like more than a friend.

week 11
story tiiiiiiime. so, as you may or may not know, i grew up in michiana (a classy place named after classy radio personalities who didn’t feel like taking five extra seconds to distinguish between michigan and northern indiana during weekly broadcasts). basically, it was a REALLY small town and a REALLY big deal when friday’s, chili’s, AND barnes & noble all opened up at the exact same time on top of neighboring cornfields in the middle of mishawaka (another classy place named after a native american princess who got stabbed in the boob). wow, wikipedia. just. wow. aaaaanyway, when the time came for my older sister to consider her part-time high school job options, she wisely choose books and newspapers over lukewarm queso and suspender flair. 5 years later, i was more than happy to cash in on the nepotism and opted for the same. let the record reflect, i LOVED working at barnes & noble. the in-store cafe was 50% off, i made a KILLING during christmas (#jewishhhh), and they paid me to wear the six flags clifford couture.

yes, kids.
mama was a staaaaaar.

  • Sad to say but I chose lukewarm queso and suspender flair.

    As for Clifford the Big Red Dog, I quote Louis CK:

    “I hate Clifford the Big Red Dog. I hate him. There are fifty books about Clifford the Big Red Dog. There are seven books about Narnia that cover the birth and death of a nation, and mice with swords, and a lion who is a god. They did it in seven books. FIFTY BOOKS about Clifford the Big Red Dog, and they all tell the exact same story: ‘Look how big this dog is.'”

  • I remember you being Clifford and giving you a big hug and all the kids were jealous. And then you (almost?) walked into a bookshelf. I don’t think those costumes had eyeholes in a place where one’s eyes were naturally supposed to be located.