Fact: I will be unable to tell people I’m going to a Taylor Swift concert this week without squealing like I’m a 14 year old girl. Which is perfect really, because that would make me fit into her actual demographic. (Related fact: This might be the cutest video ever. I’m only glad that I’m watching it at 28 years old instead of 14 years old because it would have just set unrealistic standards of what high school love is like. Not like now… now I watch The Notebook weekly to make sure my expectations are unreasonable.)
Fact: I should be embarrassed about the previous Fact but I embrace my music choices the way that Liz Taylor embraces blue eyeshadow. Seriously, I saw a picture of her the other day, holy hell that cat works the colors in her make up box. (As for music, one of the worst fights I ever had with a boy was when he point blank told me he would NEVER go to a Matchbox 20 concert with me, even if it was my birthday, even if it was my dying wish. Needless to say, that relationship didn’t last but my love for music from the 90′s featuring the smooth vocal styling of Rob Thomas is still going strong).
Fact: If I hear anymore about Michael Jackson, I may start drinking tequila straight from the bottle. And let me tell you my pretties, that would be a step backwards in my ongoing quest to be the less annoying, younger, white, Canadian version of Oprah.
Fact: The latest developments on The Bachelorette had me standing on my couch cheering for all women who deserve to date people who aren’t COMPLETE ASSHOLES. Seriously, I don’t want to be a ruiner for those who haven’t seen it but what the hell? How does that even happen? It’s like someone took the worst, most egotistical and diabolical parts of a bunch of people, mashed them all into one person who really needs to branch out in the clothing department and named him WES.
Fact: I’m preeeeeetty sure I won last weeks Gross Out game. I try not to spend too long reflecting on it or else I will most likely start to gag. Of course, my opponent would say he won. He’s difficult like that. (As for the questions that got asked, all I will say is sweet goodness- I will never be the same. Ever. Maxie, my offer to supply you with some WYR’s if ever needed stands. If you can handle it. The stuff that got discussed takes disgusting to a whole new level).
Fact: I like the pouring rain more than I love the sun. I suspect this means I have an underlying emo gene in my DNA.
Let’s see, referenced my love for Matchbox 20, linked to a Taylor Swift clip and admitted my relationship expectations are established by watching movies based on Nicholas Sparks novels. Yup, my work here is done.