Please Stop Staring at My...Stack

So...I took a mental health day from work today. Which probably benefited the students as much as it did me, since I find myself saying things like this...

...on a far too frequent basis. Among other things.

First on my list? Pancakes for breakfast, pajamas until 2:00, and hours and hours of Downton Abbey. (Puh-LEASE remind me why I wasn't born with a trust fund so that I could make this a daily habit? Sigh.) 

Eventually, I realized that if my roommates came home and found me, they may have though I was teetering on the border of depression and despair. I needed to get dressed. I needed to get out of bed. I needed human interaction. (I also needed a drink, but I figured that wouldn't look good when the roommates got home either.) So I ran a brush through my hair, slapped on a headband and some semblance of an outfit, and decided to walk downtown. 

I wandered into our little local library and had just pulled "The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel" off the fiction shelves when a tall, 30-something year old man in a windbreaker walked past me, did a double take, and meandered over to me.

Really?

"What book you got there?" he asked nonchalantly. 

Well, by the words on this here cover I'm going to say it's called "T-h-e B-e-s-t E-x-o-t-i-c M-a-r-i-g-o-l-d H-o-t-e-l". You can go away now. "It's called the Best Exotic Marigold Hotel," I said, trying not to roll my eyes. Why can't Ryan Gosling look-a-likes ever have this reaction to me?

"See, I might write this title down. You say this is a good book?"

Well, seeing as how I'm pulling it off the shelf in the library, I haven't actually read it. I bet it's better than standing here and talking to you though. "I'm not sure. I guess I'll find out."

He (amazingly) continued: "See, what I'm going to do is write this down. 'Cuz I'm not from around here, I'm just staying with my mother while she's sick, see. So what I'm going to do is write this down, and then when I come back I'm going to check it out."

Me: Nodding. Just. Keep. Nodding. Please, please, PLEASE stop talking. 

"See, my mom wants me to move here, but I'm like, there's nothing to DO around here. You gotta go to Elizabeth City to get something to EAT, you gotta go to Virginia just to have a little FUN, I'm like 'I can't move here, mom'". 

Not engaging in conversation. Not engaging in conversation."....Yeah. Well, good luck finding a book!" 

Dude: "Hold up, let me go and get a pen and paper." 

Oh. Hell. No. As soon as he disappeared I shoved the book back on the shelf and bolted. Unfortunately, there's a thing you need to know about small libraries: there's not many places to bolt to, especially from weirdos who live with their mom. 

I'd gotten through a few aisles and managed to collect the following...

It's difficult being so intelligent and well read. Really.

...when I heard the familiar swish of his windbreaker as he strolled towards me. Sigh. 

He LITERALLY had a pen and paper in his hand. "What was the name of that book again?" I told him (for the third time). He gazed at my Positive Discipline book. "Why are you reading that?' he asked as he tenderly stroked the spine. (The book's, not mine.) 

I am SO not having this conversation slash I do not want you to have any inkling of where I am employed. This is the part where desperation took over: "I...um...I have a teenager. Yep. I'm a mom! She's twelve. My daughter. I mean thirteen. I'm a mom!" I blubbered.

Low point. 

Dude (nodding his head empathetically): "Wow. You have a teenager? I can't believe it. Wow. Well good for you, being all positive discipline and all. I mean, the world is a tough place these days. I mean, take me for instance. I'm not here trying to hit on you, though you are definitely attractive." He chose that moment to lean in verrry close and whisper: "I like black women."

Well that settles it. I don't like freakazoids that probably have skin suits in their basements, and you don't like Caucasians. What a shame! Good thing there's plenty of fish in the library sea! 

This is what I get for leaving the house. #neveragain

Readin', Writin', and Relationship Status

I spent the last two weeks of August furiously preparing my classroom for new students. (Yes, T. and J. are among them.) I stapled things to bulletin boards. I organized books by content and reading level. I ordered journals and a carpet for my reading area (thanks, Donors Choose!). I planned lessons on goal setting and perseverance. And after all that, I've discovered the one thing that gets my students more excited to learn than anything else.

The fact that I'm single.

In my 6th grade class, I overheard a whispered "Ms. G ain't got no boyfriend? I bet she wants to be married. I KNOW womens."

