Hi, I'm Kim, and I'm... awkward.

Snobby. Shy. Skater. Serial murderer.

Reserved. Religious. Rebellious.

Poser. Prep.

Awkward.

No, I'm not talking about labels or stereotypes. I'm speaking of first impressions.

College is full of them, and BOY do I need to work on mine. I'm so ridiculously awkward around new people that I get flustered and inevitably end up saying something completely weird, irrelevant, or accidentally rude. Sometimes all you get is a first impression, too. Your first and last impression on someone can be the same encounter (especially if your first impression sucked so they run and hide every time they see you coming...) so it can be rather important to get it right.

We had Open Door Night in Alpha, the dorm I live in, so there were a lot of meet&greets. There was a lot of "I like your room," "What's your name," "Where are you from?" small talk. Naturally, that's about as far as I can get before I make things uncomfortable. Upon walking into a guys' room (I can't even remember their names... maybe I've tried to block this out of my memory) I introduced myself and then said "Pretty plain room."

Pretty plain room? Maybe they had spent hours setting it up! Maybe they want to be interior decorators and I just crushed their dreams. Why did I HAVE to comment? Then I laughed uncomfortably and added "I mean, it's like... plain. I mean, it's nice! Just, you know, kinda bare. Like, there's not much stuff in here. It's simple. Not that you're simple or anything, it's just... hahahahhhahahaha bye!"

Oh. My. Gosh.

I felt like their judging stares could have broken my skull in twelve pieces. And I'll probably never speak to them again. I'll just be that really, really awkward girl who WOULDN'T SHUT UP. Maybe they already forgot, but that was what I left with them. Maybe if it had gone better, I would end up married to them years and years down the line (one of them, not both of them. I'm no polygamist. Or harlot.) but now I will NEVER KNOW.

Okay, so that last part was a little melodramatic, but still, I hope you see my point. First impressions can matter. Job interviews, for example. I've never gone through that, but I'm already kind of dreading the experience. My twin brother even commented once on how I change my voice when I talk to certain people, especially if they're professionals. I make myself sound younger, apparently. I have no idea why. I don't even notice it, but it needs to stop.

Anyway, back to things that I do notice.

I don't think Tasha and I would have become friends if it weren't for our third grade teacher, Mrs. Schroll. Tasha was a new student to Lake Tapps Elementary on the first day, and I was assigned to show her around. Neither of us were pleased. I looked over at Tasha and spotted her fake tie-dye nametag that she had colored on and she glanced at my plaid dress with fake leather straps, and... first impression? WEIRDO. I know that's also judging, but sometimes they go hand-in-hand with first impressions. Anyway, we ended up being friends. Best friends, actually. In fact, she is my longest lasting friend. But that may not have been the case if our teacher hadn't made us put our impressions aside and just genuinely talked.

Like I mentioned earlier, first impressions are a big part of college. There's this girl a couple doors down from me in my hall who I kept smiling at in the halls, and every time she looked at me, I thought she was glaring at me. I could not for the life of me figure it out. But now that I've been actually getting to know her, I realize that Michelle is one of the absolute friendliest people I've ever met and she's already becoming a good friend. Once again, though, we ARE in the same hall so there is time allowed for us to actually get to know each other. If we had just been passing each other by on the street, I would have just thought she had been glaring at me. Also, for all I know, maybe my smiles look like grimaces. I have no idea!

There's also this guy on my floor who I first thought was just a little too over-charismatic and loud. But the second time I talked to him, he was pretty chill. Maybe he had been nervous the first time and was trying to over-compensate. I know I do that a lot. Now I actually do want to have another conversation with him, because the second impression was much better than the first.

I guess I'm more of a second impression kind of girl. I think I leave a better second (or third, maybe seventh) impression on people than the first. So I'm going to definitely make sure I give other people the chance to leave a second impression on me as well. Especially here, where a lot of people don't seem exciting at first because it's just small talk for the most part. So try to give people a second chance to leave a better impression if you see them again (as long as they didn't completely freak you out initially). Maybe you'll be surprised at how different (and maybe better) they seem the next time.

