I live for the ghetto fabulocity of bumping a super inapprops rap song on my Monday morning trek back to Sac. My Italian booty may suggest that I have some moves, but my lack of rhythm and awkward seat dancing are clear signs that my German blood runs deep. While my dance skills may be better suited for yodeling from the mountain tops, there is nothing like re-living the glory days of dropping it like its hot in the beer soaked foyer of your local fraternity house.
I live for coming home after a long weekend to an actually made bed. Tucking into a freshly made bed with cool sheets and straightly fluffed pillows is a true luxury to this old lady. Gone are the bad memories of being subjected to corporal punishment should you forget to make your bed or clean your room, because quite frankly, I want to cry when I walk into my room after an on the go weekend to find that I had treated myself to a little slice of bed heaven!
I live for getting a voicemail, text or gchat saying that one of my lovely ladies can make a particular play date or sleepover. I still feel like the awkward and really lost high school chick who desperately wanted to be your friend. So when one of these amazing girls lets me know that they actually want to hang out with me. Play with me. Read books in the same room with me. Lay in our pjs and watch trashy tv with me. Eat Taco Bell with me. Or any of the above….well let’s just say it warms my heart through and through and makes me feel like the most specialist girl in the whole world!
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