Because you have to type my name in order for the email to reach me in the first place...

...it doesn't make sense when you start your email with the following:

Dear Sharon,
Hello, Ms. Hutchinson,
Mrs. Sharon Huchingson,

None of those are my name, which I have to believe you know, because the email address to which you sent your message is my first and last name, spelled correctly.

I mean, it's not a big deal. I just don't know anyone named Sharon that I really love, and I don't want to be associated with that.


Strong dislike.


Ok, I actually don't dislike this guy...but I don't really like him...it's a neutral.


Oh man, I actually like her a good amount.


Google-ing Sharon was the worst idea...I really like this one!!

Oh man. That whole argument is totally rescinded. Sharon is fine. Just don't call me Hutchinson.

I like it when giraffes say things that I say.

This cat video needs to stop it...

...because I love it so much.



Thanks to my Loma Blogger Ally B for making my life so much better with this.

Parents are liars.

I mean, not all of them. Or maybe all of them are. It's hard to tell, right, because they're lies?
But no...definitely not all of them.

Anyway. Yesterday, I had a conversation with a mom who pretended to be a student. This isn't the first time, which is mildly depressing, but it's one of the worst. Here's how the conversation went:

Me: Admissions, this is Shannon (actually, probably more like Admisisisannon...I think, after eleven hundred thousand phone answers, it's slurred a little).
Her: Hello, my name is Kevin, and I'm a high school junior. I'm calling with several questions about ROTC.
Me: Ok...Kevin...what can I tell you?
Her: Well I'm very academically gifted, and I always have been. I'm interested in pursuing the biological sciences eventually, but I'm more interested in the military at the moment. My parents think that I should pursue my education first, but I'm unsure. What advice can you offer?
Me: Well..........Kevin...(boring advice given).

At this point, I transferred her to our ROTC advising counselor for more advice, of course, but really, to get a second opinion as to whether or not this was actually a high schooler named Kevin. Here's what Chip said, via G-chat.

chippitkin: no way!!!

Thanks Chip.

Things to NOT do if you're going to call a college pretending to be your child:

1. That. Just don't do that. Never call a college pretending to be your child. It should FEEL too embarrassing, but if for some reason it doesn't, I'm telling you: it is embarrassing. Don't.
2. Say things like this "My parents think that I should pursue my education first, but I'm unsure."
3. Brag about yourself just like your mom does when she's talking about you to the neighbor.
4. Pretend to be your son, Kevin, as a mom, OR
4. Name your daughter Kevin (if it's Kevan or Kehvighn or something, I'm gonna freak out)
5. Speak with a voice that sounds like it's coming out of this body:


All are dead give aways.

It's not worth it. Kevan/Kehvighn/Kevin now looks like an idiot, even if s/he doesn't know you called.

The Cosmopolitan of Las Vegas is the Cosmopolitan of My Heart

I don't even know what that title means. Oh yes, here's what it means:

I love Las Vegas.

I would go every weekend if I could. It's not at all about being crazy or parties or any of that...it's just the perfect vacation spot. I love any vacation where you get there, and never have to get into a car to get anywhere. That's why I love Las Vegas...everything is RIGHT THERE. You check in, you're there. It doesn't even matter where you want "there" to be...you're there. Eating, dancing, people-watching, spa-ing, shopping, games, naps, pools, sunshine, art...everything is a short walk away. Also, I love any vacation where there is no concept of time. Also Las Vegas. I know they're strategic about hiding the clocks so you never leave, and I love it. You can sleep until 11, eat at 2, go to the pool at 4 and dance until 2...then do it all over again.

Las Vegas + Shannon = True Love.

For the past six years, some of the greatest friends ever and I have trekked to our Mecca (does it count as sacrilege if it's not my religion?) in Spring/Summer for what started as vacation, and now serves as reunion (as some of us have moved...I'm being nice in being vague, because it sure as hell wasn't me). We stay in different places on the Strip every year...until next year (until forever)...because we found our home. I don't ever want to stay anywhere other than The Cosmopolitan.

I'm actually creating a will (overdue?) and requesting that my ashes be spread there.

