When Watching "The Hills" Comes Back to Bite You in the Ass.

While it's not rare for me to do embarrassing things, I generally know they're embarrassing at the time they occur. You know, that time my high school boyfriend's mom walked in on us? Or that other time when my ankle gave out and I fell flat on my ass in front of a fancy restaurant with a giant picture window...facing me. Oh, and then there was that time when my mom came to visit and when I went to introduce her to two of my new friends here in grad school, I completely blanked on the name of one of them (I am ter.ri.ble. with names) so I only introduced one and completely ignored the other. LAME.

Today, however, I got to experience latent embarrassment, and friends, let me assure you that it is not any less humiliating. The story is this:

Several months ago, I went to a party hosted by my friends Jessie and Eric at their house. Prior to this party, Jessie had taken a writing class where she met a girl with whom she ended up becoming good friends. I'd only met this girl one or two times prior to the previously referred to party. I knew she went by two initials, and that the first one was "L." So when I saw her at the party, I went up to her and said, "Hey there! It's "LC", right?" She kind of smiled and mumbled something but I didn't really hear her. So I just went bumbling on with my oblivious self, not thinking anything of it. Until today. When Jessie put up a post on her blog congratulating LK on her engagement. LK, you guys. Not LC. But you know who IS LC? That's right: Lauren Conrad. So not only did I not get her name right, but I called her by the name of a vapid, spoiled, generally-watched-by-teenagers reality star. And in doing so, I also outed my "Hills" watching ways.

Damn you, guilty pleasures and being bad with names combination. And congratulations, LK. ;)

Kids these days...

really amaze me sometimes. This, my friends, is truly brilliant. It's getting a lot of press lately, and I 100% support the cause. The Flickr feed devoted to the project is also fantastic. If the younger generation really is made up of these kinds of people, I can't wait to see what the future's going to look like.



Check. It. Out.

I think I need one of these next Halloween.

How SICK are these costumes?! And how about what it took to learn how to move so authentically? In a word: badass.

Farmer's Market Flowers

I had to get them--the sunflower reminds me of home. :)

Champaign County Fair: On a Stick.

Happy Birthday to The Beara

Here's to six years of co-habitating bliss. :)

Eating her birthday Frosty Paws

Ahead of the Game

Call me crazy, but anyone who uses the words "libraries" and "cupcakes" in the same sentence makes me swoon. Not to mention, I am apparently on the cusp of being smack in the middle of a new pop-culture craze. Maybe all this grad school work will be worth it after all (not for the career, mind you, but for the cool factor).

Taking Matters Into My Own Hands

So, as we all know, I broke my foot exactly two months ago today and have been hanging out in Kansas with the parental units ever since as it's very hard for me to get around in my apartment by my self on one foot (longest. sentence.ever.). Three days ago, I called the local Express Care/Minor Med place to see if they had the capability of x-raying my foot to make sure it's healed and then taking off my cast. They assured me they did and that the doctor who took care of such things was only in the clinic on certain days of the week, today being one of those days. So, this morning at approximately 11:30 am, Dad and I drove to the clinic, checked in, and waited. And waited. And waited some more. Wait. Ed. Lots of waiting going on here. Oh, and did I mention that there was this mother and grandmother with three extremely obnoxious, highly energetic, and LOUD children waiting about five feet away from us the whole time? I mean, I love kids. I really, really do. So if I think a kid is annoying, you probably don't want to be in the room with him. Let alone three of them. Approximately two hours later, I was called to the back and x-rayed. Shortly after that, the doctor came in and told me it looked like my foot was healed and they would be coming back with a cast-cutter shortly. WOOOOOO!!! I was PUMPED!!! So I did some more waiting. Wait, wait, waiting. And then I waited some more. And finally, the doctor came back and said "Well, I'm really sorry, but we don't seem to have a cast cutter after all." Um, excuse me? I just WAITED FOR 2.5 HOURS SO THAT YOU COULD NOT CUT THE CAST OFF MY FOOT?! Yes, that was pretty much the gist of it. But they would be happy to refer me to an orthopedic person in town, but good luck getting in this week. But we'll be back with that referral. And then came--you guessed it--some more waiting. About another thirty-minute's worth. For a crap piece of paper I wasn't going to use. Because you know what? I had decided to cut the damn thing off myself. Which is exactly what I did. I came home fuming, grabbed a pair of scissors and some pruning shears, enlisted the help of my parents (who were not so sure we should be commencing with the medical procedures without a license but quickly acquiesced when they saw the level of my anger), and about 15 minutes later... my foot, along with my by-now-extremely-hairy-leg, was free!! FREE!!!! Two months of rolling around on a knee scooter? Over! Having a really terrible itch that I can't scratch because it's covered by my cast? Finished! Done! Goodbye! See ya, cast!

What have we learned today, boys and girls? That with a little will-power, anything is possible.

A Ten-Toe Salute!

Happy Fourth of July, from my mom and I's feet.