Yup, I'm THAT girl...

The above statement could apply to a myriad of things. Today these include but are not limited to:

-The girl who started a new job

-The girl who watched about 80 episodes of Friends this weekend during the Nick @ Nite marathon (Team Chandler, all the way)

-The girl who's little sister gave the most incredible farewell talk yesterday

-The girl who met the REAL Luna Lovegood tonight at IHOP in Centerville (you think I'm exaggerating? Not this time).

-The girl that most definitely did not sleep long enough this weekend

-The girl who made stellar cinnamon rolls for her little sister's farewell breakfast (I'm seriously fantastic. You should bribe me to make them sometime. If you're a cute boy, you just have to smile pretty and ask me out and I'll make them)

None of these things are actually what I was thinking about when I wrote the title of this post. 

Let me set the stage. 

Tonight Sara the Theatre Fairy, the Fantastic Charisse, and I made the trek up to Centerville to see "Little Women". A night of theatre combined with hanging out with two of my favorite people? Thank you, Monday. I'll take that. Anyway, back to the point. As with any show, there were some fairly attractive young gentlemen whom I was given the pleasurable task of watching on stage for a few hours. You wanna know what else didn't hurt? They were required to sing. I KNOW. Do you see that puddle on the floor at Centerpoint? Yeah. That's me. I'm writing this using a combination of telepathy and a sonic screwdriver that I borrowed from The Doctor. (Partially because I bawled my eyes out when Beth died. We all forgot tissues and I've never been more grateful for the fact that I wore a black long sleeved t-shirt). Pretty boys who sing? Yes, please. Another benefit of having completely awesomely, fantastical friends? They know EVERYONE. Including darling boys who's voices make my head involuntarily to one side. After the show, we're very casually hanging out in the lobby, just far enough away from the cast so as not to appear creepy (coughSuperfancough) but close enough so that said cute boys could see my big deal friends. That's what happens when you're short and not a theatre person. No one sees you. This is why you have tall friends. Anyway, I'm rambling again. You're reading this and wondering when I'm going to get to the point, aren't you? As well you should be. The point is this: I'm still THAT girl. The one who has a hard time putting together completely sentences when there's a moderately attractive guy around. What happened is this: Fantastic Charisse brings Super Cute Guy  over to talk to our completely awesome little group and instead of answering the question asked me by another friend ("Where do you work?") with the appropriate answer ("The grad admissions office at the business school at the U") it came out more like "Blergity blah mah shshshshshsh" and Sara the Theatre Fairy had to save me by providing the actual answer. She assures me that I didn't sound that ridiculous, but she wasn't in my head and it was all pretty much mush. Mostly because I could hear Fantastic Charisse whispering things about me to Super Cute Boy ("She works for the U business school and she's getting ready to start her masters in history") while he's kinda trying to break into the conversation. So yes. I'm still that girl who is twelve on the inside and can't form a coherent thought around anyone who has all the cookies.

If all else fails, at least I'm entertaining.

And they say I can't act.