When I see a peace sign, I automatically think Mercedes. TSM.

Being the pastor’s daughter. TSM.

It’s only a successful night out if you get a new prof pic out of it. TSM.

Turning off my phone before going to bed to avoid unwanted drunk texts. TSM.

Having a thing for alpha males. TSM.

Woke up with indentations on my neck and wrists from passing out in my pearls. TSM.

The only foreign thing that will ever get between my legs is my Warmblood German horse. TSM.

I use “boo boo” to refer to cuts, not men. TSM.

Pretending that you blacked out. TSM.

Always saying, “Excuse my mess” even though your room is spotless. TSM.

“Your belt is supposed to buckle, not your chair.” – Lucille Bluth, TSM.

The last two words I played on Words With Friends were “bake” and “latte.” TSM.

When I say club, “country” is implied. TSM.

GDIs are like summer…no class. TSM.

Win or lose, we still bake. TSM.

“Well, isn’t this quaint,” actually means, “this is GDI central.” TSM.

Don’t kid yourself, I wasn’t looking at you. I was looking at your car. TSM.

My colors are blush and bashful. TSM.

Credit cards and craft stores. TSM.

It’s all fun and games til someone gets fat. TSM.