Think before you act....naaaaaaaah

So I'm in South Florida....having the time of my life! What am I doing here mid-winter, you ask? Well, visiting my friend from SMU aaaaaaand escaping the God-forsaken cold that has taken over the rest of the country. We were informed yesterday that it snowed in every single state EXCEPT Florida (well, and Hawaii but that doesn't count. And it's raining there hardcore anyways.) How did I come about visiting here? Well just chalk it up to too much flying on Southwest Airlines and earning a free ticket and the fact that I'm a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of girl.

It all started last October. I asked my friend that lives here if she was going to be here over break. I KNEW I had to get out of freezing Kansas City. She said YES! and invited me down to come visit her. Ok, ok, you don't have to twist my arm! As soon as I got home, I was on the phone with Southwest changing my Christmas Break flight plans. After about 20 minutes, it was all done and I hung up the phone so incredibly happy about trading in the frozen tundra that is Kansas City in January for DA BEACH.

And then it hit me. Did I even ask my parents if this was ok? Nah. Did I check to see if I'll have time for this? Nah. Did I make sure I could financially afford it? Nah. Did I really care about any of the aforementioned questions? Nah.

So Monday came and it was time to go to the airport. And it was blizzarding. My airline warned me that my flight might get delayed or cancelled. I was a little worried. My dad drove me to the airport as tons of snow was coming down and the highways and everything were completely covered. That's when I knew that, no matter what, I had made the right decision in jumping the gun and flying to South Florida. Leaving that freezing place for the sunny beach was the best decision I made this winter. And it's been so fun!

Upon arriving, I made my way outside to wait for my friend to come pick me up. A little 85-year-old lady sat down next to me. We were conversing when my friend arrived and I said I had to leave. The nice lady said, "Ok, you have fun! And be careful and safe," and gave me the look that says 'I was once your age too and I know what goes on in that pretty little head of yours so you better not do some of the things I know you're thinking about doing!'.....and then she gave me a big smile. How does she know me so well? :)

So today ends my stay in South Florida. We begin the drive to Orlando where we'll visit some friends and stay the night. Then we'll stay in Gainesville Saturday night and then begin the 16-hour trek home to Dallas on Sunday getting in late Sunday night.

And then the crazy spring semester begins! I CANNOT WAIT!

Just so you turn green with envy:

I Officially Belong Here

Gone are the days of believing I was born to live in the bustling city of New York strolling up and down Park Avenue clad in designer items on my way to see the latest Broadway play.

Gone are the days of feeling like I've escaped becoming a townie or a Kansas hillbilly.

Gone are the days of believing I am too glamorous for good ole' Shawnee. Sometimes called "a backwards town" (by those who don't live here and know its true inherent value, by the way), it has a reputation of being old and rundown. But it's not.

After years of looking at some Shawnee citizens in our local grocery store and thinking, "I hope I'm not like one of those," now I definitely feel like one.

You see, I was born with a mouth full of messed up teeth. A late bloomer when it came to absolutely everything in my life, I was still losing my baby teeth as I entered high school. And then we were informed that there were three baby teeth I would never lose....because no adult teeth developed to replace them! I'M DEFECTIVE!!! Anyway, since I was getting older, we were advised to put braces on my teeth (including the baby ones) to straighten out my mouth. Later, the baby teeth would wear out and I would have to get fake ones. So, entering high school with a mouth full of braces that resembled a roller coaster (I'm not exaggerating--I literally had teeth all over the place), my self-esteem was immediately shot to the ground before anyone else had any chance to do it themselves. It was super. But I survived.

Fast forward 6 and a half years later to this week. My teeth are straight, white, and hurting. The baby ones, anyway. Their time has come to leave the nest. They've done their time and I've worn them out. So my mom took me to the oral surgeon to have one of my upper teeth removed. I was practically peeing my pants as I waited for the surgeon to stick my gums with that huge-a** needle so that he could put a pair of huge-a** pliers in there to yank out a tooth. Before he stuck that huge-a** needle in my mouth, I almost jumped out of the chair and screamed, "You don't have to do this! I can bear the pain for the rest of my life! Don't stick me with that thing!" But I didn't. Because then I remembered I was 21 years old (not 8) and should be fully matured and capable of getting a baby tooth pulled. Well I got the baby tooth pulled, but I'm not convinced I'm fully matured. Late bloomer, remember?


Anyway, ever since I've had this tooth out, I can feel a hole in my mouth. And I don't feel glamorous. At all. And I feel like I either got into a townie bar fight at Johnny's Tavern (here in good ole' Shawnee) or that I'm a hillbilly who drunkenly let one of my friends pull out my tooth like in The Hangover. You can't see the hole at all, but I'm my own worst critic and demand perfection at every turn so I know it's there. And I? Don't. Like. It.


