BPCC

I know, I'm on my A-game. Two posts back-to-back. Hot dog! To start off this post I would just like to share with you a little portion of my day. Today was extremely busy at Cascio's. While walking with a pep in my step, I slipped in front of the entire restaurant, fortunately, my co-worker, Kathleen, attempted to catch me. What a good friend. I stayed red for about an hour after that one. Then, I had a table of four men. Four semi-perverted-attempting-flirtation-straight-from-the-boondocks men. I walked up to get there drink orders and one dude had already gotten his. One of them who hadn't gotten a drink yet said "Yeeeaap. He got his own drink 'cause he didn't want to have to tip. BLEHBLEHBLEH (country man laughing)." Little did I know, he was being serious. So I came back and they asked me "Are those pajama jeans?"....I said "No. They are not "pajama jeans"." They continued with saying stuff like "Where did you get those pajama jeans?" or "Those are definitely pajama jeans." Finally I told them to leave me alone and that my pants were this brand new invention called jeggings (I just rolled my eyes while typing that), and that I would never purchase pajama jeans unlike they're possible (highly unlikely) spouses (to harsh?). One of them had chips and I asked him what kind he would like...he replied with "Pajama chips." Tool. They only left me two dollars. Cheapo Depot.

Now that I've vented, I'll begin my post about the magical land of Bossier Parish Community College.

We'll start with all of the classy t-shirts that my fellow classmates wear. One guy in my math class wears a different "Class of '09" t-shirt every class. I've been paying lots of attention to this so I know for a fact he's yet to wear one more than once. He also has a bear paw shaved into his head.

Similar to this.

Another girl wore a shirt the other day (bright pink) that read "My night in shining armor turned out to be a fat boy in tin foil." Yuck yuck yuck! Wonder who comes up with these clever/witty t-shirt ideas?!

My favorite t-shirt of them all. A fellow Northwood High School student who graduated in '09. It read: "Top Ten Reasons I'm Glad I'm Leaving Northwood:" (It probably should have read Top 100 Reasons..) I began to read them and they started off very typical "No more meatloaf day; No more being tardy from not having a parking spot; etc." But then I got to number three "No more MySpace restrictions.".....hm.

I think "pregnant lady" in my math class had her baby. If not, maybe she lost a significant amount of weight in one week.

I had to pass out the teacher evaluations and when the last guy (who took literally 20 minutes and took this seriously) gave me his back I obviously read it. It was saying all of these hateful things about our teacher and how old he is and how he spits too much. It was rude. But he was really into it so he must have really not liked our teach. Makes me a little worried.

Finally, my Spanish class. I have this class with about 8 Haughton High School Buccaneers. Yeah. So here are some quotes that I've written down over the past few months that I thought were worth sharing:

1) "I made a 30 on the last test, so you should be fine." This test was solely on the alphabet.

2) "I'm grounded again for not making my bed before my church retreat...so let's go to Chili's!"

3) "I think he only talks to me because I'm on the softball team." I think you may need to re-evaluate that statement.

4) My favorite: "I saw some crazy hoes in Brentwood (school for kids who are bad)...but this bitch was CRAZY." Coming from the girl who told the class that she tried to beat her boyfriend with a crow bar since he was sleeping with her best friend. What a good friend.

Tis' all folks. Have a great Tuesday!

The State Fair.....................

So, it's been a while. How are y'all doing? Let me update you on my life..I went to the Louisiana State Fair...and that's about all you need to know to understand. I never thought that something so frightening would be SO FUN (...)!

To start out our (incredibly spontaneous) adventure to the fair, Hannah and I convinced Clint ("Clinkers" in a previous post) to go with us for protection (seriously). Han also brought her Taser, which they didn't check to see if she had a weapon (profiling failure). Clint was extremely unhappy that he had to go with us. Imagine a 21-year-old male pouting and that's what we were dealing with. We stopped at the gas station because good-ole-country-boy Clint just had to have a can of dip (delicious) for the fair (to put up with me and Hannah). Clint decides to buy a "roll" of dip, which for all of you who didn't know what that was either, its a five pack (?) of dip. It was Clint's lucky day because the lady at the gas station only charged him for one. Go Clint!

We get to the fair. Hannah and Clint are walking way too slow for my liking so I begin to walk faster in anticipation of the "thrill" rides. "Thrill" rides meaning they weren't actually scary but the fear of them falling apart while being hoisted in the air. I forgot how much I turned into a 12-year-old when it came to anything with lots of lights and fast machinery (like oil plants). At one point I was actually screaming in a little girl voice (I know, quite hard to imagine).

We get to the first ride (video at the end) and it literally was the doink-iest (shout out to Mal, Hals, Gray, and Hannah) ride at the fair, well, besides the children's rides. Basically, you sat facing the crowd with nothing in front of you. You were strapped in by an over the shoulder (boulder holder...) harness type thing. Once it began to sway (maybe a distance of six feet) Clint began proclaiming "I didn't sign up for this shet." (Censored).

The next ride we got on decided to stay upside down for a good five seconds. Hannah and I, being the absolute idiots that we happen to be, decided to bring our purses on this adventurous ride. While being stuck upside down we were scrambling to hold onto our belongings; Clint was still screaming profanities (he had to ride by himself).

Our next task on the list was the rock wall. If you climbed the "challenge" wall you could win up to $100. No one was around to witness my attempt at being a "climber" so I figured why not. The instructor harnessed me in and I began my trek up the plastic wall of doom. I got maybe three feet off the ground and decided it was fun for a second, but not my cup of tea. Then, he made me go for a second try (I'm not sure why he thought making me do this once more would result in me succeeding). I actually got a little further up, and I looked back at Hannah because I could hear her cackling and there were about 40 people watching me.

A former LA Tech baseball player decided to give it a go. He looked pretty confident in his attempt. And once he got off the ground he began shaking like Tucker from "There's Something About Mary".

(Video at 25 seconds; just a note: he doesn't actually have a disability for those who may be offended)

The last ride we waited in line for had a woman with a bit of an upset stomach on board. We were about tenth in line and all of a sudden the first nine people starting freaking out, they had been sprayed by the bile of an imbecile. After the "conductor" stealthily cleaned off the ride (poured a bucket of water over the seat) a fellow decided he would be the guy sitting by himself. Walking with his swag, looking cool as ever, he sat in the seat. Immediately he jumped out and was soaked in the remainders of vomit and H2O.

I leave you all with a little clip from the KTBS News Team who captured the three of us on the first ride. Ignore my frightened face, it was all staged. At about 1:15, look for the large blond hair. HAPPY MONDAY! Love y'all (too soon?).

THE RIDE OF TERROR

My Visit to the Emergency Room

I know, I know. Before you all start shouting obscenities at me, I've been super busy with a lot of stuff and haven't had time to write to all of you. The whole waking up at 6:30 every day and then going to another job from 10-3 then going to class thing is just a little overwhelming. Sorry. I had to have my own pity party, GERRRRRRR!!!!!!! While I'm busy WORKING MYSELF TO DEATH, I think my immune system is as well. Here in "good ol'" Shreveport, a slight bug had been working its way around the city. My dear friend Hannah's boyfriend Clint (Clinkers) thought that a bad batch of meatloaf from the Golden Corral did the trick.

Yum.

While watching Bridesmaids over at the Doyle residence, I became a little chilly. I went and grabbed her brother's comforter from his bed and noticed a very potent scent coming from the depths of the linen. She exclaimed that Clint had slept in there but we all agreed since it was food poisoning I'd be A-OK (we're such idiots.)

The next day, I was extremely tired at work but I figured it was normal since I WORK MYSELF TO SLEEP ALL OF THE TIME. Does that make any sense to you? It makes sense to me so I'll keep it. I went home to lay down for a second when I became extremely nauseated (also fever, chills, a headache, and a sore throat...have pity on me!!!!!!!) A few hours of this and I took a Dramamine and planned on going to bed around 9. 

