Why I Sometimes Wear Fake Red Glasses

www.dweebist.com

True, no?

Soiled and Foiled

I’ve been working for my dad this summer. Collecting soil and plant samples. Driving. Digging Holes. That’s what I do.

But not today…today I wrecked the company pick-up.

Well not really wrecked so much as left the truck in drive and walking 20 feet away only to see it gaining speed and hitting an irrigation circle...and then bouncing back from the inertia to hit again.

My thoughts went something like this (as I was literally jumping through the driver's-side window I had conveniently left down), “Dad is going to kill me!”

A few choice words, many hugs, and an “I’ve done it, too” said by my dad later and I am still alive.

The truck’s radiator on the other hand…

A Post in Which I Write a Letter to My Blog

Dear Blog,

It’s not you. It’s me.

I know I haven't written in a while, but I’ll write again soon.

Not an empty promise to you, my dear blog, I just needed to break the ice of our awkward silence.

Consider it broken.

Love, Ande

Secretly Sexy

As a rule I don't let anyone look through my ipod. Especially not my working-out playlist. Too many songs that bring me guilty pleasure.

Today I was working out and feeling all good about it. Thoughts like, "Yeah!" were basically dominating my brain activity.

Blame it on endorphins, blame it on my general lack of a sensor, but before I caught myself I was singing, "Bringin' Sexy Back" out loud. (Out loud!)

I didn't even notice until I looked up at the mirror and saw the guy next to me staring. I looked over as nonchalantly as possible, gave a small nod and said, "hey."

He didn't say anything.

I went back to cycling and after a small grace period, left.

Not completely because I was embarrassed (I was), more because someone knows my secret that I know every word to "Bringin' Sexy Back".

Dear Abe

Happy Birthday!

I like this picture of us.

I like you more.

In fact I love you.

Measured

Two parking lots, one car wash garage, a hole in the fence, a reusable cup, and sixty cents later…

A measurable amount of joy.

44 ounces to be exact.

Stands with a Fist...?

Today I noticed this:

Looks an awful lot like this:

If only I had some leather fringe.