Weekend Shenanigans

WELL. This weekend one of my and Clayton's friends got married... Well technically I guess you could say it's two of our friends because the groom is a friend of ours also, but mainly the bride... is the point I'm getting at. Anyway, let me tell you, the 5 hour drive to Knoxville, which consisted entirely of interstate, was well worth it all:

From the beautiful scenery 

To the beautiful people.

       We also stopped at "the biggest Flea market" in Sweetwater, TN... the most awesome place on earth. Clayton and I got some Hunter rain boots for 30$ along with some Johnny Cash memorabilia (i.e. 2 t-shirts and an original concert poster), almost gave into my attraction to pocket knives (they were only 15$!!!), and were momentarily debilitated by tantalizing kiosks lined with cages full of puppies and signs reading "Do not touch!" as if to say "Look... the only way you're going to get to touch one of these adorable puppies is if you buy one."... On the way out, we noticed a kiosk with a plethora of reading glasses from the 80s and decided to try on a few pairs. I'm pretty sure I found the exact pair my dad has...

FYI: The tiny sign above that
pair of glasses says "New Style"

      For this next recap you're going to have to use your imagination as I do not have any visual aids in the form of pictures to document it. So sorry.... Anyway, also on the way home, we were inadvertently caravanning with some of our newly made friends (they wooed us with their dancing) after a brunch at the Cracker Barrel (or as I like to refer to it, Crackel Barrel) in Chattanooga, when all of the sudden I see a vaguely familiar, white, mid-sized sedan creeping up beside mine at 80 mph on the interstate. So, Clayton and I look to our left to send some spontaneous gesture to our new boyfriends, and instead, find that they (being boys, from Mars or wherever) were not surprisingly on a completely different page. They had contrived another means of communication in the form of a hand-made sign plastered to their passenger's side window that reads "LEFT LANE ALWAYS."...
This just validated my deeply subconscious suspicions that this was a race. Oh, it's on little boys... it's on. Needless to say, my innately superior driving skills quickly pulled us back into first place, leaving the Tokyo Drift team in the dust... for a little while, until I inevitably got stuck in a car-box of idiots that couldn't decide what speed they wanted to go, meanwhile obliviously barricading all the other apt drivers... so, of course, here they come again, this time on the right side... and again, I see a 12x12 sheet of paper against the driver's side window, only this time it reads "WE ALWAYS WIN." 
Sureeeee you do Speed Racer... sureeee.... Now, at this point, I had asked Clayton 2 or 3 times to write a rebuttal, but she was too busy being lame, with her 5th grade crush on our 3 boyfriends, to do anything that might make us look "stupid," which apparently included doing what I said and writing down a sassy comeback. So, again, I pass them, and again, they pass us (in the right lane), this time claiming that the "RIGHT LANE ALWAYS WINS." "That's it Clayton! If you don't let me play and make a sign so we can participate I'm going to slap you!"... Well Clayton was so delirious that none of my usually intimidating threats even fazed her, so that was to no avail. Then I,  being the relentless human being that I am, decided it would be a good idea to pull up beside them, roll down my window, and scream "Clayton won't let me play!"... That also was to no avail. This time Clayton said "Shelby, if I write 'Clayton won't let me play' will you be happy?" and I said "Yes!"... I'll take what I can get. 
After they got my message about me being held captive by a fun-Nazi, Clayton and I decided to "throw them a cookie"... literally... Yet again, no avail. The 80 mph wind ate it (that selfish pig).


Unfortunately, even I, with my verbose, overly descriptive writing style, can't adequately convey all of the other ridiculously humorous occurrences of those two days; and I "didn't have a camera by my side this time, hoping I would see the world through both my eyes"... pahahahaha I had to; it was just too perfect to be prideful....

I Can't Fall Asleep To Your Mystery

This weekend I got to spend time with my frustratingly elusive, social butterfly of a friend, Amelia. She and Clayton and I drove around neighboring towns taking pictures of old things and each other, trying to be photographically artistic. We ended up with a few obscene images in the background of some of the pictures thanks to the indiscretions of some local graffiti "artists" and didn't quite make it to all of our anticipated destinations; but nevertheless, it was still a much needed/appreciated day of quality time spent between the "3 best friends that anyone could have" (sorry, I had to).            

I'm obviously not good at not smiling.

                                                                                     
    

     We've all been friends since we were children: Clayton and I, since we were 3 years old; and Amelia and I, since we were in the 6th grade and she asked me to help her run for SGA, which resulted in me reluctantly saying yes because I was too shocked to say no (I hadn't previously had a meaningful conversation with her, that I'm aware of) and then a "spend-the-night-party" where we (and another friend) washed one of her horses and made posters with sayings such as "Vote for A-million-bucks Amelia" and the like... unfortunately, I don't have an eidetic memory, so I can't recall exactly what they said. Anyway, then I spent the night with her again and had a presumably, divinely-intervened "accident" in her bed, to which she reacted like a mom (which would later also become her nickname), put the sheets in the washer, and said we could sleep in the guest bedroom. I don't think she ever told anyone (aside from her mother); and I'm pretty sure I'm the one who brought it up years later with our friends because I thought it was hilarious. I used the phrase "divinely intervened" because that's the only explanation I can think of as to why I would have peed the bed in the sixth grade at a friend's house. We've been friends ever since.

HAH-LARIOUS

        My and Clayton's story is basically this: her mother babysat me and her and another friend while we were in Bright Beginnings and we've been friends on and off ever since. Although, it probably really started in the 5th grade when I allegedly walked up to her and said "I told my momma bout chu!" which was probably provoked by her calling me a buck-toothed weirdo. Some time after that permanently faded from my memory,  began our tumultuous roller-coaster of a friendship that I wouldn't trade for anything.