And then it happened:

This is really frightening.

I didn't vomit a rainbow (although that would be magical), but I wanted to go to quick care to get a shot for nausea or some antibiotics since I had a test the next day (didn't make that test BTW) and work. My strange mannered step dad (he's pretty normal) drove me to three quick cares...gasp. They were all closed. I was about to start re-writing my will (what?) when we decided to go to the E.R. I shouldn't have gone to the ER for this petty virus, but I felt like death, and they'd give me some meds (not to abuse). After about an hour of waiting they finally took me to the back where I shared a large room with two other people (they used curtains as dividers). It was so typical. An elderly man had fallen and thought he had gotten a concussion. His sweet wife was there though and that made me happy. 

The lady nurse came in and began treating me like a 7 year old, but I did not mind it one bit. I had to go pee in a cup and when I got back I didn't know what to do with my urine so I just held it. As I'm looking at my urine disapprovingly, McSteamy walks in. Long blond hair, nice and buff, and beautiful eyes. "Here's my chance" I thought. I said hello, forgetting I look like a moron. And then he whispered softly into my ear (except loudly and two feet away from me) "I need to get your urine." Sad.

I waited a little while and McSteamy and Momma Nurse came back in to put me on some fluids and draw blood. I've been told I have some tiny veins (; so they both sat down and started just slapping the hell out of my inner elbows. It reminds me of the scene in Zoolander when he's getting a massage from the oompa loompa lady.

They got me hooked up to the iv so all that I had left to do was wait patiently. But oh no. That couldn't happen because the elderly man next to me kept buzzing the nurse. She came in and asked what he needed and he simply told her he needed to use the restroom. She asked him if he could use a urinal and he said yes. The whole time I wasn't thinking anything of it. Then I heard him peeing. I guess urinal in hospital terms is a plastic bucket. Thirty minutes later I laid in bed shivering because of how nippley it was in there, when all of sudden I hear "berrrrrrrrrrr." That's how I would type flatulence. The urination station had left, but now the gas chamber would begin.

I did get a really cool hospital bracelet that I kept as a souvenir. I wore it to work thinking I would get some pity points and maybe an extra tip but people don't react well to "I was in the hospital for a virus the other day." And now I'm serving you delicious food that I coughed on in the back. Have a great Tuesday, I've got to practice my speech on how to make a napkin origami chicken.

The Fifth Grade Blues

Possibly an awkward year for everyone? Or just me? I'll share some stories with you and maybe you'll feel better about yourself. Be aware that I'll be sharing stories with you of various peers because they're all to great to keep to myself.

Ms. (Mrs. now?) Geneaux (I think that's how you spell her name...) every nine weeks or so would have a raffle and boy was this raffle the best thing that had ever come to St. Joseph's. She would put it homework passes, colored pencils, GEL PENS!!!!, USA themed toys/bandanas (I'm currently sitting at Starbucks trying to look intelligent while "studying" and I'm pretty sure Dwight Schrute's twin just showed up for a latte), and then one day...she threw in....the bone pen. You're probably wondering "What is a bone pen?" I will tell you what a bone pen is. A bone pen (let's see how many more times I can say bone pen (1)) is a pen shaped like a human bone:

A friend of mine, Austin Andre (I'll only use fake names on the embarassing ones), won this bone pen and everyone was incredibly jealous. Later that day, in Senorita Sanchez' espanol (obviously) class, he just could not handle this pen anymore. So the devil woman took it up. He got a little upset and told her "That is my pen, give it back." She responded "Sue me." How mature right? UGH. Austin "I WILL!!!!!" He got a detention for standing up for his fake femur. 

If you're from Shreveport, you'll know a man named Tony Taglivore (newscaster), who (I'm not sure if he still does this) does a "Tony Live" segment where he goes to elementary/middle schools at 4:30 a.m. (yeah.) and I guess talks about them? Well, he came to St. Joe's back in fifth grade. Let me tell you now, this was the worst decision Tony could have made. A) Everyone had to be there at 4:30 in the morning, but "we're going to be on the SHREVEPORT NEWS MOM PLEASE" so Cricket let me attend. We had to wear our janky pep squad uniforms that were one pieces with a waistband and you folded it under the waistband so it would look like two pieces. Only the best for S-J-S. I was such a good cheerleader. So that morning Tony does his thing and the cheerleading squads do some cheers. He brings out the biggest cake I've ever seen in my entire life. Seriously like seven feet long, 50 feet wide. Just kidding, but it was large.

 The worst things to say to fifth graders live on television (we got to be in the front for some strange reason) is "DIG IN." On the recording, me and my old pal Reno Grossi, dive across the crowd and into the huge cake. This proceeds into St. Joseph's Catholic School having what I'm pretty sure was the first live-broadcast food fight on Shreveport news. All of the teachers were extremely upset. 

One of my dearest friends, Rose Pettiette, was very cool back then (what happened Ro-ey?) and my other friend Mary Oden (was just as cool, don't get me wrong) but those two had a bet and if Mary lost, she would have to be Rose's slave for a day. Mary lost. The day came where Mary was Rose's "slave" and so this encouraged Rose to say some crude things for a fifth grader to say to another fifth grader (no bad words or bad names, but just not appropriate things like making Mary do belittle-ing things). The teachers had a special meeting with Rose telling her she could not have Mary Oden as a slave. They really did think this was real. I am giggling out loud at Starbucks right now by myself with the hipsters.

They're all looking at me in my over sized t-shirts and Nike's so I'm going to scaddaddleeee on out of here. Love yall. Miss yall. Wanna be yall. Bye.

I Can't Make This Stuff Up.

This past weekend has really had me thinking my life is like "The Truman Show". Seriously though, there is no way that my life has this many awkward happenings for it to be real. It's not real life. I'll give you all a little break down starting with "wow, that's odd" to "this can't be real".

1) Yesterday, my friends and I went to Dick's Sporting Goods to look for some new tennis shoes and maybe a new rain jacket (Koppen's are the coolest by far). While they were looking at the shoes again, I went over to the exercise equipment section and began to explore (like a 7 year old). I was on a new elliptical machine that has a TV built in, and also a  fan. It was huge. I walked around the corner to meet back up with them when...BAM. The greatest thing I've ever seen is right there. The Ab Glider.

I was thrilled. I hopped on that bad boy and began to glide. I did it for a good three minutes and just couldn't figure out how in the world it worked. I found Haley and Mallory and explained to them "Y'all. There is an Ab Glider over there." They (Haley) got equally as excited. I hopped on again and told them I didn't understand how it worked. Fortunately (unfortunately), there was another shopper near by. He was probably 35+, into working out (he was checking out biking gear), and into helping some young adults figure out the Ab Glider. What a peach. As I'm trying to "glide" (yikes) he came up and held the handle bar for me and began to "personally train" my ab gliding self. It was weird man. 

2) Haley and I went to go see the movie "Our Idiot Brother" last night. Not what I expected it to be, but it was so great. I thought it was supposed to be a straight up comedy, but it was more of a feel-good movie. It was still funny, but there were many moments when you just felt good. Hence the "feel-good" -____-. I laughed, I almost cried, and it made me want to be a better person. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED. Anyways, on the way to the movie, we stopped at a gas station to get some Lunchables and candy to sneak in.

 Very classy. I was on the phone with my mom, Cricket, when this man looked at Haley and I and began to wave at one of us. I looked at Haley who wasn't paying that much attention so I put my context clues together and realized he was waving at me. "Mom, I've got to go..." I waved back and from one end of the gas station he yelled "Sydney Fletcher right?!" I was hoping "Maybe he's read my blog. My first fan (!!!!!!)." Wrong. I went up and asked how he was doing, basically pretending I knew this man. His response was "You went to Holy Rosary right? I recognize you from there." Uh......."Yes sir, I went there K-3-Kindergarten." What the heck? I know I've got a memorable voice, and memorable hair, but three years old to twenty years old? SECRET OBSESSION?! Just kidding, later on I realized I did know this man. He's friends with my grandparents. Sorry, for making you feel like a creeper good sir.