Have any good stories about first impressions? Comment them :)

-Kim

Kimberlyn's first video blog.... Love it? Love us? Love me......

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PU30jXI4wGM

Yep. Kimberlyn's first Vlog :)

I hope you all enjoyed watching me talk to my computer. I would have shown you EVERYTHING in my apartment but it was hard with a laptop instead of a camera. You know? And the length of the video was super long so I had to cut it down and that was hard cause I am no where near pro at this.

Love you all and I hope you all have a safe and nice transition into your new homes (if you are moving).

-Berlyn

Do what I say. Now. Everything I say... Nowww!

He's hungry. I think I'll make him serve cereal. Come on, Dude, clean up your bowl. Come on. There you go. Put away the leftovers. Now go pee, your bladder is getting pretty low. Mmm... now go study mechanics. HEY! I said... GO STUDY MECHANICS! I don't care if you're not having fun, you need to be prepared in case the dishwasher breaks again!! Ugh, fine, watch TV for ten minutes, then study mechanics. Stupid.

Mmm... the power you have over a sim's character... You create somebody (or try to recreate somebody you know) and you get to tell them what to do!! And they usually do it! Sweeeeeeetness.

Imagine if real life was like your giant Sims game. Ctrl + Shift + C motherlode. You're rich! Control Sims' (people's) actions, and try again if you don't like the reaction...

In middle school, my friends and I would create a Sim family every time we had a new big crush on someone. If I liked Joe, I'd make a Sim family where we were married. Or, more often, I'd put me and my "love" together in a house as roomies and work super hard to make them fall for each other. And if there was a negative reaction to a flirt or kiss, then I would quit without saving. It was like it never happened.

Oh, how I wish real life could be like that sometimes. Where if something went wrong with a friendship or relationship of some sort, I could just quit without saving and all would be forgotten once I started again. I'd have another chance. Or two. Or five.

Haha, one thing with the Sims that I feel guilty about loving is the House of Terror. In ninth grade, Jaden and I decided to create a sim household of the people we disliked the most. I had two people in there and Jaden had three or four. We made them ugly and built a house with no doors and a tree in the middle. No bathroom, either. They peed themselves on the floor and slept in their own piss and were starving. It was sick. I remember feeling bad, and when Jaden left the room to get both of us a Pepsi, I did Ctrl + Shift + C "move_objects on" and moved one of the people I made to outside of the house and put a toilet, shower and fridge out there for them. When Jaden came back, she reminded me that those weren't real people and nobody was actually getting hurt - It was just a way to vent.

So we put a barbecue next to the tree, told one of them to grill hotdogs, and watched as the "house" burnt down. Remember, there were no doors. Tombstones appeared where the people had been.

See, if life was a giant Sims game, we would never have done that. But someone would.

Controlling people with a few clicks would not be a good idea. The sad thing is that some people CAN be as easily controlled as a Sims character set as low free will. But instead of an outside player telling them what to do, it's their boyfriend or girlfriend. Or parent. Or "friend." Or... something. They're told to do something, so they do it. They're told NOT to do something, so they don't. Even if it's ridiculous and should be THEIR decision.

He tells her not to wear that shirt. He doesn't want other guys looking at you. So you don't, to avoid a fight and to make him happy.

She tells you not to talk to other girls. Talking leads to flirting, which leads to cheating, she says. So you don't, because you're scared of her leaving you.

Bad situations to get caught in... There's no quitting without saving with those. But there still IS the option to quit. It's just harder than pressing a button.

Maybe all the easy options are why I enjoy the Sims so much. I like the simplicity of it all, of having an easy life. Of being able to take things back and how easy it is to make people make good decisions. I like that all my sim on Sims 3 has to do to be in a good mood is freak out or double check the stove.

-Kim

(sorry this ends kind of abruptly... ish... I like it, okay?! DEAL. NOW.)

Thank you for putting up with me....

Yesterday was quite possibly one of the worst days of my life.

It was so filled with stress. Upset. And pure, uncensored anger.