Here are a few (I think it might be many, actually, because in looking back on this, I went from three pictures to a lot) of the reasons this place is absolutely perfect (for us, but maybe not really for people into spelunking or anime or breeding cattle).

I'll start with what's most important. After that, they're in no partic order.

Food:

We ate at three (four?) different restaurants in the hotel, and they were all amazing. I especially loved DOCG (I don't know...don't ask), where our server was really creepy, but in a delightful way.
But by far the best food was at The Wicked Spoon, The Cosmo's answer to a buffet.

So wicked.
I love it like I love Las Vegas (circular? Likely.), and I love Las Vegas like I love to love.

You can't find three happier girls. Actually, you can, but it's us, because we get happier and happier as the pictures progressed.




That was actually a series of eleven photos. You're welcome for the editing.

Delicious everything--our agreed upon fav was the polenta, and my favs included the mashers, the greens/roasted tomato salad, and the pot roast. It actually made me wonder if I'd ever had pot roast before. ALSO...just as good as the actual food quality...the actual food...it was pre-portioned! Instead of getting a spoon of mashers, you got a tiiiiny pot of mashers. Instead of a piece of fried chicken (I initially typo'd "friend chicken"..."Hello chicken, my friend"), you got a tiiiiny fryer basket of chicken. Ummmmazing. And it was so good. Really seemed to remedy the nasty buffet food waste problem, but I imagine the dishwashers are suicidal.


Food...you are so adorable.

Sparkle:

Don't be intimidated if you aren't into the sparkle...it wasn't too over the top (yes it was and that's why I loved it). Listen...I'm also into making pizza in sweats and a t-shirt from the 80s on Tuesday. But in Las Vegas, there is no room for those things. It's about being completely over the top. That's why I can only go for three (seven) days. The Cosmo was the best of all of that. There is a three story chandelier with a bar in it. COME. ON. It was like being not in reality all of the time.

View from the floor.


My fav picture, I think...it's from the third story of the chandelier, looking up.


Soooo (not) over the top (for Vegas)


They are RADIATING SPARKLE.


We're tired slash happy....but we're all of that IN A CHANDELIER. CAPS.



Emphasis on shoes:

My life has a strong shoe emphasis. Of the material goods I love: food, then my iPod, then shoes. I'm not CRAZY about shoes or anything...I just love them, and think about them a lot, and choose carefully those in which I invest. Stop it...that's totally normal. But, (as I may have mentioned) since The Cosmo was created based on the thoughts that float around my mind, they too had a clear love of shoes, as displayed in their abundant shoe art.

This is literally perfect. Shoe. Cake. Not in that order.


Choco-shoe. I would like to wear it.


This made me think that the friend shoes were chasing after the worn shoes because they wanted to be worn. It makes a lot of sense. I'm pretty sure that's what the photographer was going for too.


A shoe I could sleep in. I wouldn't though. That's ridiculous.

These pieces of fine art provided nearly-divine inspiration for my own shoe art, and I chose to document our trip based on my shoes.

These were night one...they were excellent Barge dancing shoes.


Day two...pool day. These are the same jellies I had when I was five...but different...because of the fact that I'm not five.



Night two. Perfect for running around and stabbing people in the temple.


Zipper on zipper...night three.


Late late tv time. Perfect. Cousin is so green!

The casino floor:

Two words, plus one indefinite pronoun: ALL top shelf.

In the rough.


Ok, so I'm not really a gambler. I mean, I really try sometimes, but it's pre-he-hetty low key. I never gamble my rent money or child support or anything. But we managed to get ten dollars in free play, so I put my fake money into this slot called Kitty Glitter, only so I could take a picture for Mindy, who loves kitties (not like me) and glitter (also not like me....aaahhh I'm only keeedding!!!), but in a twist of fate, my free ten dollars turned into fifty real dollars!!! It was my most successful gamble ever. Look at the shock/delight in the crazy eyes.

I didn't go back. I know when to fold 'em.

Music:

The Cosmo prides itself on being "independent," and showcases that by having an unusually amazing line up of up-and-coming music. So weird for Vegas, and so perfect for me. We happened to be there when Marina and the Diamonds were there too. What??? Excited. We missed Robyn by days and Mumford and Sons by a thousand dollars. But Marina...she was free. Please enjoy what is possibly the lowest possible quality video available.


