Yo, we ain't afraid of Brooklyn! It's just Spot Conlins makes us a little noivice.

Well he don't make me noivice.

(He really doesn't. I had SUCH a huge crush on him when I was little. And when I was a teenager. And now.

I mean, honestly, who didn't? When he takes his hat off? And flips his hair? Beautiful).

Anyways. This is not actually a Newsies post. This is a post about Brooklyn (I spent a month there one night. Ok, seriously stopping with the Newsies quotes now).

And why you should all be very proud of me.

I don't know if many of you know this, but I have a horrible sense of direction.

I get turned around really easily.

(Don't ever ask me to be navigator. It probably won't end up well)

Kathleen likes to tell a story about my first time driving.

I didn't know how to get to the church. That I had been going to since I was 10 months old.

I asked which way I went as soon as we exited the drive way.

(I don't pay attention if I'm not driving, ok?)

SO, when I'm going to a new place, I usually like to have detailed information of how to get there.

Yesterday, when I was going to Brooklyn for the first time, I Google Maps'd the directions of how to get to where I was going. Because Google Maps is the best, true dat, double true.

Well, that's usually the consensus. Yesterday, however, Google Maps failed me.

It told me to take the F train from Union Square, transfer to the A train, then get off at High St. and walk to Grimaldes.

That sounded great to me. Until I got to Union Square station. Guess which train doesn't stop there? Yeah, you got it. The F.

So, I looked very touristy, pulling out my subway map and redirecting my route.

I eventually made it to High St., and knew I was in the right area, since I could see the Brooklyn Bridge. But I couldn't find Old Fulton. So, I found a Brooklyn map on the street. Then I found where I was going.

So, just like that one time when Dia and I were lost in Downtown Tulsa and read a map to get back home, I channeled my father the truck driver, and used a map to find my way to pizza.

Because I'm amazing.

Then I walked through the Lincoln Tunnel

(or across the Brooklyn Bridge).

Yup, that was the devil [fly]

I swear, I killed that thing three times.

And not just the swatting kill, I did that about fifty,

but the all out, smash it with a hammer killing.

It was the kind of fly that when you first look at it, you're sure it's a mutant that some mad scientist cooked up to take over the world.

Then you decide it has to be a hornet.

Then you realize it's just a really big fly.

It followed me into the bathroom.

I tried to help it out.

To shoo it out the window

sweep it through the door, but it just kept keep coming back.

Like that stupid cat. Only with wings.

So, I swatted at it until it died.

I saw it on the floor. All smooshed like.

Then, 30 seconds later, it was off the floor. So I hit it with the towel until it fell week on the ground, and smashed it with the toilet paper holder. I wiped up the remains with toilet paper and threw it in the trash.

Then, like nothing had happened, it was zooming around the bathroom again. So I smashed it (again), wiped (again) and threw it in the trash (again).

10 bucks says it's still flying around that bathroom.

I guess I didn't kill it with my dragon flames. Just left it very badly disfigured.

Probably should have flushed it.

With my by myself

I am currently sans-roommates (As I have never once mentioned my actual address here, and am friends with those who read this blog and know where I live, I trust you guys to not come try to kill and R me in my sleep after learning this information). All of mine moved out and no one moved in.

There are good and bad things about this.

The good:

It is really clean in my apartment. Seriously. Nothing out of place, all the dishes done. Everything.

I can listen to whatever I want, watch whatever I want, make as much noise as I want. Basically I don't have to worry about offending anyone. Even when I don't sleep with pants on (yeah, I said it).

The bad:

Because I don't have much human contact, I've kind of taken to... talking to myself? Not all the time, just every once in a while. Maybe if it were all the time it would make more sense, but since it's not, it's just really awkward.

Also, most of my to-myself-statements end with "whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?"

photo courtesy of

I know, it's weird. I totally would understand if you guys don't want to be my friend anymore. I realize I may have just freaked you all out a lot.