so i got rid of the rest because they're blackmail.

start at the BOTTOM. that is today's post. you can read the next few when you're done...but they aren't good ones. the good ones are gone.

also, my superlatives:

Most Likely To Change their Facebook Relationship Status for the Drama
Most Likely To Be a Badass for Life
Most Likely To Steal Candy from a Baby
Most Likely To Sell their Soul for a Donut

so basically i am a dramatic, mean badass/fatass.

what a compliment.

why? because i'm bossy.

Wait! What's a MILKSHAKE?

Sperm doesn't come out of boobs!?!?!?!?!?!

ah, the wonderful world of inside jokes.

if you havent noticed. i use song lyrics. a lot.

and despite the fact that i dont wish i was anywhere with anyone, making out, dashboard confessional wishes i was. and that is all that matters.

so dont take me too seriously.

in order to keep up the boy crazy reputation that this blog seems to be, i will tell yet another crazy story from my embarassing life.

oh and by the way, i spent like a half hour writing one once. then i accidentally deleted it. so i proceeded to give up and didnt return to the computer for many hateful days.

so story time. we're on our way home from p-town on friday. which means everyone was leaving for labor day weekend and traffic was hella-bad. but to our (Megan, Katie Patterson, Alex Frances) enjoyment. there were MANY gorgeous fellows on I-5 at the same time.
so we're being our normal crazy car-dancing selves. in order to entertain our highway campanions. which worked. Believe me. we got more stares than a wet t-shirt contest.

so there is this one kid with his dad. but still seems to enjoy blaring music and ghetto dancing. so we write our (by ours i mean mine, unfortunantly) phone number on a peice of paper and throw it into his car. he proceeds to throw it out immediatly and next time he passes us, empties an entire water bottle our way. our way meaning through our open windows directly on us. dick.
anyway. so before we even think to react the girl in the car behind the dick gives us a hollar and tosses her full water bottle to us. She was quite possible the coolest person ever.
in the end. we got him good.

but all the while. there was another hottie right in front of this kid. who we we're also entertaining. so we tried to throw him a number too. but missed. so the next round. he drove soooo close to megan's car i held out my (monkey) arm. he held out his. and was close enough that he grabbed it. oh yeah and he was involved in the water fight too. amazing.

now if that isnt a story. i dont know what is. I guess you probably had to be there.

top ten reasons i am lame.

For old times sake:

10. i dont like scary movies.
9. i don't care what i look like.
8. I quit (club) Volleyball.
7. I quit a job after three days.
6. i dont make an effort to be friendly.
5. in turn, i can be really rude.
4. i dont know what i want.
3. i hit on a thirteen-year-old.
2. I don't like parties. i like groups of 8.
and the winner is...
1. I am at home on a saturday night. blogging. on myspace. (well i was when i wrote this)

is this not the most perfect day of your existance?

today.

i was happy. like legitimately happy. and i don't mean that in a "legit- i try to be cool" way. but in a "you could do whatever you want. i am happy by myself" kind of way.

i was walking back from class. and the weather knew exactly which way to turn and exactly how to cool the skin the sun had so kindly warmed. the kind of wind that blows your hair out of your face. not into your chapstick. that ruins both hair and burt's bees laden lips.

and i was infinite. and i wanted to be a wallflower. and experience the perks of not having the crazy girl in her bra yell at you to take her pancakes. her reasoning: because she's in a bra.

someone outside my door has a really low voice. they said "testicles." I am at the peak of my maturity. quite clearly.

anyway, back to the perfection of existance. i think i've found it. (i just back spaced to uncapitalize an i; how messed up is that?) i used to think i didnt need people. but i do. i used to think i could sit in my room all day and be content. but i can't.

and i am still independent she-woman man-hating, i-do-what-i-want (or what you dont want) whitney. (okay, so i am not all about girl power and man-hating, but doesn't that sound hardcore).

i think "hater" is more fitting. I have a nickname for you. you dont know it but i do. (if you havent noticed, i dont address people by their name. i can if have to by i will go well out of my way not to.)

anyway, hater-ness. that's right folks. i have pet peeves. despite my perfection of existance. (and this is a horrible blog, but i promise there is better to come). i want to start wearing a sign that says "i don't want to date you." yes. that sounds good.

because many boys dont do the friend thing well. and i think those are the same guys who haven't exactly done the whole girl thing for very long. but you never know. and every guy thinks you need to go on a date. and then be incredibly awkward when you don't call them back. not because you dont like them. but because you dont want them to get the wrong impression. because they will.

AND I DONT WANT A RELATIONSHIP WITH YOU.

clear enough?

and i am not going through a lesbo phase. call it what you want.

and it's not that i don't want a relationship. because i do. i want that falling head over heels, you know your in lust but it doesnt matter, completely confortable, do cute things without pet names, genuinely care kind of relationship. follow all of that?

and i've been in love. and it sucks. not the being in love part. but the not being love anymore but knowing what its like enough for it to ruin all potential in the dating field because no one feels right like that first one did.

and you dont even want to date. because anything less perfect that requires effortful flirting and looking good and not embarassing yourself (because you never used to have to put any effort into those things) would be torture. especially when you know it wont work out from the get go.

you just want, i just want, the process to go strait from meet to comfy cuddle sweatpants parties and making out in an isle at the grocery store. and skip the awkward get to know you. so you search. i search.

and find yourself in utter dissapointment. how could you expect college to be any different? and you find that one or two that might work. the ones you would give a chance. but there are always complications. its a girl. and its not you. but you find yourself surprisingly unfeeling. unhurt. undeturred. and you don't know why.

and you're fine with the just friends status you so skillfully maintain. its an art. and you love it. but you're either the one they want to date or have nothing to do with. and that you hate.

but i dont know why i am talking about you. because i am talking about me. because i want to fall in love again. and have that person i can tell everything. someone i can tell that one thing that i could never tell anyone else. and so i search.

and for me to be infinite, i need someone to drive while i peak my head out the sunroof.