The first thing J. asked me when he walked in was "Ms. G, you still lonely?" (By "lonely", he meant single. So I guess the only correct answer is yes. Please excuse me while I jump off the nearest building.)

My 7th graders informed me that I'm going to "have to get used to dating rednecks" if I ever wanted to find someone. This was in the middle of our goal-setting lesson, which I guess is fitting since it's my goal to never, ever date a redneck.

My 8th graders asked why I'd noted in my syllabus that parents should call me before 8pm if they needed to reach me on my cell phone.

"SHE GOTTA TALK TO HER BOYFRIEND AT 8PM, Y'ALL!"  shouted one of my girls. 

"Ms. G ain't got no boyfriend, fool!" replied another girl. 

"Oh, then why we can't call you after 8pm Ms. G?"

Perhaps because (and I know this is hard to believe) I need at least an hour a day when I'm not thinking about work. Shocking, I know.

Sigh. Did I mention we've only gotten through the first week?

Sorry for Partying

I guess most of us don't escape adolescence without a little tarnish on our  precious halos.

For some, it's those teased bangs that you insisted were still in long after everyone else was buying flat irons. Or putting off breaking up with your boyfriend because you really needed a date for Semi-formal.

Mine just happens to be an teensy-weensy, insignificant run-in with the law.

Believe it, y'all. 

It's not like I'm not some hardened criminal, but I did happen to take a sip of a cranberry and vodka while underage....and right in front of an undercover officer. Apparently a "My bad, yo!" when they confronted me wasn't sufficient.

Plus I'm a scaredy-cat and 'fessed up quick. That didn't seem to help, either.

(How embarrassing was it that I was drinking cranberry and vodka? I might as well have just tattooed UNDERAGE on my forehead. Lame.)

Anyways, ever since that fateful night seven years ago, I have to check "yes" on any job or school application that asks me whether or not I've ever been charged with a misdemeanor. Then not only do I have to cough up cash for a background check, but also submit a "written explanation" of the incident to whatever institution is reviewing my application.

It usually goes something like this:
"On the night of October 5, 2005, I took a sip of a friend's alcoholic drink while at a Homecoming event. I was promptly escorted outside by an undercover officer, where I was arrested and charged with underage drinking. I pleaded no contest, completed 8.5 hours of community service, and the charges were dropped."

How much of a loser do I sound like?

Here's what it should actually say:
"Well, Dear Reader, I was pretty devastated because I was on social probation from my sorority after getting caught taking tequila shots in the house. (Note to self: Shouting "TEQUILA MAKES MY CLOTHES FALL OFF!" at 9pm on a Wednesday is an easy way to attract attention to yourself. Learned that lesson the hard way!) Since I was banned from all sorority Homecoming events, I decided to hit up a fraternity function at a local bar. I happened to take a sip of a friend's cranberry and vodka when she turned her back, at which point two good looking young gentleman came and tapped me on the shoulder. I started batting my eyelashes, but realized something was amiss when they led myself and two friends out to the sidewalk, at which point they started reading me my rights, Miranda-style. It was straight out of a Law & Order episode, let me tell you! Since we were obviously dangerous criminals, they decided to handcuff us to each other, the reasoning for which is still unclear to me all these years later. I'm pretty sure three sobbing 19 year olds aren't going to try and make a run for it. 


Since I knew my parents would make pigs fly before they paid the $125 fine for me, I opted (with my bestie) to do the 8.5 hours of community service option instead. We rolled up to the downtown courthouse circa 7am, where they loaded us into a van with some very intimidating looking men. We went to a middle school where we spent the day sweeping under bleachers, playing HORSE in the gym, and discovering that pretty much everyone else was there due to serious drug charges. We tried to make up a lie about getting in a bar fight to make us sound tough, but no one believed us and called us nicknames like Vanilla and Sprinkles. Rude.


Anyways, this was all an incredible learning experience. Since that life-altering day, I reevaluated my life choices and devoted myself to religious devotion and simplicity. (Well, not really, but I do go to church and I just gave away a bunch of clothes to Goodwill.) But seriously: my "cop-dar" has become much better and I haven't gotten caught for a single thing, minus those few speeding tickets I got while listening to the audiobook of 50 Shades of Grey. 


I hope you'll still accept my application to (company/university). Can't fault a girl for liking to have a good time, right?


