on her. Tip of the day: When a guy starts to stutter from excitement when getting ready to bump uglies, I say it's time to leave.

2. Uggs and shorts. WHAT THE FRACK. If you are cold enough to be wearing Uggs, you're cold enough to put some damn pants on. Now, take off the pocket peaking mini-skirt and put on sweats like everyone else at their 8 am class, girlfriend. You look like a dime store slut. That's all I have to say about that.

3. Jackass 3D.

Whaaa? I have no idea how to feel about this movie. Also, I don't know what's worse: the fact that I saw it or the fact that it was part of a double date. Hmmm...

Anyway, I don't know how many times you can watch a guy get hit in his willis and doodleberries and still think it's funny. If you're like me, the answer is "a lot". However, once dog shit/human shit/vomit/sweat gets involved, I'm out of the Jackass game. At one point, Steve-o was strapped into a portapotty filled with buckets of dog shit and launched into the air. Once gravity took over and inertia happened, all the poop came out of the buckets and you can fill in the blanks from there. My boyfriend and his best friend are crying from laughter while Laryssa (the best friend's girlfriend) and I are dry heaving and covering our eyes. I just don't think I'm cut out for this.

4. Sister Wives

This show has me tripping balls in the best way possible. If you're not aware, this is another one of TLC's borderline offensive shows. It's about a mormon man with 4 wives and like 6578 children and it's INSANE. At first, I thought the wives were actually sisters, which made me want to upchuck. But come to find out, that's just what they're called even though they're not blood sisters. The idea of knowing your husband is dating/married to/boning another woman would suck. What's more, they all live together. Not only must these women have serious issues with self esteem, but this man must have some serious...stamina. That's all I'm going to say about that.

That's about all I have for today. Thanks for reading and sorry this blog post is such a beast.

Love

Syd

Obsession of the day: Skateboarders eating it on campus.

I'm Hunting Wabbits.

So...my boyfriend and I have been dating for a little over 7 months. Typically we stick to our usual seeing more movies than I know what to do with, cooking together, and just having a general good time. However, nothing prepared me for what we were going to experience last Saturday.

He took me hunting with his father.

Preface: This was the third time I had ever met his father.

Post-face (I don't think that's actually a word): I almost shot his father.

I had never shot a gun in my life, much less shot an animal. It's dove season apparently, but there were no doves flying, so we didn't shoot anything anyway. But, the concept of killing an animal makes me a little nervous. Not saying I won't do it. I think hunting sort of makes the world go round in a "survival of the fittest" kind of way. Hats off to Darwin, but the gutting process is going to have to be left up to someone else.

So anyway, we did some target practice and determined that I am a terrible shot and the only animal I would be able to actually hit is something large like a T-rex. Also, I would just like to say that shooting a gun is the most empowering feeling in the entire world. Trigger happy? Maybe so.

And now comes the part where I attempt homicide (not really). I'm sitting in between my boyfriend and his father. His dad is to the right of me with his gun laying across his lap with the barrel pointing to the right and away from everyone, like any normal person with an ounce of common sense would do. So Curtis (the boyfriend...I figure it's time to give him a name) goes to do something and hands me his gun and asks me to hold it. So, trying to fit in, I put the gun across my lap facing the right aka- STRAIGHT AT HIS DAD. Wtf, Sydney? Really? So his dad is talking about something and then looks at the giant people killer laying across my lap facing his direction and goes "Ohhh honey, no. No no no."

Oh you mean you're NOT supposed to point the barrel of a loaded 12-gauge shotgun at your boyfriend's dad? You don't say. Someone should have let me know. Oh, wait. That's where common sense kicks in, yes? Yes.

So, long story short, I've never been so embarrassed in my life.

Anyway, that's all for today. Just in case you don't believe me....

Love,

Sydney

Obsession of the day: Pumpkin Spice Lattes.

Gleekin'.

I am a total Gleek. Embarrassing? Maybe, but that doesn't make it any less true. So you can imagine how excited I was last night when the season premiere aired. I was giggling like a Japanese school girl in a "Hello Kitty" store, if that clarifies.

So, for today, I'm going to review the first episode of the glory that is Glee.

