Today, my day was all about the bus. I'm riding to class. Since I didn't shower this moring, my outfit was comprised of these elements. John Deere cap, large hoop earrings, green cargo pants, Izzone t-shirt, and the largest black zip up Southpole hoodie ever. The hoodie was a must today. Despite sunny appearances, the wind is pretty freakin cold.
Anyway, I put my hood up* and just kind brooded in the back of the bus. Eventually I ran into Cristin Rishelle Mushong. I think she does not know how much her voice carries in public. Anyway, talked to her most of the way, then transferred onto the Holden bus, while she boarded for Hubbard. Holden bus is packed, but since I'm good with my elbows, I snagged a prime spot. I randomly make eye contact with the chick standing in front of me, then continue my silence and self alientation. This blonde chick taps me on the foot and says, "I can't figure out where I know you from." I said, I know if I met you before, I'd remember, because I remember everything. She's like, nope, I've seen you before. I said, what's your name, she said Janet, and she said, are you Michele? I said... yeah, and she's like, Michele with one L? Oh my... She's like, I've seen you in a picture with Steve. Steve Orzechowski?? Yeah. So she goes on talking about how she dated Steve's friend Shawn, and that she kind of has a thing for Steve. I said, oh, I'm sorry. Isn't that what a bff is supposed to do? In any case, she totally paused before she told me where she knew me from. Like she'd realized she secretly hated me or something, or knew something bad about me, and was trying to play it off on something else.... Interesting.
Ha, now THAT story was about 2 minutes of your life, YOU are not gonna get back.
I had another bus story, but I edited it out, because I didn't like the way it made me look.
Anyway, focusing on me here, I just finished a loaf of bread I bought last nigh at 8 pm. I also ran out of butter before the loaf, therefore, just minutes ago, you could find me scraping the inside of a country crock container with a piece of Italian bread. Wow, it was amazing!
I love Eastern European people. I understand that is my heritage, and I completely embrace it. If anyone hasn't heard the story of my last name, now is the time! My great grandparents came from Yugoslavia, something about my great grandma lying about her age, so he'd just marry her and bring her over. Their last name: Murtovarra. To Americanize, as was the "in" thing to do, they dropped the "varra". Murto it was, until my grandpa couldn't cash checks. Apparently, without seeing it first, there are many different interpretations of how to spell Murto. Mertoe, Murtoe, merto, anyway, I don't really know them all, because I've always known the way it was spelled. My grandparents made an executive decision at this point in time. They grabbed the yellow pages, and decided the two most becoming choices for our new last name were "mason" and "monroe". Obviously, they picked "Mason". Kick ass, I'm quite obsessd with my last name, it's no secret.
Ooh, good time tidbit, webbed feet run in my family. This was awesome with the last name Murto. Because they just called their feet the "mur-toes". HAHAHAHAHAHA. I've not seen them in the recent generations, however, it was rumored my Uncle Chris down in Georgia had them.
Ooh, the star next to put my hood up. *Ok, I don't know what other people think, but when I hear the phrase "put your hood up", I think of the KKK. That's it. They wear hoods. Makes sense, right? Steve told me I was racist, in fact, so did my friend Chris. I didn't mean it to say I associate the phrase with that because I believe in it or am a practicing underground member. Denise would always make jokes about "putting your hood up". I guess we're sick. ::shrug:: You know my dad once trick or treated in highschool as a klan member. NICE. I'm looking through old photos with my mom, at a clearly delicate age. Inquiring minds always want to know, so I'm flipping through, my Uncle is a cheerleader, and I get to my dad.. "MOM, WHAT IS DAD?" She paused, and thoughtfully responded, "Oh, I guess it wasn't quite as big of a deal back then." WHAT? Lol. Call me callous for laughing about it, but it's nothing that is even remotely part of my family's life. Just what I think of when I hear "put your hood up", because they wore hoods.
However, life is going swimmingly lately. It was nice to hear from Dom, Bailey, and Minda on Tuesday about me not being at practice. I love those girls.
This no practice thing only means there will be an increase of dancing around my room, running through old dances still in my head, and making up new ones, just for me. :) I did em best anyway.
In addition, I'd like to give a HUGE thank you to Harry Ho. Who totally saved me mentally the last day or two. Most of the time I don't really need advice/feedback unless asked for, but just someone to listen, or at least give the illusion that they are. I just need a way to get it out, but in a more meaningful way than just listening to me to hear my own voice. However, Mr. Ho has noticed this, and is gracious and benevolent enough to oblige me on most occassions.
One last point I'd like to end on. I associate smells with people. When I smell Steve, I know someone is wearing Coolwater. When I smell Matt, someone is wearing Nautica. Therefore, Hugo Boss is THEE scent for me. It's my favorite EVER. I used to take the free samples from the mall and leave them in my purse so it'd emanate this beautiful aroma everytime it opened. You can imagine this scent was quite fragile though, I didn't identify it with anyone specific yet, and I didn't want to ruin it with some jerk off I dated. Therefore, it came time for me to assign it on my own. My brother had no cologne. Now, what does he wear? You guessed it, one Christmas his sister bought him a huge bottle of Hugo Boss. Now I can only associate the best scent ever, with my genuinely kind and loving brother. :)
Take it easy, and if it's real easy, take it TWICE.
Michele
"Pimpin hoes and cockin a grip like my name was Dolemite"