Tag Archive: michigan


So in case you live under a rock, there was a giant snowstorm that hit Michigan (and some other places too) this week.  As far as I know, it was pretty much one giant snowday.

While it seemed like every school and place of business had waved the white flag of defeat at the snow and Mother Nature, I just had a feeling that the Bank would say a big Eff You to all of it and open at our normal time.

There had been big talk about this Snopocolypse 2011. The National Weather Service had been issuing alerts and shiz since Monday- or maybe even before. I only heard the Blizzard of Oz was on its way because it seemed like every single one of my customers was asking me if I was ready for the snowstorm. I just pretended I knew what any of them were talking about. I had heard estimates of Snowmageddon, ranging from 12 to 16 inches. Holy shit that’s a lot of snow.

But I’m no idiot.

I am no longer that hopeful child, praying to the Snow Gods for a snowday. I’m not that middle schooler who purposely “forgot” to do her “homework” because she was holding out hope for the elusive snowday.  Ohhh, no. I am no longer an innocent.

I’m a realist, bitches.

With all this talk of Snotorious B.I.G., I was sure it wouldn’t come. I was sure we would see maybe six inches of snow. I was sure that all of those dickholes who were already celebrating the forthcoming snowday were celebrating prematurely. I guess the joke would have been on me since snowdays had already been called but still. Everyone else got to celebrate and I didn’t. I didn’t get to celebrate because I knew the Bank would not close. Not for anything. Not even for Snotorious B.I.G.

I mean, I wasn’t due into work at 12:15 pm so I figured that would give me plenty of time to hang out and wait for those six inches of snow I was predicting to be cleared.

I got a call at 7:30 am from my boss saying that the Bank would be opening at 11am rather than our regular 9 am. That was when I thought that maybe Snotorious B.I.G. had made an appearance.

After that first phone call, I slipped out of bed and poked my head around the blinds on my sliding glass door. Holy shit. We got a fuck-ton of snow.

Weather is voodoo magic and shouldn’t be fucked around with. Meteorologists are overpaid slackers. They don’t know shit.

I should have known when I was woken up by the sound of Thundersnow & Lightning. Awesome and totally outrageous. Talk about snOMG!

I shit you not, there is currently a three-foot drift right outside my bedroom.

At ten o’clock, my boss was on a call with our market team trying to assess the situation and to figure out if and/or when we should open our branch.

Long story short, the Bank didn’t open.

Hallelujah!! Snow. Day.

The only thing was that we were asked to provide updates on the roads and weather situation in our area.  My first update was that while we had managed to dig out our driveway (despite the fact that we have a plow service come every day to clear off our driveway), our roads hadn’t been plowed and there was a sheet of ice under all the snow. That was when I had a really good idea.

And by really good idea I mean terrible and completely dim-witted.

I actually managed to convince my mother to venture out into the frozen tundra.  You know, to be able to provide accurate updates on our road and weather conditions. Dude, I was doing my job.

Needless to say, we got stuck in the snow.

Tam’s cute little hybrid Saturn Vue couldn’t handle all the snow.  We even took the long way home after the first time we got stuck. And after we got stuck the second and third time. The last time, though, it was a situation too big for us to handle ourselves.

I called AAA to have them help us.  We were stuck in a biiiiiig way, and we needed some serious help. But, uhm, AAA can S my D because they would not help us. Apparently, because one of the roads were were stuck on (oh yeah, we were stuck in an intersection, lol) wasn’t plowed, they were going to have to refuse service.

Fuck that.

Her suggestion was that we notify the authorities that we were stuck and have them help us. Or just wait for our roads to be plowed.

Uhhhhm, fuck that.

So I not-so-nicely thanked the lady on the phone and then started my trek home.

The good news was that we were weren’t all that far from home.

By the time I got back to the car (after longest walk of my life) with a shovel to dig the car out, Tam was already being helped by two men who had two large vehicles. Oh, the joys of having really nice neighbors!

The man with the giant SUV had pulled Mom out of the snow she was stuck in and the man in the giant truck was driving through the snow to make tracks for us so we wouldn’t get stuck again.

Finally, we got home and we both kicked off our boots (or, actually, tam wore Target-brand slipper/clog/fuzzy weird shoe things while I had worn boots). Then we stripped off our pants, tossed ‘em into the dryer and crawled into our respective beds to get warm again.

