Age: 24
DOB: 02/12/1989 (presents welcomed)
Location: Rochester, New York
Height: Too tall in heels for boys
Weight: Yeah ok
Sexual Orientation: David Beckham
This Blog...
This isn’t a blog about fashion (a topic of which i know little of), or food (a topic of which I regretfully know too much of). This won’t help you save money or point you in the promising direction of the latest and greatest online deal (like a Balck & Decker 10C Food Processor powered by a 500W motor for only 15 bucks at Walmart.com say whatttttttt?!?) Nor will this blog give you superior enrichment in some buddah-licious, ghandi-tricious way. Nothing extraordinary happens... unless I tell you about that one time I slapped Matt Damon’s butt—and yes (to answer your question) the hand which dealt the blow is still securely saran-wrapped to this day.
More than anything else, this is just a tiny cobweby corner of cyberspace where I can write down the daily debacles of my so-called life in order for me to remember them when I am undoubtedly senile by the age of 40. So if that kinda thing floats your boat or steams your peas then welcome aboard matey, this captain’s ready to set sail. (And if those cringe-inducing nautical references didn’t just scare you away then you’ve proven yourself strong enough for what’s to come.)
Welcome.
Meet the Psych Ward:
This is my boyfriend and me.
(we're cute right?)
Five Things you should know about me:
Numba ONE.
I am a PK (Pastor’s Kid). Which basically means two things. The first being that any given Sunday was an opportunity to be publically humiliated via embarrassing childhood stories declared from the pulpit. Imagine the type of horror stories told to a new girlfriend or boyfriend at the dinner table but add 70 other people in the room and the only appropriate reaction is to fake a laugh and wave your hand like, ohhhh dad, you sly fox you (all the while internally plotting your revenge at the next church potluck).
The second thing being a PK means? We moved. A lot. Usually a different city and/or state every year. It made for an unpredictable childhood and weirdly enough I loved it. More to come on that I promise.
Numba TWO.
I am irrevocably, insurmountable, and unapologetically in love with David Robert Joseph Beckham.
Numba THREE. If I could change one thing about myself it would absolutely be my clammy hands. The amount of moisture they produce is actually a little ridiculous and it’s a condition known as Hyperhidrosis (WebMD verified thankyouverymuch). It provides difficulty performing everyday tasks like: gripping the Nintendo 64 controller when the rumble pack is on, typing for long periods of time without leaving a water trail behind on the keyboard, playing the piano (if I played the piano), holding hands with boys (if I held hands with boys), and forcing me to do the quick wipe, wipe, wipe, before shaking anyone’s hand (I’ve learned to become a big fan of the fist pump).
Ok so there may be a little overexxaggeation going on; it’s not thatttt bad (she says, actually not exaggerating at all but worried that post just creeped you out a little and is now trying to exercise damage control....)
Anyways.
Numba FOUR:
My favorite place in all the world is approximately 1,500 feet behind my house.
Numba FIVE:
The best time of my life was the summer of 2004 for reasons that will become clear through the stories I tell later.
This is my dad, Larry.
One random day last summer he came into the kitchen with a hot pink flyer in hand:
Dad: “Mojo we’re auditioning for Legally Blonde The Musical tomorrow.”
Mojo: [having just woken up] “Ummm...... what?”
Dad: “I saw a flyer for it today and there are open auditions tomorrow at 2.”
Flash forward to 24 hours later: both onstage, singing songs we don’t know, reading lines we've never rehearsed, and attempting to learn a dance created by a former Broadway choreographer...Dad walked away with the lead role and I snagged a spot in the sorority. And that pretty much describes our relationship perfectly.
This is my mom, Nancy.
Her belting Opera while baking her famous chocolate chip cookies and/or Apple pie on a breezy summer day was the soundtrack to my childhood (and weirdly a few nightmares). She’s the best baker around (ask anybody) and probably the main reason I have romantic relationships with multiple food groups.
This is my brother.
Hahahaha! Just kiddingggg...
Actually I’m just kidding about just kidding. This really is my brother, Gavin. And not surprisingly the reason girls asked to have sleepovers at my house during middle school.
This is my sister Kaitlin, brother-in-law Ryan, nephew Chase and niece Kendall.
Chase projectiled vomited into my mouth as an infant, Kendall is the future heartbreaker of America (you've been warned boys), Kaitlin is an online guru, and Ryan thinks it's wildly hilarious to throw fully loaded diapers at me-Guerrilla Warfare style. (In return, I think it’s equally as hilarious to crop dust him at every possible opportunity. We have a healthy relationship.)