3) The weirdest thing of this weekend. Are you ready? Because I'm not sure if you are. I'm not sure if I am either, but here we go. A lot of my friends from Baton Rouge went to Dallas this weekend for the LSU vs Oregon game (Geaux Tigers.) on Friday morning through the weekend. Friday night, I was watching the TCU vs. Baylor game (great game by the way) when I received a picture text message from a number I didn't know. The picture is an advertisement of some sort with two girls and the caption is "Hey gurl." This is what I receieved:

I looked at it for a good while, finally figured out it was Millicent who sent it to me, and I thought she did the thing where people put faces on other peoples bodies, FaceinHole. Then she explained that this is an actual advertisement at Jake's Burger Place in Dallas, TX. Uh......this is real?........Either I have an identical twin that wears a lot of make up, or this could be a lawsuit. Now I'm not saying that's my body. Because I can guarantee you right now....it's not. But that is my facial structure in every way. The teeth are bigger than mine, but still. That is my nose, those are my tiny half-moon eyes. I'm very disturbed. Twin: if you are some how reading this blog, please contact me so we can meet. 

I wish some of my stories on here were made up, but they are not. All of them are 100% real, besides the changing of names which is strictly to protect their identities (something that I lack, obviously). Happy Tuesday y'all. 

This blog post is dedicated to my mother's dear friend Tony Luce and his daughter Tori Luce. May you rest in peace beautiful girl. Hope this can bring some happiness to you Tony.

I'm a Pageant Star. Pt. 2

Happy Hump Day/National Trail Mix Day/Last Day of August!!!!!!!!!!!!! September is tomorrow! Yahoo! My favorite month is October and this just means we're getting closer. Yesterday, you were all given a taste of my pageantry life. Aren't y'all lucky. To begin the day of the pageant (I already mentioned I was not feeling so hot in the previous post), we had to do interviews with the judges. My breathe smelled like alcohol (seriously). Fortunately, one of my fellow beauty queens had a spare Altoid (whew!). It was our time to walk in and sit at the tables with the awkward judges.

In the interviews, I went into them with the mindset of honesty (as opposed to flat out lying, I guess?). So when they asked me "Do you think we'll ever achieve world peace?"(Really?) I honestly responded "No, not really." Now, some of you will think I was just being negative, but I explained my answer. I basically told the little man that everyone on Earth wants to be more powerful than the other, and with that there will never be "world peace". It worked for me (like the energy shot). 

After the interviews, we had time to go home and get our "things". I gather my bedazzled sailor costume (gag), my dress (that I still have from you Rebecca Stewart) that was too short, my bathing suit (I've got the chills) and a few more things. On my way to the Union (where this monstrosity was held) I had to stop and get something to eat. Since I was going to be walking around in a bathing suit (I did p90x for about two weeks with three months to prepare for this, then quit...), I figured I should eat something that won't make me bloat (yes, I just wrote that), so I get a smoothie from Smoothie King. 

Arrived at the Union and everyone looks way more prepared than I do. Some people even had containers on wheels. Yeah. We began practicing. Oh lord.

First, we go with the dance. I failed to mention in the last post that the dance had two songs. The choreographer counted us off at the first practice (I was a 2) and the 1's got the song "American Woman" by Lenny Kravitz. In my head I'm thinking "Thank Jesus. Maybe I'll get something better than that." F no I didn't. 

I got a 1920's doodle-bop song that required us to do dance moves like a "jazz square" which I had no idea what that was until then (and might I add...I do a delightful jazz square now). I did not know this dance come the day of the pageant, and the girl next to me did not know it either (we were front row in the dead center). Great.   At one point I had to pretend I was a sailor. 

By this point, I was starving beyond belief and it was go time (my entire family came to "support" me p.s.). Right before our "opening number" (ahhhhhhh) I forget the dance. Shocking. I seriously was about to just say "I'm done." and go get a burger. I sucked it up though.

In one of the heinous videos from this, you can see me watching the girl next to me the whole time because I have no idea what I'm doing. After our dance, we had to do "introductions" (I love using quotation marks and parentheses if you haven't noticed). Introductions go like this: "I'm Sydney Fletcher from Shreveport, Louisiana, the place that I call home! And I am YOUR CONTESTANT NUMBER 15!" You have to shout the last part. My introduction was basically correct "My name is Sydney Fletcher, and I'm from Shreveport, Lousiana, where we can all "Move it Like Berney" and I am your contestant number 15." I didn't shout. I figured it would startle them. I got a few chuckles from that one.

Bathing suit time. DEAR GOD NO. Every freaking girl was ripppppppppped. I mean 12 packs, buns of steel, big boobs. Then there's me! Whee! I forgot to bring my baby oil (oh no!) so I was extremely "ashy" on the stage and everyone else was lathered up. I did get to spray "butt-glue" on my tush. Talk about a sticky situation (get it?). I look terrified walking in that damn bathing suit I can gurantee it.

Evening gown. When I can figure out how to upload the video I will and you will be excited.

It's time to announce the Top 12. I was in the second row, in the center of the group. Literally, everyone around me was chosen, so I was standing by myself in the center of everyone. Then I did the only rational thing to do so I pageant waved for about five minutes.

I did not win. I'll upload the evening gown vid later. SPOILER: I shoot the judges with my "double-guns" after a dazzling twirl. Two of them thought it was funny. The other seven did not. SEE YALL LATA!

I'm a Pageant Star. Pt. 1

This is actually really difficult to talk about, but I trust all of you in not judging me and just accepting it and leaving it behind. Here goes nothing.

First. I have the worst friends ever. Just kidding, they're all fantastic. But. Sometimes they tell me to do things that will not benefit myself but that will provide them with entertainment. For instance, the Miss LSU pageant. Yes. I'm going there. Every day at the Chi O house, we'd all be chatting over some taco salad or maybe some sandwiches, laughing about the copious amounts of funny stories being shared amongst one another. So, one day we were discussing the upcoming Miss LSU pageant. We all agreed it would be highly entertaining if me and my dear friend Palmer Harbuck would "compete" in this. Over the next couple of weeks we all came up with ideas for the pageant, such as for the swim suit portion, wear a wet suit, or a thong bikini. Finally, we decided to do it. After step-show practice my friend Emily Culotta (my support coach) and I went to the Delta Zeta house (they were the hosts of the event) and signed my sorry arse up. I never realized how simple it was to sign up for something so...public. All I had to do was write my e-mail address down and BOOM. I'm in. Terrifying (to say the least). First practice rolls around and Palmer has decided not to do it anymore. Uh. Crap. I'm all by my lonesome doing something I am completely uncomfortable with. For the next couple of months we would practice (learning how to walk, learn a dance....yeah....how to speak). It was absolutely horrible.

The dance. So the theme was "America". Flashback to Drop Dead Gorgeous? I'm getting nauseated thinking about this. Seriously haha. First, they tell us about our costumes. If you ever saw pictures (or favorably witnessed) me in a costume, its never good. I mean its a great costume, but not lady like... ever. Mainly because I dress up like boys:

Was mistaken for a pledge this night.

Ok. You get the point. So when they said "America themed costume" my eyes lit up. I'm thinking Uncle Sam, full blown. A bald eagle. One time I took a guy to grub and made him wear a bald cap to perfect our "Simpson's" costume.

