Dear Julia's Boars Head counter,
Oh spinach wrap with cajun turkey and pepper jack cheese, I owe you so much. My Sunday lunch has never been better and it's all thanks to you. Did I mention how much I love the pickle jar and the ever present Stacy's cinnamon-sugar pita chips? I can hardly wait until the day comes when I must return home and face the scale along with my inevitable fate as a victim of the Freshmen Fifteen. It's funny, I always imagined this greatly feared college stigma in the form of Messy Fries, beer and Hungry Howies and Krispy Kreme runs. While those have yet to tempt me to break "Operation: Jean Size Maintenance", the same is not true regarding these sandwich creations along with my new culinary obsessions of chunky peanut butter, anything pumpkin or cinnamon and latte machines. Which brings me to...
Dear Alpha Chi French Vanilla Latte Machine,
Suddenly, all my preconceived notions of latte machines and happiness to this point seem futile. I hold you responsible also for my college diet neglect, but thanks for keeping me company for all those early morning/mid afternoon/late night study hour fulfillments. Stay sweet.
Dear Steve Moakler,
Where have you been all my life? You would think that I would have stumbled across you at some point in between my intense love of Ben Rector and Needtobreathe, but how in the world did I spend the past 18-almost-19 years void of your musical nectar? Well, it's better late than never and I know this is the start of a beautiful friendship. Did I mention that I think I would make a great Mrs. Moakler? Okay glad that's settled.
Dear Math 112,
Please inform me of what I ever did to you. I know I haven't always been peachy with your relatives during high school, middle school or elementary school and I thought everyone knew by now about my incompetence regarding anything tedious involving computers. Well congratulations, Math 112, you have successfully managed to encompass both irks with a fabulous flourish characteristic of dentists' ability to horribly scrape one's teeth while simultaneously interrogating their patents about their personal lives. For those of you who don't comprehend that metaphor, here's the gist: Math 112, just like dentist appointments, you are the bane of my existence. ut embrace yourself, I will make an A if it's the last thing I do before this long and endless maze that is my mathematical education closes. Bring it on.
Dear Girls in My Pledge Class,
Y'all kinda rock. I can't get over God's perfect placement and grand design with Alpha Chi and I'm so thankful to be apart of this sisterhood. While we're on this disgustingly cliche and sappy note, I think I've developed a 7th sense- my 6th sense being my ability to predict football game outcomes. This newly acknowledged 7th sense is called my "best friend sense". To you certain girls in my pledge class, I just know that we're going to friends eventually. We might not have necessarily communicated yet but in the least creepy way possible, we've shared a moment where I scream (inwardly, of course), "OH MY GOSH WE ARE THE SAME PERSON." So I'll just keep doing my thing until you figure it out and I can't wait until you too discover our numerous similarities in multiple aspects of life. And for the record, I cross my heart that I'm not a stalker. I repeat, I AM NOT A STALKER. Just needed to make that clear.
Dear Fall,
I am SO glad you're back, along with your friends of cool mornings that compliment my runs so nicely and comfortable fall clothing staples of skinny jeans, cardigans and those new boots I just ordered on sale. I can't express how excited I am to spend many of your afternoons basking in the glorious weather on the quad with a Pumpkin Spice latte or finally immersing myself into football culture for a new year.
Dear this weekend,
I can't express how glad I am to have another home game this week. Actually, I express this joy by wearing my favorite game day dress for the festivities. You know, the practically perfect Anthro get up that is not too hot, not too cold? I'm pumped. And along with your arrival, my friends from Auburn are escaping from their shame of a football team to pretend they know what it's like to be a college student with a team worth cheering for. Thank goodness for that family, or else the Plains would be awfully depressing. Wait, did I mention that the Ole Miss Camp Desoto gals are coming too? It's too good to be true! Oh and what's that? 17th Floor at ATO? T-Town Friday, Saturday and Sunday, come at me. I'm ready.
Dear 9:21 PM,
Am I actually sitting in my beautiful queendom of a bed right now? Oh Tuscaloosa Sundays, you're too good to me.