Dear Cosmopolitan,

I love you.

With love,

Shannon D. Cosmopolitan

Ohhhhh it's sssoooo happy!!!

http://idolator.com/5819802/long-lost-sun-remix-owl-city-alligator-sky

Things about Facebook that are annoying lately.

Don't worry...I'm not going to post anyone's actual posts here. No one is on blast (I have a super vague understanding of what that actually means). But know that I didn't make any of these up (except the one about Nickelback, but it was all to make a point, so it's cool).

THING NUMBER ONE
"Not" is "not" back.

So far, I think this is contained to my Midwest friends. Please stop posting things like this:
"Wow, this weekend I lost my wallet...so awesome...not!", or
"102 degrees...it's so nice outside today. NOT!", or
"Nickelback is such an awesome band. Not."

I get it. You're being sarcastic. We all get it. But pointing it out takes away any chance of it being humorous. You might as well post "102 degrees...it's so nice outside today...but I don't really mean that, because it's too hot for it to be nice, so I really meant what I first said it in a sarcastic way. Did you get it? You guys?"
In fact, I'd rather you just say that next time.

THING NUMBER TWO
Facebook isn't about proving how many uncredited references you understand before anyone else.

Status update: "Early morning, April 4...shot rings out in the Memphis sky..."
First comment: "In the name of love."

Status update: "Fish are friends."
First comment: "Not food!!!!!"

Status update: "You and me could write a bad romance..."
First comment: "OMG LADY GAGA! SHE IS THE BEST!!!!!"

There are two reasons that the first commenters feel the need to leave these comments.
First, they think that the status poster had half of a random pop culture thought, but just couldn't remember the other half, or remembered something, but couldn't figure out the reference. In this case, the commenter must assume that the updater thought that the best way to address this knowledge gap would be to post the half they remember on Facebook, with no question, in hopes that someone out there would see the unfinished status, assume that it meant that they were looking for information, and that instead of Google, they turned to an assortment of friends, elementary school connections, coworkers, friends' moms and relatives to clear things up for them, without actually being explicitly asked to do so.
Second, the commenter believes that the updater issued a secret, implied Facebook challenge, and the commenter wants to W!I!N!, so s/he responds immediately to let everyone else know that s/he knows from where said reference originates. Congratulations, ass. You won.

I hate both of these reason. Stop it, commenter. We get it...you know the reference. 100 points and my eternal respect.
Not.

THING NUMBER THREE
Serious business doesn't belong on Facebook (...but if you put it there, I reserve the right to be entertained by it.)

I almost didn't even write this, because I'm not-so-secretly wildly entertained by these posts, but because that's probably wrong (on a scale of hell worthy wrong to wrong, I think it's like an 18, but still), I want to put it out there. Facebook isn't the place for...

"I'm so broke...thinking about bankruptcy. :("
"It's 4 a.m. and he's still not home...he doesn't deserve me...but I can't leave..."
"It sucks when you want to rely on someone you thought was a friend, but they let you down. I can't rely on anyone...I'm all alone in the world...none of you guys are there for me when I need you. This sucks."
"Bad news on the mommy front...baby and I both have a rash from breast-feeding, his mouth, my nipple...ouch!"

I'm not one to use a lot of the "OMG," but OMG. OMG. OMG. OMG. OMG.

Please stop posting these things on Facebook. I don't feel like this should have to be explicit, but Facebook isn't the place for personal things that may or may not be appropriate to tell your mother. I get it if you need some support, but call someone...call me...I'm happy to talk it out with you ("Wow...I don't know a lot about bankruptcy, but I recommend you contact an attorney...not through Facebook..."). But don't post it for your grandma, boss and best friend from third grade to see. Someone is going to post something insensitive, or forward the post to all of their coworkers with "?!??!??!!" as the subject, or tell whoever you're no longer close to but still want to impress aaaall about it.

I mean this times a thousand if you're talking about any kind of nipple rash.

No photo.

Let's keep Facebook full of furtive photos of people's weird clothes and haircuts, hilarious things your kids say, and generally positive sentiments about your hometown.