**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

The Midterm Spoon

The legend of the River Oaks Midterm Spoon dates all the way back to 8:15 this morning. It is rumored the original owner of the spoon just found it, lying on a table in the middle of the library. This young woman was a beautiful sophomore with a niche for deceit. So when questioned about said spoon, she immediately conjured up a story about how she carried the nasty wooden utensil around all during midterm season for good fortune. Her equally cunning friends played along with this tale up until she requested someone kiss it for good luck, but stopped them because she hadnt the slightest idea where the spoon had been. (you're welcome).
    So obviously some of this stories elements are fabricated. for example. The table we  the young woman found it on was more towards the front of the library and she knew the spoon was from the teachers lounge, but it still looked nasty. confession: I am the beautiful sophomore. PLOT TWIST. I know I know. You wouldnt have guessed that in a million years. But now the midterm spoon is a real thing, because my dear friend Sweet Caroline tattooed "MIDTERM SPOON" on it, and I don't think the teachers would want it back in that condition. From now on, it will be passed on, Caroline to me, me to Claire, Claire to unknown person and on and on. It will survive everything to bring us hope and luck during the most dreaded week of the year. "Haley! Don't you have a chemistry exam tomorrow? Your most dreaded class? What are you doing on your blog stupid?" Well I have an answer for you! I have given up hope in that class for 2012. I got a 92 in that class for the 9 weeks. A 92. That is a B. I might as well just fail it because that is the most disappointing grade I've ever received. I wonder if even Burger King would give me a job with that disappointment. doubt it. I'm going to drop out and become a vagrant. Okay rant over. I just wanted to be my dramatic self. I'm going to crush this exam that Feldie warned we'd all fail except 1 genius student. I'll be the unseen variable, the curveball if you will. I just wanted to relay the tale of the spoon when I thought it was still funny. Off to the land of chemistry and spanish until the SERIES FINALE of Gossip Girl. That is my main priority of the day.
                      XOXO ladies!

word of the day: Hornswoggle

Hornswoggle. Verb: To bamboozle. two words that dont sound real. Just a little tid bit of info for ya. you're very very welcome.
     Yeah I really am dreaming of a white Christmas. It was 72 degrees yesterday. But by some miracle it dropped to 40 today! What I'd do for snow. And I can read your mind right now. "Why is she talking about the weather? I can read that on my phone. We deserve an explanation of her absence! I wonder if she fell into a diabetic coma during Thanksgiving or her brain melted because she watched too much Netflix. Maybe she's in jail because she became addicted to bingo..." Surprisingly none of that has kept me away from the blog. The blog itself was reason enough. See, during Thanksgiving break, we hit a rough patch. I wrote the perfect post. The recap of a week of bingoing, retirement parties, more bingo and all over cherished comedic family moments wrapped up in a blog post. Well my blogger decided it was unable to handle such amazingness, it deleted itself. It was a tragedy. Almost like a national disaster and I've spent the last few weeks picking up the wreckage. Okay that's a tad on the dramatic side. Me and the blog had a falling out, and then school showed up and was a little attention hog. It spends 7 hours with me and on most days follows me home. So I spent the day with Chemistry(who is a total life ruiner by the way. I would stay away from that one if I were you, nothing but trouble) but I set aside a little time to be with my dear blog.
         These past few weeks have been hectic, as they are every year. Teachers say, "3 weeks before midterm? pssshhhh all the time in the world." But now there is 4 full days of school left and they start freaking out. squeezing in grades, realizing spending days in class to discuss postcards isnt the best use of time.  "well we arent as far as I'd like us to be... So I guess I'll assign parts in the book to ride and thursday and that will be on the midterm as well.'' That my friends is what I like to call flawed logic. Another large contributor to my long blog hiatus is my obsession with the television series Fringe. Best show I've ever seen. Better than Greys Anatomy, Revenge, Vamp Diaries and Gossip Girl combined. that is saying something if you know me. I watched it on my kindle and I kid you not, I was at midseason 3 at the beginning of Thanksgiving Break and by that sunday I was caught up to live tv, Season 5. There are these characters called Observers that dont say anything, they just show up in random parts of episodes, staring. they always wear black suits and fedoras and our school librarian wore a suit and fedora to school one day. No lie, I just stared in shock, because I actually thought he was an observer. I really need to cut off my video streaming access before my brain turns into goo. Sorry I went off on that little tangent... I know this blog post didnt tell you about my Target goes Tory adventure, Christmas Caroling for the oldies, a cookie decorating party, going to the bingo hall with my bestie Jack and his grandma, or buying an indentured servant from the student council. I am going to have to do a throw back post one day. obviously not today. That isnt very Throwback... Ok I am going into a state of sleep delirium. Sweet dreams my darlings!

