I've been living in the right place

Goodness gracious. I need to get outside and walk around. Isn't it terrible to say, but everything is so boring today. My normal blogs are boring, my normal work is boring, my made up chores are boring, I am boring! Ha ha.

Whatever. Nothing that a little pink champagne, chocolate chip banana bread, and fabric buying after work won't cure. I love being a lady!

And I have a new Louis bag! And it just makes my year!

Something my dearest girlfriend always said, Lingerie Liz for those in the know, "When life is dull, go all trashy with it! How else do you think my life is so grand?" I miss that girl on a daily basis.

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I wish I had a sister getting married to be girly and silly and stupid with. I wish Brent lived closer so he and his lady could come eat roasted meats with us on our china. I wish I could still get away with the wild clothes of my youth. God playing dress up was so much fun. But I can't. I just cleaned out about 80 lbs of clothing from days of yore. I tried them all on and just laughed at how ridiculous I looked (present not past, mind you). Ha.

There are things one has to give up in adulthood that would make it seem less fun. But really, all the therapy is obviously not working, the makeup has started to run and you look like a clown, trends are for teens, and, gasp, sadly, so are music scenes.

Flash to scene around Labor Day weekend and

Telling a girlfriend the infamous Cory Branan story (send all references to Liz, as usual), and she telling me the infamous Ben Nichols story, I decided that I am so glad to be out of all that mess. Fayetteville became rampant with stds, source sadly known, and it doesn't help that it's all 19 year olds passing that shit around. A grown woman just can not compete with 18-20 year old girls. They hit 21, it's all fair game. But that time period in between, that precious time where girls actually need guys to go and do for them. Oh it's fun to watch, knowing now what we were really all up to then. But it's just so ugh. So gross. So vile. To think that men older than you choose to be with girls ten years your junior is just foul. Wasn't at the time, mind you, but we were all showgirls then anyway. Bat your eyelashes, get a beer. Throw the over the shoulder doe-eyed glance, get a beer. Flip your hair, get a beer. It so wasn't rocket science.

But what's funny is after all this time, guys still fall for it. All The Time.

It won't be the Hadron Collider that ends the world. But the predictability of dudes. Maybe I should say of single dudes. Of creepy dudes. Of every other dude but mine. Because mine, he's a bad mama-jama!

Ha! Happy Fritag everyone. It's almost time to leave! Forever!