**Attention all boys on LSU campus**

 That girl, in an oversized purple sparkling shirt with an absurd amount of kitties on it, you do not be afraid to approach her. She has not escaped the Insane Asylum or a wandering Mr F(shout out to my bro; it's an Arrested Development reference) she is in fact my sister. And no that limp is not from escaping the institution, it is in fact from jumping off her bed, landing in the trash bin and subsequently falling on her behind. Lets go with the escape story. sounds a tad bit more eccentric and daring. Now if you are having issues putting the image of a limping, tacky(that part isnt hard to imagine jk I love you) Averi let me help you with some visual aids

1. the shirt

the title- "ten kittens"

2. The bruise

3. The girl

So put those 3 together? That is my sister. The crazy girl who started a family group message today about the ugliest t-shirts on this planet, and it eventually evolving into group convo on if we went on a cruise, what shirts we'd wear on what days. Heck, I think my family is a few steps closer to beach vacation. She even persuaded me to get a shirt. Not one with a giant hairless cat( it looks like a brain growing whiskers) or a charging triceratops face, but a nice classy one with kittens. My mother scoffs at our futuristic style, but she'll come around as soon as she realizes she has given birth to some very fashion forward children. If this isnt what Emma Stone is wearing at her next premier, I give my word I will stop drinking diet coke for 16 hours. and those 16 hours are not hours I will be sleeping.( in case you thought I was making myself a loophole) I sincerely hope Cheyenne gets the giant octopus tee and Chris the kitten backpack shirt, wife beater fit. We'll be those tourists you just want to lock up to keep any shred of dignity american tourists have left, cause we will be THAT stereotypical. Oh I am excited.
this post is in honor of Averi, who kept badgering me about blogging specifically about her and subsequently giving me this gold mine of craziness that I have deemed 'BLOG WORTHY' (patent pending). So here you go Ave, enjoy this little post all about you, and if you keep the wacky coming, posts will follow. xoxo

Bingo Binging

*stands up*
"hello my name is haley and I am a Bingo-holic".
"Hi Haley."
"Well it all started as a joke ya know. No one was meant to get hurt. It was just supposed to be a one time thing. My friends Jack and Jennifer invited me to the bingo hall as a joke. We played a game, lost and that was the end of that. But what I didnt tell my friends is I went back 2 more times that week. I even took my family. And every time I went I'd lose and grew more frustrated becoming more and more upset my numbers were omitted. As if the number caller was purposefully omitting me. I went back to school, trying to think it just a fad, but not much later Jack and I went back. Twice. In ONE DAY. Every time a bingo computer would ding, my heart would sink, propelling me to get more emotionally invested in the game, thinking 'this time. this time It'll be different. It has to be.' which only led to more heart break. I have spent over $30 of my own dollars purely at the bingo hall, feeding the machine that keeps me sucked in with different color dobbers and bonanza packages. I know it's a game, but it feels like so much more than that." **sits down dabbing eyes with a mascara covered kleenex**
Okay so I probably havent reached the point for a 'bingo's anonymous' meeting, or some sort of How I Met Your Mother level intervention, but I feel that way sometimes.(dramatic sob) thanks to JACK I seem to have an unnatural obsession with going to the bingo hall. It's no posh place, and certainly not the safest form of entertainment. There are some serious gangsters in that hall. Not to mention all those crazy grandmas with rollers in there done up hair, judging you in a quick glance with those beady eyes. Luckily I sit in the non-smoking section, where there seems to be less threatening people. Possibly because no one in there is under 65 and dont sit in the smoking area cause they dont wish to get cancer or cough up a lung or two. Im just trying to kick that nasty habit for good this time.(just kidding mom)

I'm writing this post in honor of my friend Jack who has been bugging me to write this post since november, and through multiple drafts, an accidental delete, and pure procrastination I've fulfilled his wish. Only took 3 months. That's a personal best. You're very welcome Jack and I would appreciate if you'd acknowledge the 3 texts I sent you for input on this post. Or next time I'll make a post all about how you accidentally facetimed my dad.

I am currently "watching" (if you can even call it that) the Super Bowl and it just seems to be the Ravens beating the snot out of the 49ers. what name is that anyway. historic, but possibly the worst mascot. What is it? a sweaty, toothless gold rusher, chewing a wad of dip who is sifting river water? No thank you. I'd much rather have a bird on my shirt than Fred the 49er.
Ive run out of musings. WAAAIIITTT. Okay so if you didnt notice the complete reinvention of the Morris Memories *OMMGGG BEYONCE IS COMING* then you probably didnt notice the sky is blue or if you look at the sun it hurts. But what do I know. Maybe the total make over isnt very total.
Who'd of guessed Beyonce has a kid? not in that outift. And do you know what my father does with every celebrity that pops up the screen? He wikipedias them and proceeds to give me a detailed history of their heritage. Did you know her father is african American and her mother has creole ancestry? That probably makes her a prime candidate for this Super Bowl. Or she isnt getting paid to do the superbowl, because Pepsi pays her 50 million annually. according to Jim. My family is incapable of watching television a dissection. When my father reads a fact he is just so interested by, he laughs a wheezy laugh coming through a half grin, and you know he is about to sputter off facts for the next 10 minutes. I suppose you love your family no matter what... so I'll deal with it. That is my update this week. I always end my posts in an inferior way than I started. so to just be safe I just wont say goodb-

The Ranch-Peanut Butter Theory

I know I havent blogged since LAST YEAR and I realize that is so selfish of myself, depriving y'all from the all ready limited insights you get into my genius mind. I've been kind of busy lately. From my weeping over the series finale of Fringe( I watched it twice to make sure it was actually over) to crushing all 3 seasons of Arrested Development, recently acquiring 8 seasons of Friends and restarting Dr. Who with my friend Emily. Clearly I have been a social butterfly. Oh also I saw Les Miserables 3 whole times. Cried each time too. I keep meaning to make a post about my Bingo hall adventures with my friend Jack, but I just don't feel like it. If you are reading this jack, I'll write it one day, preferably the day I actually win something. Now its time for the reason I wrote this entire post in the first place. My theory. It is a valid theory, that makes a lot of sense if you just think about it. To my knowledge, it has a positive reaction to roughly 96.5% of all foods consumed by the average american.
Now I know you have a vague idea what the heck I am talking about, and now I shall elaborate on this little spurt of pure genius I had about a year ago. Any food that doesnt go with Ranch, will go with peanut butter.
Take a minute for that to digest. Process it through your mind. Now you are trying to come up with a food that breaks this rule, but they are hard to come by. My dad immediately retorted back "bananas" and then he remembered that bananas taste amazing with PB. My mom said "kiwi" and kiwi would probably taste disgusting with either choice, and so would any other more bizarre fruit or noodle dish. But for the most part, its either or. Pancakes? PB. Celery? psshhh both. Pizza? Ranch, duh. nuggets? ranch. Goldfish? either. oreos? PB, no question. Some foods might not need ranch, per say, but could definitely not taste inedible with it. I seriously think this theory should be studied and tested in some food lab at some university, and then published in a fancy food magazine. But that is just me. I thought you guys would like to know of my little theory, so you're welcome, and tell your friends. good night xoxox