In my office my hiccupping co-worker and I just got serenaded by a man in a purple T-Shirt.
His eyes were crossed, his jeans were acid-wash, and his tune was half-baked at best.
He asked first if he could sing to us, which was nice.
Other times I've been serenaded against my will by shirtless boys and air guitars.
Today he asked, and I said, "For how long?" He said, "For sixty seconds."
"Go ahead then."
Updated 04-30-2010 at 07:37 AM by Like a Fox
You are in a public place, say a restaurant or a coffee shop. You are reading a book or playing with your iTouch while you wait for your order to be served. Suddenly the waitress brings you your coffee or pasta. You both look at each other in the eye, and you feel a spark. You say to yourself, I know this girl. And when you looked into her eye, you knew she’s thinking the same thing.
Well, something very similar happened to me a couple of days ago when
I am absolutely disgusted with myself. This week I accomplished nothing and killed the majority of my brain cells by watching 5 full seasons of Keeping Up With the Kardashians.
But I'm not going to rant about Kim Kardashian (God knows she gets enough attention as it is and it's sickening) because I promised myself I would NEVER watch this show, EVER. But then one Thursday afternoon, after a long day at school, I came home, opened up Netflix, and there it was. So I thought to myself,
This is the latest post on my blog, Blue Pencil Diaries.
When I was nine, there was nothing I loved to read more than those Dear America books for kids. My adventure-loving mind gobbled up every bit of the supposed diaries of real girls throughout history. A compulsive diary writer even then, I loved the thought of reading actual girl’s diaries. What a fascinating thought that their journals had been preserved so long.
Your life is nothing but a lie, Julie