The title of this post (which has nothing to do with anything I've written in it) is from the song "Cold December" by Matt Costa... andddd it's awesome.

And lastly, an update on my crafty crafts:

That is the bracelet I made for
Hannah and my window which
is basically done until I decide
to hang it in my apartment next
year and string pictures on it.

                                  

Auburn University: The Guy Everyone Loves to Hate.

   ALRIGHT THAT’S IT!!!!!!! I am SICK of somebody always having to rain on our parade. I really cannot make myself understand why the media majority hates Auburn so much. WHAT have we done? What did we do to personally to everyone who thinks he has the right to hate us, because that’s what this is, HATE. It takes time and effort to hate someone/something, and that sure is what all of these people seem to have a lot of: spare time and effort. And it’s too bad they’re using it this way, because they seem to have a lot of “fire” and “passion” that I’m sure could be positively and usefully directed towards something else. And the really funny thing is that this is almost always brought on my something surrounding FOOTBALL. You know, it's funny because I don't recall going to college to learn more about football; and yet that seems to be what college is about according to the general consensus. Whenever you ask someone from the North or anywhere else more that 100 miles away why they chose Auburn, their answer usually consists of something along the lines of "Well, I heard football was really awesome down here," or "I wanted to experience the football and tailgating atmosphere" etc. I find this sad, mainly because they are paying somewhere upwards of $21,916 (out of state) every 2 semesters to a university whose average acceptance ACT score is a 27 and is renown for more than several of its colleges, all because they wanted to watch a football game; but I don't know, maybe they're extremely good at multitasking and can be dually and equally focused on both their studies and their athletic obsession.

    And as for the allegations that we paid our players, if we did, then I hope we do get punished and take it "like a man" so as to thwart any possibility in the future of us getting ourselves into this situation again because some ignorant redneck with some say-so in Auburn athletics had "a good idea." It's never a good idea, Bubba. If you don't want to get caught doing something, then don't do it. If you don't like the rules, then change them. It shouldn't be that hard if it's obvious no one likes the rule because everyone is breaking it. 

    I'm also "disappointed" in the quality of athletes we supposedly paid to play for us. There they go with those good ideas again: breaking into people's houses, accusing their own school of bribing them to play, which was obviously induced by a bribe itself, because what possible benefit could they receive from doing that unless it was accompanied with a monetary incentive. In one sentence they just discredited themselves, their team, their achievements, and the institution at which they spent several years... for money?... I suppose. And as for the burglaries, I can only hope  that they were high on some kind of drug and were thereby coerced by some figment of their cracked-out imagination into going up to Candy Mountain, breaking into the Unicorn's lair to steal a pot of gold, and flying back down to reality which turned out to be someone's house.

It would have been perfect if there had
been just one more unicorn.

                                                                 

Title Schmitle

I'm overwhelmed by how much time has past since I last wrote, but I have a legitimate "I've been soooo busy" excuse. Because I have. You know how I usually have about 20 free hours/week over the course of 3 work days? Well I haven't had any of that free time, for various reasons ranging from my bosses actually giving me tasks that consume ample amounts of time, to me having to do seemingly never ending class assignments. Also, included in this lapse was Spring Break, for which I was out of town the entire time. It was mostly spent on a church mission trip during which the rare free time I had was spent sleeping, because I was extremely lacking in it. Don't get me wrong, I thoroughly enjoyed the mission trip, mainly because I get a strange thrill from making things more aesthetically pleasing, especially for people who can't/won't do it themselves, like that precious bundle of love up there in that picture. Meet D.T. (Buddy) Bridges (don't know how"Buddy" came from the D or the T). 

                                           He is 84 and was on the USS Bunker Hill which was bombed by the Japanese, and according to him, 656 people died. Anyway, he had a lot of interesting stories and he reminded me of my Papa, who was also in WWII, but he fixed airplanes and things. He stood guard at the Battle of the Bulge, said it was the coldest and most scared he's ever been, and said his was the second set of troops to storm Normandy... also very scary.

Thereeee he is :) I like the two on the left because he's smiling (which is rare) haha and I'm pretty sure I gave him that coffee mug that says "grandpa" on it.

Annnddddd now I'm overwhelmed because I've lost my train of intensely focused thought that I had earlier this morning... looks like my meds are wearing off extra-quickly today. The main problem with this is that now, out of the millions of things I could write about, I don't have the discipline to discern which is the most pen-worthy. I knew I shouldn't have "taken a break" from this, because this is what happens, and then the "break" loses all of its conceptual worth. I'm going to stop writing now and hope that this fills up enough space until my next literary breakthrough.

                                                        
Side note: I've had at least 10 people tell me I should have my own T.V. show; so if you know anyone who wants to follow me and Clayton (and Katie when she's with me) around and video our lives, let me know. It could mean an investment partnership for you if we got picked up by some desperate T.V. station (MTV). 

Just Call Me the Craft Master.

A thrift shop window that
both Clayton and I worked on.
I won't take all the credit... haha

Ok, so this is an owl/initials
bunting that I made for Katie :)

These two are just some old projects
from high school: Senior ceiling tile
painting and backdrop for
"Sound of Music" play.

More owls. A painting
I did for Katie.

And these are my most recent
baking successes. Red Lobster
Cheese Biscuits and Bread
Pudding! Gotta love it.

And then there's these bracelets. This one is
mine, and kind of simplistic, but the ones
for my friends are cool too. I'll update later.

Another thrift shop window of my own.
A work in progress... old stencil stains
won't come off; I'm trying to paint over them.