I never realized how lost I could be without my cell phone. Literally guys- I was lost and without my cell phone. SUCKS! It made me realize that a cell phone has become my life line, so much to the fact that human contact has become second nature.

  Let me try to explain. I’m writing for a weekly magazine over the summer for my internship. It’s about a 30-45 minutes drive from my parents’house. Well this past Friday was my first out-of-office interview with the director of the UL Art Museum. I was really excited about it, since I had talked to him a lot over the winter when I wrote for The Times over my semester break. I was really looking forward to meeting Mr. UL Art Museum Director and going on my first on-site interview for The Times!

  Well things weren’t going my way that morning. I couldn’t find my glasses, then couldn’t find my shoes and ended up leaving the house later than I wanted. Well, after hauling ass down country roads, and learning that every Lafayette driver drives through yellow lights- I made it to St. Mary Street on the UL campus. The man told me to take a right on Girrard Park Avenue, and I accidently took a left so I just parked right away when I realized I should have taken a right.
 

  In an attempt to make a long story short, come to find out- I was really a block away. Mr. UL Art Director didn’t tell me that Girrard Park Avenue runs through St. Mary TWICE. I needed to turn down the second one... Not the first. Oh, thanks Mr. UL Art Museum Director for leaving out that key piece of information.

  I got out of my car and proceeded to take my cell phone out of my purse to call the director to ask where to go, when I realized I didn’t have my cell phone. Well ain’t that fucking dandy?!

  The ONLY day out of the past 2 weeks that I leave the office and I forgot my cell phone. Figures. I had even written Mr. UL Art Museum Director phone number in my notebook so I could call him in case I get lost. Annnnddd there I was without my cell phone.

  I decide to find it on foot, because I knew I had to be close to it! After wandering around the block of St. Mary and Girrard Park Avenue for over 10 minutes, lost like a freakin goose, I got pretty discouraged. I was wandering around Angell Hall, getting pretty upset with myself when I asked a very nice lady to use her cell phone. I called Mr. UL Art Museum Director and I got to leave a nice retarded-sounding message on his answering machine.

  After pouting a little while, it occurred to me that I should just ask her! So I did, and she knew where it was- just a block down! So much for the great cell phone, all I simply needed to do was ask!

    It just surprised me how it was my first response to ask for the cell phone, rather than ask first, then use the cell phone. Gosh, what’s wrong with our society? I’m so driven by my cell phone that I forgot the first rule of social behavior- talk to people. Dude, seriously- I’m a reporter. I talk to people all the time. But for that moment between deciding whether to call or asking for directions- I chose the phone and that’s where I failed.

  To ease your mind, I did make it to my interview and it went fine. Walking back to my car I got rained on a little, and my morning officially sucked.

  I will never go on an interview without my phone again, because yes- I’m now part of the machine of cell phone clutching sheep. But I’d rather be a sheep WITH a cell phone. Otherwise I'd be completely lost!

  I get them; so does your sister and your girlfriend- it’s called the girl-crush, and every girl knows what I’m talking about. They range from purely innocent “wow, she dresses really well and seems pretty cool” to “I would so turn lesbian for that girl just to see her boobs.” We just usually don’t talk about them because it is understood among fellow women what they are. But I thought, for the hell of it- I’d attempt to break it down and explain it. I currently have girl crushes on a few people, but I ain’t saying who. Shut up Rayce.

  The most common form of girl-crushes is admiration. You admire a classmates’ sense of humor and cute skirts, so that makes you want to be her friend. Or you admire one of your close friends for her energy and witty comebacks. Or you don’t even know the woman walking across the parking lot and you think, “Wow, I wish I could look that gorgeous and well-kept in the wind.. and OMG I love those shoes.”

  The second most common form of girl-crushes mostly surrounds around curiosity. You want to get to know this girl, for whatever reason. You secretly want to be her best friend because of how she brings out the best in people, or just because you guys seem to have a lot in common.  You wonder how she lives her life or what her favorite color is. You would also like to be a part of her life.  Now, most of these thoughts come and go- we’re not talking psycho stalker. It’s just the mere wonder of who she is and what she thinks about that makes you want to be her friend. Let me also add that most girl-crushes happen on girls you find physically attractive.

