This One's For the Seniors

side note: REMEMBER WHEN THIS USED TO BE A (wannabe) FASHION BLOG????????????????????????????? anyways....

I had a mid-first-last-day-of-school-life-crisis today. It's my senior year. Of college. And by some curse/blessing I am graduating on time. May 2013. UNLESS I CHANGE MY MAJOR RIGHT QUICK!~!~!~!~!~!~! So that means I have to figure out my early-mid twenties life style, preferably before May 2013. I don't know how I feel about that. Living off of my parents  until I meet someone else who can pay for my shoes is ideal. The thought of paying for my own iTunes music, rent, Starbucks drinks, etc., is a mild to moderately terrifying concept for this twenty-something sorority girl to grasp. I start to think about how this is my LAST YEAR OF COLLEGE and I feel a small stab in my stomach. I quickly start to have rapid mental screaming thoughts, something to the effect of:

"HAVE I ATTENDED ENOUGH FREE FOOTBALL GAMES? DO I KNOW HOW TO EVEN CHECK OUT A LIBRARY BOOK?? HAVE I YOLO'D ENOUGH?!?! HAVE I TRIED EVERY SHOT AT MESQUITES??? DID I USE UP ALL THE COUPONS FROM MY BARNES AND NOBLE COUPON BOOKS??? DID I WEAR ALL MY FAVORITE GAME-DAY OUTFITS??? DID I TRY HARD ENOUGH IN SCHOOL???? DID I EVER ATTEND OFFICE HOURS??? DID I GET TRANNY FABULOUS EVERY SPRING BREAK??? DID I SPEND TOO MUCH TIME ON BROADWAY AND NOT ENOUGH ON THE DEPOT??? OR CHURCH?? HAVE I PICKED OUT A FAVORITE CHURCH YET???? HAVE I INSTAGRAMMED MEMORIAL CIRCLE YET??? SHOULD I GO TO A TAB EVENT??? SHOUD I START SAVING ISSUES OF THE DT TO SHOW MY GRANDCHILDREN??? SHOULD I ORDER FREE SAMPLES OF THAT HANGOVER CURE PILL THAT KEEPS COMING UP ON MY FACEBOOK ADVERTISEMENTS????????????????

*head explodes*

Anyone else having a panic attack about this being the LAST YEAR. THE FINAL SUPPER. This is just as traumatic for me as the last Harry Potter movie coming out. 

I remember being a senior in high school. 

There I am. Graduation day. So excited for life ahead of me.

Graduating high school was fun. Being a senior in high school was sober fun of busy body activities that at the time you think are important. You've got your cap and gown, and you are PUMPED AS HAYLE to live on your own, not have a curfew, and have easy access to sugary fatty food and drank round the clizzock. 

Graduating senior year of college is anxiety, panic, death, anarchy, corruption, fire, bombs, disease, pain, charley horses, night sweats, and strife. To sum it up briefly. GOOD FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING THE DAY AFTER YOU GRADUATE, I AM SOOOOOOOOOO HAPPY FOR YOU. 

CONFREAKINGRATS. 

In fact just the other day, I was talking to an incoming freshmen (#rush) and once she found out I was a senior, she quickly asked my post-grad plans. 

"Ohhh, I don't know yet."

"Oh. I'm sorry." 

She said she was sorry. She apologized. UM YOU'RE FORGIVEN I GUESS? SORRY FOR WHAT MIGHT I ASK?? I AM FABULOUS????????????? YOUNG BROKE AND EFFING FABULOUS?????????????????????????????????? whtvr. 

I'm reminded of a scene in one of my favorite movies, The Holiday.

The scene in the very beginning when Cam Diaz is having an episode.

"I'm fine. I'm just freaking out a little bit."

That's about how I feel about the situation. I really am fine. I'M JUST FREAKING OUT A LITTLE BIT.

Might I point out this is a two-sided panic attack. On one side, I have until May to check off the items from my "senior year bucket list." You know, yolo shenanigans, and really making sure I have a lot of regrets and make a lot of young-person mistakes before I have to live on my own and be responsible. On the other side, while I'm making these young-person life mistakes, I have to take time to figure out exactly what I want to do afterwards. After graduation. The after life. This side is probably more important than checking off my senior bucket list. 

So what do I want to do when I grow up. Let's see.. major: advertising. Minor: spanish. This white girl has her iPhone set to espanol, and I'd like to test the waters and see how far that gets me in life. I like to write. I like magazines. AM I SOLID ENOUGH TO WRITE FOR A MAGAZINE??? SHOULD I TAK THE GSP TEST AGAIN???? *panic attack* I also like social media and marketing. And words. And copy writing. I've dabbed my toe in the arts of photoshop, and made an A in layout and design, BUT AM BY NO MEANS A GRAPHIC DESIGNER, NOR AM I AD AGENCY MATERIAL IN THAT SENSE *hyperventilates* I like to blog, and in this day and age you actually CAN make a living off blogging. I also like clothes and fashion, and I've been known to throw a mean outfit together for a customer in need, BUT LIKE I'D LIKE TO BE ABLE TO AFFORD TO EAT EVERY NOW AND THEN *seizures* 

Today, the first day of my senior year. Something semi funny-horrific happened. I was sitting at the end of an isle seat, at the top of the class, next to a descending carpet staircase. Well, I didn't realize just how close I was to the stair case, and I backed up my rolling chair right into the downward staircase, and suffered a mild crash-chair-body-floor situation right after the professor said "Class is dismissed early today" soooooooooooOoOoOo Hope everyone feels better about themselves right about now. Fell into a staircase while my body was in a chair, it's fine. 