Sincerely yours, 
Ensley

The second one is waaaaay better. Plus honesty IS the best policy, right? (Right?!?!)

{Bachelorette} Boys Tell All?

Does it feel chilly in here to you?

Because I think hell has frozen over.

This is due to the fact that, after last night's extremely drawn-out Men Tell All special, I'm pretty sure I'd rather be trapped in a room with Kalon and Ryan together than have to listen to Chris's driveling whine and copycat statements so similar to Sean's.

Chris Douche-kowski

We get it, dude. You fell in love with Emily, she opened your heart to the "possibilities" in life (like being on Bachelor Pad) and you only wish her the best. (Just like Sean!)

Literally. Those exact words had just come out of Sean's mouth. And I'm inclined to believe ol' towhead over here because even while being dumped he acted like a gentleman, and you? Did not. (FYI? Generally, yelling at someone when they are dumping you is considered a waste of energy. They already know they don't want to be anywhere near you. Stop proving them right.)

It's like he's angry at the other guys for simply existing. Was he aware that he was on a dating show in which other contestants were asked to be there? It's unclear. He spent so much time rolling his eyes, shaking his head, and interrupting that even Ryan couldn't get a word in edgewise. (That's saying a lot.)

Of course, Emily told Kalon off about what has to be the most overblown comment in the history of The Bachelorette. It's not like you were at risk of ending up with him, sister. Let's all just let.it.go. I do appreciate the fact that she's never afraid to hurt someone's feelings when she unleashes the West Virginia Hood Rat in her. Get it, girl.

The winner of the night was Sean, who was as gracious and sweet as can be. Despite the fact that he wears weird jeans with back pocket flaps, he is such a prize. Yum. I'll leave you with a little clip proving my point:

What did y'all think of the show last night?

Portlandia, Ep. 1: Thank You for Embracing My Weirdness

Ah, Portland: The largest city in Oregon, my brother's home for the summer, and the place where men wear skinny jeans on a regular basis. Suh-weet.

I'm here for almost a week visiting my bro, which means that as soon as I got out of the car I made him do, uh, exactly what I wanted to do. 

First stop? Eat (veggie) sushi. They seem to have a lot of these conveyor-belt type restaurants in Portland, where you pick up plates as they whirl around you in a tantalizing fashion.

"Please stop taking things off the conveyor belt and putting them back." Nope.

At these places, you can eat as soon as you sit down. This is a plus. On the other hand, this tends to result in overeating for me some people. (To the point my brother was disgusted.) This can be construed as a negative depending on who you're asking.

Round numero uno...for me. 

Portland is known as an outdoorsy type o' town, evidenced by the skilled moves of this outdoor Zumba class, which, obviously I stopped and took pictures of. (It's not everyday a small town girl gets to see real life people doing Zumba!)

They're sexy and they know it.

After stuffing myself and oogling Zumba-goers, I bribed convinced my brother to see Katy Perry's Part of Me by offering to pay for his ticket telling him I had heard really great things about it. Surprise! It worked. Don't we look just like her?

Jack, lookin' good. Me? Not so much.

Not going to lie: I cried about four times. I had one foot over the "I hate Katy Perry" fence until I saw this movie, and now I'm one step away from dying my hair blue and trying to crawl onstage with her.

 For starters, I'd never realized that she writes her own music or how much creative control she truly has over her image and performances. Love! It was also incredibly inspiring to hear her rough start in the music industry, when she was signed and dropped by label after label until she met a record exec who was willing to go to bat for her. (Hint: it involves stealing all the Katy Perry files from one company and shuffling them over to another. Awesome.) 

As record labels tried to shape her into "the next Avril Lavigne" or "the next Pink", she held her ground and insisted on being the first Katy Perry. She's proof that being your authentic, weird self coupled with not giving up WILL lead to success. I'm literally still thinking about this movie almost a week after I've seen it. GO SEE IT NOW.

I'll leave you with a little clip from the genius show Portlandia. Thank me later.

Don't be the "next" anybody. Be the first "you"!

{The Bachelorette} Hometown Dates

So usually I don't blog about the Bachelorette because by the time I've watched it on my DVR, no one cares anymore. But not this week. (Fingers crossed.)

Truth: Last night may have been the first time (ever) that I was glad I'm not Emily Maynard.