All in a day’s work.

Advertisements

Well, I got my car washed today.

This was stupid on a few accounts:

1.)    Hi, I live in Michigan where it snows, like, every day. My car is going to get covered in snow and salt and slush and dirt and all kinds of crazy shit in less than a day. Dumb.

2.)    Some of the simplest parts of the process of the carwash confuse me

  1. I never know when to put my car in neutral
  2. I feel like an idiot when I ask when I’m supposed to put the car in neutral

3.)     The carwash scares the hell out of me.

4.)    I was by myself and the carwash scares the hell out of me.

I know I’ve talked about this before, but seriously, it’s as relevant today as it was then.

Now, in my recent history with going through the carwash, I have had someone in the car with me to distract me from my meltdown.  Actually, I can really only recall my family and Megan going through the carwash with me in recent history, and those times include my family and Megan mostly just laughing hysterically at me and doing nothing to help me chill the fuck out.

Dicks.

I’d say it’s an irrational fear, but I’m pretty sure I understand the reasoning behind this fear I have. So, I won’t say it because then it would be false.

It pretty much all goes back to how I constantly worry I’m going to die.

Oh, and confined spaces kinda freak me out.

Oh, and I really don’t like how it gets all dark and my car is moving magically by itself (WHAT’S THAT ABOUT?!!?) and the noise the washy things make and how the blow-dryers spew fire to get rid of the water.

ZOMG Creeps!

Just imagine if for some reason the magic spell broke and my car stopped moving but I couldn’t move my car because all the washing rolly things were all in my way and I couldn’t even see because the wipey things were covering all my windows and mirrors and then something went wrong that caused the blow-dryers to blow their fire too fiercely that made the fire spread and feed off the chemicals in the soap and water did nothing to stop anything and then the garage doors closed due to some type of malfunction and I died of carbon monoxide poisoning because my car was still on and I was not even aware that the doors were closed.

WHAT THEN?!

At least then all of you little dickholes who make fun of me for being scared of the carwash would feel really guilty because it turned out all my worst fears about it came true.

For Christmas, I gave Nikki a gift card to a salon/spa with the intent that we would get pedicures together. Well, as fate would have it, as a birthday activity, Nikki and I went to get pedicures yesterday afternoon. For an hour and a half, we sat in cushy, black recliners while we soaked our feet in warm water and got to have our toes painted.

I happen to be very, very ticklish, a fact I always seem to forget until someone is touching my feet.

Anyway, yes, for an hour and a half my feet were very well taken care of. And then I put my socks back on and shoved my feet into my boots and we ventured back out into the Michigan snow.

Later that night, I slipped my stocking-covered feet into some black ballet flats while me and my gal pals terrorized East Lansing once again as we tried to “re-do” new year’s eve.

My toes were perfect. Not a chip or a smudge.

When I went to put on some fuzzy socks I noticed that something is not quite right with my toes. I think it has something to do with the fact that the three toesies in the middle on my left foot also kind of hurt.

I’m sure you’re wondering why that might be.

Don’t worry, I’ll tell you.

This morning, after I woke up and told Megan that I had yet another dream where I was about to die, and after I asked her if she wanted me to give her a wet-willy, we decided we’d venture downstairs to reunite with the last leg of our Tripod. Megan left the room and headed down the stairs before me because I turned back thinking I would bring my fleece love-knot blanket and LP down with me. Then, because I realized that my hands were already full with a three-quarter of the way full plastic cup of water and my crackberry, I decided I could live without LP and good ole fleecey.  At least for the time being.

I had taken maybe two steps when I turned my head to say, “I’ll come back for you!” in a whisper to LP when all hell broke loose.

Before I knew it, I was in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the stairs with nothing but an empty cup in my hand.

I’d just like to point out that Megan’s stairway is very, very steep and it’s probably a safety hazard. I’m not just an idiot who doesn’t know how to do steps.

Megan came back from wherever she had been and then started laughing when she saw that I wasn’t actually hurt. Apparently, all she heard was a big thuddddd and a “whoa” and knew she needed to check on me.

After I picked myself up off the floor, I went to go tell Seneca that I had just bit it down the stairs but my first question was if she was even awake. The response I got? Something along the lines of “how could I not be?!”  While she didn’t hear the “whoa” punctuating my fall, she did hear me whine, “Ohhh, now I’m all wet!”

