Greetings from Sunny Florida!

More like "Torrential Downpours Alternating with Scorching Heat" Florida. Seriously- the weather patterns here are pretty stupid. If it's not the surface of the sun, it's a storm of Biblical proportions. I did get to see a rainbow after one of the storms, but I couldn't look at it too long, or the sun was going to burn holes in my eyeballs. I like being home, if for nothing else than the full fridge, nice gym, and free laundry. Hanging out with my parents isn't half-bad either. And when my little turd of a brother isn't feeling so, well, turd-like, it's actually fun! They keep asking me whether or not I am moving here. (Granted, I am not allowed to move in with them, but must rather rent some sort of habitat near them.) Today while getting manicures, my mom predicted to the nail lady* that I will be living here by the time I am 30, "or even sooner, depending on when she gets pregnant." Wait...not only do I have to produce children, but I have to move them to her? Me thinks not. Although, all that free babysitting would be nice...

I don't even know why I am thinking about this! Let's count the number of months that have passed since I have been on a proper date. If that embarrassingly large number says anything, it's that I am more likely to own a unicorn farm than get married and help populate the earth.

*As soon as we left, my mother told me she had a hard time keeping a straight face while getting her nails done, because the manicurist "had teeth like mah jongg tiles. How can she close her mouth?!"

Now you know what kind of tree cultivated my tendency to be a mean little apple.

Funemployment!

What a busy week for this girl! Exclamation point! I cleaned my room, returned a ton of books, and ate an entire jar of peanut butter.

Oh yeah, and graduated from college.

Granted, the above activities took about twenty minutes (plus four years). And now, I am fresh out of things to do. I spent my first task-less day as an unemployed, hyper-educated semi-adult eating sorbet in my underwear while watching a show on Redwood trees and napping. Four hours of that and I was sad and lonely, thus prompting a right-quick escape to Connecticut to love Jessico. I've been back in the city for about 8 hours, and am getting ready to leave again for a sojourn into the Land People Under 70 Forgot. I should probably be packing, but that won't take long; I am just throwing all of my dirty clothes in a bag. I always hope that TSA doesn't go through my stuff, because boy, will I be embarrassed when they see all of my dirty clothing! But, then I remind myself that people so grossly violating my personal rights deserve nothing more than a suitcase full of dirty clothes.*

I am half-watching The Bachelorette while I write this. She is about to eliminate the first round of boys, and has some "really hard choices" to make (cue violins). Let me get this straight- I am supposed to feel sorry for this skinny, gorgeous girl because she has to choose between 25 different men that all want to boink marry her? I am having issues mustering up sympathy for this girl (despite the teaser clip of her crying in front of her mansion). They are now showing interviews with the men who didn't get picked for the chance to woo her. One man is talking about how he quit his job, sold his condo, and moved across the country, only to get rejected immediately. I have two things to say about that:

1. Dummy!
2. Is the state of modern American romance? No wonder I am left to choose from the old ones and the ones in committed relationships with their cousins.

I'm sorry if this was a very boring post for you to read. I think you ought to get used to it, though. My post-collegiate life is not exactly off to an exciting start.

*They also deserve a bunch of dog shit, but I am not about to pack that.

'Splainin

So, I had a preeeetttttty intense anxiety attack at about 3 a.m. last night, which is one of the reasons this blog is now private. I also deleted about 60 Facebook "friends." Then, I rearranged my underwear drawer.

I think that is what happens when you spend all day trying to write about urban toilets and contemplating that graduation is rapidly approaching. Sigh.