I wish people were as exciting as my new iPhone case ~or~ PSG 101

I read a lot of blogs, and I keep hearing (ok, forreal?) seeing bloggers write that they were having trouble drafting a blog, that they love drafting blogs, that they had their first kiss while drafting a blog. Blah blah. I don't even really know what that is. All I know is that drafting usually involves multiple attempts at the same. dang. thingS something thats (in this case) going to come out a little dysfunctional and odd anyway (hellooo, my life) and ain't noboday go time fo dat. So, just so you know, 100% of my blogs are all-natural, organic, homegrown, 1st-try posts.  Now thats something you can be proud of reading. 

In other news, I got an iPhone! I am turning into a PSG minus the PS. (If you don't know what a PSG is, 1. be ashamed 2. read this post.) I was excited about exactly two things when it showed up in the mail. 

1. Snapchat

2. cute new phone case

I can't really illustrate the snapchat things here (helloooo there's a reason you can only look at those things for 3 seconds) because that's the way the app's designed, its impossible. Sorry!

But the cases. OH the cases.  There are about a KAZILLION available, and I mean I just have 1 phone soooo they made this job kind of tough on me. Except some of them go with personalities that aren't really me so that narrows it down. Which is what got me started thinking about who in the world would even own those things? And then I figured it out. And I wanted to tell Y. O. U!!!! Don't you feel special?

For the girls who ALWAYS choose the bros, so they have to convince the whole world that they don't so it doesnt hate them and what better way to do that then to get a phone case that says your (fake) personal mantra right on it??

For those who have a cat or dog allergy and need a hypoallergenic pet alternative.

For those who actually run, ha. 

For people (like me) who are about 5 years old. And think that their phone is definitely not entertaining enough. 

For those who, uh, like to express their love to their significant other in creative ways. Like phone cases. Mhm.

For nerds. 

I'd rather have the real stuff.

For those who plan to use an anchor to not sink.

For those who enjoy profound sayings. 

For positive affirmation . . . 

and just a friendly reminder.

Meangirls hellloooo!

For those who have it all and know it. 

For all your watercolor emergencies.

For . . . vampires?

This has been super sarcastic Saturday with Allie! Later, skater!

Bike Adventures.

II don't know if I've ever mentioned this, but my ACL is currently torn due to this jerk player on the other team during our first soccer game of the season.  Which means I'm not allowed to run at the moment (Hallelujah! It's terrible. ). I am, however, allowed to ride my bike, so I've been doing that

A LOT.

Bike to church, bike to a friends house, bike to Kroger (that's my most frequent trip. I think the Kroger people are starting to judge me. Um, excuse me ma'am, weren't you here like 2 HOURS AGO?? Which is probably totally accurate.)

Sometimes I just bike for the fun of it.  Last night I had this killer headache (thanks segment 2) and it was about 105 in the house so I went to the garage to assess the bike situation.  Because I don't actually have a bike, I just use whatever's available. (Usually someone else's bike.)  That's when I discovered that my dad had put his bike waaaaaayyyyyy too high and my brother had put his waaaayyy too low, and the only other option was my mom's bike hanging in the back of our extremely messy garage. So i thought, 

"That looks like a lot of work. I'm just going to go back into the house and eat some food." 

Forreal, it's no wonder 99 or whatever percent of Americans are obese, with habits like that. 

I want you to know, however, that I was not about to become a statistic. Noooo SIR! So what did I do but dodge, dip, duck , dive, and dodge my way through that mess. And I grabbed that bull by the horns (bike by the handlebars) and pulled it right down off those ceiling hooks . .  . and onto the floor. Well, mostly. The other part was on top of/embedded in or old CD/cassette tape player. Not in riding position. I considered a container of Chobani and some well earned rest.  

But then I stopped considering because HELLO, anti-obese-America effort! I guess my intense passion for the cause gave me strength I didn't know I have, because before you know it I had that bike over my head like Superman or something, weaving between boxes and gold clubs and stuffed animals and bags of old clothes and tools and other bikes and shovels and bubbles Nd WD-40 and paint cans and chalk and basket balls and bottles and rope and that heeuge boom box (remember that torn ACL?) and finally into the driveway. 

Where I hopped onto my bike, jammed back the kickstand , and kissed Fat America goodbye.

Love, Allie 

I'm Back! ~or~ I'm waaaay more sheltered than I thought

So, I'm back! I know I said I was leaving, and also a bunch of stuff about dancing that probably made no sense and that I don't even really understand. I. KNOW. And maybe someday when you're older I'll explain it to you but I don't actually feel like doing that right now, so let the fun begin!

The fun being drivers ed, segment 2 A.K.A. Let's terrorize all these poor little 15-17 year olds about how incredibly dangerous cars and cellphones and friends and driving are and make them basically cry with a sad video.

I'm pretty sure that's the official title.

Annnnyyywayyyy, I walked into the room about 5 minutes late, sat down in the one empty chair, and started chugging water out of my waterbottle because I WAS THIRSTY. And when that was empty I looked around and what did my eyes behold but a bunch of public school girls.

Maybe I should explain. I go to a teeny tiny private school, which I love, but also leaves me really really oblivious about a lot of things. I mean, honestly, all of my friends are from church or my Christian school. I don't know anything at all.

Annnnyywwayyyyy (deja vu) you may be wondering how I could possibly know all of these girls went to public school. There are about 10ish 4ish no-fail signs.

1. They're really little. I mean, they're short too! And skinny! I'm pretty sure that the average public school girl is skinnier than the average private school girl. Which may account for . . .

2. Me being super jealous of them secretly

2. An overwhelming presence of really super short shorts and yoga pants.  They never wear dresses, which would totally be my outfit of choice every. single. day. if I had enough of them and didn't feel so peer pressured by the PSGs (public school girls, obvi) in my drivers ed class.

3. iPhones.   iPhones, one and all. Most of my friends and I have piece-of-crap phones, lots of the time held together by sticky tac or sheer will power.  Can I explain this weird phenomenon? No. But it proves true again and again and again. And again.

4. Straightened hair. Or straightened then curled.  All I know is that their hair looks good erreday, in DRIVERS ED CLASS! I mean, more power to ya, I wish my hair looked like that, but if I'm just going to drivers ed I'm going to give up that much of my precious time to something that I'm already not a huge advocate of. So sorry.

5. Ok. I'm out. I'm sorry if you go to public school and I've judged you incorrectly and you're actually fat and wear dresses and have a piece-of-crap phone and don't straighten your hair.  I'm sorry I assumed all of those awful things about you. I truly am.

Once I realized that I was surrounded by them, I knew things were about to get acca-ackward. Because, that probably meant that the boys were PSBs (not as good as recognizing those), and remember, I don't know anything? I was absolutely right. A boy at my table started talking about a party he was having.  Then he yelled at a friend who was sitting across from a girl he thought was totes gorge and told her to make friends with the totes gorge girl.  And when he started describing the pretty one to his friend, it was pretty much a dirty, dirty foreign language of a bunch of stuff I'd need Urban Dictionary and maybe a few sick-minded friends to decode.

The boy right across from me had a tattoo.

And most of said stuff my mind is obviously too naive to understand, and I'd actually like to keep it that way thank you very much! (but ok myabe I'm a teeny bit curious)

So I just sat there and looked at the poster that says, "I hafn't deen drfinkin, occifer. I sware." Which is supposed to be a clever way of explaining that the boy is drunk.

But mostly I was like,

COME ON, THE POSTER ISN'T EVEN IN ENGLISH!

Love, Me.