Hello, My Name is Charlie Sheen.

Our GPS is named Vicky. Well, technically, she's named Victoria, because she's a haughty bossy Brit. As if there's any other kind (except for Adele). When she makes us mad by recalculating, we call her Vicky. Like icky Vicky.

But for the most part, Victoria gets us to our destination just fine and dandy, without too many problems.

Btdubs, when I say us, I mean me and my parents. We all use Vicky, often on long trips that actually require her. I promise I'm not pulling a Perez Hilton and referring to myself in the plural.

Anyway, my grandparents only recently got a GPS. Before, they solely used maps. For reference, these are what driving maps look like:

These just don't make sense to me. They're so small, and it's a pain to try to find where you are when you're driving 85mph on a random ass highway in Louisiana. 

Apparently, though, when I was seven years old, I got me and my grandparents un-lost on our way to my Uncle Leroy's and Aunt Carrie Lee's. (Side story: half of my relatives call her Carrie and half call her Caralee because, well, Southerners clip words. So pretty much my entire life, I thought these were two separate women.) I'm not even sure I knew how to use a map, then. But my grandparents have told this story over and over.

I was just tired of them arguing (a show of affection between them) about whether we were supposed to turn right or left, and we were supposed to take the bridge 500 ft away NOT this bridge. My seven yr. old brain wanted peace and quiet to play my Gameboy Color. I just wanted to beat the 17th level of Tarzan, OK!?!

So I took matters into my own hands and ripped the map away from Nan. Then I somehow found where we were supposed to be and got lucky telling Papa left and right. Funny story, when I was seven, I still got my lefts and rights confused. Fortunately, I didn't realize the map was upside down so this was not a problem.

I looked like a genius, and I really had no idea what I was doing. I win.

You can call me Charlie Sheen now.

I Like Scaring the Eff Out of People

There are a few stores parents should never bring children into. These are not stores with power tools that could hurt the little mutants, because those power tools are the ish to any child. Girl or boy, it doesn't matter. Power tools are shiny and make loud noises. Crack for children.

No, the stores children should not be brought into are boring. There's nothing for kids to do. Victoria's Secret, Tuesday Morning, and Stein Mart are the top ones that come to mind.

When I was a child, my mum took me to Stein Mart a lot. I don't know why. Stein Mart's clothes are classy, sure, for an 80-year old. But there is absolutely nothing for kids to do, except hide in racks.

See, the wondiferous racks of Stein Mart are circular and have plenty of space for kids to fit in. So I would hide in the rack, wait for my mother to pick up a lovely blouse, and then grab out at her arm.

"Oh, this is pretty! I should go try it on," my mum would say.

Then she'd pick it up, and my arm would dart out to grab it like lightning.

Then my mother would be pissed because I scared her.

And then we'd leave Stein Mart and go get ice cream. My life was complete.

I've Got a Crush on You

When you're young, every thing seems brand new (often because it is new). When you're  young and have no idea about proper social protocol, things can get sticky very quickly.

Here's where I come in. You see, I had my first real-life crush in the third grade. I thought he was dreamy. And I wasn't aware you were supposed to keep those things to yourself. So, naturally, I told everyone. I may have even written a story where we were going to get married (in Disney World, because that's the greatest place in the WORLD to an 8 yr old. Who am I kidding? I want to be in Disney World now). Although I don't actually remember this. People (ahem, best friend BW) have told me over and over.

I would just like to say, though, that even if I declared my (puppy) love for my crush, it's not as though I could do anything about it. He didn't like me, so I pined, and eventually I got over it. Once I called his house to ask about homework (because we had so much homework in the third grade?), but I only called once. And I didn't know his address (and I only knew his neighborhood because we rode the same bus). So all of my words were just words. And my cookie money. Because women in love give mean crushes their cookie money. Oh well, I was chubs. I probably didn't need cookies anyway.

Anyway, because of my tendency to tell everyone about my crush (and probably embarrass the hell out of said crush), I was labelled the crazy girl for a while. Side story, this changed in the fifth grade where in the middle of class, this girl named Brittney got up on her desk and started singing and dancing. See, the things on "gLee" totally happen in real life!

But throughout high school, multiple people told me that said former crush and I were going to get married. Many different people over several years. Does that make me less crazy?

You may be asking what this has to do with the present? Well, you see, I have been thinking about crushes lately.

Actually, I was watching Sixteen Candles, and it reminded me of all the times over many years that I wrote out my crush's name in my notebook. And I know every girl does this. They told me so, and I've seen it with my own eyes.

I <3 Jake Ryan.

If I wrote my crush's name in my notebook now, would it be considered sketch? Where's the line drawn? At 10, it's cute as long as no one sees. At 20, it's creepy, and they send you to the asylum? Sorry, but ever since reading "The Yellow Wallpaper," I'm terrified of anything resembling a sanitarium. And you can't make me go.

And, secondly, would this sketchiness be applied to crushes on famous people? Obviously, I have a teensy crush on Drake (since I wrote a whole post explaining how we're supposed to get married). Best friend BW has a slight obsession with Jason Segel (and I'm convinced they're going to get married and have muppet babies). So when does the creep factor set in?

Is it when you send death threats to Esperanza Spalding because she won the Grammy you thought he should have won? For the record, I didn't do that. Although I did think Drake (obvs) or J.Biebs were going to win.

Justin's mad he didn't win. Tween girls everywhere revolt!

I actually don't know how to end this post, but I didn't want JB's face to be the last thing you saw, so I'm writing this. 

Tell me who your first (celebrity) crush was! Mine was Kurt Russell in Tombstone. I was very upset when I learned he wasn't really Wyatt Earp. Yeah, I was weird.

It Was Better When We Were Kids

Remember when we were kids anticipating Valentine's Day? We made those legit brown paper bags with glitter hearts all over them? Yeah, those were pretty spectacular. Although looking back, they probably looked like some thing a blind puppy could have made, or thrown up. Hey, I'm just trying to be honest here.

But we were SO READY for the wonderfulness that is St. Valentine's Day, and we went to the store the night before to scope out cards since we were forced to buy one for everyone. I always chose Harry Potter. 

Clearly I was under the impression that Draco Malfoy would come surprise me

 as my Valentine. Unfortunately, that only happened in my dreams. 

In addition to choosing our favorite movie cards (unless you were dumb and chose baseball Valentine's cards...seriously, who does that?!), we also all picked candy. Because, really, who wants to be the loser who doesn't bring candy? But the only thing worse than no candy were these:

Don't let the pretty colors and heart shapes fool you, these suckers (no pun intended) tasted like sugary ass. Maybe I was a gourmet candy taster at the ripe age of 8, but I could taste the Red Dye #40 in these as soon as they hit my tongue. But, of course, I was also a child. If there were no Nerds (the nectar of gods and Sheldon Cooper, I tell you!), these would provide the sugar comatose I needed to get me through multiplication and Mrs. Baker. And gym with my borderline pedophiliac gym teacher. (Last I heard, he was still there and dating a woman who could have actually been in my class, age-wise. I always knew he was a creeper!)

Even though I have upgraded my candy standards, I still find myself longing for the days of forced Valentine's Day card parties. Even though you wanted to gyp the mean girl with the stank face in the back of the classroom, you still gave her a "You're special" card. I think these are great lessons in life. You won't always get along with someone, but you can still give them a backhanded compliment and assface suckers.