It's a new feeling, y'all.

But seriously. Hometown dates seem:
1) extremely long with lots of repeating of why you think ______________(insert man's name here) is the p-e-r-f-e-c-t guy for you, and
2) more than slightly awkward when you know that you are sending that man packing in less than 72 hours.

Example: Chris. Sorry, dude. But all you did was prove to Emily that she was making the right choice with your whiny little girl act. I mean seriously. It seems like you get this mad when the tiniest little thing doesn't go your way, which means we'd used up all of our sympathy on you before the rose ceremony. It's not her fault your dad told you things that she hadn't actually said.

Buh-bye.

Then she went to Utah to visit my personal favorite, Jef. I. Love. This. Man. Maybe it's the skinny jeans, or maybe the fact that he has more product in his hair in a day than Emily does in a week, but I adore him. He's not the typical guy you see on the Bachelorette, and I find that very refreshing. Also, I like his muscles.

And can we talk about the most romantic letter ever written?!?!? I was dying. DYING. I'm pretty sure I would have demanded a ring right at that moment, and then just worn it to the rose ceremony and hoped the other guys got the picture. "Sorry losers, while you were catching up on the latest US Weekly during your plane ride home, Jef was composing the greatest love letter ever written. Buh-bye."


Then we meet Arie's family, in which they talk about Emily in Dutch while she's sitting right there! Rude, rude, rude. I couldn't really recover after that. Moving on.

Sean's "surprise" was about the lamest thing I've ever witnessed. I don't know about Emily, but I don't think it's cute or funny to get tricked just to witness my reaction. Not cool. And they did it to her twice! Can we also talk about the fact that he seems like a not-so-great kisser based on the fact that I felt like his tongue was all up in my face and I'm just a viewer? Get it together, bro.

On a final note, sister friend was getting real comfortable with that teasing comb at the rose ceremony. Can we say "volume"? She looked hot.

Work it girl.

At this point, I truly have no idea who she's going to pick, which drives me a little crazy but also keeps it interesting.

Who's y'all's favorite? Who do you think she's going to choose?

I've Got Friends with Lake Places

'Cause I got friends with low lake places,
Where the whiskey drowns,
And the beer chases my blues away,
But I'll be okay,
Now I'm not big on social graces,
Think I'll slip on down to the oasis,
Oh I got friends,
With low lake places.

Ok, so I'm not drowning anything in whiskey, but that could also be because it's summertime and all my blues are currently at home with their parents until school starts back again. 

But still, it's great to have friends with a lake house, especially when you're staying there during a week-long professional development in a windowless, florescently-lit room: 

Ew.

That's right people. Teachers work in the summertime. However, it's a new experience to go to "work" from 9-5, come home, and not have anything to do except....


make dinner.... 

Find the recipe on The Preppy Vegan

....take a bubble bath....

This happened. And it? Was glorious.

....hang out with your friends....

This makes it look like I have one friend. I promise there are more.

....or play with your new (free) iPad 3.....

We were gifted iPad3's for committing to participate in the professional development program for the next 2 year. Suh-weet! And yes I already have a Lilly background.

Oh and then there's the whole sitting on the back porch and staring at the lake thing too. Super fun.

There is a downside to being out here in nature, which is that the spotty internet caused our viewing of the Bachelorette to be, uh, slow at best. (As in: it had to buffer for 30 seconds for every 15 seconds it played. Sigh.) However, we are crazy aren't fair weather fans, so we withstood it for all of 30 minutes before we realized it was going to take us 3 hours to watch a 90 minute episode. (Rude.) Hopefully it will have buffered by like, next Monday. No guarantees.

Don't forget to follow me on Pinterest for lots of summer goodies! (Because it's summer and I now have time for social media.)

I'm off to the day job....have a fabulous Wednesday!

Say Yes to the Dress Pt. 2

After our traumatic long day of filming Say Yes to the Dress: Bridesmaids, we decided to rejuvenate ourselves via margaritas and tortilla chips before heading back to Bridals by Lori so that Caroline (the bride) could try on some dresses for herself. (Semi-important for the bride to have a dress? I like to think so.)

It just so happened that we also got to celebrate my boo Ashley's birthday: 

Sombrero and beer at 3pm? Same as any other day.