I’m pretty sure I’m not telling this right because I was laughing my ass off as the three of us regaled the hilarity it was to know that I took a tumble down the stairs.

My point is, now one of my toenails is a tiny bit chipped and there’s some degree of rug burn on my three middle toes on just my one foot.

If we could have filmed me busting my ass like that, I totally could have won some money on America’s Funniest Home Videos.

I pretty much just need my own camera crew, a few corporate sponsors and a reality show/development deal with a major TV network. I’m pretty sure I’ve got my life all mapped out.

Just moments ago, Tam came inside saying something about how Chief was munching on some frozen dog food.

Only, Drew and I were enthralled in season 6 of Grey’s Anatomy on dvd (which he got for Christmas) and Tam is making pot roast for dinner (ew) and the pressure cooker was making that obnoxious noise it makes from that little knob on the top of the lid. It was difficult to hear and I was only half listening.

Turns out Tam was saying that Chief was outside eating some frozen dog poop.

Yeah. You read that right.

Frozen dog poop.

My dog eats his own poop.

He is BEYOND precious

Can I just say….

What the fuck?

In fact, there are a few things that I say what the fuck to because of Chief.

He’s quite peculiar.

Like yesterday, Nikki came over with her family and brought her dog Sally. Chief and Sally became fast friends and played together allllll afternoon. But when they played, Chief kept trying to sit on Sally. They would bite each other ears and run around but then Chief would whip around and put his butt on her.

What is that about?

And Chief really enjoys being wet.

He found an open spot on the otherwise frozen lake and hopped right in. Just decided he’d take a dip. Then he got out, rolled in the snow and got back in the water. And then he cried at the door when it started raining the other day because Michigan weather is outrageous and it went from being freezing cold outside to 52 degrees and raining. He cried at the door because he wanted to go outside and sit in the rain.  He just sat there. Hangin’ out in the rain. And just yesterday, when I turned around to let him in from being outside, I was surprised to see him soaking wet. It wasn’t raining and the ground wasn’t even wet anymore. But then I realized that the cover to the grill had been on the floor of the deck and there had been a puddle and some ice on it. Chief had found it and rolled in it, effectively covering himself in water.

It seems we have figured out if he likes water or not.

Sure, you hear golden retriever and think that of course he’ll like water. But let me just tell you, Ruby, the golden retriever at my dad’s house, does not like water and does not enjoy swimming and being soaking wet like my Chiefy poo does.

I’m so happy we have a dog again.

It was never really a mystery to us why it seemed like our entire floor in the dorms in college hated us.

Sarah and I lived in the room at the very end of the hallway. Our perfect square of a room was the gathering place every Thursday night to watch The OC and later Grey’s Anatomy. Our room was the meeting place of the whole group of us for those three or four nights a week we went out to parties. And later, our sophomore year of college, our room was next door to two of our good friends, whose room would blare with the latest Justin Timberlake song or One Republic’s “Apologize” before it was cool and overplayed on the radio.

We did dumb shit, like dress up like the some cracked out version of the Spice Girls and sing really, really loudly after 2 in the morning. You know, when the whiners on our floor were sleeping, and had been since 11 pm.

As a group, we’re loud. I mean, I scream and screech a lot, I laugh loudly, and I shout when I’m happy or excited. Multiply that by at least four and you’ve got my core group of friends in college. And we were together constantly.

Add in the fact that we lived in an all-girls dorm. In the really, really old dorms. As in, I lived in the same dormitory my grandmother lived in. The same dormitory my mother lived in. It’s old. We also lived in the dorm mostly populated by the college of music kids. They’re all artsy and hipster-y and obviously too smart and better than us to get loud and crazy all the fucking time, like we did. The best part about our dorm is that it was the closet to the street with all the bars on it. And it was relatively close to a lot of the off-campus housing and greek life. (And let’s get real: I loved me some fraternity parties before I was of the legal drinking age.)

I think this photo adequately demonstrates the potential Le Le and I have when it comes to getting crazy. lolz (Ps. Le, does that headband look familiar? bahaha)

My point is, our floor hated us.

We were constantly hushed and asked nicely to be quiet. And when all else failed, we were told on. When we realized that the RA’s were about to come bust us, we’d quickly finish the shot glass full of five o’clock vodka on Leah’s or my desk, turn the music off, grab our coats and fly out the door.

