I’m flattered. When 9 do (even if 4 of them are members of my family) I start to feel really, really popular. I promise to be better about this. If nothing else, my birthday is a mere 35 days away, and all people know to get me is one pair of wedges. Tragic.
Here’s a list of things that have been keeping me too busy to blog (or call my grandfather, for which I received some choice words this evening):
- Friday Night Lights. How did I never watch this show before? How do I go back in time and make my family raise me in Texas? Who is prettier and more annoying than Lyla Garrity?
- Looking for an apartment. Please let me know if you’re aware of a normal, fun, 22-27-year-old girls looking for a roommate in the city. This search is not easy, and it is not fun, and I would like for it to be over so I could start decorating a teeny-tiny bedroom somewhere.
- Target Practice. OK, so it was just the one time. Still, who knew that I was going to be sick with a .22 caliber semi-automatic? And that I hate revolvers? Weird.
- The Hunger Games trilogy. Have you read these books? Insane.
- Work. I’m just really swamped, OK?
Anyway, I promise to be better. If only because of the birthday thing, and because I promised my little sister a, and I hate to disappoint.