Sure I'm going to get a fake tooth soon and sure you don't know it's missing unless I show you OR laugh obnoxiously loud with my mouth wide open.... soooo who cares? No one, that's who. NO ONE CARES.


So now I just have to get over it. Over this feeling of being a hillbilly. But I doubt I will. I'm officially one of those Shawnee citizens. Super.

My Cousin Vinny

I never have a boring night out. Even if we decide to go to a low-key bar for a few drinks and some much-missed girl talk, it never ends up being "low-key".....EVER.

And I'm ok with that. In fact, I love it. Boring nights should be restricted to lame people who don't know how to have fun. And I don't associate with those kinds of people. (Feel honored. If you are reading this, then the odds are that you probably know me. And if you know me, then I don't consider you a boring person. Because if you were boring, I wouldn't talk to you......Joking....)

Last night started off with dinner at Waxy O'Shea's with the fam. Cue vast amounts of laughter. After, I decided to ditch the fam to go out with a few girls and was waiting outside the restaraunt for a friend so we could leave. Then I was, yet again, informed that my blog readership goes beyond what I anticpate. A nice man stopped me and asked, "Are you a Soetaert?"

I was stopped in my tracks and pretty surprised because no, I am not "technically" a Soetaert because that is not my last name, but my relatives are Soetaerts. So I'm a Soetaert in a kind-of-sort-of-way. Actually, I have been asked this question by adults who are familiar with that part of my family multiple times throughout my childhood. I would be stopped at the pool, at the mall, etc by random strangers asking the question, "Are you a Soetaert?" I guess I've got those dominant Soetaert genes then.

As we began talking, however, I realized I did know and recognize him from multiple gatherings my grandparents have had. He's a good friend of theirs. He said, "You went to Belgium this summer, right?" "Yes, I did!" "Yeah, your grandparents told me. That's when I started reading your blog." A shade of deep crimson immediately engulfed my face. My mind started racing. 'Ohmigod ohmigod ohmigod WHAT have I been writing on that blog lately?? What all did I say I did in Europe?? Ohmigod, I need to start editing myself if my grandparents' friends are reading that thing!!!' I quickly recovered and responded with a big smile and "Ohh, really? That's great! Yeah, I'm always surprised when people tell me they read my blog because I forget it's public domain." Shit.

As much as I was worried about what I've been writing on this darn thing, I was actually very flattered. Wow, people actually like to read what I have to say? That made me feel so good! So thanks, Kevin, if you're reading this. I'm glad you stopped me and said hello! And happy birthday! (It was his birthday yesterday..) And thanks for reminding me to edit myself because you never know who is reading....

Anyway, fast-forward a few hours later. We've got some intense dance-floor moves by our crazy miniature 5-foot friend, a few failed pick-up lines by some random Wyandotte County guy in a wife beater, a successful spill of half a pitcher that managed to attract the attention of everyone within a 30-foot radius of our table, and two guys from K-State who just can't...seem...to graduate. And are still sticking around our table as well.

One guy's name is Vinny. And at first I think it's a fake name because this guy doesn't look like a "Vinny"....at all. Now when I choose my fake names, I try to pick one that at least fits me. And guys usually believe it. His was a failed attempt, but we played along anyway....it actually probably is real.

The conversation is winding down (has been for the past hour, mind you) when we decide it's time to peace out. Vinny asks for my number. Not really wanting to give it but not wanting to totally destroy his ego either, I say sure. He gives me his phone and I first type in my friend's number but I decide I can't do that to her....damn you, conscious! So after a few minutes of pretending to try and figure out how to work his phone while thinking about how I'm going to handle this situation, I resolve to put my own number in. I leave for Florida on Monday and won't be back in Kansas for 5 months so that seems a logical end to the "relationship". I'll just tell him that. No harm done.

He asks what I'm doing tomorrow night. "Well, my cousin is coming in town so we'll probably go to the Power and Light district.....you guys should come (???)" (WHY DID I SAY THAT!) He responds with, "Ohh, actually I think I'm gonna hang out with my grandpa. You see, he's really old but he's cool to hang out with." I should be insulted but I'm not....I just didn't care enough I suppose. I think, 'Wow, I just invited you and your friends to come out with us tomorrow night after you asked for my number and you say you would rather hang out with your grandpa?!' Haaaaa. Niiiiiice. Glad I fall short of a gramps. Awesome.

Anyway, we leave. Later, he texts. He sucks at carrying on a texting conversation. Relationship over.

Lessons from the night:
Monitor what you put on the internet (not that I've really put anything that bad).
Don't let a guy wearing a wife beater in a bar think he's got a shot because he'll just keep coming back...and back...and back.
Don't give your number to someone you won't have a future with. Pointless. And stupid.
Let your friend dance....but not so that she pulls a few muscles. That's too wide of a range.
And finally, have lots of fun. Always.