Commercials as of Late

Hi, I'm an advertising major, I like advertisements. I'm one of those. Here are some of my under-grad, I-don't-know-what-I'm-talking-about, yet-still-freaking-important, opinions.

1. This one I have actually never seen on TV, but I saw it on Facebook. It tugs my lil <3 strings.

Running ads tend to be my favorites. One of my favorite quotes is from a Nike print ad.

The image is just a typical running ad picture, but the quote is PHENOM.  

Did the copywriters write this? Did they get it from a philosopher? You go Nike writers. There was actually a phase in my life that the quote was on a post it on my bathroom mirror. "Make yourself" takes on 2 meanings here, and I just think it's genius, possibly copywriters are totally underrated and don't get enough credit, but whatever, I just like wordz.

2. Here we have a commercial reaching out to all the minorities. Easy, breezy, beautiful, cOvErGuRl

Ellen absolutely MAKES this commercial. "No one understands you." LOL. I'm a heterosexual white girl, and it even makes me want to wear Covergirl. Or at least watch the commercial. I actually don't use Covergirl make up. anywho....


3.  Okay this is where you lose me....

Ughhh to Sensa and uuugghhh to this commercial. Who's idea was it to use the "shake shake shake" song?? You are SoOOoOOoOOoo original..............................................

ALSO. What the ef is in that Sensa powder?? What is the deal??? Sprinkling dirt will also make you lose your appetite AND DIRT IS FREE PEOPLE.


4. I. LOVE. THIS. COMMERCIAL. 

I literally started buying Oiko's yogurt after seeing this. Not because I think it's hilarious, but because "it is possibly the best tasting greek yogurt in the world" or at least in the apparent taste test. Sorry Chobani. I just love how the people in this  are so normal looking. This is what normal, non-celebs, non-models, look like. And the part when the blonde screams, "COME BACK!" is priceless. The 15 second version is not as good.


That's all I got. Other than The Campaign trailers are literally making me convulse in teary-eyed laughter.

Augusta goes on a date

Hi. 
This is going to be one of those blog posts that I will eventually regret and delete, hopefully before someone considers hiring me for a well-paid career, because THIS POST IS NOT ABOUT FASHION OR ADVERTISING OR SPANISH IT'S ABOUT A HORRIFIC DATE I WENT ON, PARENTAL ADVISORY SUGGESTED jk.

Saturday, July 28th, 2 AM
Eating at Whataburger with two friends after a ordinary night of bar-hopping.
Eating with one friend inside while the other friend is outside.
Inside friend leaves momentarily to get outside friend.
Augusta sits alone eating.
Person walks up to Augusta
Numbers exchanged.
Friends come back inside.
Friends leave Whataburger.

Sunday, July 29th, 12 PM
Receives text from said person.
Plans to go to Sheridan's at 8 with said person.

And now our story can begin...

FIRST OF ALL, if you are going to offer to take someone on a date, DO NOT OFFER TO SHARE WITH THEM. LET THEM BUY WHAT THEY WANT. NO ONE WANTS TO SHARE ICE CREAM, EVEN IF IT'S SOMEONE THEY DO KNOW. ugh... So we shared this like brownie concrete thing and I literally ate 2 bites, two OF THE FIRST bites. ugh. ugh. ugh.

During our eating of the ice cream, we have just some normal "light first date chat," you know, like how he grew weed in California with his dad for two years, attended school in Arizona, but also spent time in Japan somewhere in there, how his mom is a lesbian, has 820 half-siblings, used to be mormon but quit , so now his religion is basically yoga, which he does for hours a day, LITERALLY HOURS A DAY, 
OH and here comes my favorite part, HE DOES THEM ON PSYCHEDELIC (his word) DRUGS!!!!!! LOLZ!!! LIKE SHROOMS AND ACID AND WORDS I HAVE NEVER EVEN HEARD OF!! 

Hmmm. Okay.
Did I mention he is from Albuquerque, New Mexico? Which I find sad, because, I myself, am a New Mexican, and he is just.................. so not enchanting.

So we leave Sheridan's and go walk around campus because he just transferred to Tech and wants to see the campus blah blah. We start talking about music. He looks like the type who would be into Coldplay or Bon Iver, but no no no no no no no. He starts going into full-on detail regarding his passion for Beyonce.