  The third most common form of a girl-crush is very similar to both of the previous ones I’ve mentioned. In fact, it’s kind of a mix of the two. It’s called “admiration of beauty.” Like when you see an older woman in the supermarket looking so cute, well-dressed and confidant that it makes you want to strive to be that beautiful when you get older. It’s like has an air to her that makes you think that she carries some kind of secret knowledge unknown to you because it comes with years of living beyond your years. Or this admiration can come in a form of someone your age or younger that you go “damn, that’s a pretty girl.” Now, from this step on you may or may not want to inquire about her personality that would leave to the curiosity of the previously discussed form. But for it to fall in this category you simply acknowledge her cute outfit, perfect hair and good posture and walk away.

  The only reason I consider this the fourth most common form of a girl-crush is because it mostly comes in the form of the previous three, but in a different way. This is the girl-crush on a celebrity. I have one on timeless beauty and sex icon Marilyn Monroe. I know I’ll never meet her, but I can’t help but admire her beauty, poise and sex appeal. I also have a girl crush on Jennifer Aniston in that I would love to share her clothes, share a cup of coffee with her and know what makes her tick because:

     1. I think she’s gorgeous

     2. I think she would be a really cool person

     3. I love her clothes

 I honestly think most girls can relate to this one entirely. You think they’re just so pretty and cool, and by golly- if you would get the chance to meet her, she would be your friend right away. While most likely the reality is that you would be a stuttering buffoon in her presence, it’s nice to think that you could handle her “awesomeness” if you really did get to meet her.

  The last form of a girl-crush borderlines lesbianism. Some girls might not want to admit this one to themselves, but it does exist. You’re a straight woman with a steady boyfriend and an active heterosexual sex life, but you can’t help but think you would so do a certain girl if you got the chance. It can be someone you know, someone you don’t know or a celebrity. Just as long as there is some kind of sexual stigma to your curiosity, it’s the borderline lesbian girl-crush.

  I feel safest confessing one of my somewhat lesbian girl-crush on a celebrity- Marrissa Miller. Yea, that gorgeous blonde goddess on this year’s Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition, which my boyfriend bought for me to have because he knows how much I love her. Honestly, I don’t think I could even be in her presence, let alone touch her, because I think she’s so damn hot. The woman is GEORGOUS! I could probably strive to have that kind of beauty my whole life and not even come close, but I’m ok with that. I’m not a goddess- she is. Check out www.marisamiller.com to see what I mean.

  I have every possible kind of girl-crush on this woman, all the past five which I’ve discussed. I’ve looked up information about her, looked at photos, gasped when I saw her on an episode of “How I met your Mother”- oh yea, it’s bad. I just admire her for being so beautiful and sexy. It’s like- holy crap, to possess that kind of beauty and confidence.. that’s simply incredible. She’s like my perfect woman, but so perfect to the point of me not wanting to touch her so that I may mess up her “perfectness” with my “me.” I’d much rather admire her from afar. She’d be naked though, of course.

  So there is the girl-crush in its many forms. First, I’d like to say that I may have gotten this completely wrong for some people, but it makes the most sense to me. Second, I’d like to say that is ok to admit to having a girl crush on someone. It’s probably a lot more common than you think, and someone probably has a girl crush on you and you just don’t know it. So just relax in the knowledge that you’re not alone. Whether it be a simple wardrobe admiration to an “I want to make-out with you with our shirts off”- it’s ok, really.

    I just found a hole in my underwear. I know- that’s like the strangest thing to be writing about at 2 in the morning, but I figure it’s best to write this down instead of just analyzing it while brushing my teeth, like I was about to do before thinking about typing it instead. So my day-long breathed self am going to discuss underwear.

    I apparently need to get more underwear. Or I can just throw these away, which I still have on, and just be one less a pair of panties than I was when I woke up this morning.

  I just noticed the hole while... well... doing the thing you do before you go to bed. No, not masturbating- you dirty pirate whore. I was relieving myself and started laughing at the fact that I have a hole in my underpants. Just a little one right in the front, but it has to be one of the funniest things I’ve ever experienced.