Back to pageantry. When I mentioned this to "the girls" (wow.) they politely shut my idea down with "ARE  YOU SERIOUS?! You can't do that!" Fine. I'll play it off with your rules. Me being the lazy/procrastinating person that I am, waited to do this costume until the day before we had to turn them in (or whatever). I have the greatest room mate in the world. CAMILLE MOTT!!! Friend her on Facebook, follow her on Twitter. She loves that.

We got to The Party Starts Here (Baton Rouge Party City) and look for anything with red, white, or blue. I would not wear some cheesy, slooty mcsloot sloot costume so we began searching, and all that they had are the slooty mcsloot sloot costumes. I'm screwed. I found a plus size sailor costume. PERFECT. It came down to mid calf so I knew that one could possibly work. After spending a good five minutes in Hobby Lobby, we venture home to begin arts and crafts. Camille altered (stitch-witched) the whole thing. And we bedazzled the shet out of it. I seriously can not believe I wore that, good lord. It came with a teeny tiny sailor hat. "What is this? A sailor hat for ants?!"

Besides the costume, these ladies were preparing for this thing to the max. One fellow pageant star, didn't drink for about three months. St. Patrick's Day Parade had been the previous Saturday and when we discussed it I told them of my state of mind and they replied with "Well, when we do things, we don't half-ass it." Ouch. Alright, I get it. That was one thing, being a week before the pageant and what not, but I made the mistake of going out the night before the pageant (saying pageant in such a casual slang right now is really bothering me). Boy was that rough, I'm pretty sure I smelled like a walking tall, cool Budweiser (Would you eat the moon if it were made of ribs?).

I was recently tagged in a photo from this thing...it will not stop haunting me.

Tomorrow, I will share with yall off the details from the day of the pageant. This post would be entirely too long if so. Stay tuned for tomorrow's blog. Happy Tuesday yall.

Please Don't Lean on my Car.

GREETINGS TO ALL! I'm now enrolled in an online speech class (yeah, I don't really get it either) and I am thrilled to begin. Its one thing to post my thoughts on the Internet, but in front of an actual audience will be quite exciting. Sorry it's been many moons since the last blog post. Actually, I'm not sorry. I am no push over (I actually really am unfortunately, don't use it against me, or I'll shun/curse/kill you).

So, for all who know me well (not that many so I'll share what I secretly mean), you know that I enjoy my share of Sonic greatly. Whether I go for just a large Diet Cherry Limeade, or maybe a snack size Chili Frito Wrap (my mouths watering), I go to Sonic at least 3-4 times a week. Recently, I took the doors off of my jeep, Gretchen (she's a tomboy), and went to sonic. I pulled into one of the slots (I'm not sure why because I always go drive-thru....in case you were wondering....) and ordered a hot dog....yeah. The car hop comes out to deliver me my grub (he was decently attractive) and he has this grin on his face. Not the grin that has been previously mentioned (the OH MY GOSH I HAVEN'T SEEN YOU IN SO LONG grin) but a "Hey. Sup?" kind of grin. I decided to take this one step-by-step. He began to read my order to me and got all flustered and me being the absolute charmer I am agreed that it was probably correct (it wasn't). So then he leans on my car. I don't care if someone leans on Gretchen, but when you do it in such a lame-I'm-trying-to-pick-you-up-lets-go-on-a-date-that-isn't-sonic-maybe-a-movie-maybe-cascios-oh-wait-you-work-there-so-that-wouldn't-work-out-maybe-not-oh-crap-I'm-still-leaning-on-your-car kind of way, it irks me. So, as he is leaning on my car he says "Yeah...I really like your jeep. You should get like a lift and maybe a grill guard. I drive that Toyota Tundra over there, I haven't gotten anything done to it yet but I'm going to." I wasn't going to be rude but I was absolutely starving at this point so I responded with something like "Yeah, my first step was the doors, I did this about two days ago..." His response "HAHAHAHAHAHHA! You're so funny and cool!" Ok. Not really. But he did tell me his name, which will not be mentioned. Let's go with Steve. "My names Steve." Being the awkward person I am, I didn't think to tell him mine so I just said it was nice meeting you. Then I drive away and as I round the corner he was there waving at me with his tray.


This isn't him but I like this picture.

I told my friends about it (Mallory, Grayson, Haley, and Hannah) and we all got a good laugh, because this kind of thing (not that boys talk to me often but that I run into extremely awkward situations) happens to me frequently. A couple of days later, Haley and I went to Walgreen's to pick up some medication. The medication (Aciphex) sounds like something different (Ass-Effects) so we waited until the two people that were already at the counter were done or close to. Finally, I looked at Haley and said "Do you know that guy? I'll just go ask for it." She didn't know him but I went up there by myself anyways. I'm standing in line behind two people who came off as a young couple (young meaning close to my age, not like a 12 year old couple, which would be strange) and the boy turned around and looked at me and said "Hey! I know you." Oh gosh. "I was your car hop at Sonic the other day! Remember? Steve?" WHY ME?!?!?! "Yeah! I remember you, my name's Sydney by the way." I'm about to ask for Ass-Effects in front of Steve. Wonderful. I was still in my work clothes which consists of a t shirt and a tennis skirt with tennis shoes. He asks me "So do you go to Loyola? With the whole uniform thing?" I replied..."I'm actually a junior in college." My answer disappointed him it appeared. The whole time, his "girlfriend" was standing there getting her medicine, probably not Aciphex, and he nudged her and said "Hey, this is Sydney, I car hopped for her the other day." This is strange. "Nice to meet you" "Nice to meet  you too? (I don't know who you are)". "This is my sister." Oh ok. Already meeting the family. Yay. See ya later.

Needless to say, I've had to avoid my favorite Sonic that's closest to my house. HOW SAD FOR ME. Maybe I'll build the courage to go back. Maybe he'll propose to me. Hmm. We'll see. I'll update yall later. HAPPY THURS! Bii.

So...I'm a DJ...

I mentioned this in a previous blog post but I feel as though I've never really addressed the issue. Yes, issue. So, my father has a show in the morning from seven to nine and every 20 minutes he had someone at Centenary radio chime in, play a song, do the weather, share some news. The whole sha-bang. This person was also in charge of broadcasting his show through KSCL. This brings me to the point of why did anyone ever think to trust me doing this? Seriously. The first day I was by myself, I was in the midst of panicking, and all of the sudden this flashing device starts going off (it starts flashing.....OK.). Great, the fire alarm is going off. Except, it wasn't. Worse. Someone was "calling-in". Here's our conversation:
Sydney: Hello....?
Random non-existing band fan: Oh. You're here.
Sydney: Yes (anus?). I'm here.
Random: Will you play some Noir?
Sydney: I'm sorry?
Random: Noir. Just play it.

I searched my tiny (-Tim) two rooms filled with millions of CD's, and could not find it. So, I googled it, and the only "Noir" is in some different language....so I'm not really sure we have that one sir.

We "DJ's" have a sign in sheet (so they know who messed up at all times) and underneath the signature line it says LEGAL NAME. I don't know if some folks up here were full of misfortune with their birth certificate but "Dat Boy Blaze" just doesn't sound like it has a nice ring to it in the kindergarten role call.



This took Totes about two weeks to learn.

 Another thing about the other deej's, when you search the little Google sidebar, it doesn't automatically delete. I went to Google this morning to look up the lyrics to this one song to make sure it was appropriate to play (so responsible, you're welcome children of the Ark-La-Tex), and I see that my previous DJ, Chris Brown (not sure if that's his LEGAL NAME or not) had been searching about whiskey, good kinds of whiskey, and then finally a brand of whiskey. At least it wasn't something like "How to murder someone", I would have been a little worried/frightened if that were the case. They had looked up this blog though (good choice if you're reading this again) and they'd viewed it seven times. The computer probably froze and they just kept accidentally clicking it. But I'm okay with that!