First off, I should recap last season:

New Directions, the glee club at William McKinley High, is a group of incredibly talented but hated high schoolers. Each of them is obsessed with being "popular" and all of that stuff that cliche high school sitcoms put at the center of shallow teen minds. A little irritating, but that is the extent to which my frustrations go with this show. New Directions went up against the scary-good glee club from their rival high school, Vocal Adrenaline, and the "not at all stupidly named" (as said by cynic, Sue Sylvester) Aural Intensity (like a blow job? Get it? Ha. Ha. Ha.) at regionals, vying for a chance to compete at the next level, which I believe is nationals. (That sentence was such a run on, I almost had a conniption.)

Long story short, New Directions didn't even place at regionals and their resident hussy, Quinn Fabray (who is/was president of the chastity club, ironically enough) popped out her bastard child. Fertile Mertyl gave her baby up for adoption to the coach of Vocal Adrenaline (my idol, Idina Menzel) and all is well with the world. Which brings us to season 2!

Holy. Shit.

I am obsessed with the possibilities of this season. Not only did the cast sing "New York State of Mind" giving me goosebumps and turning me into a dancing fool, but they even incorporated OPRAH! Yes, Oprah. Inadvertently, anyway.

This is the newest character who Oprah once called "the most talented girl in the world". Let me just say, Oprah wasn't kidding. This girl is incredible. Her name is Charice (Sunshine, on the show) and she has sang with Andrea Bocelli, who is my favorite blind singer. Ray Charles ain't shit. Rachel Berry, the increasingly annoying "me-monster", who is only concerned with the well-being of herself, is threatened by Sunshine. Berry even sends Sunshine to a crackhouse, telling her that it was the location of the glee auditions. Look out for this girl. Ah-freaking-mazing. Her rendition of "Listen" almost made me pass out. I only wish I had that much talent and soul.

So...this guy. New kid on the block. Just moved to Lima, Ohio from God knows where. No idea what his name is. The other guys in the glee club couldn't help but focus on how HUGE this guy's mouth is, which had me rolling. He ends up being a pretty good singer, as well. He made his glee debut singing "Billionaire", a song which I absolutely abhor, but he did a good job. By the end of the episode, he has taken Finn Hudson's (token jock) spot as quarterback on the football team. SPOILER ALERT! I'm pretty sure this guy is going to be resident gay kid, Kurt Hummel's, new boyfriend. Drama, drama, drama. We shall see.

Two words: Girl. Fight.

I love the fact that Santana (whore-ish Latina cheerleader) and Quinn (16 and Pregnant runner-up) get in a fight in the hallway over the fact that Quinn is back on top as captain of the "Cheerios". Take some tops off and add some pudding and this is a straight up porno....and I loved every second of it.

Also, there's a female football coach. Last name: Beiste. Too funny for me to even deal with.

That's all I really have to say. Sorry this post is SO long. Great songs, decent acting, and an all around good set up for a plot. So come on, Glee writers, make my day (or at least my Tuesdays).

Love,

Sydney

Obsession of the day: Yoga pants

Study Tips....?

This week I have two tests, two papers, and a critical analysis due. Needless to say, I'm sort of booked. Now I know what you're thinking: "Shouldn't you be working on said assignments, Sydney?". Why yes, yes I should be. But I figured that I'd give you some helpful study tips just in case you're going through the same thing that I am, so don't get sassy with me. I'm just trying to keep this society together.

At first I thought I would split this up into male and female study tips, but since I'm an equal opportunist, I decided to keep males and females equal, even though girls go to college to get more knowledge and boys go to Jupiter to get more stupider (courtesy of my 11 year old sister).

Tip number 1: Paint your nails before you study. This has absolutely no intellectual value at all. It just makes your hands look pretty when you're writing things, and, for me, aesthetics are half the fun. PS- This would have been one of the female tips, but I suppose guys could do it too.

Tip number 2: On the way to your test, you have to listen to "Smells Like Teen Spirit" by Nirvana. If that intro doesn't get you pumped and you don't feel like FSU-ing (F**king S**t Up (courtesy of "Stepbrothers")) then you are the enemy of all things good and perfect in the world, including puppies and Christmas. No one likes that guy.

