my life as a seinfeld episode.

Oh, yeah. So I write a blog. One that hasn’t been updated in a week. So that means it’s a really good one, right? Quality over quantity?!?! RIGHT?!

But back to the plan at hand. Wow, that was impressive. Starting off a post with a digression? And then subsequently digressing about digressing? I’m putting digressing on a dag-gone pedestal. Fanning it with large fans and feeding it grapes. Possibly playing a lyre. Doing a jig for its own entertainment.

There I go again.

Okay. Seriously. It’s game time now:

So what have I been up to these last few days?

Well, to sum it up simply I’ve just been listening to my playlist of music from “Charlie Brown” (Yes, I legitimately have this) and trying not to wollow as my month full of tomfoolery, shenanigans, and being an altogether rapscallion (Yes, I’ve been wanting to use all of those three words for a very, very long time. Every 18 year old girl has a little bit of the soul of an old, miserly man in them right? Or maybe it’s just too much time in the town that in itself is an old folk’s home, i.e. Sarasota, Florida) is coming to an end. School is coming soon for me and I need to retrieve my big girl pants from my laundry bag. It’s time for business to conjugate verbs so much that my eyes bleed.

Sadly,these seven days of not writing here, oh fair blog, have not been filled with sippin’ on Cristal, having house parties at my penthouse, or degrading the female species by producing precipitation of dollar bills upon them.

But I have been checkin’ out the ‘donk on this little beauty:

Where I shall hopefully be spending my summer! (Middlebury College language school) Speaking only Portuguese! A language I’ve never spoken before! Ah! Yes!

Okay, so I’m not altogether sure that this would specify as a "’donk” per se, but nonetheless it’s the thing that all the boys be starin’ at. Or a creepy 18 year old girl will be starin’ at all this summer.

Speaking of ‘donk staring, that is the majority of why I chose this title in particular. Apparently I’ve attracted certain admirers. And it’s been hilarious. Full of ridiculousity that you would expect in a “Seinfeld” episode. And I’m the George Costanza in this situation.

You see, this influx of male attention has not only made me laugh a ridiculous amount, but has also caused me to flip out over loaves of marble rye bread, Elaine dances, and ridiculous fur coats. Metaphorical rye loaves, Elaine dances, and fur coats, of course. You see, attention from males makes me chortle. And apparently it has caused me to, yes…

Believe that my main goal in life is to become a nun.


Seriously. If any sort of male attention makes me want to become a nun, then there must be something seriously wrong. And yes, I’ve completely understood the concept of cooties and how that epidemic dies out around 3rd-4th grade. I know that those vaccines are pretty fool-proof.

But for some reason that still doesn’t make me realize how ridiculous it would be for me to become a nun.

Or a witch.

Holy crap, why didn’t I think of that?!?! Then I could conjure up potions and use stones and amulets to deter possible gentlemen callers!(!!!!!!!!) Perfect. I’ll become a Nun-witch.

Or at least something that doesn’t sound like a sandwich. I mean, if I’m going to be a nun and a witch I have to sound as respectable as possible, right?!

But back to the issue at hand. I’m not sure why I do react in such a way to the advances of gentleman callers. Maybe I’m just kind of proud of my singledom and don’t see a reason to change it.

Anyways, life is easier this way for the time being. I can play the “that’s why you’re single game!” whenever I please. I never have to worry about my relationship status on Facebook, as I have no idea how to even change it to begin with. I can watch as many episodes of “Gilmore Girls” as I want. And I can write multiple blog posts on being a happy single lady.

But until I decide whether or not I’m becoming a nun-witch, just keep your eyes and ears peeled for singing from the tall mountaintops (of Florida?!?!?) and large green auras floating in the sky, causing the schoolchildren of your town to sleepwalk to my witches hovel in order to help me make an immortality potion.

So,in other words, no big deal.


2 thoughts on “my life as a seinfeld episode.

  1. If you ever did become a nun-witch-Julie Andrews hybrid, I wouldn’t even know what to do with myself. It’d be the most awesome thing EVER!

  2. Pingback: Bruised shins? Best Weekend ever? there’s a Taylor Swift song for that. « The College Authentic

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