The Birth of a Proclaimed Coca-Cola Addict

So, in the average teenage girl’s life, the teenager is technologically savvy and she has to reluctantly educate her parents on navigating the internet, amongst numerous sighs and inner frustration. 

To begin, this is no average teenage girl’s life. My dad is more technologically savvy then I can ever hope to be. He told me about Facebook before I’d ever heard about it. When I joined the Facebook network, all I heard for the next week was “I told you so! I told you so!”. 

I like to think I’ve been raised a pretty level headed person, even though my dad has proved to be a bit more immature than me. We balance each other out. 

So… Who is me? Who am I? I am… a coca-cola addict, a warm-hearted, overly trusting girl easily distracted by the TV. I live in the city but I’m moving to the hill country (mostly because of my college) where I can’t wait to rest my little city-pampered butt in a tiny town with a couple of rocks and downtown smaller than the Memorial City Mall. Plunk a cowboy hat on my head and say, “Howdy y’all!” I listen, I absorb, I advise, I spew opinions, and I practice keeping my opinions to myself. Here, I’ve decided to bare my opinions and point out nifty things along the way.

Now, I’ve decided to pry into the blogging world and see what all this hype is about. I’ve seen articles in magazines, in newspapers, on websites, and talks on TV about social media. Doesn’t help that I’m working at a web marketing company where everything revolves around the internet and numerous people in the company have blogs of their own. I can’t escape from it. 

“If you can’t beat it, join it.”


Leave a Comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s