This is my Grandma Beth.
She's a retired Headstart teacher and ex-ambulance EMT volunteer. She beat cancer (more like demolished it) and her wit and mind are so sharp you could prick your finger with both. Also, she's 92 and should receive a pension/stipend/paycheck based on all the blog entries that she will undoubtedly provide me with.
This is my dog, Max.
He shakes uncontrollably for no apparent reason and he once snagged a headline in the newspaper for saving my dad from a rabid fox that was chasing him through a cornfield.
This is Izzy.
She couldn't care less about any of this.
This Blog...
Welcome.
Meet the Psych Ward:
This is my boyfriend and me.
(we're cute right?)
Five Things you should know about me:
(we're cute right?)
Five Things you should know about me:
Numba ONE.
I am a PK (Pastor’s Kid). Which basically means two things. The first being that any given Sunday was an opportunity to be publically humiliated via embarrassing childhood stories declared from the pulpit. Imagine the type of horror stories told to a new girlfriend or boyfriend at the dinner table but add 70 other people in the room and the only appropriate reaction is to fake a laugh and wave your hand like, ohhhh dad, you sly fox you (all the while internally plotting your revenge at the next church potluck).
The second thing being a PK means? We moved. A lot. Usually a different city and/or state every year. It made for an unpredictable childhood and weirdly enough I loved it. More to come on that I promise.
Numba TWO.
I am irrevocably, insurmountable, and unapologetically in love with David Robert Joseph Beckham.
Numba THREE. If I could change one thing about myself it would absolutely be my clammy hands. The amount of moisture they produce is actually a little ridiculous and it’s a condition known as Hyperhidrosis (WebMD verified thankyouverymuch). It provides difficulty performing everyday tasks like: gripping the Nintendo 64 controller when the rumble pack is on, typing for long periods of time without leaving a water trail behind on the keyboard, playing the piano (if I played the piano), holding hands with boys (if I held hands with boys), and forcing me to do the quick wipe, wipe, wipe, before shaking anyone’s hand (I’ve learned to become a big fan of the fist pump).
Ok so there may be a little overexxaggeation going on; it’s not thatttt bad (she says, actually not exaggerating at all but worried that post just creeped you out a little and is now trying to exercise damage control....)
Anyways.
Numba FOUR:
My favorite place in all the world is approximately 1,500 feet behind my house.
Numba FIVE:
The best time of my life was the summer of 2004 for reasons that will become clear through the stories I tell later.
This is my dad, Larry.
One random day last summer he came into the kitchen with a hot pink flyer in hand:
Dad: “Mojo we’re auditioning for Legally Blonde The Musical tomorrow.”
Mojo: [having just woken up] “Ummm...... what?”
Dad: “I saw a flyer for it today and there are open auditions tomorrow at 2.”
Flash forward to 24 hours later: both onstage, singing songs we don’t know, reading lines we've never rehearsed, and attempting to learn a dance created by a former Broadway choreographer...Dad walked away with the lead role and I snagged a spot in the sorority. And that pretty much describes our relationship perfectly.
This is my mom, Nancy.
Her belting Opera while baking her famous chocolate chip cookies and/or Apple pie on a breezy summer day was the soundtrack to my childhood (and weirdly a few nightmares). She’s the best baker around (ask anybody) and probably the main reason I have romantic relationships with multiple food groups.
This is my brother.
Hahahaha! Just kiddingggg...Actually I’m just kidding about just kidding. This really is my brother, Gavin. And not surprisingly the reason girls asked to have sleepovers at my house during middle school.
This is my sister Kaitlin, brother-in-law Ryan, nephew Chase and niece Kendall.
Chase projectiled vomited into my mouth as an infant, Kendall is the future heartbreaker of America (you've been warned boys), Kaitlin is an online guru, and Ryan thinks it's wildly hilarious to throw fully loaded diapers at me-Guerrilla Warfare style. (In return, I think it’s equally as hilarious to crop dust him at every possible opportunity. We have a healthy relationship.)
This is my Grandma Beth.
She's a retired Headstart teacher and ex-ambulance EMT volunteer. She beat cancer (more like demolished it) and her wit and mind are so sharp you could prick your finger with both. Also, she's 92 and should receive a pension/stipend/paycheck based on all the blog entries that she will undoubtedly provide me with.
This is my dog, Max.
He shakes uncontrollably for no apparent reason and he once snagged a headline in the newspaper for saving my dad from a rabid fox that was chasing him through a cornfield.
This is Izzy.
She couldn't care less about any of this.
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