the secret life of the american teenager...or thursday before lunch.

:: between lifting stuff up + putting it back down at the gym yesterday (isn't the gym such a silly place? just heavy objects to lift...and put back down...and lift again! oh, bother), i showed morgan the stream of self-indulgent pictures i took yesterday afternoon in preparation for brooke vs. the d.m.v. of utah round two. were my cheeks highlighted enough? my eyebrows filled in okay? you know, standard precautions.
morgan then told me that i should post this stream of selfies...but only on my blog, because blogs are slightly less self-indulgent than other forms of social media while still being completely self-indulgent. it's wonderful. she's a smart one, that morgan.

just being carmen san diego. you're welcome. p.s. my shirt is now on sale for $12.00 + is so comf. run! 

:: i'm debating chopping my hair off. not that i have much to chop off anyways. i have had 'make an appointment at salon' on my to-do list since last week. mind you, 'watch third episode of the bachelor' (andi so wins) + 'apply self tanner' has been on there, too. very important things to remember! hashtag the secret life of the american teenager.

:: speaking of the bachelor, i'm mildly sad that lucy the free spirit was eliminated. she was so nice! and her fascination with showing her chesticles? fascinating. but, i super like renee the bartender of the world (wouldn't she make a great one? she's so understanding), chelsie the girl who wouldn't jump and stretches metaphors (...just jump off the damn bridge, wouldya?), and, of course, andi the lawyer -- homegirl packed a one piece, has a sexified voice, and is most probably sippin' on diet coke at the pool party + during the group date? props. crossing my fingers dog lover will not get eliminated because she is a meddling hoot. 

:: if you follow me on twitter, where all good blog posts go to die, you might have read that i met chris powell from extreme weight loss on my plane from phoenix to salt lake city. i positively love that show + watched it religiously over christmas break while puking out the contents of my stomach. something about his voice soothes an upset stomach? i dunno. anyways, i thought i recognized him + began to stare. did i know him? was he from moscow? were we best friends in the past? finally, he muttered a 'hello, how you doing?' which confirmed that i had been intensely staring at him for uncomfortably long.
oops.
i began to gush about how much i loved his show + how i have watched every episode as he took his seat behind me. then i continued watching vanderpump rules + lost all credibility.
also, to add : him + his wife bee-lined it to wetzel's pretzel's after they got off the plane. props, chris powell, props.

:: finally, finally i set up my voicemail. along with best buy + movies longer than ninety minutes, voicemails give me anxiety. eek. side note : did any one ever see the straight-to-dvd movie, one missed call? it's about voicemails which proves that other people must find them horrifying, too.
anyways, amongst a few calls from my old work + the chiropractor i found on groupon (...the hour long massage involved lots of mouth breathing + deep pokes, yowza), there was a voicemail from my brother-in-law who is now on a mission wishing me a happy two years. oh, the drams! it was precious.
...wasn't there a friends episode about this?



the end.