Pink Babies

I realized the identity of Smelly Guy today. I was just sitting in class and he walked past me to his seat and his stench just hit me like a wall. And the grossest part is, he doesn't even sit directly beside me. He sits like three seats away from me. Gross. I feel bad about the poor people sitting beside him.

On a totally different note, I've decided to describe how awesomely literal I was as a small child. My practicality was showcased by my names for my dog, blanket, and stuffed animals.

I got my dog when I was one or two years old. She was a black labrador retriever, and I LOVED her. I played with her and played with her, and oh! the joy that was my dog. So what is a perfectly creative and intelligent little child to name her beloved dog? Girl. Yes, my dog's name was Girl. She was a girl, so no other name made more sense. Girl has since gone away to Puppy Dog Heaven, but she will always be remembered.

My childhood blanket was absolutely perfect. It was yellow and square, and not too big and not too little. It was perfect for holding at night when I went to sleep when I was a little girl. And, you know, um, well, maybe when I was like, uh, um, well eighteen years old, too. But anyways, what's a girl to call her beloved blanket? Yellow Blanket. Duh. It was a blanket, and it was yellow. It makes sense, okay.

So I think you might be catching onto the idea. Well, I'm about to throw you for a loop!

Not really.

I had three more stuffed animals that may or may not still reside in my room at my parents' house: Hard-face Pink Baby, Mushy-face Pink Baby, and Pink Bear. Guess what color they are! If you guessed pink, then you're a genius.

Hard-face Pink Baby and Mushy-face Pink Baby were once both the same. They had soft stuffed bodies and a soft stuffed head, but their faces were like a soft rubbery-plastic material. One day, my family went on vacation to somewhere. As we got out of our car at the hotel, I unknowingly dropped one of my pink babies onto the parking lot and walked off without it. That was one of the most traumatic nights of my young childhood. When I was a little girl I loved my pink babies more than I loved my life, I think.

Well, my parents were about sick of hearing me sob about my lost pink baby, so gave a last-ditch effort to rescue their precious baby's babydoll. They went to the front desk of the hotel, and that perfect lady at the desk told them she had found it the night before and took it home to her daughter or granddaughter (I can't remember which one, and at the time I did not care one bit. No one was gonna take my pink baby). Anyway, that blessed saint returned my doll to me the next day.

But the doll had been run over in the parking lot, and had tire treadmarks on her. And her face was mushy. Thus, the difference between Hard-face Pink Baby and Mushy-face Pink Baby. I secretly loved Mushy-face more than Hard-face, but I would have never told Hard-face that.

I also had Pink Bear, who may or may not have come to college with me my freshman year. But even though it may or may not have lived in my dorm room freshman year, it is important to remember that it was only freshman year. Just clarifying.