My Apples Must Have Been…Ripe

Dating, Lifestyle, People

So, this morning I had about a ten minute long debate over whether or not I should wear a tank top to class.  I was like…Are shoulders and collarbone too risque?  Regarded, a question I never ask myself when going to the bar.  I finally threw on the tank top and was like…Fuck it, I’m doing this!  Then I walked back and grabbed a cardigan just in case my plan to be more assertive backfired.  Classic Savannah, following her one step forward/two steps back mantra.  For the record, I spent the entire 45 minute class with my sexy, untanned shoulders exposed.  How do you like them apples?…said Good Will Hunting.  The guys in my class must have liked…my apples…because I was surrounded by like six guys who arrived after I did.  My apples must have been…ripe.

I have big news!  This girl is finally going on a vacation!  This means no school, no writing for the school newspaper, no four million jobs, and no more grocery-less apartment.  I am spending a week with my parents soaking up sun on the beach.  I can see how that sentence sounds like an oxymoron…week with my parents vs. sun on the beach.  I weighed out my options and realized that spending a week with my parents was totally worth a week making sand castles and wearing tank tops on the reg.  (reg is an abbreviation for regular).  I heard this sorority girl use that abbreviation once and I was like…Maybe I could abbreviate that…on the reg.  Truth be told, after a hard week of hitting rock bottom and just bouncing up and down in that vicinity, I sort of wanted a week away to be with my loving, attention-giving parents.  I just want to fucking talk about myself okay?!  All I want to do is tell them every assorted detail of my life…because I am aware that they are the only people on the planet that somewhat care and can effectively pretend they care even when they don’t.  Round of applause for attentive parents everywhere!

If I haven’t already told you, I’m a bit of a daydreamer.   I spend a solid quarter of my days and nights fantasizing about how life could be and then another quarter of my days and nights romanticizing what is actually taking place.  One of my go-to fantasies (no, not the school teacher one…although that is always a crowd favorite) is having some big romance on the beach.  Now, it’s not your typical lifeguard saves girl who can’t swim and then draws their initials in the sand surrounded by a heart…but it’s not far off.  It’s more like…Random, same-aged guy runs into girl on the beach where they take a walk and theeeeeennnnnn draw their initials in the sand surrounded by…a cloud-shaped thought bubble or something.  You get the picture.  Although I knew a week on the beach with my parents would likely not result in some offshore romance, my landlocked midwest location and mindset still encouraged otherwise.

For me, the beach represents opportunities.  It’s like this giant metaphor for DIFFERENT.  That’s all I really want…is different.  My little college town has charm, but if there’s one thing it doesn’t have…it’s different.  College kids come and college kids go, stereotypical townies or college kids converted to townies stay here, and everything really just stays the same.  The most excitement we get is Food Truck Friday on main street, a block from my apartment.  At least our food is on the move…considering we aren’t.  That seems like a stab in the back of obesity in the midwest…and well, it sort of is.  It’s time to hit the gym people.  Don’t get me wrong…my lunch breaks often consist of McDonald’s and Taco Bell…but then I go outside and run in the 90 degree heat and get my shit together!  In fact, it’s about that time, considering I now have to get my bikini bod ready for the beach.  Good thing I have a looooonnnnnnnnggggg 9 days to prepare.  Should be plenty of time.  In fact, take some of it away, I’m already ready damn it!  Psych…I stop eating…starting today.

The only thing that stands between me and my sun-kissed skin, is my last shift bartending, 4 articles for the school newspaper, 4 interviews, 1 homework assignment, and 9 long long days of work.  “Oh good.” said Savannah sarcastically.  The only thing I’m bummed about is leaving my fun friends and sassy roommate behind.  They have become my college-town family and being a week without them will not go unnoticed.  Then, I remembered Connor saying my last article was “okay.”  Fuck it, I don’t care, I’m headed to the beach bitches!!!  ….9 days from now I mean.  I’m headed to the beach in 9 days beaches!  Get it?  Beaches?  See what I did there? Can you tell I’m excited?

Advertisements

One thought on “My Apples Must Have Been…Ripe

  1. 1. Yes, numbering the points in my comments is becoming a thing now, because my new meds are turning my concentration to shit so I have to type out every thought I have as I think it or I’ll forget by the end of the post.
    2. Shoulders and collarbones are hot, but there can never be too much of them. I mean, unless a person was ALL collarbones and shoulders, but that would just be scary because HOW WOULD THEY EAT AND POOP? (not to mention other things)
    3. Thank you for “reg is an abbreviation for regular”, because people like me seriously need a class specifically on internet lingo and new slang.
    4. I wish my parents were loving and attentive. Well, they’re loving. But in a weird passive-aggressive kind of way.
    5. Now I kind of want an apple.
    6. YAY vacation! The beach is pretty much my idea of hell, but YAY for you!
    7. This comment is starting to have too many points. (I’m in a weird mood tonight, sorry.)
    8. Romance (and by “romance” I mean sex) on the beach is gross. Please, take it from someone with experience. Sand gets everywhere. every.where. REAL romance can be just as crappy, depending on the wind.

    Like

Say what?!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s