In Alabama, this type of dog shower is considered very fancy.

I think I’m going to open my own McDonald’s franchise and only serve the breakfast menu.

Because I am never, ever, ever hungry in the morning. NEVER. But if I’m up and out before 10:30am, there’s never been a day that I haven’t said, “OH MY GAAAH MCDONALD’S BREAKFAST!” and gotten a McGriddle combo.

Me: What’s this thing? I don’t like it.
Dermatologist: Oh, it’s just a tiny, little mole.
Me: Uck.
Dermatologist: Yeah, nobody tells you, but you just keep getting more moles as you age.
Me: Swell.

Moles are not even the worst part of growing up. Lately, I’ve been having urges to do a lot of my old favorite pastimes, but I am scared away from them due to four little words:

tried as an adult.

Once when I was in high school, I found myself very late for Economics class. The truth is that it was the period right after lunch, and I just wanted to stay in the library a little longer. I always ate lunch with the librarians in my senior year, and I just didn’t want to leave the party.

A moment of silence for my teenage social status.

When I finally arrived, of course, Mr. Knapstein wanted to know the reason for my delay. I told him very sincerely why I was tardy.

“I was walking down the hall, and someone grabbed me and chloroformed me. I was just laying there, unable to move but fully aware of how late I would be to class. I’m sorry.”

I was excused.

Mom: I’m in love with a dead man.
Me: What?
Mom: (Googling) What’s that band that does that song?
Me: Oh, I-N-X-S. “In excess”.
Mom: And you know what? That’s sad because that was really the problem.
Me: Mom, you are so deep.

Out of all your past relationships what things have you learned from each and did you decide to keep any past boyfriends good quality’s as “a must” in future relationships.? 

Oh my. I’ve learned more about life from failed relationships than I have ever learned elsewhere. I guess the things I have learned are the following: Don’t hold onto someone tightly. Don’t try to change people. Don’t hold a grudge. Don’t ask questions to which you don’t want answers. Support and encourage growth and change, but don’t demand it. LIVE AND LET LIVE. Oh, and don’t be too generous with money (burned twice with that one). As far as your other question goes, I need a sense of humor. A like sense of humor. That’s key with me. If you can make me laugh and feel like a little kid, then chances are I’ll love you.

Oh, and they have to be over 5’10.

Ask me anything.

I had another good time with the girls last night while babysitting. We did our usual activities: ping pong, pizza-eating, and cozying up to a movie. We also incorporated some new things like bubble-blowing, table-dancing (it wasn’t my idea), and manicures.

 

Yes, I am now sporting electric pink nails courtesy of the ten year-old. She has very unique techniques for application, too.

 
Very rustic. And I didn’t even have to worry about her talking crap about me behind her native language! So relaxing.

The one year-old was extra cute, too. She wanted to hold my hand way more than usual, which always makes my ovaries look at the calendar and start writing strongly-worded letters to my brain.

She also saw that I was wearing my new Unexpected Expectancy doggie hair clip (product placement), and she immediately wanted to touch it. She started to tug it out of my hair, so I took it out and showed it to her. She made the little doggie walk around on the arm of the chair we were in, and then she looked up and pointed to her head. I clipped it into her soft curls, and she smiled the biggest smile I’ve ever seen. She’d get so mad at me if I took it out of her hair, though I was just fixing it for her. I’d put it right back in, and she’d stop mid-scream to grin and touch it in her locks. She wore it until she fell asleep.

This is about when my ovaries got their stationery back out.



Also, the ten year-old, eight year-old, and I all played a rousing game of “Kill, Kiss, or Marry.” Apparently, I will be killing a booger mixed with earwax, kissing an eyeball with nose hair on it, and marrying a tooth with bloody hair attached. It’s my prerogative. 

Being a twenty-something, American female, I sometimes like to partake in a very specific ritual any time I receive an online shopping order. Today, with thanks to Photobooth, you will have to endure this pastime. 

 
 
 

Why, yes. This is me trying on a beige romper with three different sets of…leg accessories. I’m thinking I may have to invest in some cognac or chocolate colored knee socks if I want to go that route with this. Sans socks altogether is a great idea for when I’m enjoying fall weather way down south in Alabama…but something will have to keep my goosebumps in line during the five days I’ll be in New York. Of course, I’ll have to take in the top of that romper before that trip. Thanks, boobs, for never growing.





Uh-oh. Put a giant flower in a girl’s hair, and she immediately thinks she’s some sort of Spanish ballerina. Aside from that, I’m really diggin’ this navy blue cotton and lace dress with flutter sleeves. It looked a bit more youthful than I wanted to go on the website, but I have zero regrets about this purchase. And that yellow flower clip from Anthropologie was an amazing gift, so thanks, Niks.

 
 


Well, there you have it. I’ve gone over the deep-end and now am convinced that I’m a flamenco-Laura Ingalls-ballerina, and nobody can stop me. Honestly, I hated this dress when I got it. The frills were too frilly. The pink was too pink. The whole thing was very blah. I think after I put the 1990s belt, grey knee socks, and brown riding boots, I felt a little better — but not convinced. The dancing session…that’s what did it for me. Dress, the way you look when I dance made me keep you. So always be FUNctional for me, k?

Any suggestions are welcome, but I’ll keep in mind that:
 

I was really flattered when I saw that Carly wrote a snippet about me on her blog. She says, “I recommend alexieileen. just started following her a few days ago, but I love her posts. I think she’s so funny and, I can’t quite tell yet, but maybe kind of a badass too”.

One of my favorite memories from high school was this one time when I was sitting at the Senior Picnic Table. Yes, singular. Because I had a graduating class of fifty-one. Well, so I was sitting there with some girls, and this was rare due to my antisocial nature (I had Too Cool Syndrome). A guy in our class came up, looked around, and said, “Whoa. This must be The Badass Table.”

I scrunched my forehead up in confusion and took inventory. Lauren Russell, Dawn Reese, Katelyn Carr, and me. He was right. Here we were: The Lady Badasses of Bayside Academy, Class of 2005.

In our junior year, Lauren had choked me in our Peer Counseling Class because I called her cute; she also once paid me $100 to write an English paper for her on the writing style of Oscar Wilde (it’s been over five years, I think she won’t beat me up for admitting that). Dawn was always cheating the system somehow, and she would get Lauren and me to tag along pretty often. Katelyn was just classically cool and independent; I’m not aware of whatever havoc she may have caused. And me. I wore dark makeup, ripped tights, and accidentally laughed when I saw a kid run into a door I had just opened.

Okay, so I wasn’t badass as much as I was fashion-impaired and had a sense of humor about misfortune. But I had that one guy tricked. And I relished in it. It was a dream come true to be in a gang of Kim Kellys.