Where are all the mirrors?

While taking a break from work, my mind wanders to the Kenny Chesney concert I attended last night. The air was the perfect combination of hot and sticky, just enough to make my hair curl at the ends, the breathtaking aroma of beer and toke peppered the atmosphere and Kenny played all my favorites, so much so that my voice is a little scratchy even this afternoon. All in all, I was set up for a perfect evening in Virginia Beach.

While waiting for the performers to hit the stage, I partook in one of life's most precious pastimes, people watching. What I saw frightened me so much that I woke up this morning in a cold sweat, thinking that every mirror on the entire peninsula had been stolen. What else explains the outfits people walked out of the house in last night?

There, of course, were your a-typical underage drunken teenagers, complete with skin tight jorts, with just enough fraying to make them look like Freddie Krugar was their seamstress. This look is complete of course, with the bikini top (if we're lucky) and cut up white tee shirt, manuvered just enough, so that when tied properly every inch of skin beyond the x-rated is visible. This look is not complete without the ever classic flashing plastic lei, or equally as trashed boyfriend, who doesn't seem to own any clothing beyond his tattered boxers and shorts, placed midway down his butt.

These teenagers eventually morph into classier versions of themselves, with slightly longer shorts, Marboro imprinted skin, and the ever flattering halter top, with saggy pointy "accessories," strategically placed just low enough to emphasize the Walmart belly ring, complete with green tinted and stretch mark ridden skin. The boyfriends have matured as well, choosing to display the keg that has conveniently attached itself to the top of the same shorts they were wearing ten years before, the only difference being the placement... about ten inches below the original waistline.

Despite my affection for the above mentioned looks, which could be found widespread throughout the ampetheater, from the bathroom to the stage, and most certainly the Budweiser stand, there were a top three of the evening.
3. The girl to the left of us last night was wearing... brown super short shorts, complete with a black tank top. Yes, Stacy and Clinton say brown and black together are okay... I DO NOT. But this was not my favorite part. In red and black, about halfway down her calf, this girl had... TNT tattooed. Yes, that is correct. TNT. Like the explosive. Sadly for her, unlike the rest of the looks thus mentioned, that tattoo will be much harder to get rid of.
2. The couple (although I must admit, these two were not the only ones) wearing matching UT jerseys, imprinted with Chesney on the back. To complete this lovely outfit, matching "mom" jorts and white tennis shoes, with cuffed white socks. These people did not look like a married couple, they looked like waaayyy oversized twins, dressed by mom and dad for their very first Vols game. Absurd.
1. My favorite look of the night, would have to be the tube top, looking best on women weighing at least 250 pounds, with breasts down to their bellies, and held up only with the excessive roll produced by, "painted on," jeans. This look can be completed with ankle compromising wedges, perfect for treking the grassy knoll.

This leaves me with one plea... whoever stole the mirrors and the taste of these people. Please RETURN asap. Why should I be punished for your greed?

Happy Daddy's Day

I once read, "anyone can be a father, but it takes a man to be a daddy," or something to that effect. It's a pretty true statement, at least in my life. I have never in my life called my daddy, "father," the name just doesn't fit him. In fact, I rarely even call him "dad." He has always been daddy, since I could talk (although I'm sure there was a period when all I could day was "dada"). This subject came to light when I moved in with my roommate last fall. She found it odd that at nineteen years old, I still call my dad the juvenile name that usually sorts itself out before you hit double digits. It really got me thinking, why is it that I use "daddy," when addressing my dad. 

I think there are a couple reasons. My dad, for all his fifty-five years, has always called my grandparents, "mama and daddy." Even when my grandfather was ninety-two, and on his death bed, he was still my daddy's, "daddy." That makes sense, children often mimic their parents in almost every way possible (at least till they realize that it is okay to make their own decisions). But the next couple of reasons are the REAL reason I call my dad, "daddy." He has two girls, and a wife, for a grand total of three women around, influencing his life, at all times. He has never once made qualms about this at all. In fact, he has sat through twenty years of  dance recitals, choral concerts, piano recitals, band concerts, and has even managed to at least pretend to enjoy his time spent. 

Sure, he passed his love for football off along the way, but being able to interject into the ACC or SEC's upcoming season and quote stats along with the boys has always been a blessing in my eyes. My intense passion for orange and maroon and my beloved Hokies would never have formed so deeply without my daddy's insistence of various Tech tees and football parties. I know how to split wood, hammer nails, properly paint a room, and various other things I would never have learned without my daddy. Along with various teachings of household duties, I know how to listen the RIGHT way... however difficult it may be for me to stop talking :P. I also know how to value my time with my family, and respect not only my parents but everyone older than me, with my tone, not just my words. Alas, at twenty, I am finally learning to, "use my head," my daddy's wiser than most mentality about anything and every situation.

His unfaltering faith in his fathers, both heavenly and earthly, has truly shown me the importance of a daddy, and how special mine is. So Happy Daddy's Day to all those daddy's... especially mine. You are loved and cherished :)

Ramblings

Considering I absolutely love to read, write and most of all, talk, it's shocking I hadn't hopped on the blog bandwagon until this point. People have blogs about anything and everything, but most people have actual happenings in their lives that prompt them to start a one (people about to have children in order to share their experiences with family, people facing a serious disease, people embarking on a new life of some sort, ect.). I am none of these people. No big changes are taking place in my life as of right now. I am right smack dab in the middle of my college career and enjoying every moment of it (it helps that I attend the absolute best university on God's green earth, GO HOKIES!), I'm spending my summer splitting my time between working and ice cream adventures with my favorite people, and not much else is on my plate.



Here are just a few subjects I may be tackling within the next few weeks: reality tv children and why they are just so gosh darn interesting (Jon and Kate, anyone?!?), the necessity (or is it?) of abbreviations such as negs (for negative), why i can both be a girl and know more about college football than your average bear (male bear, that is), how driving around with the windows down and radio up may not be economical (especially since gas is on its way back up) but is totally necessary, and other such type events. Heck, I may even include some pictures of happenings in my life if you're lucky enough.



Therefore, it's likely this blog is going to be mostly ramblings, but hey, it's just one of my God given talents... the ablity to continually talk, in essence, about absolutely nothing :).