Despite the hope that they had gotten rid of us entirely, the consultants at Bridals by Lori were nice enough to let us come back without an appointment. (Robin was at the front desk when we walked in. Die. Die. Die.)

As fate would have it, Flo herself was our consultant. Despite how cranky I was, this made me super excited. (Seriously, those hot camera lights + knowing you are going to have to go into exile once the shows airs is seriously draining.)

My hair says everything about my current state: tired, raggedy, and just all around bad.

You want what now?

She was extremely patient with us, considering we were full of tequila dead tired and a little loopy. 

Case in point:

Cameras are off, but she's still working it. 

Checking out the bling-bling

It was waaaaay more fun to watch Caroline try on dresses than to:

1) be compared to a pregnant person while trying on dresses of your own (oh yes...it happened), and

2) stand under hot stage lights while sweat slowly beads on your upper lip

Unfortunately, we weren't allowed to take pictures while she tried on a lot of gorgeoussss gowns for ordering reasons. (And you know we ain't about to argue with Flo.) 

There was one AMAZING dress that made all of us (including mom!) tear up when she came out in it. Flo even jacked her up, resulting in more tears. Who would have thought a bunch of tulle and a beaded belt could cause that reaction? Go figure. 

She didn't end up saying yes to the dress, wisely deciding that a decision like buying your wedding gown shouldn't be made after a day as long as our. (Seriously...at that point we'd been in the salon for like 10 hours.)

Caroline & Flo...BFFL? 

Verdict? Longest day of my life, but at least I wasn't at work. Oh, and I definitely need to convince Mommy and Daddy to budget a lot for my non-existent future bridal gown so that I can buy it at Bridals by Lori. Crossover show anyone? 

RHOC: Did You Just Bite My Bow?

I dread to think what I'll have to do with my summer once Real Housewives of Orange County ends next week, but I think it means I might need to, like, read books or go outside. *shudder*

For serious though. I love these bia-tches and all their hair extensioned-glory. With the exception of this one: 

Sarah. Oh, Sarah. "Friend of the Housewives" and desperate to be a cast member, you randomly appear whenever free booze is a-flowing and loooove to blog on bravotv.com about episodes in which you aren't even in. Chill out, sister. The OC only has room for one brunette, and it's this bitch:

Heather Dubrow: impeccably dressed, 90 lbs soaking wet, and wrote the book about being Haughty by Nature. Seriously. She.is.the.bomb. I continually bow down and worship her based to the amount of champagne she can consume in that tiny little body without showing the slightest hint of inebriation. Can she just have her own show?

Speaking of inebriation:

Surprise! Sarah the wannabe gets it started in the limo ride while Alexis continues to talk about....something. I think it had to do with how down to earth she is despite everyone thinking she's pretentious and fake. Hey Alexis? If people are unanimous in what they think about you, it's probably true. Juuust saying. Talking to people like Sarah who are simply warm bodies telling you what you want to hear isn't going to help.

Sidenote: Why were ALL of the women wearing fur? Despite being morally against it, I thought the benefit of California weather was that you didn't have to wear fur? Ever?

Seriously....whhhhhyyy?

Then the Cake Incident of 2012 happens: Sarah (who else?) plucks a bow off Heather's $500 cake and chows down on it, before the cake was being served.

Scusi?

Gotta love Tamra's gumption. She drags that skinny b (with a tangle of hot mess for hair) right over to the cake and asks "Did you just eat the bow?"

Oh. No. You. Di'nt.

Instead of just chalking it up to the fact that she was seeing two of everyone at that point, Sarah tries to claim she has a alcohol problem "sugar problem": as in, she needs sugar from $500 cakes immediately and as soon as she desires it. I've never heard of this affliction before, but it sounds dire. I mean, what if she'd been at a party where the cake didn't have a bow? Would she have...died?

Should've stuck with the balls from the kitchen, Sarah.

I have to give the girl props for still being able to stand at this point, since the word-slurring was at an all time high. Was she sorry that she did it or mad that people were overreacting? Depends on the moment. She couldn't decide herself.

Poor Sarah. I would have broken the bow off too if it meant we could talk about something  other than how Alexis gets bullied by all the girls on the show. After 6 + hours of the I might have just stuck my entire face in the cake while screaming "MAKE IT STOP!"

