In my spare time, I like to read the Internet. It’s true. And I’m almost finished. Since I waste my time so efficiently, I have discovered a few sites I LOVE. Add them to your Google Reader pronto.

• Hipster Puppies.* Hipster Puppies is genius. It’s like LOLCats for people who don’t match their clothes on purpose. L+L first introduced me to it on their blog, Quick + Dirty Dirty and now whenever I see a new post, I’m happier than an Indie Record store employee in SoHo. One of my faves:
  

  maggi and molli’s band spent more time shooting promo photos than writing music

  My dog as a Hipster Puppy:

  

  Shon is reading Atlas Shrugged for the third time this summer.

• I’m Remembering! Note: The exclamation is part of the blog title, although I am pretty excited about it. This blog, referred to me by Jami of Date Wrecks Fame, busts out the nostalgia in a BIG way and made me realize that my parents spoiled the crap out of me. Seriously, it’s amazing how much of this sh*t I had.
  

  Yep. Totally had this.

• Sporcle. I like to think of Sporcle as that thing that makes me not dumb. You know. Exercise your mind or whatever. Also, where else can you find a quiz that tests your knowledge of cowbell sections of songs? Amazing.
• Finally, here’s a big ol’ shout out to Lamebook. Because people are stupid and it’s fun to read about it.

It’s a little sad when your favorite go-to vacation activity is cheerleading stunts. Wait. Let me rephrase that: It’s a little sad when you’re not 16 year old girls. I fully expect such behavior from the Miley Cyrus faithful, but we’re talking about Gen-Y girls here…

Every year, a couple of my girlfriends head to Charleston to participate in the Cooper Bridge Run. Oh. Maybe we ARE athletes… We finish the race mainly to make up for the massive amounts of mimosas we imbibe every year afterwards. We also eat cupcakes. This year, we stayed at the Anchorage Inn in the historic district. Or the live version of the board game Clue. Whichever. This place is actually pretty cool. It has that historic charm, and they have evening sherry and wine and cheese hour to make you feel extra snooty. Or if you’re seriously immature and decide that doing cheerleading stunts in a room full of breakable items is far more fun than being a grown up… Anyway… Cheerleading stunt pictures originated there:

NK pauses from worrying about us breaking everything just in time for a pic. Such a pro, that girl!

Aaaand continued with the Destin trip in May. Surely we can move up to a half now, right? No. See, even with a former UCA instructor and two former cheerleading coaches, we couldn’t quite pull it off our stunt of choice. Sand doesn’t hurt, does it?

GA takes one for the team

Yeah. So after several unsuccessful attempts at putting KB up in a half, we settled for another thigh stand. We were a little ambitious…

Yeah. KB looks WAAAY excited.

Next trip is Myrtle Beach. Shall we start practicing our side hurdlers, NK?

It’s okay to bark at the mailman. He brings us bills. It is NOT okay to bark at the UPS man. He brings us shoes!

J is in New York right now and texted me this morning, “A lot of straw fedoras and rompers.” I have severe dislike for the rompers trend but I’m loving the straw fedora look. Although the combination of those are just as bad as skinny jeans on skinny men. Straw fedoras say to the world “Hey, who’s down for jamming out to Sinatra at the beach?” Yes, you can jam out to Sinatra. It’s been done.

You see, a couple weeks ago while I was in Destin, I decided I needed to own a straw fedora. So I bought one. And I rocked it.  My excuse was – “I’m on vacation, I’m allowed to dress like a hipster.” The very next week, I traveled to LA for a long weekend and decided, yet again, that it was okay to wear the hat. “I’m in LA, I’m allowed to dress like a hipster.”

Now I fear I have no excuse to wear my beloved hat. Especially in Atlanta, where the style is more conservative. Seriously the only people who wear straw hats here are old men. So I’ve decided to use my ability to strum a guitar and sing a tune on key as an excuse. “I’m a musician, I’m allowed to dress like a hipster.” Aaaannnnd fin.

