First of all, I would just like to say thank you to all of my faithful followers for being so patient! The past week, and the past weekend in particular, have been exceedingly hectic due to visiting relatives, the SATs, and my big brother’s graduation (congrats to the Class of 2012!). Yet, the bucket listing commenced.
I can attest to the fact that growing up in a household with two brothers, a father, and an ex-military mother has contributed to my less-feminine tendencies. Don’t let the baking and sappy reading selection fool you, I am just as excited about cars, kill-death ratios, and Texas Hold ‘Em. In fact, my male friends actually outnumber my female friends. That is why a few months ago, in the spirit of testosterone, I wanted to eat at the “delightfully tacky, yet unrefined” establishment otherwise known as Hooters. I shared this interest with my friend Brian, and our plans in-the-making finally became realized with my newly implemented license.
Anyone who has heard of Hooters knows it is famous for two things: the waitresses and the wings. Although Brian went for the waitresses, I went for the wings and the overall experience. My inner foodie wanted to try the best they had to offer, which meant one of everything… well, each of their famous sauces anyway. Therefore, we split our order of boneless chicken wings into five levels of heat: mild, medium, hot, 3 mile island, and 911. I’ve always had a high tolerance for spicy foods, but the 911 flavor wasn’t even fit to grace the same plate as a jalapeño. Although I was slightly surprised by the subdued version of fiery gusto, I was by no means disappointed, as the food was delicious, the waitress was nice (but not too nice), and I was able to catch up with a friend that was a huge part of my junior year. I wish we had more pictures, but alas, we were whisked away from our dinner by the impending doom I faced the next day… the SAT.
After five hours of being subjected to the grueling protocol associated with standardized testing, the next item on my agenda was my brother’s graduation. After a nice little ceremony and a nice little dinner, we came back to our house to devour a nice little cake. It was during this post-commencement celebration that I took it upon myself to give the graduate a nice little surprise… a silly string assault. Although it was a one-ended fight, I think it’s safe to say that number five is off the list… and I’m sorry for shooting silly string in your mouth, big brother.
Love & Summer,