    Let me just say that I don’t like underwear shopping. I guess to someone not as cheap as myself- I bet it’s a blast. But I doubt it. Underwear is just one of those things you don’t really think about until you find a hole in on of yours. I bet boys don’t even think about it after they find a hole in theirs. Granted, there’s a hole in theirs already, for functional purposes- as I understand. So maybe b/c theirs is already holey, they may not consider a new hole that important.

    But I digress (I love that word). I don’t like underwear shopping b/c now I have to put some thought into it. When you’re little, your mom buys you those little plastic packs of underwear for Christmas. You know- the ones with the days of the week or freakin “princess” written on them.  Well, I don’t know about you, but that’s what my mom gave me. It was so simple. But then when you start undressing in front of other girls for P.E. in middle school, you start putting more thought into your underwear. Granted, I was as flat as a board in middle school- so panties were very important. Had to up the look of my training bra.
    They were these days of the week bikini cut Old Navy underwear. I got them in the 7^th grade. They looked so cute. They were Christmas-y too. Uh, come to think about it- I wore those suckers until they started getting holes in them around the time of 9th – 10th grade.
    But anyhoo, these current holey ones I have- I got around my Freshman year of college. I forgot to pack underwear with me when I drove home, so had to go to Walmart to buy new ones... with my dad for some reason. I couldn’t buy the cute ones, b/c my dad was there and I seriously didn’t have any reason to buy the cute ones b/c I didn’t have an audience at the time. So I bought the very non-sexual cotton 8 pack.
    So I’ve been having these suckers for a while now, and I pretty much only wear them when I know- for sure- that I will not be having sex. They’re not impressive. As a matter of fact, my boyfriend caught me while I was changing in a white pair like these and started laughing b/c it took about 5 years off of my age and he just pictured me as an early high-schooler in my white, too-high-to-be-sexy cotton underwear. Yea, thanks babe.
    It amazes me how boys think about underwear. B/c I bought some “cute” underwear for my significant other about a year ago, and he really liked them- but I only think he really liked them b/c I pointed out to him how much I really liked them.

    He surprised me one time though, I have to admit. He caught me in a pair of cotton, bikini-cut Old Navy (no, not the 7th grade ones) pair that I bought on sale after the Christmas rush. A pack of 4 for $5, I’m game. Anyhoo, they have stripes on them, like a pale pink, beige, and purple color scheme- and he actually told me I look cute in them and that he likes them. I was changing in front of him at the time. I was kinda taken aback by this. What is so special about these cotton, pastel-y, striped panties that made him notice that I look cute in them? I never compliment him on underwear- his selection is much more boring than mine though. And I never legitimately thought he noticed my underwear since I usually have to bring them to his attention, like if they’re cute, pretty much seconds before they’re on the floor. But he sincerely liked these. I’ll probably wear those down to holes too.

    Underwear is a necessity. Granted, get me in a long skirt and then demand I wear underwear- that’s a different story. But, they have to be there in most cases. I hope I never get to the point where I throw underwear away b/c I don’t like them anymore or am tired of them. Who the fuck does that, anyway? I plan to wear every single pair (side note- why are they called pairs? Now I’m starting to wonder if I’m the only one who calls them pairs of underwear. I’m probably mis-using the phrase.) until: 1. They get holey or 2. My ass gets too big for them.

    So, to my holey pink cotton too-high-to-be-sexy underwear- I say thank you for serving me so well all these years. We’ve been through some tough times together (maybe, not really. You say that sort of thing to add drama), but you’ve always held your end of the bargain. For that- I thank you.

  For a boy to stick a letter on the windshield of a girl’s car- he must be pretty clueless about the rules of socializing. “Talking not stalking” is the key.  Also- don’t tear a piece of envelope and write the note in pencil. You look as if you took no time in preparation. He must have thought about it for a while, because the poor fool KNOWS how “crazy” it is. I think maybe if he would have used a normal sheet of paper, it would have come off less crazy…

  I know guys think that asking if a girl has a boyfriend is a way to show that their interested- but for me it’s just rude. You could take the time to freaking pay attention? How about talk to me, like a normal human being? I could talk to you even though I have a boyfriend. But I sure as hell ain’t talking to someone who writes a creepy letter asking if I have a boyfriend. Ne-uh.

  I feel pretty bad for Timothy. I suspect that he must be one of the new guys that moved into the trailer next door. Rayce wasn’t at my house much in the last weeks he was here b/c we were both so busy, and I mostly sleep at his house b/c his feet hang off of my bed.

