Tuesday, July 24

Carlye & Carly


I'm personally offended that I wasn't allowed to tag along with my boyfriend to this shoot, considering I'm dying to have the "OH, my name is ALSO Carlye!" conversation with CRJ that undoubtedly turns into best friendship within five minutes of giggling, but still, this song is my ringtone and I think that does enough to prove how obsessed I am with its summertimefeelgoodjammyjams.

(And, that its success can be distantly translated into an increased potential of a sushi dinner I don't have to pay for.)

I bet there's an eight-year-old watching somewhere thinking that adulthood consists of putting your mouth under a slushie spout and then hanging out with your friends in really cute clothes in the middle of the forest with no parents and having it commence in a dance party and s'mores instead of a small batch of poison ivy, your hair turning into a sweaty-frizz mess and a blanket of DEET surrounding your extremities.

That eight-year-old may in fact be me.

May.

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