Walking in a Winterless Wonderland

And a fall-less wonderland, as well.

For those of you who live in South Carolina, Georgia, Florida, and the like, you understand what I'm saying.

For those of you who live in other parts of America or the world, let me explain.

We have very odd weather here.

It starts warming up in February.

No lie. 

It starts cooling off in October or November.

We basically have no winter.

I'm 21, and I've seen snow once in my life.

It was around Valentine's Day, and I was babysitting about 20-30 minutes away from my house. The kids' grandmother called and asked if we'd noticed the snow.

I got insanely excited -- 17 years old and it was snowing! Woo hoo!

I was really nervous about driving back into town, because I'd never seen snow, and now I had to drive in it? 

The kids' grandfather followed me into town, which was really nice, but then after running around in the snow like a three year old (which my dad described as "typical college kid behavior"), he wanted me to drive around with him.

I was really afraid of just going 'round town for fun, but it actually wasn't that bad, because no one else here knows how to drive in snow, so no one else was about.

Also, in my biology book, the author mentioned a compound - I think some sort of salty stuff - and called it a "deicer". Well, in my limited knowledge of ice and snow, I first assumed it was a fancy French word for something and pronounced "deh-eye-see-yer".

Um, no, it's "de-icer". A thing that melts ice.

Oh.

Well.

Okay.
This also explains why - when test driving a car - I looked in the dash thing-y (the word escapes me at the moment) and saw this really weird looking object.
It looked like a toothless comb.
I showed it to my dad like "What is this thing??"
He laughed and told me to guess.
Apparently it was an ice scraper.
Oh.

Confessions: I can't sing

I've previously written a post about American Idol, where I poke fun at the fact that the gal I wanted to win didn't. 

And I think I mentioned something about how I'd love to be a judge there, if only to take Simon's spot. 

I overheard something on the radio this morning about the ridiculous amount of money Nicki Minaj and Mariah Carey are being paid to be judges.

My response?

"I'll do it for $25 an hour!"

But really, I'd love to be a judge for a singing contest.

There's only one kinda huge drawback:

. . . I can't sing.

Now let me qualify that.

I have the ability to sing, but I can't sing well, can't carry a tune.

I sing in the car when I'm alone because I don't want to inflict my tone-deafness on other people.

I love them too much to do that to them.

However, Candice Glover -- WHO IS FROM BEAUFORT -- can sing!

So yes, vote for Candice Wednesday night!

Ugh . . . Morning Classes . . .

I'm sure I've ranted about morning classes before.

And there may be a day when I don't rant about morning classes.

But, in all seriousness, scheduling classes is a bloomin' nightmare.

You've gotta make sure nothing overlaps in time slots.

You've gotta make sure you actually need it.

You've gotta make sure you've got time to do the whole "lunch" thing, which -though seriously underrated - is vital to not passing out in class. From hunger.

And - for USCB students anyhow - you've gotta make sure you're not giving yourself 10 minutes to make a 30 minute trip, as we have two campuses. 

But then there's the 8 AM classes.

Also known as "the room you sit in whilst you wake up mentally".

Unless it's Crossfit aerobics, which will kick your studious tush.

I've taken 8 AM classes before, but only two days a week, so you have the next day to sleep in and recover.

This semester, I've got my first two Monday, Wednesday, and Friday classes.

And all five days . . . I have 8 AM classes.

Why?

Because I'm an idiot, that's why.

And you know what the worst of it is?

Waking up three minutes before my alarm goes off.

Fool me once . . .

Okay Beaufort girlies, listen up: I don't know where you do your shoe shopping, and on some level I don't really care, but I've got to tell you about this one store (which is kind of ironic, because I don't plan on actually naming this store). 

There's this store in Beaufort that has really cute shoes. And at good prices, too.

No, it's not Wal-Mart.

However, something weird happened the last two times I was there, probably within the same two weeks.

Allow me to start at the beginning: I wanted some brown flats, so when I saw a cute pair, I got the box that said 9 down because I (usually) wear a 9.

I tried both the shoes on, and they both fit.

That would be a given, except for one small factoid: one was a 9, the other was an 8 1/2. 

And my feet are normal, by the way. 

I put the bottoms together, and they looked exactly the same to me.

I figured the 8 1/2 was a misprint and took the box to the register to check out. 

They wouldn't sell it to me because (logically) if I had two sizes, somebody else had two sizes, and if they returned one, they'd need the other.

I ended up leaving with 8 1/2's (which fit perfectly fine), and thought it was a freak occurrence. 

Wrong. 

I went today for some black flats and wanted a 9. 

Once again, there was a 9 and an 8 1/2!

And once again, I ended up leaving with an 8 1/2!

So, for those of y'all in Beaufort . . . check your shoes before you buy them!

(Also because they might be two different - but similar - styles. That's happened to me before too. And yes, that was at Wal-Mart.)

Bipolar Beaufort Weather

I don't know about the rest of the country, but isn't it a pretty good rule of thumb that when it's cold in the morning, it'll still be cold in the afternoon?

Doesn't that help you dress appropriately for the day?

Beaufort isn't like that.

I think Beaufort's a woman, and she's bipolar. 

It was like, 60 degrees this morning, so I wore a knitted wool top, a scarf (more for the astetics than weather), and sneakers. 

Um . . . 

Lo and behold, at noon, it's about 85 degrees.

. . . What?!