I could feel the beads of sweat forming at the base of my hairline. I tried my hardest to subtly dab the evidence of my beginning stages of heat stroke with the sleeves of my cute light-pink sweater that I was wearing in 80-degree weather.
I didn’t want to submit to the rational thought of removing my article of autumn attire. It was now September, and in my head, that meant it was fall. Therefore, I had to jump head first into the shallow end of all the fall-like things.
I didn’t realize that admiring the season of autumn was a “basic chick” thing until the marketing genius at Starbucks headquarters made it socially acceptable to only consume pumpkin-flavored food and drink for three months out of the year. Read the rest of this page »