We're Too Old For This Shit

You may wonder why it's taken us so long to get back to this blog, the one that has brought us such fame and fortune. (Soon, soon...) Well, we've been very busy - dating our hearts out, slaving to find material for you - YOU. And material have we found. Get ready.

We will start this blog post with the conversation starter we have received from numerous gentlemen (we use that term loosely) as of late:

"Hi."

And in keeping true to literary form, we will update you with tidbits of text messages we have received from various gentlemen over the last four months:

3:49 a.m. (after not having talked for six months) - "Hey, what up? Doing anything tonight?"

2:17 p.m. (after not having talked for ten months) - "I hope you're having a nice spring break. Hypothetically speaking, would you have hooked up with me had I asked?"

11:58 p.m. - "So what up? Out having fun tonight?" - "Hey, not out...in bed." - "Sounds like u need some compnay?!?!"

10:33 a.m. - "What color panties r u wearing?"

11:17 p.m. - "You're getting your Masters degree? Usually the girls I talk to are way dumber than me!" - "What do you do?" - "I just got out of jail."

Just so you know, we have some absolutely amazing material on deck, but we'd like to wait until the relationship falls completely through before we blog about it. It's going to be the best yet. Hang tight: this won't take long.

On another note, Spring Break 2011!!!!!!!!!!!

We decided to indulge our inner sorority girls (SPRING BREAK 2011!!!) and head to Key West for a week of fun in the sun. Some of us wore sun block, and others of us were lucky enough to find aloe:

After delivering emergency care, we headed to the Wannabe-Jersey-Shore-House: Fat Tuesday. Of course we bought the requisite obnoxious coozie: how else are we supposed to keep our Hurricanes cold?

Following that necessary pit-stop, we headed to another must-have of the trip: Rick's fountain. After all, we are a couple of classy ladies.

To complete the Duval Crawl, we hit up a popular place:

We came. We saw. We left. Interestingly, this happens to be one of our parents' favorite bars. Thankfully, they were not there...naked...sitting on bar stools.

P.S. In a fit of insanity, we signed up to run a marathon. 26.2 miles (but we're going to do 26.3). Stay tuned.

P.P.S. We'd like to give a shout-out to the #1 evil step-mommy dearest Gator fan: you know who you are, and we love you one million. (Just to clarify: this would not be the parent who frequents clothing-optional bars.)