You know what's sad? That's all I have as study tips. I'm a wise duck. Paint your nails and listen to Nirvana. Soooo....this is awkward.

Sydney

Obsession of the day: Playing the theme song from "Jeepers Creepers" and freaking the shit out of my roommate.

"Umm...Could You Not Eat Our Graham Crackers?"

Ok so I haven't posted in about two weeks, so sorry for that. I've had so much going on that I can't really even see straight.

Now, though, I'm about to fall asleep in my keyboard. I actually caught myself drooling in my last class. Embarrassing. Why am I a good back-scratching and a warm glass of milk away from a coma you ask? Well, it's a story that can only be fully understood on the Texas Tech campus, but I'll do my best to describe it.

The Tech v. UT game is this Saturday. If we were to win, none of the rest of the games would matter. We would be so pumped about a win against UT that we'd talk about it for the next year (example: our 2008 win). Tons of people camp out in a place called "Raiderville" for the game in order to get good seats. We began camping Monday and the game is on Saturday. When we got there, the population of Raiderville was 417. This morning it was 1571. We sort of like football here.

Anyway, everyone has to wake up and starting scanning their id's to prove that they were there at 4:30 am. So, when you go to bed at 12 or 1, you're bound to be tired. Understandable. But, when assholes feel the need to scream stupid obscenities and chants all night long, I'm out of the game.

For example, last night, one group of campers (read: intoxicated douchers) decided to start a Raiderville-wide game of "Penis". If you are not familiar with the penis game, you obviously did not go to 8th grade in the new millennium. Y2K brought us some pretty legit stuff, tell you what. It works like this: one person says "penis", another person says "penis" louder and so on. Eventually, if played right, you'll have someone screaming about male genitalia at the top of their lungs in a social situation. Sounds hilarious, right? Well, it is if you're going through puberty and realizing you have a penis (aka 7th-8th grade), but not when you're trying to get to sleep so you can have a tiny shred of energy for your 8 am class (which you sit in the front row for) the next morning. So that's fun.

My absolute favorite, though, is when you're trying to get a baby tiger snooze in for the night and a group of girls are standing what sounds like right outside the tent debating on whether or not they should sleep in their makeup.

1. Why wear makeup camping anyway?

2. If you're going to debate this, get far away from me.

After about 10 minutes of the ever intriguing makeup debate, my friend Lexi (resident badass of the group) yells "JUST SLEEP IN IT".

As much as this experience sounds like it would suck, I'm actually having an incredible time sitting around a campfire playing games with my closest friends and making smores. That's all I have for today. Thanks for reading, everyone!

Syd

Obsession of the Day: Catchphrase

Is Nothing Sacred Anymore?

All I have today is a little story, so come along children.

I was in the car this morning, barely woken up, the tiniest bit hungover, and ready to go back to bed when I hear the most ridiculous commercial on the radio. These women were talking about the benefits of breast feeding. Problem number 1: the last thing I want to hear about when I wake up in the morning is pregnancy. Moreover, the idea of having a baby latched on to my lady bits for dear life is pretty close to revolting for me. Now I understand that breast feeding is supposed to be great for a child and make it not stupid or something like that, but by definition breast feeding is pretty close to parasitism. The baby gets fed, the mom gets boobs that touch her waist. Just sayin'

So these women are on this commercial elaborating about their breast feeding plans. At one point, an all-too-ghetto woman says "Ohhh yeahhh, I'm breast feeding for as long as I can". Good to know, Mo'Nique. Will you be reprising your role in "Phat Gurlz" any time soon?

The announcer on the commercial then says something like "It doesn't matter whether you breast feed for a month or a year..."

Why, yes it does matter if you breast feed for a year. The idea of a child still breast feeding after a year is the tiniest bit upsetting, only because I'm pretty sure some children are walking by a year. I may be lying, though. I don't have a kid so I'm not entirely sure, but in my book, if your baby can walk, your baby can walk to the fridge and get it's own damn glass of milk.

Then, one woman says that she "likes the idea of breast feeding burning 600 calories a day, so [she] can get her figure back". Two flaws with your theory, precious. You have to breast feed for like 17 hours of the day to burn 600 calories. Also, the idea that you'll get your figure back solely due to breast feeding is attainable in theory, but you would have to breast feed for about 16 years and not eat anything...ever. Godspeed, little lady. She seemed excited about it though, so who am I to burst her bubble?