To the Moon and Back,
Allie
She had blue skin,
Oh spinach wrap with cajun turkey and pepper jack cheese, I owe you so much. My Sunday lunch has never been better and it's all thanks to you. Did I mention how much I love the pickle jar and the ever present Stacy's cinnamon-sugar pita chips? I can hardly wait until the day comes when I must return home and face the scale along with my inevitable fate as a victim of the Freshmen Fifteen. It's funny, I always imagined this greatly feared college stigma in the form of Messy Fries, beer and Hungry Howies and Krispy Kreme runs. While those have yet to tempt me to break "Operation: Jean Size Maintenance", the same is not true regarding these sandwich creations along with my new culinary obsessions of chunky peanut butter, anything pumpkin or cinnamon and latte machines. Which brings me to...
Dear Alpha Chi French Vanilla Latte Machine,
Suddenly, all my preconceived notions of latte machines and happiness to this point seem futile. I hold you responsible also for my college diet neglect, but thanks for keeping me company for all those early morning/mid afternoon/late night study hour fulfillments. Stay sweet.
Dear Steve Moakler,
Where have you been all my life? You would think that I would have stumbled across you at some point in between my intense love of Ben Rector and Needtobreathe, but how in the world did I spend the past 18-almost-19 years void of your musical nectar? Well, it's better late than never and I know this is the start of a beautiful friendship. Did I mention that I think I would make a great Mrs. Moakler? Okay glad that's settled.
Dear Math 112,
Please inform me of what I ever did to you. I know I haven't always been peachy with your relatives during high school, middle school or elementary school and I thought everyone knew by now about my incompetence regarding anything tedious involving computers. Well congratulations, Math 112, you have successfully managed to encompass both irks with a fabulous flourish characteristic of dentists' ability to horribly scrape one's teeth while simultaneously interrogating their patents about their personal lives. For those of you who don't comprehend that metaphor, here's the gist: Math 112, just like dentist appointments, you are the bane of my existence. ut embrace yourself, I will make an A if it's the last thing I do before this long and endless maze that is my mathematical education closes. Bring it on.
Dear Girls in My Pledge Class,
Y'all kinda rock. I can't get over God's perfect placement and grand design with Alpha Chi and I'm so thankful to be apart of this sisterhood. While we're on this disgustingly cliche and sappy note, I think I've developed a 7th sense- my 6th sense being my ability to predict football game outcomes. This newly acknowledged 7th sense is called my "best friend sense". To you certain girls in my pledge class, I just know that we're going to friends eventually. We might not have necessarily communicated yet but in the least creepy way possible, we've shared a moment where I scream (inwardly, of course), "OH MY GOSH WE ARE THE SAME PERSON." So I'll just keep doing my thing until you figure it out and I can't wait until you too discover our numerous similarities in multiple aspects of life. And for the record, I cross my heart that I'm not a stalker. I repeat, I AM NOT A STALKER. Just needed to make that clear.
Dear Fall,
I am SO glad you're back, along with your friends of cool mornings that compliment my runs so nicely and comfortable fall clothing staples of skinny jeans, cardigans and those new boots I just ordered on sale. I can't express how excited I am to spend many of your afternoons basking in the glorious weather on the quad with a Pumpkin Spice latte or finally immersing myself into football culture for a new year.
Dear this weekend,
I can't express how glad I am to have another home game this week. Actually, I express this joy by wearing my favorite game day dress for the festivities. You know, the practically perfect Anthro get up that is not too hot, not too cold? I'm pumped. And along with your arrival, my friends from Auburn are escaping from their shame of a football team to pretend they know what it's like to be a college student with a team worth cheering for. Thank goodness for that family, or else the Plains would be awfully depressing. Wait, did I mention that the Ole Miss Camp Desoto gals are coming too? It's too good to be true! Oh and what's that? 17th Floor at ATO? T-Town Friday, Saturday and Sunday, come at me. I'm ready.
Dear 9:21 PM,
Am I actually sitting in my beautiful queendom of a bed right now? Oh Tuscaloosa Sundays, you're too good to me.
To the Moon and Back,
Allie
"Masks"
By: Shel SliversteinShe had blue skin,
And so did he.
He kept it hid
And so did she.
They searched for blue
Their whole life through.
Then passed right by –
And never knew.
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