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.