YARP!

Hello all. May I ask a question? Besides that one, of course ...
When your significant man-friend starts engaging in long conversations that involve a house with a big yard with a privacy fence for you and your (that's the two-person version of "you" and "your") dogs, and does things to figure out your jewelry preferences, would it be wise to read a little deeper into it? Not that it can go all that much deeper, come on ...

:)

Pistols are just sexier, okay?

Let the ranting begin!
Apparently someone has recently decided to turn their room into a dance club. One that caters to those with an urban musical taste, if you catch my drift. Repetitive rhythms have been pumped into my room at all hours of the day. And you know it's bad if someone who's slowly going deaf can complain about noise problems. See, we're supposed to have this "courtesy policy" regarding noise levels 24/7, with designated "quiet hours" between 10 p.m. and 10 a.m., unless someone has obtained written permission from the residence director to throw a hall party or something along those lines.
Students in design majors don't get enough sleep as it is, and this wonderful element pretty much eliminates any chance of an afternoon catnap. Less sleep means grumpy design majors. Grumpy design majors have access to all sorts of tools that can be used to come up with creative solutions to all their problems. If their creativity doesn't suffer due to sleep deprivation.

So much for our usual reversal of gender roles

While Heather was out having her engagement high, I was playing host to my favorite man-beast. Somehow during his visit, Dennis never touched a single piece of cooking equipment. I was in charge of making mozzarella sticks, muffins, pizza, and pancakes, he was in charge of paying for stuff and saying "yes, dear."
Visiting made him think more seriously about transferring to the Starkville Lowes, getting an apartment, and taking classes somewhere to get his business degree. Then he can save up for his bakery or restaurant or whatever kick he's on until I'm finished at State.
I really hated to see the weekend end. It flew by, and I loved every second with Dennis. By the time I'd gotten back to my room after taking him to his car, I couldn't hold it together, I already missed him.
Someone needs to tell me I'm being stupid and girly.

It has a distinctly smoky taste ...

Yes. Doesn't everyone love when they go to the kitchen and someone has left a substantial piece of food in the oven, perhaps the crust from the pizza they were cooking that just happened to stick to the foil on the rack? Let me tell ya, I personally love scraping food scraps out of a hot oven while my poor entree sits above, absorbing the taste and fragrance of extra extra extra crispy crust.
Am I the only person who knows that cookie sheets work for pizza too?
:P