Until next week: Keep your hands off the cake and ask yourself: What Would Dubrow Do?

Say Yes to the (Bridesmaid's) Dress

Believe it: You are currently reading a blog written by the hot (haute?) new star of Say Yes to the Dress: Bridesmaids, here to give you all of the juicy behind-the-scenes scoop in a down-to-the-minute play by play. Buckle up, people! It's going to be a long freakin' day wild ride. Here goes:

6:00 am: Rise from slumber to get hair and makeup "camera ready". This turns turns out to be eerily similar to your "everyday" makeup look, just with the addition of about 10 layers of bronzer. Winning.

7:00 am: Head down to continental breakfast, mimosa in hand. (It's to "ease the nerves", Lindsay Lohan-style.)

7:13 am: Realize that the combination of champagne + coffee is making you lightheaded and slightly woozy, which could be the perfect recipe for must-watch reality television. (See above Lindsay Lohan reference.)

7:14 am - 7:54 am: Continue with the alcohol and caffeine experiment since, if worse comes to worse, you'll still have it more together than anyone on the following reality shows: Teen Mom, True Life, Too Fat to Live, Hoarders, or I Didn't Know I was Pregnant.

8:00 am: Arrive at Bridals by Lori.

Yes, that's my thumb and yes, I was a photography major. 

As opposed to...putting a sign in my window saying "Unlocked and ready for burglary: precious jewels inside"?

8:02 am: Get ushered into the waiting area. Little do you know how much emphasis will be placed on w-a-i-t-i-n-g.

Ready for our close-up!

8:10 am: Caroline (the bride) gets pulled for an interview. Sit around and take pictures because HELLO! you are about to be on TV and these are your last moments as an anonymous nobody. Fame and fortune await you!

8:43 am: Get miked up by the awesome PA Tiffany, who is the only one we'd allow to get this up close and personal without buying us a drink first.

Work it, Tiff. Work.It.

8:46 am: Wait with bated breath as the producers start pulling people for individual interviews.This? Is your moment. 

Any. Minute.Now.

8:57 am: Continue as they call prettttty much every other bridesmaid except yourself. Can we say "saving the best for last"?

8:59 am: Niki sighting! Lovvvvve her hair, hate the fact she loves the Georgia Bulldogs. Sick.

9:04 am: Personal pep talk gives way to impatience. Start to question your own self-worth. Are other people as interesting as you? Are they funnier? Haughtier? Prettier? WHY aren't you being chosen?

9:06 am: Group shots outside for the producers to use later.

Why are Ashley's legs as straight as a ruler? It's unclear. 

9:47 am: Rationalize that TLC realizes you will totally steal the show if given any significant amount of camera time, therefore they are keeping you on the back burner. Sigh with relief.

9:48 am: But seriously. When is the interview?

9:49 am: Realize that bated breath might be a waste of time. You ain't getting no interview. Begin to pout.

9:53 am: Laurie spotting! (She asked if we'd been drinking. This woman? Really knows what's up.)

10:00 am-2:00 pm : Go back into the salon for filming, the deets of which are top secret until the episode airs! All I'll say is that at least 5 of the top 10 most embarrassing moments of my life occurred in that freakin' bridal salon. Traumatized.

2:00 pm : Cameras are off and we're shuffled back to the (sigh) waiting area while people do their final interviews. At this point you are so hungry/tired you may either chew  your own arm off or fall asleep in an upright position. Both sound equally appealing.

Despite the 10 hour day, Ashley is STILL ready for her close up. Impressed.

2:04 pm: Wait anxiously as the director starts asking all of the bridesmaids who hadn't interviewed this morning to come to the back with her. You are the last one left. You ARE about to be picked.

2:06 pm: Brandon sighting!

Heeeey Brandon, we know you just walked in the door but canyoutakeapicturewithuspleaseweloveyou!

2:37 pm: The director brings the other girls back and announces we are done for the day. Everyone can go home! Wonk wonk wonk. 

2:38 pm:  Leave Bridals by Lori and head to lunch with the girls. Destination: anywhere that serves strooong margaritas.

A few things I learned about myself in that bridal salon:

1. While I am haughty, a television personality I am not. Writing is much more up my alley.
2. I really should curl my hair if I'm going to be on camera.
3. Those Jillian Michaels videos don't work unless you actually do them.