It was enchanting to meeeeeeeeet youuuuuuu

Today was a big improvement from last Tuesday. Remember that post about failing and all the depressing stuff? Well none of that now. Let's start from the morning shall we? I get to seminary, give a heartwarming devotional. Ok so not really I just read straight out of the EFY handbook. Thank the Lord for that thing. So in the middle of seminary, somehow in the middle of my intense focus on the lesson, my phone magically opens to twitter and breaks concentration. And there I see a trending topic about ACT scores. Y'all who havent seen me lately do not understand the apprehension I have felt the past 2 weeks on what my scores were. So immediately Patti, most likely curled up in bed, receives a text from a daughter in a silent panic saying " ACT RESULTS ARE IN. Please have them ready by the time I get home! OR ELSE. love ya."  that text was made up. But those words are more exciting than the one's I chose to send. I sprint to the car, heart beating, mind racing and my mother gives me the news, the information I have been craving, what has been keeping me up til the wee hours of the morning. (as I am writing this I am mentally playing a drumroll in my head). And my score was 25! I am very content with this grade and can relax, at least til I take it in the spring. I come to school with an extra spring in my step, actually smiling at Dr. Feldhaus because I understood the lesson. After school(no cheer!) my besties Caroline (aka Sweet Caroline at thetannehilltales.blogspot.com ), her younger sister Claire and I go shopping for the perfect LSU Game outfit. Their family is so nice and invited me to go with them. Caroline though, she's supporting the rebels, and I dont want to sit too close to her, as I dont want to be ostracized by family members or ridiculed by strangers. After mama carol the magical cute clothes finder picks out 16 different tops for me, I enter the dressing room, almost drowning in a sea of purple and gold. I model each one, and have a tough time picking the best, as I look good in all of them, thanks to her flawless taste. I pick a cute purple top and next thing I know, we're jamming out to t-swift (hence the name of the post, my favorite song) and then go to Orange leaf. So apparently something you're not supposed to do when getting frozen yogurt is to mix mint chocolate, cheesecake, Redvelvet, eggnog and mango into one. But I thought it was delicious. I guess I am just a visionary. And that concludes the exciting adventure I had unless chemistry and spanish notes excite you. NO? its ok! y'all will get plenty of updates on the LSU game and the Twilight premiere only being 2 days away. Time for Covert Affairs! mwah!

What if the Pizza man is an undercover cop?

This weekend was quite an interesting one. I did a few service projects, helped the needy, separated Sweet Potatoes, SKYFALL(More on that later) and watched some Gilmore Girls. But this post is all about The CUTEST little boys in the world that I have the privilege to Babysit. Dixon, Cutler and Cyrus. I know I know I have mentioned them before, but I didn't tell you some hilarious stories about them. I'll start with Cyrus. Hopefully you'll find these stories as humorous as I do, but I probably won't do them any justice.

1. This past week I babysat all three boys and had to give them baths. As I was giving the other boys baths Cyrus was just roaming around the bathroom, in and out leaving a path of destruction, as usual. I was just trying to shampoo Cutler's hair and watch Dixon, cause he kept pretending to drown, which he just found hilarious. and I did not. Right as I lifted Dixons head up from the water making sure his lungs didnt fill up with water, I realize Cyrus has been rather quiet since he started rummaging around in the sink cabinet. I turn around to find him perfectly fine, just aimlessly walking. EXCEPT for a little something he had in in his mouth. With closer examination, I realize with horror what it was. A tampon. He found it under the sink and thought it a good chew toy. And the little rascal would not give the darn thing up. I eventually wrestled it out of his hands and promptly threw it away. Thinking back on it, that is hilarious. But when it happened, I was mortified and prayed his brothers didn't start asking to play with one.

2. The Tuft's grandparents own a gorgeous house on the Ouchita River, and every spring it floods up their back yard. The little boys just love making up stories about it. If I do recall correctly, Dixon wrestled an alligator to submission in there. Anyhoo, their mother gave them permission to play near the river as long as Averi or I supervised. So there are the munchkins, acting allllll innocent as if they didnt mean for that giant mud ball to land on my shirt. Cutler was just goofing around in the water, in just a pull up. Well he sits right down in the mud and digs hit bootie in the squishy earth real good. Pretty soon, after wading in the water, his pull up starts sagging more and more. Next thing I know, the thing is down around his ankles and he is trying to keep it up with all his might. But then, 'POP!' the expanded huggie pops open. Let me tell you. The one thing I hope you do not see in your life is an exploded pull up full of muddy river water. I quickly deposit it in the trash, before he gets the genius idea of tasting the little beady majigs inside. So with that problem resolved, he goes right back swimming all John Quincy Adams. Which is to say buck naked.

3. Lastly, as a fun night with the girls, the Tuft's left Averi and I money to order a pizza for the boys. They of course start freaking out and decide to take a bath in Mamice's(grandma's) jet bathtub. Well after a 45 minute dip that included a bubble santa beard and a lot of splashing like a whale, they get out. But there is one little setback. They refuse to put on Pajamas. They just started lounging around the house in a towel. We try to reason with them. "Y'all dont want to be naked when the pizza man comes, right?"
WRONG. Right then they hatch an evil scheme. "Let's answer the door completely naked when the pizza man comes!!!!" We really should have seen that one coming. They come up with different scenarios of his reaction, having fun, until they dream up this one. What if the pizzaman was a cop? What if the sole purpose of his job was to deliver pizza's and arrest little boys that come to the door naked and send them to jail? Then they start their freak out. What if he sends them to a dungeon? We promise he won't arrest them, but for some reason the idea of jail still doesnt give them incentive to put on clothes. DING DONG. "Oh my goodness the pizza man is here!! What do we do??" Poor Dixon was on the verge of tears. Averi calmly explains she'll answer the door fully clothed and they don't have to come out. Well Cutler decides to wrap a towel (partially) around himself and answer the door with us. The pizza man was very kind and did not arrest them. He even denied being a cop when Dixon yelled it from the other room. Let's just say he got a pretty decent tip for being so chill about the glimpses of little boy butt around the house.