Wednesday, May 20, 2015

36 Things I Love More (Or Am Better At) Than Apartment-Hunting...

I went to White Rock Lake this afternoon with hopes of being productive by getting out of the house and securing a newer, more stable place to live and prosper. Now that I'm 25-years-old and all, and need it by this Saturday and all. Typical Mallory fashion when it comes to personal real estate matters... and believing for a second I'd ignore the ducks, and unsolved mysteries being held captive by the murky Dallas waters, and seriously-deep considerations of kayak rental every other minute...

Long story short, I didn't go kayaking. But... I was inspired to create these therapeutic lists of the things I love more than, and was blessed with more skill in, than apartment hunting! And as I'm sure you predicted, this didn't lead to an abode with mine nor Oprah's name attached but instead to me letting go and letting God Nan Hendrix, professional (and obvi productive) apartment locator. So, yay! Let's make #SnapsForNan a thing so that #MalloryUnderStemmons does not become one! 


1. Writing
2. Compression Socks
3. Fleetwood Mac
4. Aquaphor
5. Sharpie UltraFine Print Marker
6. The Weather Channel
7. Dugg Burger
8. Lemon bars
9. Gritty crime documentaries
10. Sarcasm
11. Ramona Singer GIFs
12. Saying, "Yes."
13. Kenny G
14. Fried chicken
15. April weather in Texas
16. The idea of Vermont
17. My co-workers
18. Flying (and obviously in compression socks)
19. Watching ducks at White Rock (or Lakeside)
20. Life as a Taurus
21. Accumulating Tom Thumb points
22. All things film
23. Witnessing, but not being involved in, awkward situations
24. Puns
25. Swarm app & it's SVU-like safety prevention purposes
26. Oprah the Betta fish
27. Meeting new spirit animals
29. My easily-inspired brain's ability to envision 2,240,284 sketch scenes a day
30. My right arm muscle
31. Italian food
32. Instagram pictures of my friends' pets
33. Human beings
34. Funny human beings
35. The man I just witnessed watch his 15 fishing lines ignorantly mounted on the bank a mere 10 ft. from the only kayak rental section on all 9 miles of White Rock slowly be torn down, and by a drifting, middle-aged, bearded, ginger man with the nautical sporting skill-level of a cat, just floating aimlessly back to the kayak shore, crushing the dreams of White Rock's very own Forrest Gump... 
36. Satire.