Anyway, guys, that's all I've got for today. Another sassy rant. Cutting edge, right? Have a great day!!

Obsession of the day: Hip to My Heart by The Band Perry

Home Sweet Home

I wouldn’t say I’m the most knowledgeable nugget in Happy Meal (considering I had to use spell check to correct “knowledgeable”) but I have learned a select few things over the summer.

Your family is always going to back you up. As long as you’re not a total psycho, your family is going to be in your corner rooting for you. My parents, though we’ve had a ton of differences this summer, have been incredibly stellar. There’s always going to be some middle ground that you both can find, and, in the end, you’ve got to love your crazy ass family.

Old songs are the best things to rock out to in your car. Now, I understand that this could be construed as cheating on my musicals, so don’t get me wrong. I will forever be obsessed with my musicals, but if you have people in your car and you don’t want to appear to be a complete social recluse, you’ve got to turn on some Blues Traveler. I literally can’t count how many times I let myself go on one of the songs from my childhood. Example: “All For You” by Sister Hazel. If you were born in the 90’s like me, you understand what I’m talking about when I say that you’ll drop just about anything and sing along when you hear “It’s hard to say what it is I see in you. Wonder if I’ll always be with you…” on your radio. Puts me in an instant good mood. I drove the complete opposite way that I was supposed to be going on the freeway for about 45 minutes to a place called Waller County and didn’t even realize it because I had “Let Love In” by The GooGoo Dolls on repeat.

TLC has the best reality TV shows. I am a TLC junkie. If you saw my Tivo, you would understand. It’s 70% “Say Yes to the Dress”. That show makes me want to get married and, honestly, I don’t really care to whom as long as I get to go to Kleinfeld’s and meet Keesha. (Also, please don’t think I legitimately use the word “whom”. Spell check wouldn’t ignore it and the little squiggles under the words make me absolutely insane so I had to change it.) Anyway, along with having some of the best shows, TLC has some of the most offensive. Only TLC could get away with a show like “Little Chocolatiers”. Midgets who make chocolate? Soooo many Keebler Elf jokes, but I’ll resist. Especially because my boyfriend continually asks me when I’m going to audition to be a little chocolatier. I’m 5’2”, he’s 6’7” and thinks he’s funny. Other shows like “Too Fat for 15” and “One Big Happy Family” chronicle morbidly obese people and their struggles. Not only has it been my biggest fear in the world to end up on one of these shows, but I’ve realized that these show titles are the tiniest bit offensive. As punny and cute and TLC thought they were being with “One Big Happy Family” I think this could be considered uncomfortable/offensive. I believe that the phrase “one big happy family” was originally used in the song “He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands”, and I don’t think TLC is as sacreligious as that. And with “Too Fat for 15”, they really weren’t messing around with a cute name. You’re too fat? You’re 15? Perfect. Wanna be on “Too Fat for 15”? Not to mention the washed up show of “Kate Plus 8”. If I wanted to watch an incredibly bitchy woman raise her children, I’d go to your mom’s house! Ka-Chow!!

Chipotle is your friend. There’s not much to be said about this one. My best friend and I ate there at least 2 times a week. Not only did Chipotle satisfy my all-too-unusual obsession with guacamole and anything made with avocados, but they also gave me extra cilantro on everything I ordered. I was a happy girl.

These may not have been the most helpful of insights, but they were simple enough for me, and somewhat defined my summer. I guess that sort of shows how uneventful my summer actually was. Thank you guys for reading today!

Obsession of the day: Lubbock. TX

Nineteen Years and Counting...?

So today is my birthday. Nineteen seems like sort of a "blah" year. I feel like not a lot of cool things happen when you're 19 except that you're one year closer to 21, but that's totally fine with me. 19 seems like an odd place to be, though. The only thing that I can think of that has anything to do with being nineteen is the show "19 Kids and Counting" (hence the title of this post). So, I guess you could say I've Duggar-ed my way through life up until this point. So what I'm going to do for this blog is chronicle all of the important events in my life up until now, and maybe you'll come to understand just why I'm such an odd duck.