You can all try to guess what happened to make me feel this way. But I'm not going to explain to you what happened to cause the complete failure of this day (yes, I am exaggerating.) (exaggerating? exagerating? exagirating? ... I promised myself I wouldn't swear in this blog post so... Ah Firetruck it.....), I'm going to tell you what happened after everything went wrong.

I was laying on my temprepedic mattress cover, which was laying on the floor of the apartment surrounded by the supplies to make a bed frame, crying when my mother called.

Of course, seeing her name on the phone only pushed me into a greater fit of tears.

It was like she knew....

Before I had collapsed on the floor I had been crying on the floor as I desperatly tried to scrape paint off my laptop bag. And after that I tried pushed aside all my feeling

s and angrily started painting the wall. Arms throbbing, eyes swollen, and mind swirling... Axl took over painting and told me to lay down.

This is when she called.

I hadn't sent her a text. Or posted anything on facebook. She was probably calling because of something craigslist related.... It doesn't matter though. Because in the moment.... It felt like her Berlyn-senses were tingling and she had quickly reached over and picked up her phone (which normally (please get this reference) only rings when the mayor is in dyer need of her help) and called me.

I broke down.

But the thing I wanted to share with everyone was how my mom handled the situation.

Like any normal human being, at the sound of my sobbing, the first question she asked was:

"what's wrong?"

I don't know about all of you, but this question always makes me cry even more. So I started crying even more and whimpered: "Various things."

Now, this is where my mom is seperated from every other human being in the world. Unlike all of my friends (whom I love and DO help when I have these mental break downs) and any other human being (who do their best to help when they are the only one's who can help, even if they are a stranger) my mother allowed me to feel like it was okay to have a temper tantrum/ toddler break down.

She repeated my statement, "various things are wrong?"

"Yes."

"What happened."

I explained. I believe I started off with the word: "EVERYTHING"

... Which was a commonly used word when I had a bad day at school in the fourth grade.

I was crying a lot. I started off crying about the paint situation. She couldn't understand me so she had me had the phone to Axl who told her the situation on the paint and the wall and how much of the wall was left.

Then he handed the phone to me. I broke down again.

I took in a deep breath and then whispered, "Hello."

Really melodramatic.

I know.

To this, my mother laughed and said: "I love you."

We went on to talk about the paint that had not ended up on the wall. I mentioned my laptop bag through boughts of tears. To this she said:

"Paint got on your lap top bag?"

"Yes."

"The one with the cute kitties on it?"

"Yes."

"Oh no. That sucks."

"Nothing got on the kitties though."

"Well that's good... There are sites on the internet that give suggestions on how to get paint out. Why don't we try some of those?"

So she looked up all of these different suggestions and told me what to do, she even looked up a store that was in walking distance of the apartment so that I could fix everything.

She asked me if I wanted to come home.

And I said.

"No. I can't solve any of my problems there. They're all here."

And though I know she would like me to be home with her, I knew she was happy to hear me say that. That I didn't want to run from my problems. From that one bad day.

She didn't need to say anything for me to know she was proud of me.

After that, the day got significantly better. It wouldn't have ended as nicely as it did without my mom.

I guess what I am trying to get at is that without my mom, I would not be able to pick myself up whenever I fell down.

Sure, I cried and threw a fit and gave up and needed help. But afterward the help, I got up and made everything better.

My mom is the most significant factor in my life. But the rest of my family plays similar roles in making me a stronger person.

Think about it.

Without your mother, or father, or sisters, or brothers, would you be who you are today?

Probably not.

If you were raised by wolves you would be able to hunt prey, survive winter, and run on all fours. But if you were brought into civilization you would not be able to function socially because you were never taught how to get over boys (or girls), to do homework you didn't understand, to fix the holes in your favorite clothing. You would break down, and instead of getting back up... You would keep falling.

Read Brave New World.... It'll make sense.

I have friends who can't say "No" to peer pressure. I don't know why they cannot. Do they not look at their little siblings and think : one day they will want to be just like me... Do I want them to fall to the same addictions most teenagers do because I failed to simply say "no".