This little booth is pretty scary. I'm the first one here every morning and its frightening, lots of CD's staring at you. It took me about 10 minutes the other day to find the light switch. Sneaky sneaky, Centenary. It is quite the adventure sitting in the hottest room probably on campus. To pass my time I like to wander around (in two rooms about the size of closets, not much wandering) and look at all of the CD's. There are so many and its such an adventurous delight! Every genre of music. Billions upon billions upon billions. We get 70 new CD's every week (is CD supposed to be capitalized? Hm.) but I don't know who is supposed to approve them so we have about 15 bins of 70 CD's.....so that 85 new CD's..............I've tried to look at them but then I start to have a panic attack and it ruins my fun.

It's fun being able to say whatever you want to. I've decided to take a new take at weather, a crude one per say. For example, Christmas Vacation, "It's a bit nipple-y out side." Or "Man, it's hot as bals-amic vinagrette today."  It really it as hot as bals-amic vinagrette today here in Shreveport, Louisiana, United States of America. 318. Ratchet City. Port City. Sleezeport. Disneyport. So far from being anything like Disney. Sigh. The high today is 106. Kill me now. I'm rambling now. I drank the largest coffee in my entire life today. Very quickly too. I'm watching my fingers type (my extremely long and slender fingers; Claire O'Brien and Haley Sanders like to call me Voldemort) and they just keep moving. I'm typing my thoughts now. Ok. I'm stopping. Ok nope. Yes. No. Ok. Happy Hump Day.

Hey! I haven't seen you in.....oh....

Don't you hate that awkward moment when you're in the midst of waving at a long lost friend when you realize this person has never been discovered by yourself? I sure don't. I live for it. Today, at my occupation of choice (not that it would be forced), I, Sydney Elizabeth Fletcher II (long story), experienced this. After frantically delivering a delicious Turkey Melt and quite appetizing Cobb Salad to a table of two, I realized there was a man waving at me and smiling. Not just a regular "Hello" kind of smile either, but an " OH MY GOSH WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!" kind of smile. So I put on my best "OH MY GOSH I HAVEN'T SEEN YOU IN SO LONG!" kind of smile (how annoying would it be if I typed in all caps throughout an entire blog post; screaming at you all in type) in return and went up to the male adult and said "Hey, how are you doing?" (imagine this being said with a southern accent; I tend to speak in some thick southern accent when I'm feeling awkward/nervous/or have been drinking) he looked at me strangely and then over my shoulder and then back at me and said "Fine.....(ehh?)....?" and that's when I realized he was speaking to the man behind me (in his age group, much more suitable). I turned a vibrant shade of red and returned to my expo-table to sulk in agony and shame.
Usually this kind of thing happens with younger children but when you're my father's daughter, you are in the category for worst person with names. I was taking precaution, so I didn't feel to bad about it.

They copied my 2004 Christmas Card picture. Anuses. Anusi?

After this encounter with my non-existing 30-40 year old male friend, it brought me back to the horrific days of seventh grade at St. Josephs. Seriously. The only memories I have from seventh grade are just horrible. An off-the-track story: In middle school (or at least at this one) you had to do hearing tests and sight tests (I'm pretty sure this is normal). So, we all go down to do these tests, all very excited to not be in class. I go up and do both of mine, wishing it would last longer, and they send me a note home. They wanted me to have glasses, a hearing aid, and might I add I was scheduled to have braces around that time too. Talk about a beaut I would've been. Back to the point. My seventh grade choir teacher:

This isn't her, but she looks nice and friendly, just like mine was.

She told us on a Tuesday (we're winging it) that she would be out the following day (Wednesday for you slower kids) to get her hair cut (..............) but she would be back later that afternoon if we needed to stop by (let me throw in the fact that I should not have been in choir) and ask for any help or whatever you ask choir teachers about. So I'm about to get in my carpool and I'm leaving the lockers when I see Mrs. Johnson talking to another student (her back was facing me but I recognized the red bob). We were pretty close (not at all) so I went up to her and shook her hair (that is possibly the strangest thing I've ever done to a teacher....or is it? Just kidding. ) and said "Cute haircut girl!" When I say "shook", I mean purposefully messed up her "do" in a semi-violent way. When I was ready to get scolded (brings us back to the previous post), she turned around and I realized I had no idea who this woman was. And turns out she had been talking to her daughter, who was a year older than me. That was mortifying.

Now I just avoid eye contact with every human being, and it's been working out great, besides today...Happy Monday to all, and to all a good night!

My Rebellious Childhood

One of my dearest friends, Haley, and I went to eat at one of my local favorites the other day at an obscure time of 3:45. While munching on fried pickles (that's the only hint I'm allowed to give), I noticed that I recognized one of the fellows inside from (I'm not even really sure what from but I'll go with my gut) elementary school. I realized this after eye contact had been made so it was too late to say hello (darn it). As we were leaving, I realized I knew his friend as well (this one I really did know from elementary school). So, I asked Haley "Was that __________?" Her response "Yes, I fired him from ________ a few years ago." Uh-oh. "Well, I'm guessing he doesn't like us very much," I sighed. Why you may ask? Back in kindergarten (that word looks misspelled and I've tried three different ways), this boy (lets call him Persuasive) Persuasive was just head over heels for me (who wasn't back then? Am I right? Am I right?), and it was absolutely the worst thing to have happened to me (and later on him) in kindergarten. One day (I hope he isn't reading this or doesn't come across it) he would not stop asking me to marry him. Literally all day, this Persuasive kid wouldn't leave me alone. So, we're standing in line somewhere (I was five, not the best memory) and he asks me to marry him again (way past the point of flattery), and I lost it. My mom that day didn't have time to "stitch-witch" my hemline so we threw a few safety pins up under there (ouch) and I used that to my advantage. Persuasive asked me yet again, so I did what every other 5-year-old girl would do and I unpinned my safety pin and I stabbed the brute.

Oops.

 He told on me and I got a detention (as a 5-year-old). After I explained this to Haley it made me realize that I got a lot of detentions from K-5-12th grade. That same year, I got another detention for throwing my best friend at the time, Mallory Harville's (shout out) quarter down the drain on purpose (I know, I would've hated my younger self too). First grade rolls around (new school, fresh start) and come winter time I grabbed my pair of white gloves from one of the cubbies and went on with my bidness (hello Office). Later, a girl in my class's mother called my mom and threw me under the bus by LYING that I straight up jacked her gloves. They were white cotton gloves. They looked identical you psychotic parent. I had to write lines for my parents that said something like "I will never steal again." It should've said "This is horse crap (you're welcome dad for the censoring)." I also had to call the little brat and apologize, call the mother (who was insanely rude to a first grader) and apologize and write a letter to them.


How can you be rude to that? Excuse the child pornography.


Second grade, Mrs. Dartois' class, I didn't take my medicine every day...........I would get up to get a tissue, sit down, get up again to sharpen my pencil, sit down, ask to go to the bathroom, come back, sit down, ask for water. Finally, she flipped and ended up duct taping my feet to the floor (seriously). That was probably my most valued lesson.

For the rest of elementary and throughout middle school, my detentions were nothing special. The occasional "chewing gum" and the usual "talkative" were the only highlights of my rebellious stage.

High school begins, and in English during 4th hour we had a sub (Mr. Adams.). So we're sitting in class and one of my fellow classmates asked me for a piece of gum. Being the extremely funny freshman that I thought I was, I figured I would pull a nice little prank on her (it's nothing special so don't let the suspense build). I knew we weren't allowed to chew gum, especially in this woman's class so I gave her the wrapper, but folded like gum (clever). I walked over to her desk and dropped it on there. As she went to pick it up, Mr. Adam's backpack-wearing-self snagged it before she could even flinch. He walked up to the podium and opened the mystery wrapper, looked at me in the eye with his intense glare and looked back down. Later I received a detention from him and the English teacher that read "Reason for Detention (or whatever it says in that section): Playing mind games."

