To Berry: Later That Night

Relieved to have my statistics homework done, I decided to drive to my sister's house that night to engage in some honky tonk bar action that only lower Alabama could supply. Upon arrival she distracted me with Bud Lights so she could finish getting ready.  I rummaged her nail polish collection to further occupy myself, stumbling upon the perfect selection:

 Kismet! I enjoyed my beer while  Regina Spektor blared through my sister's stereo speakers, I couldn't resist the thought ' Tiffany Berry Delicious now there's a saucy name.  Hair and nails being complete we ventured off to our favorite dive bar.  

This specific bar, usually composed of:  Shots of buttery nipples, random weirdos, a mediocre band, and that one bartender whom never got our jokes. But this noteworthy evening I ran into a surprise in the ladies room.

Disbelieving the stack of cash laying beside the garbage can, I scooped it up.  Walking out to my sister, as she describes in  Blonde and Blonder  pronouncing my findings, we both decided the 'Avon Lady must be located. 

Conjuring up the perfect solution, we write Colleen's phone number on a napkin, hand it over to the bartender (who unmistakably has zero sense of humor) asking her to have Avon Lady (if she can prove herself as so) Give the number we jotted down on the napkin 'a call. This bartender being a perfectionist of sorts asks for a name to go along with the number. Excited to put my new alias to use I write down Tiffany Berry.

Vowing to one another as we made a pit-stop at another bar followed by the McDonald's drive-thru:  If the Avon Lady finds us, we're definitely paying her back in full!  This is just an unexpected loan. 

Colleen, the following week, was taken by surprise checking her voice-mail after work one night  (the thickest southern accent possible) "Hi Ms. Berry this is Karla, I work for Avon..." 

Colleen, being the selfless humanitarian socialist patriot, she is met her at the Wall-mart to repay our debt, replacing the scribbled I.O.U's with actual cash.  And probably placing an order for her favorite Avon eye-shadow.

Eternal Sunshine

"How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each prayer accepted, and each wish resigned."- Alexander Pope. 

Guilty Pleasure. or. 's. (you can make it plural)

For I have found myself nose-deep into the Twilight series. I have made fun of, even questioned, the better judgement of those who dug this sort of thing... but now I am officially apart of the club. I read the first of the four part series in two days! That Bella sure hangs out with a rough crowd! I mean first Vampires, and then Werewolves. What are the odds of having both of those mythical creatures at your high school?? One Vampire... One Werewolf... One Human?! Equation for disaster, if you ask me!

My second guilty pleasure of the week (and probably a hate crime towards Roller-Derby)- is this song I've been playing on repeat non-stop (at high volumes, of course) aka # 2 on the CD my father mailed me this past weekend. I'm in love with the entire CD, but my obsessive compulsive brain waves have voted this track number one. Time and time again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again.

Movin' On Up.

My apartment building is rather quaint and quite personal. There are seven spaces available, and six distinctive characters inhabit the grounds. But, something tells me there is a new joker residing within this facility, pillaging the community.


  The one I know best.(aka)  Roller-derby (the thorn in my side, most mornings). 

Roller-Derby (aka) homeboy lives directly above me, with his wood floors.

Not sure if I've actually ever seen him face-to-face. But our proximity allows me to know intimate details pertaining to his everyday life. 

1.  He has two desks, and maybe no legs. After some official tenant exploration, I noticed a bike chained to his balcony and recognized: he has two desks, and is excruciatingly lazy. As he rolls between desks all day/night long.  

2.  His alarm clock runs, roughly speaking, from 6:07 am until 7:07 am. With the loudest techno music, that would make the most enthusiastic club kid, want to willingly stick marsh-mellows into his ears and pencils into his eyes, in order to make the music stop. The alarm clock's purpose is unclear to me, as to he is still rolling from desk to desk at 6:05.  But, who has time to clock watch? - 

I've decided it's a give and take relationship between roller-derby and I (aka)  the girl that lives directly below him, playing the same song on repeat for five hours a setting. 

 As disruptive as this all sounds. There is a new cat on the block.  She (I discovered her gender as she drunkingly pounded on my door, inquiring about her "dryer cloths" one night) the newest passive aggressive member of the building. As if, I'm that desperate to sell another's belongings.  It was hard enough to get my own belongings into a plastic bag to sell for extra cash, forget the idea of having to steal- and then plastic bag  another's to a thrift shop. 

Next attack, was the pink post-it notes she placed on every vehicle parked in our "first come-first serve" parking lot. Reading in nearly illegible handwriting: "It would be nice if I could get my groceries into the building, but there is never parking here.  Am I mental about this issue??? Well yes, I am. But I would really like to be able to walk my groceries into my apartment." 

If I could only locate her car- I would leave a pink post-it as well "Hey lady... I'm mental too, but groceries can walk all on their own!"