I have two little sisters.

I have done everything in my power to set a good example for them.

They are nine and seven.

They both love everything about me.

They like my music, they like my clothes, they like my hair, they like my youtube channels, and they like the television and I watch.

They like me. They would love to be anything similar to me one day.

And that is what I worked so hard to do.

I'm a good kid (in my opinion) and I hope they grow up to be good kids too.

So without my sisters I would not have much of a reason to be "good" or have a drive.

Even my brother leaves an impact on who I am.

When I was younger I did everything I could to protect him.

What do I mean?

I took on the neighborhood bully several times because he was a jerk to my brother.

I was much smaller than the neighborhood bully.

Now I speak my mind. No matter what.

Like on this blog.

Or in general.

I stand up for myself and the people I love. Because I used to do that for him all the time.

All my other family members. My cousins. Grandparents. Aunts. And Uncles. Have left marks too.

Making me who I am today.

Sure, friends help too.

But I wanted to bring attention to the people who put up with me twenty-four-seven.

The people who allow me to throw a tantrum. The people who colsole me the same way I console people (because I learned it from them).

My family is one of the most important parts of me.

And I love them.

So cry, throw a tantrum and let your mother, father, sisters, or brothers console you. You don't have to be strong anymore, let it go just once. Drink in the absolute, undying love for as long as you can. Because you only have so much time.

Thanks guys....

To my sisters and brother: I love you all more than you will ever really understand.

To my mom: Thank you for being my best friend and a great mother.

Oh god, I'm almost in tears.

-Berlyn

P.S. Kim, I think that we should have the ability once a year to take a personal day. Instead of writing the blog one saturday we should do something family related.

Just one.

So it means more than it usually would.

For example:

The blog will not be posted this week because Berlyn has decided to have a heartfelt conversation on the phone with her mother.

Or

The blog will not be posted this week because Kim is hanging out with Ryan.

You know?

Because maybe then we can encourage others to take the the time they would normally spend on our site to call up their mum or dad.

I think it's a good idea.....

P.P.S. I was thinking about doing a video for the blog my next saturday, what do you all think?

P.P.P.S. Sorry it's long again.

A little birdie told me... she's a harlot.

"Ronald loves his neighbor, Shelly! Pass it on!"

"Psst... Ronald loves his neighbor, Shelly! Pass it on!"

"Hey, Ronald loves his neighbor's jelly!"

"Uhh... Ronald's gloves are... at his neighbors... and smelly?"

"Erm, Ronald's gloves miss his neighbor's - what? Belly? That doesn't make any sense..."

Remember playing telephone? The game where you whispered a sentence from one person to the other and the kid on the end had to say it aloud? Things were often pretty different by the end...

The game was silly, but its message was not. Gossip and story telling tends to change with each person it reaches. Maybe the first couple people have it right, but news tends to twist after a while.

Hello, rumours and miscommunication.

Sometimes it's not so innocent, though. Oh, no. Some people (who do NOT make sense whatsoever to me) find some sort of sick joy in causing other people misery. Maybe you kissed a boy at a party and after some whispering and a certain amount of time, maybe a few weeks, it gets back to you that you slept with the guy. And not just him, turns out you've been pretty busy, if you catch my drift.

Skank.

But that's not true, is it? Somewhere in the grapevine, someone messed it up. And now you're the one who has to bare the consequences. Great.

In the childhood game of telephone, the mistakes just caused giggles. In real life, the results can be much, much worse. In place of laughter, there are tears, fights, maybe some revenge... and someone's likely to come out of it emotionally scarred as though a feline used their face as a scratching post.

That, my friends, is what I hated most about high school. I heard some utter rubbish about myself. I don't know if stuff got misinterpreted or if someone just originally made it up for some reason unknown to me. If the latter is the case, then that person or group is just as childish as the second grade girls playing telephone at recess.