I like to climb stuff. No one knows where this mysterious desire stemmed from, but it’s here to stay. Recent evidence? During my beach trip last week I had a brief stint in a tree pretending to be a monkey with J – which occurred either in Little Costa Rica or the Florida set of Lost. Not sure exactly but it definitely felt like a Velociraptor or a Polar Bear might jump out at any second . Of course, there’s also the infamous Sweetwater Tree Climbing Incident of ’09. Witness:

I want to climb that tree. Maybe that man will help me.

I see climbing trees all over the southeast. Charleston, Atlanta, Destin… they’re everywhere. I find myself saying “that there is a good climbing tree” a lot. Like I’m freaking Huck Finn or something. I’ve always identified with his rebellious nature and his barefoot raft building skills.

A couple of years ago, my friend Kurt, aka Kmonkey, nicknamed my friend, Vicki, “Vmonkey” and me “Jmonkeypants”- why I’m the only monkey wearing pants is beyond my comprehension. I’m not sure why we decided to be monkeys, but the name sure fits me. It’s not always roses and daffodils when you climb trees, though. Back during a college camping trip, I imbibed several ML’s (that’s Miller Lites to you common folks) and ended up in a tree somewhere in the Shenandoah Valley drinking several more ML’s. A couple days later, I was at the University Health Center with what turned out to be poison ivy. Oops. Careful when you’re Old-World-Monkeying around, kids.

J doing his best impression of a dude who wears Ed Hardy.

Here’s the story: some rando-douche was doing push-ups on his boat. It was all very “which way to the gym?”  He was basically giving everyone free admission to the gun show. Anyway, he kept doing this in between sipping muscle milk I can only assume. People were definitely staring at him or confirming the existence of tribal tattoos on his biceps. I’m also fairly certain that he was wearing Ed Hardy swim trunks because unfortunately they make those and he MAY have been sporting a puka (aka puke-a) necklace. J found this all obnoxious as we all did and instructed me to get on his back. Making fun of him was grand. Look at me! I can do pushups with my girlfriend on my back! He did approximately 4 pushups before his arms atrophied. I should really lay off the cheesecake. We certainly had to document this digitally so he banged out one more. He’s so awesome. Didn’t even need muscle milk.

So a couple weeks ago I went to the 30 Seconds to Mars concert. I’m not going to lie, it was mainly to see Jared Leto in all his hotness. I’ve been crushing on JL since My So-Called Life and I’ll admit – I’m still a little angry with Claire Danes for being a selfish whore and leaving the show before they could even do a second season.  He’s just so awesome – and apparently good at everything – acting, singing, writing music, being hot – much to my boyfriend J’s dismay. He’s a little jealous.

The hottest a guy can look with a pink mohawk

Swoon.

At the concert, I learned a couple things. 1) JL loves to spin and  2) He loves to drop f-bombs. Seriously, the kid loves to f*cking spin. Also, being a vegan makes you super skinny. He’s still hot, though. Those eyes of his melt my soul and make me feel all gooey inside and apparently make me say stupid crap I’d normally never say – melt my soul? really? I’ve been rather obsessed with him since the concert – not that I wasn’t before -  but I’ve been thinking about him more often as of late.  I’ve also taken up spinning. Witness:

Spinning a la JL

At any rate, I had a dream about him a couple nights ago. Jared wanted to me to kiss him but there was a problem. Being the fabulously amazing girlfriend I am, I couldn’t help but think of J’s feelings.  Even though Jared is on my “5 celebs I can make out with & J cannot get mad” list (and I’m fairly certain J would make out with Marisa Miller if given the chance),  I was torn in my dream and I ended up turning Jared down. Wait…what!?

I told J about this and he told me that I should have made out with that “skinny Vegan Jack of all trades.” Now that I have his blessing… is it bedtime yet?