I heart you BBSBM.

So, last night, my fake ID was almost confiscated by a big black scary bouncer man. When the words, "I confiscate fake IDs" came out of his mouth, my stomach instantly got that icky "man...FUCK" feeling. So I played stupid, "Alright, well my ID isn't fake so...". That did not work. After he rejected my offer to beg on my knees, I felt completely defeated. Anyways, to make a long story short, he finally gave my ID back after my friends (and some people who I had met only minutes before) talked him into it.

There are lots of morals to this semi-uninteresting story though.
1) People are generally kind hearted. This bouncer didn't have to give a shit about me or the fact that my social life would have dwindled without my precious ID. Why would he have anyways? I was just another underage college girl trying to get into a bar with a fake ID. There are plenty of us. But...he gave it back. And he said that he would "take care of me" whenever I come back. Me and big black scary bouncer man are now tight.
2) Connections are everything. My friends who I had only known for a few minutes knew the bouncer and told him that we were roommates sophomore year and that we were best friends. Without knowing these "friends" and without them knowing the bouncer, I would be frantically searching for a replacement for my fake ID right now.
3) Fuck the law. Seriously though. I may not be 21 and technically can't get into bars, but I feel like I am mature and responsible enough to handle myself in one. I know that can't be said for all 20 year olds, but I personally am not using my ID to go to a bar and get shit-wasted drunk. I am not a liability. I don't even want to go into the drinking age right now; there is too much to say. But I will say this, other than my age (age ain't nothing but a number...thank you B2K), I think that I deserve to be able to go to a bar hassle-free.

So, in closing, I can continue frequenting my beloved bars thanks to my new homie, big black scary bouncer man. Love you.

Premiere

Never would I have thought that starting a blog would be so strenuous. Picking out a name, choosing the color scheme and font, and finding that perfect picture have consumed about 3 hours of the past day. I suppose when you're an aesthetic perfectionist and don't know french very well, it becomes much harder. But really though, your blog, like any other part of your life, is very telling of the type of person you are. Either that, or the person that you're trying to present yourself as.

Speaking of the type of person that you are, isn't it strange when you realize that you didn't turn out the way you thought you would? I mean, when I was 12 years old, I never imagined that I would be a semi-introverted pot-smoking art history student living in New York City. Not that I am at all unhappy with the way my life is turning out, but it makes me think of all of the decisions, events, and experiences that I have had to produce the present "me". But who knows what I'll be like in 10 years. Wait and see I guess.