When daydreaming, writing a story, or playing an innocent game of telephone, making changes to reality is perfectly acceptable (often encouraged, even), but when someone takes it upon themselves to spread lies (purposely vindictive or not) someone else can end up seriously, emotionally (or physically, if your rumours somehow involve the school thug. Or the mafia. Or me. Just kidding about that last part. Or am I?) hurt.

Not so okay...

I don't know when (or if, actually), in the process of living, learning and growing up, people finally learn that "don't tell anyone" actually means don't tell anyone. You confide in someone, and that person seems to think it's okay to tell just one other person, as long as they say "I'm not supposed to tell anyone, so please don't say anything..." But then THAT person tells JUST ONE MORE and so on... one gossip-filled domino knocking over another... and BAM! All of a sudden, you're a skank. Or a cheat. Or a liar, thief, inconsiderate ass, absolute maniac, etcetera.

Is sharing your secret or opinion to someone worth the risk of it getting out to more people, possibly in a jumbled form? Maybe it is. Maybe it's worth it to see who in our lives is trustworthy. It's just too bad that the outcome can sometimes be more severe than a few kids messing up a thought and turning it in to a nonsense sentence.

-Kimberly

For the record, Postsecret is a wonderful way to get your secrets out in to the world in an anonymous fashion, so you don't have to worry about it coming back to you and biting you in the bum. Or you could start a journal (as long as you have a top secret hiding place, of course). Or even email KimBerlyn at AwkwardConfessions@gmail.com. Your secrets are always safe with us.

Ten years ago....

So I'm moving to California.

I'm sure 98.5% of you were already aware of this but I felt the remaining percent (1.5%... Right?) also deserved the right to be fully informed. So there it is.

For those of you who have never moved or cleaned out your room, I think I should inform you now that it is not fun. You have to form five piles (no more, no less) in order to successfully get through this without committing suicide.

Pile One: Trash.Tiny pieces of plastic that have been laying around your room (maybe you forgot to pick it up one day or someone else dropped it or you placed it there hoping an infant or dog (that you don't like) may stumble upon it and choke to death), broken objects, ripped clothing, old make-up, and anything else you just could not part with before but now can't bare to look at.

Pile Two: Recycling
Paper. Cardboard.
Pile Three: Memories you can't take but can't part with.
Toys, old drawings, tests, report cards, pictures, and more.

Pile four: Give away.
Old clothes, toys, games, and other junk you no longer want but is still in good enough condition for others.

Pile five: Things you are going to take.
Nice clothes, a blanket perhaps, a few pictures and other stuff.
Anyways. For the past few weeks I have been slowly going through my room and creating these piles.... And in doing so I have found some things that I thought I should share with you. All of the following things were found under my desk, because apparently when I was little I thought it was important to keep ever single piece of paper NO MATTER WHAT WAS WRITTEN ON IT! And I stored all of those items under my desk because apparently there was no where else... Like I have said many times before, I. Am. A. Strange. Person.

Oh where to start.

I guess I'll start with My Friendship Memories Book.
Yes. You heard me correctly My Friendship Memories Book. It is a small book that someone must have gotten me along the way and I just never felt I could part with it.
Now, I only completed about three pages of this book but these three pages reveal so much about me as a young girl.

-Apparently I was 8 feet tall and 8 inches.
.....I had no idea I had shank so much in ten years.

- My least favorite subject was writing (or as I wrote it: riding).
..... And now I'm going to school to study to be a screenwriter.
- My favorite color was pink.
...... Now it's officially yellow. It was green but... I've moved on and hopefully green feels the same way.

- My least favorite month was September.
..... That's stupid. THAT'S WHEN MY BIRTHDAY IS. No one should hate September.

- And my least favorite chore was 'Mooing' or Mowing....... And I think I'm a bad spelled NOW, I was worse then awful back then.

That's pretty much all I got from the book.

Moving on.

I also found a note I wrote to myself about my life. I used to really hate my family and couldn't talk to anyone so I would write letters to a non-existant person (margaret). I think this was the last one. Good Riddens too... You probably all think I'm crazy now.

