Thursday, March 10, 2011

Oh, the One Girl Dance Parties.

Can I even tell you how many one girl dance parties I have had in the last two weeks?  No, I could not, because that would require me to count them, which I am totally incapable of doing.
And could I help it if my new song obsession is Rocketeer and that it is a good dancing song?  Also, is anyone else obsessed with Far East Movement?  Because I SO totally am.

Sometimes (like right now for instance), I stop and look at the things I say and I think, wow I sound like a prissy, annoying spoiled girl.  I promise I'm not.   Most of the time.

Does this post have a point?  No.

Am I just spouting words for the sake of procrastination?  Yes.             Very yes.

Reading Nat the Fat Rat makes me think it is normal to put a webcam pic of yourself in every post.  

Another story so that I can satiate my desire to not have a post of complete nonsensical babble:
Today was my last day of tutoring.
I have been tutoring a 12 year-old girl named LaShea for the past 8 weeks or so. (Her name is pronounced La-Shay).  Favorite phrases of LaShea include:

  • Oh Lord.  Imma pray for you.  
  • Don't make me get gangster on you.  
  • Jersey Shore.  Now that's my show.  
  • So .... do you have a boyfriend yet?
I worry about the generation of 12 year-olds that grew up on Jersey Shore as entertainment.  A lot.  

Once I asked LaShea what would happen if she did get gangsta on me.  She said it would involve her AK47. Then I asked if she knew what that was.  She had no clue.  I love America.  

In the two months that I spent knowing LaShea, she fell in love with me as a tutor.  My friends, this is a pretty big deal for me.  I'm not really the type that 12 y/o girls become best friends with.  In fact, I would say I am bad with adolescent girls in general, unless they are close enough to my age that I can treat them as an equal.  Maybe this means I can start adding girl names to the dozens of baby boy names floating around in my head.  

Not that I spend time thinking about baby names.  (But really, find me a Mormon girl in her 20s who does not think about baby names, and I will exchange her for a unicorn.)

Oh, the dance parties.  I mean, the 12 year olds.  I mean, the baby names?  .... let's stick with the dance parties.  

1 comment: