I grew up watching MTV, you know, back when they actually showed videos. As I got older, I watched the channel’s first Real World (New York), and thus began my obsession with reality television. (Side note: Did anyone else have a thing for Eric Nies back then? I’m pretty sure I had a few “Dear Diary” entries about him, but I digress.)

Since I didn’t have much to do yesterday after I cleaned the house and the dog, I watched an episode (ok, fine – it was two episodes) of the Jersey Shore. Wow. If I lived in New Jersey, I think I’d be tempted to either a) Move or b) Start my own reality show that depicts New Jersey in a better light than Jersey Shore and the Real Housewives of New Jersey does. I mean, people talk about the south being strange? Sure, we might speak slowly, have our share of rednecks and a bad perm here and there, but I’ll take that any day over orange skin, scary fake fingernails, skanky clothing, bad manners and worse dancing.

After I became super familiar with the likes of JWow, The Situation, Snooki and Pauly D, the MTV Video Music Awards came on. With Chelsea Handler hosting, I decided it was ok for my 30-year-old self to watch.

Well. Between Usher looking 40-ish and Justin Bieber looking 12-ish, all I felt was old-ish. The only thing that made me feel a little better was that Chelsea Handler clearly had botox injections in her forehead for the occasion. That, and the fact that no matter how old I am, I’ll never look as old as those kids from the Jersey Shore. SPF, y’all. A little less MTV and STD(s), and a little more S-P-F.

Dear Casting Director for Dancing with the Stars,
We have all, from time to time, used a word loosely here and there – but I think I speak for America when I say that you’ve taken it a bit far.

I’ll give you “I carried a watermelon” Jennifer Grey and “Time, Love and Tenderness” Michael Bolton, but Bristol Palin? Audrina Patridge from The Hills? Mike from Jersey Shore? They do not stars make.

Love,
M

After gabbing about the “dress blog” with Cecilia, she talked me into taking a sewing class with her. She’s the same friend who started our book club, by the way. (I’m beginning to wonder if she’s 20-something going on 80-something, but I’m ok with it.)

I am getting very excited about the possibility of making fun dresses AND not having to pay to have every single pair of pants I purchase hemmed. (Like I told Ben this weekend, I pay for the pants, and then an extra $15-20 to get them hemmed. I pay more for less…there is nothing fair about that. Isn’t being short punishment enough? Short and broke is just the universe poking fun at me.) This means, however, that I’ll have to amend my list of things I don’t do. (Sewing is one of them. Along with camping, wearing leggings as pants, hunting and watching Jay Leno.)

In my head, I’m already the next Michelle Smith. In reality, I’ll probably never sew a straight line.

It’s pretty apparent when Fall starts slowly creeping in, and not just because of the change in temperature. School buses appear on roads and summertime dresses disappear from shops. Hydrangeas and crape myrtles die off and leaves begin to change. And, the smell of hamburgers on the grill is replaced by a simple crispness in the air.

But, perhaps the biggest clue that Fall is indeed on the way in (’round here, anyway), is when football schedules begin to dictate social calendars, email forwards, and of course…the Facebook.

Farewell linen, white pants and beach weekends – Hello college gamedays.

(Fellow Georgia fans…here’s a little somethin’ somethin’ that combines Larry Munson and Corey Smith.)

Everybody needs a mental break from the daily grind every now and again. And since I’m not particulary creative or witty or entertaining today (any day?), I’m going to suggest that you do that on another website (or two!). Enjoy.

Use your mental break by…

–>Downloading Poladroid, where you can turn any photo into an old school Polaroid one.

Here’s one I did of me and my friend Kristin in Paris last year:

–>Checking out this cool blog, about a girl who decides to use 365 dollars to create 365 dresses for all 365 days of the year. I love this so much that I’m sort of stalking her.

Involving me being quite tired from two bachelorette weekends in a row…

Gchatter:
Friend: So did you survive the weekend?
Me: Barely. I look like I’ve been punched in the face. I’ve been cuter, is what I’m sayin’.

Blackberry Messenger:
Me: Had a great idea for your wedding song yesterday.
Friend: What is it?
Me: It was “Can’t You See” by Marshall Tucker Band, which is a great song, but today I thought about the lyrics and it’s pretty much about a woman driving a man crazy. But on lack of sleep and a hangover, it was PERFECT for you. I’ll try again.

“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed, citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.”
— Margaret Mead

I got some wonderful news today about a “project” I’ve been working on. It won’t change the world, but it has changed my world.

Stay tuned. I’ll share more about this when I can.

My dear friend Meigs has her Bachelorette Party this weekend, and her fiancé is worried that we’ll “hurt” her. We might ask her to do a few things on a checklist, but we aren’t going to haze her – geez.

What must guys do at Bachelor parties? Maybe they all turn out like this.

I got a call on Monday (not on my cell phone, mind you, that saga continues…) from my dad. He’s been assisting me with buying a car, a process that I’m not particularly fond of, but that he’s really good at. (This man can get a discount on his senior citizens discount, if you know what I mean.) In the past 6 years, I’ve managed to shell out a whole bunch of money on two Audi leases, and while I’m a little sad to see my luxury car go, the responsible 30-year-old side of me gave it a big kick on the bumper and said, “Good riddance!”

It was 4:45pm, and he told me to meet him at the dealership promptly after work. I did as I was told, and about an hour later, it was time to pay for the car. Much to my surprise, they didn’t reach for the financing paperwork. Instead, they asked us what form of payment we were planning to use. I’m certain that my face contorted to a ridiculously ugly expression of “huh?” when my dad pulled out his debit card.

My dad gave me an interest free loan. Sweet Jesus. I feel like I won the lottery.

The best part of the story (well for you – I got a car!), however, is when they asked my dad for his pin number – and he stated that the bank didn’t give him one. I explained to him that he would have chosen his pin number, and he shook his head no. (He then asked me how many numbers your pin contains.) While dialing the bank to try and sort this whole pin confusion out, the finance lady at the dealership asked my dad if he had a checkbook with him. “Well, I usually only carry around one check at a time, and I think I used it today.”

Who is he? Barney Fife? (In case your stepdad doesn’t repeatedly watch The Andy Griffith Show, Barney only carried one bullet for his gun.)

I am the proud owner of a new car with an awesome warranty…and one hell of a story behind it. I’m extremely grateful for both.

My cell phone has had some issues as of late. It stopped accepting a charge on Saturday, while I was out of town, so I had to take it in for service (or burial – to be determined) on Sunday.

Verizon closes at 6:00 on Sunday. I arrived a little before 6:00, pushing it for sure, but still there before they closed. As I walked through the door, a man rushed towards me saying, “We are closed. We’re closing, you’ll have to come back tomorrow at 9:00.”

I politely told him that I realized it was almost 6:00, but that my battery was completely dead and for some reason would not accept a charge. “It tells me that it’s plugged in and charging, but it doesn’t charge,” I explained. He all but physically pushed me outside of the store and said, “Yeah. You’ll just have to come back tomorrow. We’re closed. Maybe you can call customer service and go ahead and get a new one shipped to you.” I asked him how exactly he wanted me to call customer service, and he suggested I use my land line. I said, “Well that’s the thing. I don’t have a land line, and I live by myself and I really just need a battery – even if it’s for one night – so that my phone will work until I can come back here tomorrow.”

He suggested I go to a battery store located about a mile away, but added “I’m sure they close at 6:00, too.” He then repeated AGAIN that I would just have to come back in the morning. And at that moment, all my southern manners and charm officially left the building. “Oh, I’ll do that, hon. I will certainly do that. And, when I return, I will be sure to tell your manager how helpful you were. Count. On. That.”

Not only will I complain to his manager, I’m complaining to Verizon Corporate and anyone who will listen to me. Because here’s the thing: I am a loyal customer to Verizon. I didn’t jump ship when those fancy pants iPhones came out exclusively with AT&T. And also – because I know how annoying it can be when someone calls or appears at almost closing time and needs help with something. It’s no fun, and I’ve done my share of bitching about it before. But, if it’s 4:59 and someone walks in and needs my help – I help them. Because that’s the right thing to do. And also, it’s what I am paid to do. So, if a certain Verizon Wireless employee can’t help people out of kindness (while they are still being paid to), then perhaps they need another reminder called, “fear.”