Again, moving on.
I found a work sheet titled How Much Do You Know? This work sheet asked sixth-grade-me what I thought about HIV and AIDS.
I wish this worksheet came with a packet of information because I would LOVE to know what my teachers were trying to convince me of back then.Why were they even talking to SIXTH graders about this...? They couldn't have waited till ninth grade when we watched a woman push a baby out of her vagina? Seriously?
Anyways....
I aced the worksheet. 10/10. Which is weird because half of the questions I answered "unsure".
However, the best part of this work sheet was the What's Your Opinion section.

There are three questions.
Three options (Agree, Disagree, and unsure).

One: People with HIV/AIDS should be kept away from others.Berlyn's answer: Agree.
Two: People with HIV/AIDS should be treated with respect.
Berlyn's Answer: Unsure.
Three: No one deserves to be sick.
Berlyn's Answer: Agree.
Now, I have to ask.
WHAT THE HELL WERE THESE PEOPLE TEACHING ME THAT MADE ME SO TERRIFIED OF HIV/AIDS THAT I JUST DID NOT WANT TO BE AROUND THEM ANYMORE.
Seriously.
Were they telling me that if I touched the people I would become infected? Were they making HIV/AIDS seem like it could just sneak out of the bushes and infect me?
Maybe I was just retarded. Who knows.

And finally.
I found the speech I wrote and read for fifth grade graduation.I have decided to type it out and share it with all of you. There were three topics. Past, present, and future. I chose present.
Here goes:

Do you remember when you graduated from kindergarten and you felt so good, you would smile for every picture and try to think of good ways to make your day even better? Once you got home you were bummed out because that special day was over. Then you would have to wait till sixth grade to graduate again. Now we don't get as much time at elementary school to stay with the teachers and the staff. Then after today's graduation you will think it as fun but inside you're sad because you leave all your younger friends behind and don't forget your teachers and staff and your past. You know you won't forget your past, but you also know your leaving it behind. You'll always remember your first days at school and the days you met your first friends. You'll try to think of your future and hope you do the 'one is silver and the other's gold trick' trick. If you do, how many friends will you have? Will you choose the right road? Will you do the right things? Will people bully you or will you bully other people? Will you be popular in the future? Ever since that kindergarten graduation you looked back to that day but remember today we're graduating from school, not fifth grade. Lets enjoy our special day. Happy Graduation.
Yeah.
There you go.
That was my Essay.
That I read in front of everyone.
In the fifth grade.
I guess I never noticed until I found this essay that I have a problem.
I have ALWAYS WORRIED ABOUT THE FUTURE MORE THAN THE NEXT PERSON.
I probably came out of the womb wondering when I what my cake was going to look like when I turned one... If I could have talked I would have described to my mother how worried I was that I wouldn't choose the right life choice.

Yeah, I have a problem.

Everytime someone asks me if I'm scared I answer:
"Yes, I mean what if I don't choose the right path?"
I wish I had written down all my memories in a book, this way I could have seen all of the thoughts I had on my life and the future rather that just tidbits of my mind.

I mean. All I have to tell me who I was when I was younger is my mom, these papers, and photographs.

Photographs like this one.

I found this under my desk as well.

It simply shows me, my brother and all my cousins.... They're all smiling. I'm holding a wooden stick and making a face.

Was I thinking that one day I would find this photo and wonder what I was thinking? Probably.

I found others too.

Like this one.

I was much younger in this photo but, well, aren't I adorable? Seriously? I don't know if I was thinking about the future the moments this photo was taken but it could be argued.

I wish I thought about the past as much as I did about what is to come.

I may have had a better relationship with my past and memories.

I wonder if I ever thought my hair would be as short as it is now or ever thought if I would ever desire to dye it blue. Maybe that was what I was thinking about while my mother pulled my hair into pigtails the morning before school.

Maybe I never thought about my hair at all.

Maybe I was spending that morning thinking about wether or not I would ever make friends who liked me for being weird rather than liking me only because I played the same sports as them.

I don't know. I can only tell you people who I was as a child based off of the things found under my desk.

I can only tell you who I was as the eight year old who wrote all of these papers and smiled in all of these pictures.

