Monday, June 3, 2013
Ode to Elaina
On this day, twenty years back, Elaina was born (and Dayna). 12 months and three days later, William Detlefs Ryan was born, but this isn't about that, though their worlds would eventually be connected. This day has inspired the PhR3$h Kr3w to get back on their blogging game. In reaction to this some say yay, and others nay, but most importantly the PhR3$h Kr3w says yay. It was a pleasure to live with miz Elaina Kim, I believe we only had two naked encounters (Elaina was the naked one both times) and one accidental walk-in (my b) on my last night in ATL (just tryna join...) I shall now take you back to the beginning of times......
Pauvre Elaina found herself thrown into the lives of freshmen softball players, four in particular. At the start of the year they participated in the normal freshman activities: seeing the hypnotist (so uncool come on guys), going to Mansion, Opera, the fR@t$, carving pumpkins on Halloween, going to the DUC, sleepin in class, dreaming about boyz, drinking at parties, reading at the library, pole vaulting while the softballers played catch on McDonough (strike two). and............................... JIVING AT SAC SEMI. And now I'm sure everyone wants to hear about Elaina's sophomomore sac semi debut. We'll start where Ann walks in.....
Ann (hobbles downstairs...looks left, right, and finally, spots Elaina with a strapping young man. Fast walks towards them): Elaina! Hey!!
At this point, BIG ann may or may not have nudged Elaina slightly, no one can confirm such facts.
Elaina experiences a classic slip on a bannana peel wipe out, followed with a shocked look.
Strapping young man: What the fuck! Why'd you do that?
Thoughts suddenly flood Ann's head, she thinks, "Dost this man not know that I know Elaina?? That we art part of thee original phresh krew?? Does this man thinkith that I, BIG ann, canst help that I am big? Oh pignut. I shall converse with Elaina when the sun rises, she doesth not seem aware of such actions. I canst help but trow she may have added a bit of liquor to her drink. Debauchery!"
The next morning, Ann proceeded to fill Elaina in on her actions. And so continued college life.... to Ann and Elaina's next adventure..... the special brownies.... which is all I shall say.
Pauvre Elaina found herself thrown into the lives of freshmen softball players, four in particular. At the start of the year they participated in the normal freshman activities: seeing the hypnotist (so uncool come on guys), going to Mansion, Opera, the fR@t$, carving pumpkins on Halloween, going to the DUC, sleepin in class, dreaming about boyz, drinking at parties, reading at the library, pole vaulting while the softballers played catch on McDonough (strike two). and............................... JIVING AT SAC SEMI. And now I'm sure everyone wants to hear about Elaina's sophomomore sac semi debut. We'll start where Ann walks in.....
Ann (hobbles downstairs...looks left, right, and finally, spots Elaina with a strapping young man. Fast walks towards them): Elaina! Hey!!
At this point, BIG ann may or may not have nudged Elaina slightly, no one can confirm such facts.
Elaina experiences a classic slip on a bannana peel wipe out, followed with a shocked look.
Strapping young man: What the fuck! Why'd you do that?
Thoughts suddenly flood Ann's head, she thinks, "Dost this man not know that I know Elaina?? That we art part of thee original phresh krew?? Does this man thinkith that I, BIG ann, canst help that I am big? Oh pignut. I shall converse with Elaina when the sun rises, she doesth not seem aware of such actions. I canst help but trow she may have added a bit of liquor to her drink. Debauchery!"
The next morning, Ann proceeded to fill Elaina in on her actions. And so continued college life.... to Ann and Elaina's next adventure..... the special brownies.... which is all I shall say.
Monday, April 23, 2012
Just something for "those" days..
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PlVoFytdG-w
Enjoy. You're welcome world.
Enjoy. You're welcome world.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Once Upon A Time...
...I went to college. There, I met a group of girls. Fairly normal, from good families with generic parent names like Mark, Lisa, and Jerry, located in nicely wholesome Americana cities. Now, dear reader, how would you react if you realized they all played softball? Or how about if they started calling themselves the Phresh Krew? No, no. I didn't turn on bitch mode, nor did I do my best to stay away from this specific breed of collegiate female. No. I nodded feverishly when they sank into softball jargon and sat quietly as they discussed everything from sliding shorts to batting. Yes, batting. Before I knew any better, I was the groupie. Which is awkward, because in the right context, the groupie is responsible for fucking every member of the band. Not my cup 'o tea, but I did get to know them pretty well. In other ways? Uh?
Speaking of bands, let's talk about country music:
Apparently it's a real genre. If you know your shit, you'll sing along with everyone at the baseball house when the right songs come on. If you're drunk off your ass, lost, and from Portland, Oregon where everything is doused in patchouli, not BBQ sauce, you sit in awe as the entire house erupts into a raucous, twangy, chorus.
