I go by my initials.

I like ampersands and semicolons and libraries and notebooks and trains and bathtubs and photographs and Post-it notes and chin-ups and piggy backs and Saltines and skim milk and harmonicas and corduroys and steak and soup spoons and rain boots and headbands and sunglasses and tutus and, especially, knee socks.

My brother wants you to know that he was (ED: narrowly) victorious for the 10th straight year in our family’s annual field goal kicking competition.  He celebrated by taking this selfie, obviously. I’m not too upset, because I was crowned champion in the Ladies’ Division. 25 yards, baby. 

(that was a humble brag)

(I was the only lady in the competition)

My brother wants you to know that he was (ED: narrowly) victorious for the 10th straight year in our family’s annual field goal kicking competition. He celebrated by taking this selfie, obviously. I’m not too upset, because I was crowned champion in the Ladies’ Division. 25 yards, baby.

(that was a humble brag)

(I was the only lady in the competition)