From what was left under my desk I was a disease-fearing, imaginary friend-writing, future-worrying, girly-girl who liked pink and hated "riding", who was adorable as heck and had shit-tons of curly hair.

But that is only what I can gather from what was underneath my desk.

In reality... Who was I as an eight-year-old?

I guess I'll never fully know.

Maybe I should begin focusing on who I will be as a TWENTY-eight-year-old.

Will my favorite color change? Will I still have the same aspirations? Will I still have some friends?

Will I look back at this blog and wonder what I was like as an eighteen-year-old?

Well regardless of what was or what will be.... I am happy about who I turned out to be.

Yep.

Well at least semi- satisfied.

Well.

I'm going to sleep.

I'm going to Hempfest tomorrow... Well today.... And I really don't want to be tired.

I'll start typing shorter blogs soon....

I promise.

-Berlyn

I need everything ever right this instant.

It's amazing. Magical. Spectacular. You need it. Everyone who owns it is gorgeous and extremely happy. If you buy it, you too will be gorgeous and extremely happy. Your life will be PERFECT. If you don't buy it, you will be an ugly loser. Upon owning it, everyone will light up when they see you and you will be greeted most extraordinarily. Go to the store and buy it NOW. NOWWWWW!!!!!

You don't even know what I'm talking about, but at least a little part of you is dying to go get it...

That, my friends, is the power of commercials and product placement.

Really, it happens all the time. You're watching the television and a commercial comes on, so chances are you will view the advertisement. You're in a car

and can't help but see billboards. Characters in your favorite sitcom have a fantastic time while drinking ice-cold Coca-Colas... yum, you want one... NOW.

Tasha is susceptible to Maybelline commercials in particular. One day, after viewing an advertisement of Maybelline's new Falsies Volume Express during the latest episode of The Secret Life of the American Teenager, Tasha said, "I need to stop buying mascaras because of the commericals... It's getting expensive and my eyelashes do NOT look like that."

(I later bought this mascara and excitedly texted Tasha to tell her. I actually really like it and my lashes look menacing... but I have huge eyelashes to begin with and they still don't look like the commerical promised.)

But now that I've mentioned Secret Life, let me explain about the HORRIBLE product placement that occurred during this terrible yet amazing show. There has been many "hidden" messages in the show to attempt to teach young viewers many things about morals and laws. But whatever, I love it.
Anyway, the Verizon logo has been shown on screen while characters relish their ability to send picture messages simply because they love Verizon... but I get that. It's a lot more subtle than the horrifying example Clean and Clear showed. Grace, a character who is very cute and Christian and used to be a cheerleader, was given a glorious gift by her mother who said something around the lines of "Oh, I went to the market today and picked this up for you, just in case you have a bad night and need a burst of energy in the morning." Out comes a Clean and Clean morning burst energizing weird object! Why could she not

have just been using it in the morning or something and commented on its ability to energize her? It was a terribly executed practice of product placement because it was dialogue. But...

It worked! I opened up my nineteenth birthday present from Tasha, and wrapped with a bath robe for my college dorm was the Clean and Clear Morning Burst Surge!

"YESSSSSSS!!"
Yeah, I was excited. That's actually quite the understatement...

Now I can be as pretty, peppy and popular as Grace Bowman. Score.

I've even seen a commercial making fun of commercials, and that commercial makes me want THEIR product because they REALIZE how ridiculous yet necessary advertisements are.

Kotex tampons. Yup. I really hope you have all seen the commercial. They're making fun of their OWN older commercials.

Perfect. I want them. Now. A year's worth. Now.

Why do I still not have them....

And that Verizon phone...

I don't even have Verizon...

I'm a T-Mobile customer...

I should put on my Falsies mascara...

after energizing with my Clean and Clear product...

and maybe drink a Diet Coke...

because then I'll be in a fun location with friendly people...

and sun

and happiness...

NOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Advertisement overload will be the death of me.

Unless stress is.

No, that won't be it, not if I constantly energize myself!

MUST. USE. PRODUCT.

Now...