I always had a feeling I was psychic, but that put the icing on the cake. HAPPPPPPYYY FRIDAY!!!!!! I'm starving right now, so I'm going to get Wendy's new breakfast (sooooo good). I'll post this later on. BYE YALL.

Toddlers & Tiara's.....I'm Just Now Getting Into This "Trend"

So what if I'm a little late on watching this absolutely heinous (yet wildly entertaining and intriguing) television, it is absolutely insane. The other day, I wasn't feeling too well so I decided to have a "me" (lazy) day and watch hours beyond hours of "crap TV". Toddlers & Tiaras. It's where it's at.

First let's talk about T&T (cute abbreviation for such a cute show...). I did not know that babies (literally 3-6 months) could participate in a beauty pageant. Now, let me defend them on that because they aren't dressing up babies in actual wigs with fake teeth and make up (that's a terrifying image in my head)


My mom was such an arse.

Besides the fact that mothers are carrying their children on stage without them having an actual idea of what is going on (harsh I know) they have the decency to pretend they can communicate fully with their child. For example, the other episode I was watching went a little something like this "This is your contenstant number 15, Heaven (ehh?). Her favorite colors are HOT PINK AND ZEBRA(that took me too long). Her favorite food is PICKLES..." No one can actually know that a baby's favorite color is hot pink. They can't speak their own opinions you nasty nasty lady. Also, zebra is not a color. It is a print. And what baby likes pickles? All I'm picturing is a baby at a movie theatre (preferably Horrible Bosses, it was a delight) eating one of those giant movie theatre pickles. Gnawing on one of those giant movie theatre pickles to be exact.

The baby portion of the show is pretty disturbing but what is even more disturbing is......The Diva Dad. This man (dressed in a print from Project Runway for the majority of the show it seems):



He participated in the "She-Man" contest.

 "Let me see a perfect 10 (head nod), perfect 10 (another head nod), and perfect 10 (final head nod)." I would be infuriated if my father pranced around like a dandelion. Yes. Dandelions do prance. This man "spied" on all of the "contestants" (being 0-8 years old) and would proceed to walkie-talkie the "scoop" he had on them......two words: Diva-Dad.

Enjoy the read ladies and gentlemen. Also, you can now hear me on 91.3 (Shreveport,LA) DJ-ing for pops show. I only come on at 7:10, 7:30, 7:50, 8:10, 8:30, and 8:50 (in the morning) but hey, it's a start! TATA!

Its Fun to Stay at the Y-M-C-A

Ello! Going to the gym (yes, the gym) is sometimes rather disappointing on my end. Not that I don't get a fabulous work out in whilst pumping loads and loads of iron, but I just have some strange encounters with strange situations. For instance, those of you who have ever been in my presence for over an hour will soon realize that my hair tends to attach itself onto many objects. For example: drinks, peoples hands, a pillow, etc. Or how about an old man at the YMCA? I was on the calve machine (?), beefing up my patties (that sounds lovely), when this 50-70 (bit of an age difference) year old man sat on the machine in front of me wearing a fitted black t-shirt. I couldn't help but notice that one of my white curly hairs (Dumbledore-esque) was attached to his back. I cringed.

I wish.
I was going to somehow try and pull it off of him (no I wasn't) but when he got up my hair just magically stuck onto the machine. What a pleasant surprise. 

The other day I was running on the treadmill (yes, running) and I began to slow it down so I could breathe (in soccer people would sometimes refer to me as "the Blonde Tomato" because my face would turn so incredibly red) and as I was slowing down (also I have size 10 feet) I tripped over one of my ski's and at first stumbled (a lot) and then proceeded to actually fall off of the treadmill. There were two girls, probably a couple of years than me on the elliptical and I could see them snickering. Talk about a low blow ladies! I was hurt. Both because I've never experienced treadmill burns and also emotionally. It was a rough day. 

My next awkward encounter wasn't necessarily at the gym (that sounds so butch), but it does involve running,  so, okay. Freshman year. Byrd soccer practice. @LSUS. Ashton Kutcher was filming the movie "The Guardian" (loved it, congratulations Ashton and Kevin) at the LSUS pools. Claire O'Brien and I (now is a good time to add we were on JV) decided we "needed to go to the bathroom" and we weren't any good so they let us go (whoo-hoo!). The girls restroom was locked and we were determined to get into the pools, so we enter the boys restroom. We then hear many men's voices about to enter through the swim doors and we hid in a bathroom stall. It was all of the extras and the producer (or the director, one of those yes). We bolted out of there and went back outside. As we were about to make the long saddening walk back to our normal lives, a children's mother shouted "Look there he is!" And there in the flesh (he's very thin, and very frail) was Ashton Kutcher, posing in the large window. We were absolutely ravished. So with adrenaline pumping through our veins we took off back to practice to tell everyone of our adventures. Right as I took off (I can't run very fast so just do your best to imagine), I wasn't paying attention to the ground and this poor three-year old boy on a Razor scooter got tackled by my star struck self. It was very embarrassing to say the least.

Maybe "exercising" isn't my forte but it does make for nice stories. Good day everyone, and good night.
P.S. I forgot to tell you all that we reached 2,150 views!! Maybe I'll make a bumper sticker or something. 

Mini Blog: Baton Rouge

Hey kiddos, how's it going? I hope your weekend has been as splendid as mine has. I've been in Baton Rouge (Red Stick) since Thursday and it has been scrumtralescant! Currently I'm with Helen Butts and M'Lynn Ganey (friend them on Facebook) drinking some vino and watching Beauty and the Beast (yes, this is our pregame). Helen has been letting me "post-up" at her beautiful apartment (literally it has a men/women bathroom; two sinks and all) it's been magical. Helen says "I sound great so far", she is....NOT. Just kidding. We've all decided we're moving to London next summer, especially after watching Across the Universe today. Jim Sturgess, if you ever come across this, we are all very interested. This is the end to my mini blog for the night, I'll update you all later. Ciao! Happy Saturday, get Wydle tonight like Olivia. Tat-ta.

"Pull around to the first window, Sir."...ehhhh...

If any of you have ever spoken to me, (so the 8 people in India that are reading this blog...you know who you are...you may not get this one as well) you would understand that I have a distinct voice. Some like to call it "unique". Well. Hell. I sound like a boy going through puberty. Charming right? This "issue" used to really bother me, especially when I was a wee tot. At some point over the past year, I was watching home videos of myself (so narcissistic of me....Camille be proud of me for using such a big word) and I realized I sounded like a "bro" even when I was like 7 years old. How unfortunate. I first got "called out" on the whole "why do you sound like a boy" situation when I was in the seventh grade. I'm not sure why I'm about to tell you all this story because it makes me look like a huge dweeb. Anyways, I thought it would be funny to call in to the radio show and speak to the radio personality "Stifler" :

He used to work with my father so it's ok.

I called in to his show because they were wanting to know funny signs/billboards around the area. So....being the "hilarious" seventh grader I thought I was, I called in and told them of some idiotic sign (that they did not find humorous at all) and after I told them and was pretty humiliated he just had to take this to the next level and say "Thank you Sir, have a great day!" I cried for probs 30 minutes straight. What a let down. 

Senior year, Mrs. (Ms.?) Sermons math class. Let's just say (she was the devil) we didn't get along. After about 3/4 into the year, she knew my voice distinctly. I'll admit, I was a little Chatty-Cathy in the classroom.......anyways....So, one fifth hour of doing agonizing pointless math problems (I'm an English major now Ms/Mrs Sermons so HA) she asked a question (while looking around the room) and I answered (probably something sarcastic) and the wench looked me in the eyes and said "Was that you? I thought it was a boy, haha (old lady laugh)..." I was angry. She later felt the wrath of Sydney Fletcher when I won HONOR MENTION in the art/math project. I drew Mugatu from Zoolander with mathematical spirals for hair. Brilliant I know.