Beyonce. Beyonce. *how to scare girls away* As if the yoga thing wasn't gay enough, this guy tells me he is obsessed with the "R&B vibes" of effing Beyonce. I like Beyonce, I really do, but IF YOU'RE A BOY, DON'T DROP THE BEYONCE BOMB ON THE FIRST DATE. SAVE THAT UNTIL 4 YEARS AFTER MARRIAGE AT LEAST OR SOMETHING. JUST LIE.
DON'T BE YOURSELF, AT ALL COSTS. 

Somewhere along in the conversation, he finds it necessary to ask me how much I pay for rent. Um, WHY DON'T YOU JUST GO AHEAD AND ASK ME HOW MUCH I WEIGH??? LET'S JUST GET ALL THE INAPPROPRIATE QUESTIONS OUT THERE. So I just answer honestly.
 He then says, "You kind of seem like a rich daddy's girl." 

To which I said:

REALLY???? DO I??? WELL LO FREAKING SIENTO FOR HAVING EXCEPTIONAL TASTE IN HANDBAGS???????? Gawd. I gave him the death stare, he apologized but like.................... ugh. Gawd.

So we are walking along and he says, "Wow look at that tree!!!" Like, yoga boy is EXTREMELY fascinated by this tree. This stupid freaking tree. I looked at him weird and thought, are you on acid right now???? But just went along with it and followed him to this freaking tree. He then starts to climb this tree. I was like..... Can you not climb a tree right now? He replies that he is total hippie, and just loves nature and earth. 
He tells me to climb the tree. I said, you clearly don't know me, but no, I'm not climbing a tree.

-2 minutes later-

So I'm in the damn tree. With my new Target sandals, and my fabulous handbag from Spain, and I'm like freaking Tarzan jungle boy in this freaking tree on freaking campus. Ugh. *so not ideal*. We end up getting out of the tree, NOT BEFORE I SCRAPE MY DELICATE PORCELAIN SKIN THOUGH, and decide to leave campus and go back to his apartment so he can show me his drawings (he's an art major, which truly explains a lot) and listen to Beyonce's new CD. Yay. Terrific. Yay.

We get to his apartment, it's ugly, lah tee dah, I'm like where are your drawings, I'm tired. I'm tard. He then pulls out papers with faces on it. He tells me it's his face. He draws his face. So when this guy isn't doing yoga for hours, or climbing trees, or smoking shrooms, or WHATEVER IT IS YOU DO WITH SHROOMS, he looks in the mirror, makes weird faces, and draws them with colored pencils. 

I proceed to start snooping around his room. I found a Harry Potter book (marginally redeems himself) in Dutch. It's in Dutch. Apparently he speaks Dutch. Which probably would have been cool if it had been ANYONE ELSE, but this guy was already so weird, that a Dutch Harry Potter book just didn't help his situation. I had fun reading the Dutch Harry Potter book out loud, trying to drown out "Who run the world (girls)" by Beyonce. I HATE THAT SONG. It wasn't until he tried to teach me to enunciate the dutch words correctly that I politely said STFU and slammed the book shut.

So. What now.

Unspecified amount of time later
"Ummm is my chin bleeding?? Like, ouch." -me
"No." 
"Are you sure....."
"Yes."

Before you completely judge me, this guy his an exceptional kisser, and is actually attractive, minus his weird personality/hobbies/everything else. ALL WE DID IS KISS, ALSO. The thing is, he had what you would call "stubble" and even though he claims he shaved that day, it was growing back. Is mild to moderate "stubble" literally MASSACRED my dainty sensitive angel skin.

Let's review the damage, shall we.

HOME REMEDIES FOR MICRODERMABRASION 

That red dot? THAT IS BLOOD. SANDPAPERED AND READY FOR PAINTING.

IT HURT TO SMILE FOR THREE DAYS. 

The picture I mass texted to half of my phone book the next day.

If by "hard to get" you mean "Trying to run away from you as fast and far as possible"
then YES. YES I AM PLAYING HARD TO FREAKING GET.
YOU WANT TO KNOW WHAT ELSE CRACKING UP???????
I AM CRACKING UP.
MY CHIN IS CRACKING UP.
MY CHIN, YOU ASS HOLE. MY CHIN.

GYYAAWWWDDDDDDDDDDD. While some might stay on house arrest with a face like mine, I stuck to my guns and pursued my summer internship, AND ACTUALLY MADE A SALE THIS WEEK WITH A FACE LIKE THIS. Said client probably saw my face and thought "She has cancer, she needs the money."

Chin update
It is almost back to normal, it is just extremely peely and dry looking. NOT ONE SINGLE BLACKHEAD, HOWEVER. Probably because 9 layers of skin were lemon zested off.

To my relatives who had to read this, I apologize. Lol. Lawls.
And no, I am not talking to this guy anymore. Obviously. EVER SO OBVIOUSLY.

MORAL OF THE STORY:

DO NOT GIVE YOUR NUMBER OUT TO FELLOW EATERS AT WHATABURGER,

EVEN IF IT IS THE NICE WHATABURGER ON UNIVERSITY STREET