Above, yes that is another fridge. Because my mother deemed the other one too noisy. And earlier tonight, after purchasing the second fridge, we determined that... I AM GOING TO RENT A FRIDGE INSTEAD. Excellent. I can just imagine the customer service exchange that will occur when my mother goes to return two fridges.MOTHER: I'd like to do a return on these two items.
CUSTOMER SERVICE: Was there anything wrong with them?
MOTHER: No, they just didn't match the FORTY-EIGHT OTHER FRIDGES WE BOUGHT.
/exaggeration. Pink zip-up hoodie: Old Navy. Dark teal t-shirt: Kohl's, silkscreened by me. Necklace: street fair, NYC. Shorts: cousin's. Tights: generic. Shoes: Diesel. (These are what Ching-Ching calls my "ugly shoes." I have no pictures because the camera battery died on me after that one outfit picture.)
I busted a hole in my tights:
Look at my necklace! I love doing this. It looks like it's blinking:
I should draw, like, pupils and irises on my fingers.Look how nineties these shorts are!
Hee-hee. Neon mesh. Non-functional side-zips.I am exhausted.
I am freaking out about college and college stuff and what I need to bring.
I love my friends. I love Mah Jong. I love usurping the bed.
I love my theater group. I love "I'm Yours" (to which everyone seems to know all the lyrics) and appreciations (which we have singlehandedly made a countable noun).
I love when you are beyond words, and I love that I get joy out of other people loving my theater group.
P. S. I don't know why, but I crack up really hard every time I see this shirt:
Above, from the Hotness Factory. I can't find it on the site anymore, so I guess it sold out. Hell, I would wear this. Michael Phelps is a strong swimmer.My cracking up may or may not have something to do with the fact that I have somehow mentally associated the Diana Ross song "I'm Coming Out" with a whole bunch of sperm ready to burst with the anticipation of being released into this world (they sing in high-pitched Chipmunk voices).
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