Woof.

On the bright side, the crew and consultants were amazing and couldn't have been more laid back or patient with us. (We may have, uh, chanted their names every.single.time. they walked by.) Bridals by Lori rocks!

As soon as I know when the episode will air, I'll make sure to post it so you can see if we said yes to a bridesmaid's dress!

And until then? No autographs, please.

You, Me, and a little TLC

Drum roll, please.

Thanks to my darling friend Caroline secretly applying for all of her bridesmaid to appear on the show, I'm headed to Atlanta this weekend to film.....

Fo real.

This Monday the 18th, I'll join Caroline and her ten (yes, ten) other bridesmaids at 8am, hair and makeup ready for the cameras. (Hopefully they'll have some sort of coffee IV I can inject directly into my veins. Hopefully.) I'm pretty sure I'll be one of the 'maids trying on dresses, especially since that pretty much guarantees some face time on TV. (I mean, if I'm making the 9+ hr drive, it needs to be worth it, right? Right?!?!)

Get your autographs now, people. I'm seeing this going straight to my head.

Hot Time, Summer in the...Country

181 looooooong days after I started praying for it's arrival, it finally arrived.

Summer. 

Yes, I was actually invited to this pool in Edenton. Yes, you should be jealous.

Sweet, sweet summer. No students. No job. No problem. (Hey, Kenny Chesney? I literally just handed you a new song title. Boom.)

While my other teaching friends are getting internships (or, uh, married) I'm spending my summer pretending that my 12 month paychecks are actually coming from my secret trust fund and allowing me to live the lazy life I've always dreamed of. 

And so far? It's glorious. Absolutely glorious. 

Instead of shouting at and corralling kids, I'm playing on Pinterest and Googling life-altering things like "Emily Maynard haircut". It wasn't even noon before I'd worked out, cleaned up, and sipped coffee on my back porch. 

And despite it's soul-crushing faults, small town life has some perks in the summertime. Case in point: today I paid a visit to the hair salon, library, and service station without leaving a one-block radius. Can we say "efficiency"?

Since I have a sick obsession fascination with Emily Maynard, I thought it would be a good idea to take this pic into the salon with me today:

Work them roses, girrrrrl.

So all of the Googling wasn't for naught. While my hair cut looks surprisingly similar, the salon unfortunately didn't provide me with veneers or a boob job, so the rest of me looks the same. Luckily, I now have endless hours to allow Jillian Micheals to whip me into Emily-like shape.

Enjoy the rat race people. I have a terribly busy day of painting my nails and tearing through magazines in front of me.

Wagon Wheel, Minus Half the Lyrics

Ah...summer. I can't wait to meet you 10 days from now. 

                 

                                                                                        Love, Ensley. 

Sigh. Just in case this turns into the longest 10 days of my life, I packed up my bathing suits and one of my roommates and headed down to visit my friend Lindsay in Ocean Isle and Wilmington this weekend.

Ecstatic to have escaped the sticks

We sipped coffee while gazing at a golf course, churned through beach reads, and took frequent naps in the sunshine. At night we headed to Pelican's Landing before getting up the next morning and starting it all over again. 

A little pre-bar yoga. Good for the mind and liver. 

Heaven. 

Sunday we drove about an hour north to watch Lindsay's brother play in a volleyball tournament. Drinking beer while watching half naked men glisten with sweat? This is MY kind of sporting event. 

Unfortunately for Liza, either the beach bar was abnormally high or she's too young to be drinking:

Excuse me? Sir? Another beer down here?

In one of our first bad judgement calls of the weekend, we let the boys we were with decide which bar we were going to. All I need to say to describe it is this: the band that was playing was so beyond wasted that they flubbed the lyrics to Wagon Wheel. Yes. Wagon Wheel. That's practically the North Carolina state song. Rude. 

Seriously? Who forgets the lyrics to Wagon Wheel?

Luckily, I am easily distracted by good looking men who buy me beer:

Hey there friends

Or boy BFFs with Burt Reynolds-like chest hair.

Could. Not. Resist. (And yes, I knew this guy before I gave him a chest rub.)

It's back to reality this morning, tired but tan. If the next ten days of school go by as fast as the weekend did, I'll be one happy teacher.