Many moons have passed since that frigid witch said those hateful things to me, many, many moons. I just pulled out the bird and told her "It's real nice, I got it at Target. It was on sale." 

Now ever since these experiences, when I'm ordering food or speaking to a stranger on the telephone I like to raise my pitch a few notches, just to avoid sobbing and going into depression mode over the fact that my voice nodules were not built correctly. But it's no big deal! 

Well gang (bangers), I'm off to eat dinner with my friends, aren't you glad you know this? BYE HAPPY HUMP DAY (Totally forgot)!

Toaster on Wheels? Or My First Car?

Happy Day of Sabbath (although there's quite the confusion whether it's Saturday or Sunday) to all. Recently I was put into an awkward (there's the title again) situation regarding my first automobile. Driving along the bumpy roads of Shreveport, an acquaintance pointed out how "horrific" Honda Elements are. You may be agreeing with this fellow but let me tell you. She was an absolute delight.

Sadly, this is the only picture I have of her. I was 16.
Please don't judge me.

Fun Fact #1: My father was the first Element owner in Shreveport. Talk about having a great title. 

Fun Fact #2: The seats fold out to become a queen sized bed (wink).

Literally.

Once upon a time, Meredith-Grace and I were waiting to pick up a fellow coworker from baseball practice. To pass our time we unfolded all of the seats and began practicing gymnastics and doing front rolls from one end to another. Thought you should know.

Fun Fact #3: It's completely water proof. So next time you may accidentally drive into a large body of water, let's go with a lake, the interior will be a-okay. (Thank the lord!!) 

Fun Fact #4: For some reason, Honda installed a card table in the trunk (Just in case you need to pull over and play a quick game of poker.)

As I was searching the worldwide web for images of
this beaut, I came across ElementOwnersClub.com

Fun Fact #5: We sold my little Georgia-peach to an Indian man in Dallas (possibly for $100...?).

Fun Fact #6: I "suped-her-up" before we sold the precious gem:

I would rather have the Creed song "Six Feet From the Edge"
playing in my ears for a week than drive this.

I hope my Fun Facts have possibly encouraged you to drive one of these bad boys around. It really was a fantastic way of transportation. Hmm. I miss the Element and the memories along with it. Good times, great oldies, 95.7. Side note: the Honda Element is in no way a "Soul" or "Cube" or "futuristic minivan" or even "a toaster on wheels", she/he (whichever you feel is necessary) is a car of her own kind. A majestic type if I may say so myself. Enjoy relaxation today folks, back to reality we go. BYE!

Thank you, Goodnight....Tip Your Waitresses.....or Don't.....

G'day Mates. Happy "Hump Day" to all. Today is actually National Lollipop Day (my favorite holiday!!!!!!!!!!!). Today, at Cascio's Market Bistro (come get the Turkey Melt, it's de-freaking-licious), I had a couple of people stiff me on the whole tip situation (anuses). It made me realize all of the different ways people have said "You suck." since I've been working there, and not just to me, but to my fellow co-workers.

Now, there's multiple "types" of "stiff-ers" out here on this planet we call Earth (pretty sure that's in a song). There's the brain surgeon who leaves you nothing, or maybe a dollar (can't complain).

Don't look into his eyes.

Then there's the "clever" stiff-er....one of my coworkers was left a handful of change and a screw, possibly a "screw you"? Or maybe nasty men leaving a dime, possibly "You're a dime piece." Except I'm pretty sure no older man uses that phrase........I hope not at least.

Next, is when you wait on the I-know-you-well-enough-to-say-hello-in-Target-but-not-enough-to-hang-out-on-the-weekend type. Usually when this happens they tip you well because there's a slight chance you may move up to the stage of being actual friends and they don't want to ruin it by being a jerk. But every now and then (I get a little bit lonely and you never come arounndddd), you do. It's worse when you see people that do this later and all you can think is "You're group of friends didn't tip me anything, even though I was an absolutely delightful waitress towards you all, therefore, no more chances at the friend zone."

My favorite tipper...not a stiffer, a tipper.... (That's what she said.)...is the "magician".

The "magical" tipper is one who plays mind games. (I got a detention freshman year for playing mind games with a substitute, Mr. Adams, Byrd grads understand, and no I'm not joking.) One customer of the bistro comes in and automatically tips you (before you can even show them you're not good at waitress-ing....nice), but the catch is that you have to be the member of the audience making a fool of yourself to earn the dough. His words, "Now, I'm going to show you a magic trick and if you get it right, you can keep the money. I'm going to take these five ones (A WHOLE FIVE DOLLARS!!) and bend them in many ways, if you can guess whether they're upside down or right side up, you get them." It's stupid because even if you get it wrong (I do every time... he's a frequent customer) you still get the money. Might I add that after his magic tricks he asks for bread sticks, not just one pack either, like seven. Pretty sure he's stocked up by now.

That's all for today folks. Happy Wednesday to all, and to all a goodnight!

Petco. Where the Crazies Go?

What a beautiful morning. Really it's quite grey outside, probably humid. But other than that, what a beautiful morning. It's been a few days and I deeply apologize. Exciting news this morning: My Awkward Blog reached 100 visits from July 12-this morning! Lets keep it coming homo-sapiens.
Recently, I got my precious feline, Totes, spayed and declawed. Me and Totes:

What a gem.

 Might I say she was a trooper. When I go to pick her up from the vet (aka Hell-on-Earth when dealing with a feline), they told me all of the supplies I needed to get (just new litter, not sure why I made it sound troublesome) to help her adjust to becoming a new woman. Totes and I venture on over to  "Petco. Where the Pets Go." I figured I could find "pellet-clumping-kitty-litter" (that sounds disgusting) on my own, but needless to say I was mistaken. I go up to the front to find a 35-40 year old man who probably is still living at home (Step Brothers Quote: Brennan was going to be moving into his own place, but he was recently let go from his job at PetSmart.) and who was extremely sweaty (?):

 I asked him about the litter since my feline had just gotten surgery and he became high and mighty on my arse and started naming 10+ kitty litter brands. I told him "I just need pellets." He begins speed walking (literally almost running), so I just stood at the counter as he ran off and he looked at me and said "Its this way." As if my out-of-shape self can even keep up with that. He finally shows me the right litter and grabs a massive bag of it. Probably 40 lbs or more, hands it over to me as I am brought down by gravity and runs away again. Back at the counter when I'm about to leave this AWKWARD (it's in the title) situation, I was taken aback by this:

Not this exact person, but eerily similar. She (?) began talking to the "Sweater" about how the "Panther Crawler (?)" had finally been purchased (Thank God!). They began chatting about how relieved they were that this crawler had been bought and how they would miss it cuddling with them while at the Petco. I got the hell out of there realllllll quick. Why do I end up in strange situations similar to this one? No one knows. But they do make for exciting stories. TGIF mofos. G'day mates, let's put anotha shrimp on the barbie. Let's not. BYE.

P.s. Has anyone else wondered why dog treats are starting to look way better than human food? No? Yeah, me neither....

For the Love of Pets

Exactly when is one's love for a pet too much to stand? I'll be the first to admit that my dad's love for our dog, Baxter, is pushing the limits. Now, if you were one of those kids who dressed their dogs up in clothes and talked to them like human beings (don't tell me I was the only one) then that's acceptable, unless you were 13+ (just for the kids that may have done it for too long). For example, this was my families Christmas card picture when I was... let's go with 7:

This is slightly creepy.

