First order of business: Cedar Point. Sebastian and I had a ton of fun on Thursday. The lines were surprisingly not atrocious; the longest we waited for a roller coaster the whole day was just over an hour. I rode the Top Thrill Dragster for the first time (in the front, no less!) and it was exhilarating times ten. It was sort of cloudy all day, so we weren't baking in the sun or anything, but conditions were less than ideal for the nasty water rides. While Sebastian is usually really mature and smart and interesting, there's this other side of him that's a hyperactive little boy. He gleefully dragged me onto a soaking wet raft ride, during which they attempt to make you as cold, wet and miserable as possible. "I am the greatest It's Complicated in the world," I told him, as a gallon of bug-infested urine/chlorine mixture was dumped on my head. "Yes," he agreed. "Yes, you are."
Something about shivering and having your clothes cling to you in every uncomfortable which-way just makes everything funnier, though. There were times that we had to get out of the way of walking traffic so we could double over and laugh. Also, we were marvelously amused by what must've been some kind of Ginger Convention going on that nobody'd warned us about. Sebastian and I had a competition throughout the day to count as many redheads as we could, and ended up with 174 total. I technically won, as we closed the official contest when I had 87 and he had 86, but Sebastian tried to tally one more as we were leaving. Either way, though, that is a LOT of gingers.
So Cedar Point is my excuse for the lack of blog on Thursday. I spent Friday and Saturday hanging out with friends like a normal eighteen-year-old. I PROMISED myself I would blog last night, and then I found myself singing Demi Lovato at a party with TOLauren (I'm going to start calling her Lor in my blog) at 12:15, and alas, it was too late. All in all, I've been having fun with graduation party season. Lor cheered me up from being relatively upset about a little bit of friend drama last night, and I'm not exactly over it... but I'll get into that tomorrow or something. I'm gonna leave now to go to my friend Kathleen's house for a Summer Solstice get-together. Goat sacrifices, tribal dances, the works.
But before I go, the conversation on the car ride home from church this morning. Oh my goodness. "You tell Justin Timberlake to go to hell," said my mother, the Sunday school teacher/Preschool director/social worker/perfect Christian church lady. "You don't let a boy be mean to you. Next time Justin Timberlake tries to talk to you, you tell him to go to hell!" Then my dad took one hand off the steering wheel to make a fist, and said, "You tell him I'LL bring sexyback." I don't know what the most mortifying part of this conversation was. 1) My mother damned my ex-boyfriend to hell. 2) My mother refers to my ex-boyfriend by the nickname I use for him in my blog. 3) My dad thinks "sexyback" can be used as a threat. And finally, 4) My dad knows who sings "Sexyback." Either way, Justin Timberlake, due to express instruction from my mother: GO TO HELL.
And on THAT note, ladies and gentlemen, I'm going to go have fun with a nice boy who's nice to me. :)
Chipotle burritos this year: 21
S'mores this summer: 2
Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. Frealz.
Lor took this picture of me on her snazzysexyartistgirl camera. (I don't know what it's called because I'm naive, but it's one of the kinds only awesome people have.) Anyway, I'm making a weird face, but my friends are incredible. <3