1. I was born. I would say that this would be the most monumental and important thing yet. Without the event of my birth, I don't know where I would be. August 15, 1991. 7 pounds 11 ounces, fly as a mofo. That's all I have to say about that.

2. I don't remember anything really up until about 2nd grade. My best friend's name was Loren, and she and I thought we were sisters. How sweet, right? Loren's black. We were intelligent.

3. I realized I was white and that LL Cool J was not my father.

4. My fat ass got stuck on playground equipment at the ripe old age of 7. I wore skorts and vividly remember being chased halfway across the world (read: playground) by a bumblebee. I was convinced it was because of the sunflower embroidery on my denim dress and, honestly, that still seems pretty plausible in my mind.

5. I transferred elementary schools and had to cultivate my popularity (yeahhh, right) once again. I started a band with 4 or 5 girls that I later would never speak to again. We wrote songs based on each holiday. Valentine's was my favorite, I think.

6. Middle school. I was super unfortunate, and would really rather not talk about this dark time in my life. Braces, boys, and bad skin. I'm not about that.

7. Got my first kiss the summer before my freshman year. Suuuuuper awkward. His name was Jesse and he left the next day for New York....where he lived. You know what TaySwift says: "When you're 15....you're an idiot".

8. High School came and went pretty quickly, thank the dear Lord baby Jesus. I joined theatre, never got a single lead, changed gender a couple times, and all around had a great time. I got my car towed for the first and (knock on wood) last time. It was all, gravy baby.

9. Went to Texas Tech and my life started. Pledge a service sorority, and ended up having an incredible first year. Made some awesome friends, went to some awesome parties , and just soaked up everyone's awesomeness (please get the "Mean Girls" reference).

Anyway, that's about it. I guess I'll just keep Duggar-ing for a while. Thank you guys for reading today!

Love,

Sydney

Obsession of the Day: Getting tan

But Anyway...

I realized this morning, after taking my final for my summer school class that I haven't even mentioned that I'm in school. It's taking up quite a bit of my time, so I can't believe that I haven't at least described the 9th circle of hell I'm paying good money to be in. Granted it's only one class, but, trust me, it's SO full of character.

I'm taking Government 2302 at Houston Community College.

My teacher is named Dr. Apanda. Like a panda bear. Also, I can't understand a damn word he says. He's from the DRC which, if you don't know, is the Democratic Republic of the Congo. He's about as easy to understand as Franck Egglehoffer in "Father of the Bride". So, children, let this little golden nugget of knowledge sink in: my American public policy teacher is Congolese. Ohhh, yes.

Let me also say that I had an incredibly stellar Political Science teacher last semester, so this transition was first like being taught by Denzel Washington circa "Remember the Titans" to being taught by Precious Jones and may or may not have sent me into epileptic shock.

Another element, and probably the most important, is my friend Khoa. And by friend I actually mean I can't stand him. He is from Japan and is constantly insisting that he is right about everything. Why is he right about everything? Because he "studied with a government professor who has been involved in American policy for 30 years". I can't help but think, though, that all Khoa really did was take another community college class from some really old Political Science major. He's legitimately the most hostile person I've ever met. Even more hostile than I am, and that's not an easy task, I'll tell you that.

He insisted that Ben Bernanke was printing to much money and single-handedly destroying our economy. Who knows how to fix it? Well, Khoa of course! He then goes in to a really long explanation about how we should print less money and only give it out to businesses that the government knows is going to succeed (genius!) and that way the economy would be consistent or something because that's how they do it in Germany and Russia. He knows everything and I feel blessed to be in his presence 2 hours a day 5 days a week.

Anyway, guys, this is a pretty crappy blog post now that I read over it, but I figured I should post SOMETHING since I've been out of commission for a while.

Thanks for reading everyone,

Sydney

Obsession of the Day: Blues Traveler

My Not-So-Clever Blog Title.

This blog is a little rant-y, so if you're not in the mood to hear me bitch and moan, I suggest you move on the greener pastures (in the nicest way possible).