So this picture may be pushing the limits but hey, you have to admit it is pretty funny. Now when I was in 6th grade (PETA members do not read.) my friend Amanda Mabry and I came up with an interesting game of hide-and-go-seek. Instead of us hiding from each other (playing with just two people is always boring, admit it.) we decided it would be much more entertaining to hide my dog, Snickers. Meet Snickers: 

She's not the most "fit" dog out there, but she's a lover not a fighter. She's also about 50 lbs overweight and standing tall at maybe a foot from the ground....maybe. When I say we used to "hide my dog" I don't mean under a blanket....we would hide her in my dresser drawers, in pillow cases, etc. Really responsible. Mom, if you never knew this, you know now. Sorry. 

Hiding your pets, or dressing them in clothes is pretty acceptable, or maybe I'm just saying this so I'll feel better about myself. However, one limitation on loving your pet comes from the internet, and by this I mean Facebook. Giving your a pet a Facebook can sometimes be funny (Taffy Ray is my pledge sister Courtney Ray's dog, friend her, it was recently the Maltese's birthday) but when you actually pretend to be a dog and give the dog Facebook statuses, it's a little much. Who in their right mind would do this you may ask? Well, I'll tell you. My father. Tim Fletcher. Here are a few statuses that my birth father, the man I call "Dad" has written (don't judge, I beg you...): all you humans whining about the heat. grow some hair, let it cover you from head to toe---and then---this is where it gets good, when you have to potty, you go OUTSIDE! Yeah... this heat stinks; the joy of a cool floor is infinitely more enjoyable than "spa days" for you ladies, or "grab sports illustrated and head to the master bathroom" for pops; and What's up party people? Finals have been a "bear"! Whoo! hardest part about studying?? keeping the "patron" chilled inside my kennel!! Whoop Whoop! Who's with me?

So if you think your parents talking to your dog, or maybe your room mate only wanting to spend time with their cat is abnormal, just go friend "Baxter Bear Fletcher" on Facebook and be thankful. Hope this brightens your Monday, good evening, and goodnight.

The Good, The Bad...Lafayette

Tomorrow, me and three best friends embark on a journey to Lafayette in honor of Haley Sanders birthday (look her up on Facebook and wish her a happy birthday Saturday). I've been to Laffy-town twice before this trip and it wasn't quite sunshine and rainbows (if that's even a phrase...). September of 2009, I went to Lafayette to visit Haley, Mallory, and Hannah for a Wednesday night at the Keg. I nominated myself (worst idea ever) to be the DD to the bar and once we got there I would begin my drinking. But not so fast. As all of my friends and the people they were with were getting rowdy, I'd been waiting in line for a Bud Light, just one simple beer. After thirty minutes of twiddling my thumbs and trying to flirt with the bartender (second worst idea) I finally found Haley and begged her "Haley, I've been waiting in line for thirty minutes and all I want is a beer." With ease she gets it for me and in return she asks if I venture to the restroom with her, fair trade, fair trade. So as we stand in line, I sip my beer graciously (sorry for the family members reading this. This may come off as a surprise to you, but yes, I do drink) and happily thinking to myself "The night has just begun", when all of a sudden some drunken sleaze (nicest words I can manage) decides to bump into me in the line and looks at me in the face and then...........she vomits all over my body. Not just my feet, but from my chest to my toes, and on Haley's feet. Then, I realize the "bar-wench" had cut her foot, so being the NICEST PERSON ON PLANET EARTH, I helped her clean up her foot, pretty sure I even got her a band-aid. After that, mind you I've had a few sips of beer, we catch a cab (so responsible) back to Haley's so I can change my vomit clothes. After that, we head to the Kappa Sig house, where we find two friends of ours from Baton Rouge. They decide they want Canes, I couldn't agree more. We end up at Haley's apartment around 3, I decide my nights over, no need to make things worse, so I hit the hay. THEN. 4:30. Someone pulled the fire alarm and everyone had to evacuate the apartments for at least an hour. I had a hatred towards Laf-city (I just realized I've changed it's name every time) until the following December where I returned and had a delightful time. So, we shall see if this weekend is a hit or miss, I'll keep all of you posted, not that many of you even care besides my Dad. But it's alright. ENJOY THE WEEKEND. Can't seem to get this song out of my head, so I'll put it in yours: Ghostland Observatory

Paranormal Activity

Some of you may have heard about my dad's home being haunted by a little tot. No? Well...what a delight. I shall share some stories with you. The first "sighting" of the wee girl was by my step-sister, Caroline, who woke up one morning, sat up in bed, looked in the mirror and there was a small girl leaning over her headboard holding a red ball. When she told us this, we figured she was just being a teenager, full of angst and needed attention (you still are Caroline), and we didn't pay attention to her (how loving). But as days passed, and the weeks went by, we kept having odd encounters. My dad would be in the shower, completely alone in the house, and he would hear my step-mom's voice clearly calling his name, but no one was home. Vise-versa on her end. My ultimate fave: We rent out our back apartment to "Cousin Thomas" and when he has friends over they usually park in the front, so one of his lady-friends (tee-hee) had left and the next day saw my dad at their shared occupation and she said "Tim, I didn't know you had a daughter younger than Caroline or Syd." This took him by surprise and basically she had seen a young girl, around 4-5, with long brown hair, standing in the window at early hours in the morning just brushing her hair. No one in our family has long brown hair. So, that's pleasant. There are possibly 25+ more stories to tell (want to hear the rest? e-mail me at myawkwardblog@gmail.com and I'll for sure give you the willies) but the main reason for this post was because my friend Haley and I were going by my dads to check on the pups when we experienced an unpleasant feeling as we were walking up the stairs. Once we went inside I went into the living room to look for something, I have no idea what for. As soon as I walked in there, Haley was still in the front foyer and saw the dog gates that block the stairs (two large science-board like poster boards that we painted to look nice) move completely. So she freaked out a little, but I didn't believe her because Haley lies about everything because she thinks its funny. So we go into the kitchen to feed the dogs and as we're leaving I said "Ok, tell me what you saw again." She explained it again and as we were leaving I looked back towards the stairs and saw a shadow, but instead of it being a black shadow, it was light grey, like the color of a Macbook Pro (no, they aren't advertising) and I did a double-take and it was gone. Scared the living crap (as opposed to the dead crap?) out of me. I told Hals I had just seen something and right after I said that, the dogs starting freaking out and we got the hell out of there. You may be wondering "Why wouldn't you move if this has been going on for 8 years?" I ask myself that exact question every time something does happen, and my dad's response is always "It has character." And that's why my family may be the strangest, maybe most naive, family out there. Enjoy your Wednesday poopskies, and don't forget, have a good blog topic worth posting about? E-mail me at myawkwardblog@gmail.com. TTYL YALL.

My Top 3 Most Despised Commercials

1)

 "Richie", you're band is going to go absolutely nowhere, whether you purchase online auto insurance from an annoying stout cartoon who probably never even served in the military..........I'm not exactly sure what kind of band this even is...There's Richie, who looks like an older "Brady Bunch" brother, you've also got the Jason Mraz wannabe in the fedora back yonder. Then there's the guy in the dreads...rasta?..

2) First things first, changing the way every character in your commercial says "It works (worx?) for me" isn't going to sell your product, also, little late on this one Worx Energy, 5-hour energy totally beats you out. Secondly, besides putting every child's dream job on this (doctor, firefighter, stay at home mom.....) why would anyone be working out in a bikini? If you take notice, her intense yet creepy glare lingers for at least three seconds, leaving me hating this commercial that much longer.

3) And lastly, J.G. Wentworth...

Need I say more? My favorite part is either the young African-American couple singing opera yet still insinuating a more hip-hop beat or the fact that they put lyrics to this horrible yet catchy (don't even act like this isn't one of your guilty pleasures) commercial.

We've (I've) created an e-mail for this glorious piece of technology so you can e-mail me thoughts, topics, hate mail, whatever you want! myawkwardblog@gmail.com, get after it kids. Happy Thursday!