  Poor Timothy is clueless to the fact that I am in an almost 2 year relationship with a man that I love, who happens to be across the country right now. So I don’t really have proof that I have a boyfriend right now b/c he’s not here. Unless Timothy does like any other normal college student would and Facebook-stalk me.

  I am perfectly fine with someone Facebook-stalking me b/c I’m unaware of it. To me, a silent admirer is better than a creepy one.

  I guess I feel better that it was stuck on my car and not on my porch, because that would be way too intrusive. He knows there are boundaries- that’s good. That tells me he’s not a legit-stalker. He just a mini-one. Or just an admirer that came off as a stalker b/c of the creepy medium of his message.

  I even thought about ways to communicate back to him that I have a boyfriend. I sure as hell am not calling him- he’d have my phone number… I could try sticking a response on my windshield and hope that he notices. Or maybe writing “I’m taken, but thanks” in white shoe polish on the back of my windshield.  I could just put my response on one of the new guy’s cars, but that’s assuming it’s one of them. It may not be, and I’d look pretty silly if it wasn’t.

  I even thought about having Rayce call him, since all of my guy-friends that I told the story to seemed happy to help by calling Timothy and informing him of my relationship status, and to leave me alone. One of the guy friends would have most likely offered him advice on how to approach women. Sweet, but unnecessary.  Thanks guys, but that’s ok.

  When I told Rayce, we thought it would be best to just ignore it and hope he gets the hint. If I get another message -I’ve been watching my passenger side windshield for the past 3 days- depending on the seriousness of the letter, I’ll choose my next choice of action, which may include:

1. Reporting him to the owner of my trailer park   or

2. Putting a poster board on the inside of my car, like a visor, that says “I have a boyfriend. Please get the hint.”

  Hopefully, this crush/admirer/ weirdo understands the meaning of the silent treatment.

  I was seriously addicted to TV as a child, and pre-teen, annnnddd teenager. I don’t necessarily think of it as a bad trait though. I would “wag my tail, when it comes I wanna yell- MAIIILLL” when watching Blues Clues with Steve, not Joe (at an older age than I care to admit), sing the theme songs to Animaniacs and Tiny Toons religiously, party at “The Puzzle Place” or on the “Comfy Couch,” and even stay in luxurious hotels the summer before college everyday with Samantha Brown. My TV addiction began with Disney movies at a very young age.

  My Mom tells me stories about how I watched “The Little Mermaid” everyday from about three to five years old. Ariel was the greatest. I wanted to be her (sometimes still do). Now, I can quote multiple lines from the movie and even play the scenes pretty accurately in my head. But this talent does not compare to my creepy accuracy with “Aladdin.”

  I was older when I watched “Aladdin” than when I watched “The Little Mermaid.” I was addicted to this movie from about eight to 12 years old. I remember watching it practically every weekend, and my parents didn’t mind because they liked it too. During my freshman year in college, I remember coming home one weekend and my Mom surprised me by requesting we watch “Aladdin,” and we ended up watching it four times in two days.

  I surprised the newsroom with my “Aladdin” intellect. Kelli even tried to quiz me by describing a scene and I would quote the movie. She had the script open online so she would read along. I must admit that I got pretty ding-dang-dong close to word-for-word reciting.

 I play scenes from “Aladdin” in my head a lot. I also play different Animaniacs episodes that I can remember.  I hope my children can do the same. I’ll be happy to watch cartoons with my kids. Maybe one day we could stay up at night trying to quiz eachother on cartoon quotes. That would be awesome.

  On a side note, I’ve decided to watch “The Little Mermaid” and “Enchanted” everyday with my little girl. That is when I have a little girl.

  My dog Phoenix got her ass beat today, but not by me.

  Phoenix is a very social dog. She loves other dogs but happens to hate people. She has doggie friends around the trailer park- excuse me, “mobile home community.” She has about four friends in the trailer park. Three out of her four friends are males, so apparently she’s a little flirt. But I don’t think she means to be. She’s been spaded so I stopped those hormones before they could really affect her. So that makes her a tease.

  Anyway, my tease dog also happens to be pretty wimpy. She’s pretty light, not muscular and jumps for about everything. Her only female dog friend (is it appropriate to say bitch friend? Not yet) is named Abby.

