it's friday. thank heavens.

this morning i had to talk myself out of two outfits which both involved tattered leggings and a pair of god-forsaken ugg boots. so, yeah, t.g.i.f. and t.g.j.i.a.o. (thank goodness january is almost over -- i thought long and hard about that joke and still feel it's pretty vanilla. courtesy laughs?), know what i mean?

let's talk about this week. for starters, i drank (drunk? partook?) 88 oz. of diet coke at the sonic drive through on wednesday. well, lies: 44 oz. of diet dr. pepper and 44 oz. of diet coke (with lemon + vanilla!). and morgan + i always like to justify that there's a few handfuls of ice in each cup so...basically it's only like, 32 oz.... which isn't that bad. but it's so so bad. i did the math while in the kitchen (gasp! i cooked this week! well, nuked some ikea swedish meatballs, that is... i'm the worst) looking at my measuring cheat sheet. 88 oz. is basically 3 quarts which is almost, almost one gallon. 

...and now that we've gotten through one entire paragraph about my diet coke consumption and tendency to round numbers up to whatever sounds the best (...never ask me what time it is or how much i spent at target -- i will always round up or down depending on the situation...)...let's talk about target s'more. 

i ran to target today and only bought one thing. well, three. but a pink lady apple and soda to snack on are necessities. i didn't peek at their home decor section and only did a quick browse of their 70% off rack. is this adulthood? perhaps? have i finally outgrown my childish habits like not knowing the price of things ($5 for a box of honey bunches of oats is fair, right?) and buying things i don't need?

or laughing into my hand and doing the is anyone else feeling awkward about this?! look-around when colbie caillat's song 'bubbly' came on over the store speakers and she said she gets the tingles in a silly place? ...actually nope, haven't outgrown that one. c'mon colbie, a little discretion goes a long way.

happy friday, my dears.

edited to add: i am rereading this and cringing. i talked about...nothing. at all. this all reminds me of this time that i was browsing through my friend's middle school yearbook and was reading this long-winded, mushy  rambling...signed: love brooke mosman. i had no idea i was capable of writing something so terrible! that was the first time that i realized good grief, i am an annoying writer. and also that my handwriting has seriously gone down the tubes since eighth grade.
but hey, t.g.j.i.a.o.