Harley would like to send her thanks for all the kind comments about her fluff. She is fully aware that her fluffiness is one of her redeeming qualities and she likes to wear clothes that accentuate it. She would love to express her appreciation by giving you the crazy eyes and then biting your face.
On another note, Harley would also like to wish you a happy Friday! This means someone gets to spend the whole weekend standing on Mom’s keyboard while Mom attempts to study!
Before we can start the first cuddle weekend of February, someone named “me” had to make it through yet another long day at school. Luckily, since we did a Costco run yesterday, I actually have real food to bring to school and I don’t have to survive on Clif bars today. Today I packed up some Pearl Couscous, Black Beans, and celery for scoopage:
(Hey Biology professor, you will be proud that, as I ate this, I declared “This Chollenchyma is delicious!” Steve declared that, “You made that word up!” Psh, someone clearly isn’t familiar with their plant cells. Bio noob.)
Prepare yourself, Clif bars, there is a new lunch sheriff in town. If you aren’t familiar with the duties of a “lunch sheriff”, let me tell you that they involve filling my belly, and keeping no good scoundrels out of the saloon.
While at school, I managed to squeeze in 30 minutes on the Elliptical in between classes. Gotta love that sweet campus gym!
Dear 2pm Comm Class,
I’m sorry I always come to class smelling like a foot. I swear I am actually a cleanly person who just despises gym showers. Shockingly enough, I have no desire to strip naked in front of a bunch of my classmates and reenact a scene from any bad ’90s teen movie with a shower scene that likely involved Jennifer Love Hewitt (I think she was in every teen movie in the ’90s… thus igniting my person vendetta to punch her square in the jaw).
Your Smelly Classmate (You know, the teacher’s pet who always answers questions in class… that girl)
Ain’t I just a delight? I am a smelly teacher’s pet, no wonder I have issues making friends! Anyway, upon getting home, we jetted off for Steve’s basketball game. If I haven’t mentioned it before, he coaches a team of 5th grade boys through the Boys and Girls Club and they are currently undefeated. So, while he stands at the sidelines with his arms crossed looking all coachly, I sit in the stands and study flashcards while fielding questions from parents that all sounds similar to “Which kid is yours *I turn around and show them my 21-year old face*… umm, do you have a kid on the team?” I would hope not, since that would have made me 11 when I birthed him. (As my girl Liz Lemon would say, “I can’t be pregnant because I have had my period for the past 61 days”) They are gradually catching on to who I am, perhaps due to my charitable post-game baked goods.
Or perhaps they just know me as the girl who sits in the back playing Angry Birds. Doesn’t everyone want to be known as that girl?