  Abby is taller, stronger and apparently more hormonal than Phoenix. They’ve been friends since Phoenix was bigger than her- let’s say about a year. So that’s seven years in dog years.  Abby hasn’t been around the trailer park much. She’s only there when her owner visits her stepdad, who she used to live with before she moved in with her boyfriend. Anyhoo, Abby just started galloping into my yard to visit Phoenix for about three days.

  Abby was a very gawky puppy, when her and Phoenix used to play. So Phoenix is used to running circles around her… Not so much anymore. Abby can now keep up with Phoenix. She can also pin her down, run over her and drag her around the yard by her harness collar. It’s pretty funny.

  Today Abby came over to tackle Phoenix and they had a go at it around the yard. Phoenix is getting better at defending against and out-running Abby, but Abby is still way stronger than she is. Abby also tried to steal Phoenix’s ball again… I don’t think she’s a good influence.

  After a while, Abby got bored and trotted off. Phoenix stayed around me on the porch. Then Phoenix decided to visit her buddy, Scrabby (I huge male boxer across the street. He’s her homeboy).

  While Phoenix was prancing to visit Scrabby, Abby came out of nowhere and side-swipes her before she could get to Scrabby. They start wrestling, this time for real. They’re growling loud and rolling on the grass. Then Abby pinned Phoenix down and Phoenix started crying out, and I started yelling at the bitch-backstabbing friend (now’s the right time to call her a bitch).

  After a few seconds, the fight is over, and Phoenix started walking back to the porch with her ears, tail and head down. At first we were teasing like, “Woah Phoenix, you just got your ass whipped!” But after a few minutes, I noticed how Phoenix was acting.

  The poor thing looked confused.  She just sat in the grass and starred into space. That had never happened to her before. Abby did the whole female dominance act on her, which she’d never experienced since all her other friends are males. Abby completely turned on her over a boy.

  Abby tried to come back in the yard and they just looked at each other and walked around. It was obvious that their relationship was changed by the fight.

  It made me think about when I have a little girl (you know like 20 years from now) and she starts getting in fights with her girlfriends over boys- probably around the middle school age. I thought about what I would say, because I felt like I needed to have a heart-to-heart with Phoenix. It would probably go something like this…

Phoenix: “All of a sudden she just turned on me. Like our friendship meant nothing compared to Scrabby. She told me they had been going steady and I wasn’t allowed to talk to him. She called me names, Mom. She said we weren’t friends anymore.”

Me: “Phoenix, girls sometimes feel that they must go above and beyond for boys, no matter who they hurt.”

P: “But why?”

M: “Well my girl, Abby is threatened by your friendship with Scrabby. His attention means more to her right now. She’s boy-crazy and thinks she needs his acceptance. She’s taking you for granted.”

P: “What am I supposed to do? Should I apologize?”

M: “No! This was not your fault. Your friend is just blinded by her crush on Scrabby. It’s not right, I know. And you may lose her friendship for a while. But just know that true friends don’t turn on each other over a boy. Or over anyone. True friends defend you and play with you without stealing your ball. I don’t think she’s been a good friend to you in the past has she?”

P: “No, I told her how it hurt when she would tug on my harness and she just laughed.”

M: “So she didn’t care about you or how you felt about your harness. Now she doesn’t care about how you feel about Scrabby. I know you guys are just friends, but she doesn’t see that.”

P: “Well what should I do? She’s my only girlfriend.”

M: “Friends will come and go, Phoenix. You’re gonna meet a lot of female dogs in your lifetime, but only time will tell if they’re real bitches. For now, let Scrabby and her have their fun, but let Abby know that she hurt you and you won’t let her use you for your ball anymore.”

P: “Yea, I guess your right.”

M: “You’re better off without her. Trust me, you’re way cooler than Abby. Scrabby will figure out how much of a bitch she is in his own time. You just figured it out first. But don’t worry; he will too.”

P: “Thanks Mom, I love you.”

M: “I love you too, Phoenix.”

Man… I have way more imagination than I care to admit. Either that or I need a life… I think it’s a little of both.

  I’m bored out of my mind in the newsroom right now b/c no one is calling me back and I’m all alone- so it’s a great time to write a blog entry!!!!