I mean, we didn’t want to get written up. Again. Or have to pour our alcohol down the bathroom sink. Again.

Even when we weren’t drinking (illegally) in the dorms, we were loud. And probably really, really obnoxious. I’ll leave you with this one memory I have, a memory that really reinforced the fact that everyone on our floor just did not get me, or my friends.

You know how in college dorms there are all kinds of random-ass signs for random-ass shit? Like, sign up for ballroom dancing in one of the rooms by the cafeteria, or do you need a tutor for some really hard singing class you’re taking? Well, I can’t remember why we decided to make a sign but one night we did, and we hung it on the walls all over our hallway, and all of the doors to the bathrooms, and the mirrors, and the door to the stairs.

It was a nice sign. It didn’t ask anyone to donate their first born to some demonic cult or require anyone to spend any money on anything. It was just a nice little sign to remind people to have a good day and to provide a little pick-me-up. Sometimes people just need that. Classes are hard. It’s really hard to walk fifty feet to a building across a nice little field to go sing for a couple hours a day. And it gets cold in Michigan.  And sometimes blowing off class on a Friday to play Ultimate Frisbee in Adam’s Field is just really… hard. So we posted our sign to let people know we cared.

Our sign was not appreciated. When we woke up the next morning, every single sign had been torn down and thrown away.

The people on our floor were dicks. And they hated us.

Sometimes, when I’m on the phone and I hear a recorded message or the automated lady go through her whole script, I can’t help but wish I was the voice for those things.

I also really enjoy voice-overs. I especially enjoy the voice-overs where I can identify the actor doing the voice-over. For example, I just saw a commercial for sims3 and Jeremy Piven is totally the voice behind that commercial. Or how John Corbett (Aidan from Sex and the City) does the voice-over for Applebees.  Or how I swear I hear Tim Allen’s voice EVERYWHERE.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not mad about it. At all. Seriously. I love Tim Allen.

But for realz, he is the voice of everything. He’s everywhere. The Pure Michigan commercials (on the radio) and he does some car commercial voice over. I swear he does other stuff but every time I try to point it out to people, they’re just like ohhh, I guess I didn’t notice, or oh, I don’t really know his voice very well.

I wish people would just agree with me and be like, Wow, Kate, you’re right. That was Tim Allen. You really have an ear for Tim Allen’s voice. What a weird and awesome talent you have there!

I enjoy Tim Allen’s voice. It’s soothing. And comforting. And it’s just a good voice to listen to. So like I said before, I’m not complaining that I hear his voice everywhere. I like it. More voice-overs from Tim Allen, I say. In fact, he should do audiobooks. Shit, I would read/listen to any book he was reading to me. I’d pretend he was tucking me in for a bedtime story. Except, now that I think about that I’m a little creeped out. I’m in my 20s. He’s my dad’s age. I don’t need to be tucked into bed anymore by anyone. Nor does someone need to read me a bedtime story (except when it’s Alecia, and it’s not so much bedtime-story-reading as it is we’re-on-a-three-day-road-trip-and-need-something-to-pass-the-time-in-the-car-’cause-she-can’t-stand-me-singing-showtunes-anymore.)

I just wonder if it’s his goal to take over all voice-over jobs out there. Then he could be like BAM! I really AM everywhere. Win. And he should consider it a win, because that means he would have beat out everyone else for that job. Even John Corbett, who has a great voice too. It’s friendly and nice to listen to.

But when I hear his voice, I think of this:

I always just think of a really, really happy dog. Just runnin' and playin', livin' the dream!

I mean, I really like dogs, so don’t get me wrong. I’m totally a dog person (in case you weren’t sure. Or the hatred I have towards my own cat hasn’t been made clear by this point. Cat people are weird. HOW CAN YOU NOT LIKE/WANT A DOG?! THEY’RE PRECIOUS! Cats are mean and judgy. Rude.) It’s not a bad thing that that’s what I think of when I hear his voice. I just feel like it’s kind of a random thing to picture. Whatevs. Picturing a cute little puppy running through the grass happy as a clam is probably better than what I think of (only sometimes, and it usually never happens) when I hear Tim Allen’s voice:

I love everything about his mugshot! lolz

I mean, really, it’s pretty great.

And to think he’s Santa Claus.

Speaking of Santa Claus, maybe I’ll watch those movies now!

