Scott Spaulding is one lucky S.O.B.

I haven’t updated this thing in awhile… same old story. But the only complaint I received from my lack of postage was from my dear friend, Erin Holcombe, soon to be Mrs. Scott Spaulding.

So, I figure, why not devote my next post to Erin?

She was kind of scared when I told her I was going to write a blog about her. But, no worries.

Erin and I met back in 1997, our freshman year of high school. We shared the same P.E. class, meaning that we pretended to run the mile together, and have been friends ever since.

She’s totally hot, smart (and I do mean 4.0 smart), and funny. She was the kind of girl in high school for whom guys tripped over themselves in order to impress. Erin, however, never realized that everyone was drooling all over her, or if she did, she was still nice to the poor slobs anyway. She could always be a little ditsy, but that was all part of her charm.

Then one day Erin met Scott. And oddly enough, Erin fell in love with Scott. No other guy could compare, and she left about fifty sad little boys behind in the dust wondering what hit them.

And now, sadly, Erin is going to be leaving us. She’s jumping off the deep end into that thing called married life. The first one of a tight knit group of best friends to have that perfect rock on her left ring finger, and she deserves it. Just as long as Scott knows that he’s lucky to be able to carry her shopping bags around the mall for seven hours, I think we’re all okay with letting her go. Plus, now we have a wedding to plan!!

There comes a point in nearly every girl’s life when a guy becomes her best friend. And they live happily ever after.

All the best, Erin and Scott. All the best.



Okay, I didn’t mean for that to come out sappy, but it did.

Real Men Drive Stick

That sounds like a great title for a chick novel. Ha!


On Saturday I realized that there is something to be said for guys who drive hot cars.

They drive hot cars.

But damn.

Sometimes I wish I knew how to drive a stick shift, but after I nearly killed the clutch of my brother’s Mustang last summer, I figure it’s not such a good idea. Stick shifts just seem to get you around so much faster… and I feel the need for speed.

Not really, though I do find it amazing that I’ve never gotten a speeding ticket. Knock on wood, right?

Anyway, my last semester at JMU started out with a bang. Break was too short and Robin got me into way too much trouble. I would’ve given anything for one more week. I just hope I can make it out alive by May. I SO need to get out of here…

NICE!

Yeah, I’ve been neglecting this thing. But really, I never have anything to say. Or I just can’t say it because my mom reads my blog.

And she’s hot pissed right now because of the credit card bill I ran up buying Christmas presents. I don’t want to piss her off even more. In fact, she just walked into my room and took my American Express card. I think I’m going to have a heart attack.

I take money for granted. But that’s another story for another day. It goes along with that whole high maintenance bitch thing.

I had a very nice Christmas, went up to New York and jumped from house to house visiting family and went into the city and all that. And I decided that if I don’t pass all of those State Department exams, I’m packing my bags and moving to the Big Apple. There’s just something about that place that sucks me in. What I wouldn’t give to live on the Upper East Side…

New Year’s was great. I have the greatest friends in the world. The evening was far from perfect and included lots of stumbling around D.C. and spilt drinks on my satin skirt, but it was fun. But next year has to be classy. I’m not down with drinking out of Solo plastic cups while decked out in Banana Republic.

And I’ve come to the conclusion that I only attract guys who have NO IDEA what they’re doing. When it comes to girls, I mean. I’ve seen it all. Once I was making out with some random guy in a bathroom and he stopped to pee. The jerk peed right in front of me!! How is that okay?? Guys should be forced to take a class or something on how to treat the ladies. Some things are just not cool.

Branding is for beef.