  I am crazy about the new mix CDs my cousin gave me. He’s really… unique (in a good way). The songs he gave me wouldn’t be the kind I am normally drawn to, but they are awesome anyway.

  See I go through kicks, like most people do (I guess). About a month ago, I went through a pizza kick. Don’t believe me-- ask my boyfriend (I learned that Subway makes a kick-ass pizza sub, but beware of asking for little sausages; that may confuse them…). But I’m pretty sure I’m going through an “awesome mixes my cousin made for me” kick. 

  In high school I was in a “modern rock” kick. You know-- when modern rock music was good. Incubus, System of the Down, Linkin Park, Red Hot Chili Peppers, etc. Most of my friends listened to that music too, so I’m pretty sure that’s why I was so into it.

  At the end of my high school career, I fell head first into classic rock-- 60s, 70s, and 80s rock and roll thanks to 101.1 FM in Lafayette (I think, or BR), before they changed their format. When I got up here, for the first two years, all I listened to was 106.5-- The Fox (which that is still the main radio station I listen to). But the fact of the matter is that I closed myself away from different kinds of music.

  Most recently, thanks to my boyfriend, who listens to XM radio station Ethel all the time in his truck, and my awesome cousin who makes me mix Cds just for the hell of it- I am starting to enjoy alternative rock. He also wrote explanations for each song, detailing why he chose it. Like I said-- he’s awesome.

  They got some weird shit on the air, I must admit. However, I made the mistake of labeling all alternative music as “shit,” when it is not.

  So thank you Benny-boy for taking a chance and making me this awesomely strange mix CD. It calms my nerves when I drive, gives me something to boogy to at 3 a.m. on layout nights and makes me all around “Happy.”

 My parents are coming up this weekend. I will admit that I’m a bit nervous. Not because they’re my parents, like I’m scared of them. It’s just the first time they’ve been up here since my sister moved out.

  There is also some family drama going on with my sister right now. I won’t go into extreme detail, but the main problem is the fact that my mom and dad don’t get along with her boyfriend. Mostly b/c the boyfriend wants her to move-in with him. Apparently, to both my sister and my surprise, our dad has this thing against couples moving in before they get married. The term “shacking up” has been thrown around my household down South far too many times.

  In this day in age, it’s not referred to as “shacking up.” It’s called “moving-in together.” Most movies or TV series portray “moving-in together” it as the norm, so therefore we’ve grown up with it. However, that is not the case in our household. Our parents have tried to enforce the importance of living separately until marriage. They did it; our uncles did it; their kids, and so on…

  It is unfair, though, to force that lifestyle on us. Sure, I would agree that it is the best thing. My boyfriend and I have already talked about it. It is understood that for me to gain my own independence as a self-supported adult, I’m insisting that I live by myself for at least two years before we start seriously talking about marriage.

  It may sound kind of harsh or foolish to some, but it is what I need. Sure, my boyfriend can support me, but I don’t want him to have to. I need to prove to myself that I can make it on my own. That and I really want to decorate my apartment all crazy Kera-ish. I want a hammock in the living room next to a window so I can take naps in the afternoon. I also want purple or yellow walls, depending on where the sun rises and sets. Shut up- that’s what I want…

  Anyway, while that is my plan, it seems my sister does not feel the same way. Yes, financially it does make sense to move-in together, but I still don’t think that makes it right. It’s the easy way out.

  My parents have a BIG deal with it because it’s just not how it’s done in our family. No one in our family has “shacked up,” as my parents so eloquently put it. Also, my dad has a problem walking his daughter down the aisle and handing her over to a many she’s been living with. He finds it hypocritical. My mom finds it poo-doo.

  Now my sister has been living at my parents’ house and her boyfriends’ house back and forth. The problem is my parents bitch when she stays too many nights at the boyfriend’s, and the boyfriend bitches when she’s at my parents’ house for too long. So she’s fucked at both ends.

  There is a lot of tension, from what I understand it, in my family right now. I will admit that I am thankful I am 2 ½ hours away from that mess; however, that mess is coming to meet me this weekend. I think the boyfriend is not coming, but it still should be interesting without him. I just hope things go easy.

  But before all that happens, I will be cleaning my house like crazy before they get here. Wish me luck!