Until next time, y'all.
xx PKG
Speaking of bands, let's talk about country music:
Apparently it's a real genre. If you know your shit, you'll sing along with everyone at the baseball house when the right songs come on. If you're drunk off your ass, lost, and from Portland, Oregon where everything is doused in patchouli, not BBQ sauce, you sit in awe as the entire house erupts into a raucous, twangy, chorus.
Until next time, y'all.
xx PKG
Monday, April 2, 2012
The Life of a Hopeless Romantic
It's true. I am on the search for love. I go through these phases every so often, but when they hit, they hit baaaad. They say love/life never works like it does in the movies, but I disagree. I WILL have my perfect rom com ending, where a boy I never expect will suddenly sweep me off my feet.
I told my mom before I left for school that I would find my hubby in college. And although I have been nothing but disappointed by the quality of boys this year, my dream is still alive.
Don't be fooled friends. Yes, everyone at Emory is smart. Which should cut half of my problems finding a boy in half because smarts are a necessity. But, I have found, boys at Emory are chronically SHORT. SO SHORT. I've tried to look past it but I just can't.
So, if you are out there dream boy: tall, good looking but doesn't know it, confident, funny, muscular but not huge, able to have an intellectual conversation, not just concerned with getting some, athletic, knowledgable about sports, great smile, will bring me ice cream/cookies on the reg, buys me fruity drinks (aka pina coladas.. virgin style), likes to play Mario Kart (but never lets me win on purpose), doesn't judge me for wearing norts and t shirts every single day of my life, supports the pony tail with the headband, only uses "dude" and "bro" sparingly, has a great sense of style, looks good in a hat forwards and backwards (but only wears it backwards on the right occasion), isn't afraid of dressing up, knows how to dance.. and I mean really dance, like salsa, swing dance, tango (or is willing to take lessons with me), doesn't judge me for not going out just because I don't feel like it, will sit and eat chocolate with me for hours just because, doesn't make lesbian jokes about me playing softball, likes to ride around in the car with the windows down and jam out to music, enjoys stargazing, supports daily nap time, knows how to make me smile on my saddest of days, has a twang of sarcasm, enjoys country music, and acts like a southern gentleman even if he's not from the south.... Give me a call.
With Love,
DG
P.S. This blog post was inspired by the IDIOTIC frat boys sitting at the table next to me. Have some class.
I told my mom before I left for school that I would find my hubby in college. And although I have been nothing but disappointed by the quality of boys this year, my dream is still alive.
Don't be fooled friends. Yes, everyone at Emory is smart. Which should cut half of my problems finding a boy in half because smarts are a necessity. But, I have found, boys at Emory are chronically SHORT. SO SHORT. I've tried to look past it but I just can't.
So, if you are out there dream boy: tall, good looking but doesn't know it, confident, funny, muscular but not huge, able to have an intellectual conversation, not just concerned with getting some, athletic, knowledgable about sports, great smile, will bring me ice cream/cookies on the reg, buys me fruity drinks (aka pina coladas.. virgin style), likes to play Mario Kart (but never lets me win on purpose), doesn't judge me for wearing norts and t shirts every single day of my life, supports the pony tail with the headband, only uses "dude" and "bro" sparingly, has a great sense of style, looks good in a hat forwards and backwards (but only wears it backwards on the right occasion), isn't afraid of dressing up, knows how to dance.. and I mean really dance, like salsa, swing dance, tango (or is willing to take lessons with me), doesn't judge me for not going out just because I don't feel like it, will sit and eat chocolate with me for hours just because, doesn't make lesbian jokes about me playing softball, likes to ride around in the car with the windows down and jam out to music, enjoys stargazing, supports daily nap time, knows how to make me smile on my saddest of days, has a twang of sarcasm, enjoys country music, and acts like a southern gentleman even if he's not from the south.... Give me a call.
With Love,
DG
P.S. This blog post was inspired by the IDIOTIC frat boys sitting at the table next to me. Have some class.
I have broken the seal. The seal Katy Perry frequently talks about in one of her oh so clever songs. I tasted the cherry chapstick guys. And it tasted oh so good.
Lesbihonest, on a scale from 1 to Penny, I would rate myself a 3. Gimme a few shots though (6 or 7), and I'm more like a 7. Ask around, and they'll say I have never seen a pee pee.. Well, THEY'RE LYING. I have recently been pea-cocked. I know what you're thinking, but I spent multiple hours of my time volunteering at the zoo Friday and worked in the bird arena. Yes, I know, I'm basically the Mother fucking Theresa, but those peacocks needed a good cleaning..
Until next time y'all.
-HB
Sunday, September 18, 2011
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