So, I work in the service industry in a yogurt shop for the summer. Don't get me wrong, as much as I want to think I dislike my job, I actually love it. Not the work necessarily, but I've gotten to work with some incredible people. That's not to say I want to be doing shift work for the rest of my life, but all my co-workers get cooler by the day.

That being said, sometimes my job makes me want to take up suicide bombing. Our location is in a very snooty neighborhood with all these stay at home, over-privileged women who have nothing better to do but take their kids to get yogurt and then treat the debate between raspberries and strawberries as a topping as a life and death decision. Example: A little girl and her mom walk in to the store. Little girl is chewing on a Tiffany & Co. bracelet. CHEWING on the classic "Return to Tiffany" heart tag toggle bracelet in sterling silver. I'm not obsessed with Tiffany's or anything...Ok I'll admit I looked up the name of the bracelet for added effect. Anyway, she's chowin' down on this bracelet like it's a piece of Juicy Fruit. I was just the tiniest bit stunned by that.

There are other types of customers that are far more annoying than the kind that let their babies eat $200 bracelets. The foreign customer, for instance. I have nothing against foreign people. America is a huge melting pot. Immigration makes culture, but if you are foreign and you don't speak any English, please do not get sassy with me when I don't know how to say "watermelon" in Spanish. Maybe that's a skill I should develop. I have no clue.

Customer type number 3. Mr. Asks-a-Question-but-Doesn't-Listen-to-the-Answer.

This guy is SERIOUS. He's a business man usually. He uses phrases like "let's get down to brass tacks" in yogurt shops. This dude means business. He is SO incredibly important that he doesn't even have time for the answers to his own questions. He's like the Dos Equis man, but not even remotely as interesting. A typical conversation with him would go something like:

Him: "Which one is your best yogurt?"

You: "Well a lot of people like th..."

Flaming Douche Lord:"You know what? Can I try the strawberry?"

You: "Of course. Is there anything else I can..."

Senor Importante: "Where are your sizes? Are these them?"

You: "Yes, sir. There's small, mediuhhh..."

Dos Equis: "Forget it. Just give me this size (points in the direction of 3 different sized cups) with some chocolate chips"

You: "Sorry, sir, what size?"

Busybee: "What's my total?"

He's usually really fun.

Along the same lines as him is the customer that, despite the line out the door, thinks they're the only one there. My favorite thing in the entire world is when I'm talking to a group of about five or so people trying to get everyone taken care of and someone starts yelling their order at me.

"Can I get a medium raspberry with kiwi on top?!?"

"WHEN I'M DONE WITH ALL 25 OTHER PEOPLE IN FRONT OF YOU, YES."

Makes me absolutely crazy.

That's all I'm going to say about the service industry. It makes me hate people.

Oh, and , in reference to the title of this post, my blog title is incredibly lacking in the creative department. It's really bad. I think, in an effort to seem ironic, I chose to title this blog the least ironic thing ever. Who do I think I am? I don't even know sometimes. If anyone has suggestions, let me know!

Thanks for reading!

-Sydney

PS- I'm going to start doing "Obsessions of the Day". Today's obsession? Diet Ginger Ale.

Man, You're Weird.

I've realized lately that you really can't judge anyone, ever. Why? Because everyone you meet has some crazy character. Even the most seemingly shallow or composed people are weird as hell. Me? I'm an outright freak. I have enough character for a small family and their pets, but I would have never guessed that the "perfect" or "popular" girls that I used to judge are as off their rockers as I am. Everyone has things that only they do, typically referred to as "[insert your name here]-isms". Example: Sydney-isms/Syd-isms. These are some of the most fascinating things to me. I love hearing about different people's idiosyncratic tendencies, because no matter how well you know someone, they can always bust out with the weirdest shit you've ever heard of and say "What? I do it all the time..."

For example, my best friend rubs her nose on things. Like, it's her comfort thing. The first time she rubbed her nose on my shoulder, I about shat because I thought she was some kind of animal prepping me for a kill. She then told me that if she's comfortable enough with someone, she'll rub her nose on them. The weirdest part? I do it now. I'm a total nuzzler. Also, she's still got her baby blanket. I'm sure at one point it was a very full, very pretty blanket, but at this point it just looks like a fuzzy g-string. But that's what makes her, her. <<<(I have no idea how to punctuate that sentence) After re-reading this, I have made my best friend sound like a complete freak/shut-in. The freak part is true, shut-in isn't.