My jury duty service is now over! The trial finished yesterday afternoon, and I’ve been just bursting to tell you what happened!

Here’s the deal, loves: I’ll share my jury duty experience in three parts, starting with my first-day-observations. You know, the words-to-go documents saved on my Crackberry I told you about last week.  I’ll tell you the specifics of the case and then I’ll tell you about our verdict and how deliberations went.

I know you’re all dying to know.

My very first day, just to give you a snapshot of what a mess I was, I texted a friend then decided to tweet the following:

Already got lost, almost cried, forgot to put deodorant on, got wanded by security,& left all my school stuff at home. Today is going so well.

It should be noted that I have, like, zero sense of direction, so I obviously got lost (despite my mapquest directions) on my way to the courthouse. Then, because I was lost and because I’m so anal about not being late for anything ever, I got hysterical. This led to high levels of stress and anxiety, and that led to some degree of perspiration, not that the humidity here in Michigan did anything to help that. And that was when I realized I definitely forgot to put deodorant on. The Horror!! I just kept thinking, I had it in my hand, but did I actually put it on?! and I totally didn’t, which makes me wonder what on earth made me so ADD that morning to forget something so essential?!

I had my final night of my accounting class that evening I realized I didn’t have any of my school stuff after I had already left and didn’t have enough time to turn around and go back.  I wasn’t sure if I would have time in between my jury duty stuff and when I needed to leave to drive the hour and fifteen minutes it takes to get to class from my hometown. MORE PANIC! Why, oh WHY, did I not wear deodorant?! How is it possible to apply my Dolce and Gabbana Light Blue perfume but forget the deodorant?!??! HOW DOES THAT HAPPEN?!

Once I got past security and followed other people I assumed to be reporting for jury duty down a hallway, I found the jury assembly room. Nothing special. Just a big room with beige walls and lots of chairs. And plenty of opportunity to people-watch and judge ’til my heart was content!  That’s when it struck me to record my thoughts via words-to-go.

Sometimes I have really good ideas.

Title: Jury duty observations

There are several unattractive people here. Many of the people  here in this holding pen have sick coughs. Gloria, in all her monochromatic glory, scanned all of us in. (She’s in charge of wrangling all of us potential-jurors.) She’s fabulous: I love her hair, and her plum colored tank-skirt combo is simply stunning.   She just put in a “movie” for us to watch while we wait in “line” to be scanned in. (This is one of the worst “lines” I’ve ever seen, although it certainly can’t beat the “line” we waited in to see Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince at midnight. That was Terrible, with a capital T.) Some people showed up who did not have to be here. Sucks for them.  I really love the movie 12 Angry Men.  This video being played, as far as I can tell, is a compilation of Hollywood blockbusters that have something, anything!, to do with court, lawyers and the legal system,  and/or the importance of having a jury. I’m in love. Damn, I need to go to law school.

Title: Jury duty observations, part 2

Well, I feel jipped so far; my father indicated that a real-life judge would come in and speak to us about how important juries are and other crap like that. I have not seen any real-life person other than Gloria, who I am certainly not complaining about. I just want more real-life and less late-90s video footage.  This video feels like the craptastic videos I watched in driver’s training or sex ed.  I whisper-laughed to myself a moment ago about this move and looked to see if anyone else was laughing too; no one even looked remotely amused. AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO IS EXCITED TO BE HERE?!?!

Title: Jury duty observations, part 3

Shit, I really, really hope I get picked! I hope I get picked and it’s a sweet case. I hope it’s just like 12 Angry Men and I’m the lone voice of reason. I hope me and my fellow jurors get sequestered and we all become bffs. I hope I end up on The Today Show after the ruling has been made.

Title: Jury duty observations, part 4

I’m bored. Looked through purse for gum. Found some.  Examined split ends. I need a haircut.  Compared the amount of back-fat everyone in front of me has. I should get plastic surgery- I’m much too lazy to do any of that necessary work to get rid of it.  Girl in front of me has a peculiar haircut; I don’t understand it. I can’t tell if I like it. It’s long- reaches mid back- but there are very short layers and not much blending of said layers.  It’s odd to me.  People are starting to get antsy like me.  Gloria’s laugh is funny; I like it.  I wish I wouldn’t have forgotten my backpack at home- actually, more than anything, I wish I wouldn’t have forgotten to apply deodorant today. I’m paranoid I reek.