My "isms" are a little different, and, since I'm conceited, I may as well go ahead and list a few out because I know all 6 of my readers are interested.

Like a true theatre kid, when I get in the car, I pretend I'm in a musical. This isn't like once in a while. It's literally every single time. Default songs? "Gimme Gimme", "How the Other Half Lives", and "I Turned the Corner" from Thoroughly Modern Millie, "Amazing Mayzie" from Seussical, "The I Love You Song" from The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee.... I could go on for days. But I get really into it. Like, I do the tap dancing parts with my hands on the steering wheel. It's a little bit embarrassing. My favorite part, though, is that the windows in my car aren't tinted, so everyone can watch a live show from their car. As creeped out as I should be by people looking in my car, watching me gettin' it, I'm too busy being on Broadway to care. I'm a star, thank you very much.

Another thing... before I hang out with someone, no matter who it is, I plan out whatever we're going to talk about. Even with some of my best friends, I get incredibly anxious and wonder what in the world we're going to say to each other. We never end up talking about the things I think we're going to, but part of me gets nervous that there's going to be nothing to say to each other. On the first couple dates with my boyfriend, I put conversation topics in my phone just in case, even though, with him (and the rest of the people I do this with) conversation comes incredibly easily. It so weird to me.

I love people watching. That's a normal one, I think, but I make up some highly unrealistic stories about the unfortunate souls I watch. Case and point: I saw a guy at the airport (my favorite people watching place) and I determined that his wife just left him because he neglected to tell her that he was born a woman, and he was moving to another state because of it. I wish I was normal.

This is another one I picked up from my best friend. If I'm laying next to someone, my feet have to touch theirs. I hate feet more than anything. I wont touch anyone's feet with my hands, nor will I let people touch my feet, which is why this one is a little odd. It's a comfort thing for me now. Try it sometime.

This may be my most boring blog post yet, but I'm going to shoot a little higher next time. Everyone have a great day!!

-Sydney

It's Reality Show Clip Time!!

I've been thinking....what has happened to reality TV?

We used to have precious little gems like "Survivor", "American Idol", and (how could anyone forget?) "Bug Juice". These shows chronicled "real life" situations and showed America what it was like to go into the jungle and live solely on rice and pig fat, be totally criticized on your singing voice by cracked out has-beens (cough Paula Abdul cough), and how to find true love at a weird summer day camp. And for the record, children of the '90's, I know for a fact that all of you tried at one point or another to figure out what camp those kids went to just for the sake of being on "Bug Juice" season 2. Regardless of how extensive your obsession was with summer camp, because I can guarantee it was nowhere near mine, you must admit that these shows are total classics, right? But then we started eating dog testicles and free falling thousands of feet to our death for $50, and I was outof the reality game. Actually it really started getting creepy for me during "Big Brother". To this day, I still don't understand what the point of having some guy omnisciently watch you run around naked and make out with your strange roommates was, but some people loved it.

Even shows I used to love have just become hot damn tranny messes. Example: America's Got Talent. America USED to have talent. America now just has a ton of freakshows looking to win big money. Damn you, Susan Boyle. Now all of us here in McDonald's nation look like tards (but at least we're not 55 years old who have never been kissed! Zing! Cheap shot!). All joking aside, her rendition of Les Miserable's "I Dreamed a Dream" was stunning. I'm obviously just jealous of her talent.

But back to the task at hand. I'm really kind of over the whole idea of the Brits infiltrating our systems and criticizing our people. Tony Blair and George Bush were besties, and what did that get us? Simon Cowell striking the fear of God into every young adult singer that walked through those American Idol audition doors. You will never see a reality show on BBC with an American judge. Why? Because we are thought to have no concept of talent or sense of style. Britain's given the world Elton John and one of my personal favorite singers, Adele. We have Ke$ha (who I'm secretly obsessed with) and William Hung. Who's the best dressed woman in Hollywood? Victoria Beckham. Where is she from? England. Nice job, UK. Well played, Posh Spice. If you can find a British show with one of us KFC eating losers on it, especially in a position of authority, I'll give you props.

But, anyway the panel of judges on "America's Got Talent" is just a little ridiculous. Not only is Piers a flaming douche-lord and I have no idea what his claim to fame is or what he does with his life, we have Ozzy's wife, and....Howie Mandell? The guy who hosted "Deal or No Deal"? Well, alright guys. Whatever you say.

There are plenty of other reality shows that go from "guilty pleasure" to "scraping the bottom of the reality show barrel. A few at the very bottom of this barrel are:

Mr. Personality

Phantom of the Opera called, he wants his...well you

know the punch line to this one. One woman has to fall in love based on personality alone while all the men wear huge metal masks. I, for one, think they're sexy. Hosted by Monica Lewinski. Wait, what?! As in cigar toting Monica? I want no relation with that woman or this show.

Amish In the City

Ok. This concept of testing the Amish with the intrigue of light bulbs and battery powered walkie talkies is the tiniest bit offensive. I'm just sayin'. The Amish are a harmless group of people! Leave them alone (unless you get stuck behind one of their horse and buggies in your car).

And last but not least....

The Littlest Groom

Because shorties need love too.

Alright, everyone! That's all I have for today! Until next time,

Sydney

Fatal Attraction

So, the allure of this blogging thing is almost overwhelming. I've been looking forward to finishing studying for my Political Science test so that I can write a little bit before bed. Embarrassing? Maybe, but so worth it.

I just have a few things to mention. A couple random occurrences that made my day a little better.

1. I love mall cops. Only a certain kind of mall cop, though. The kind that ride around in the white and blue SUV's and block you every time you try and pull out of a parking spot? Not quite. The ones that ride around on segues? Absolutely. Today, as I was leaving a shopping center I catch a glimpse out of my peripheral vision of a mall cop in his bright yellow shirt (stylin' and profilin') completely HAULING ASS across the parking lot. Where could he possibly be going that would require him to speed up to 80 mph on his segue? Did someone try on a blouse that they need in a different size or color immediately? Calm down, Rambo. Your scooter might suffer. One thing I don't quite understand is how I have never seen this little nugget before. I've been frequenting this shopping center for the last 10 years of my life, and I have never been privileged enough to capture this sight with my own eyes. I'll count my blessings, I suppose.

2. It's recently been brought to my attention how annoying people are. Now, so I don't offend all 2 of my blog readers, I'll explain. Not all of you are annoying. Just those of you who come in after a movie has started and feel the need to scream at the person you're with. I'm a person who sincerely enjoys watching the previews to movies, so this severely bothers me. If I'm sitting in a movie and the most intriguing preview in the world comes on about some incredibly thought provoking new film, please do not sit there shining your damn cell phone on the entire audience and scream "WHERE DO YOU WANNA SIT?!?". Dearest, just pick a chair. Preferably empty, but beggars can't be choosers. And, for the love of God, if there are 5 people in the movie theatre, do not sit within a three chair radius of me. Social skills, children. Develop them. And, if you take my foot rest, so help me, I'm not afraid to lunge across the back of your chair and give you a swift slap to the jaw. Just sayin' kids. Use your noggins.

3. This is a little less rant-y and a little more level-headed. I've rediscovered a website recently (originally introduced to me by my friend Alex). It's called themansguidetolove.com. Seriously, look it up. Relationships are so interesting these days, especially for women. With books like "He's Just Not That Into You" (my Bible, and part of the reason that I'm half-crazy) and "Act Like a Lady, Think Like a Man" so much of the control in a relationship is put in a man's hands (which is totally fine in my book, because apparently I've written one, too.). But, as a woman, we're made to think that men are solid foundations and we need to change and stop being who we are just for the sake of finding "the one". What I've found from this website is that men care and are just as emotionally connected as we are, they just don't want to mention it. I call bullshit, society. So, girls, instead of sitting next to your phone wondering if Mr. Wonderful is going to call, go check this website out. It's actually pretty encouraging. It's fun to watch men talk so candidly about something as complex as love. Your reactions will probably range from "awwww" to "ugh!", but it's worth it.

Anyway, that's all I have for tonight! Until the morning,

Sydney