Title: Part 5

OMG! The judge is ready! In ten minutes (or so, says Gloria), we will head into the court room!  A real-life court room! Gloria explained that we need a “juror badge,” which is really just a sticker- and she even gave instructions!  “Just peel it off, and stick it on!!!” Gosh, I love her!! GLORIA IS AWESOME! AND HILARIOUS! She is making all kinds of jokes and worrrrrrkin’ this room! She’s talking about the “employer verification forms” and how you can take that form back to your employer… or spouse. “It happens!” Bahaha jeeeeez, she is SO great.  She just made a joke about menopause. I love herrrr!

That’s it. That’s all that’s saved on my phone.

Because after that I had to turn my phone off because it wasn’t allowed in the court room.

Part II will be here on Thursday 🙂

So, for the past two days, I’ve been composing a list of reasons my life is hard. Most of these things are reasons that I came up with while watching The Hills on MTV (don’t judge me- it’s a good show! bahaha).

The list is as follows:

Reasons my life is hard

1.) There are no cute boys in my new accounting class.

Hello?! I already knew the class was going to suuuuuuuuck- it’s accounting, that’s a given. But, like, it’s cruel and unusual punishment to not even put one cute boy in there to take away some of boring-ness. Ugh. My life is hard.

2.) I’m currently taking managerial accounting.

Perhaps this should have been listed first, but clearly you see my priorities. Excuse me, I understand I’m working on getting my MBA, but, really, is accounting really necessary? I mean… come on. Money’s not, like, that important… okay, fine. You win, MBA program, you win. My life is so hard.

3.) My borrowed contacts are starting to hate me.

The left one was all kinds of blurry Wednesday morning while I was driving to work. I almost took it out and put it back in but then I remembered I was driving. And if texting and driving is no longer permissible, I’m assuming law enforcement and fellow drivers (we all know how great of a driver I am) would be upset if I was now voluntarily fucking with my vision. I decided against it but then I remembered the time I took my contacts out while driving on I-96 one morning and searched for my glasses after my contacts were already out. My cruise control was set. I lived. It’s totally fine.

4.) The lamp on my desk broke.

Like totally broke. It’s not just that light bulb burned out. I flicked the little switch and there was a pop sound and then the light bulb just, like, fell out. The top part, the part with the screw-y part, was missing. WTF does that mean?! So I looked up there and was like HOW DO I FIX THIS?! You can’t come back from that. You just can’t. I wasn’t about to stick my fingers up in there! So I unplugged it and threw the piece of crap away. Time to invest in a new “task lamp.” My life is hard.

5.) Brody Jenner keeps referring to Kristin Cavallari as his sister.

TO HER FACE. WTF?!?! I know that The Hills isn’t actually “real” but it’s real to me! You do not have “sexual relations” with your sister! That is just…. not right. And that’s just rude to say to some girl you used to date and to whom you still have some sort of attraction! Especially when you know she wants to be with you! Dick move, sir! Also, I just really want Kristin and Brody to get back together for real. I hate fake reality. And I hate Avril Lavigne. I have so many feelings. My life is so hard.

6.) When my hair is in a ponytail, it tickles the back of my neck and gives me the willies/the chills.

I need a haircut? *whine*

7.) The City is still on the air.

I don’t watch that show but it comes on right after The Hills and I am forced to see commercials for it. That Olivia girl is the biggest C yoU Nest Tuesday ever. I hate that she exists. I wish she’d go back into obscurity and stop being so terrible. *rage blackout*

8.) I woke up twenty minutes late Wednesday morning.

It totally messed up my routine and completely threw me into a panic. I hate being late and I just can’t handle when things deviate from a plan. It freaks me out. It’s hard being me.

9.) The normal road I take to GTFO this tiny part of town I live in is totally blocked off due to construction of a “beautiful new park.”

I don’t appreciate this. Okay, fine, yes, there is another road like two feet away from it that takes me exactly to the same street the one under construction takes me to, but still. I hate it. The one I’m forced to take needs to be repaved. And I drive by it every day and have to make an illegal U-turn when I remember that my road is closed. Ugh. My life is so hard.

Okay. Enough complaining for today. Thanks for listening. You’re just such a good friend.

What are some ridiculous reasons your life is hard?? Do you feel the same way about Kristin and Brody as I do? Why does Summer = Construction?!?!

5