Sometimes, I am a moron. And by sometimes, I actually mean a lot. Like yesterday, for instance, a shining example of idiocy took place while I was working at the paper. Essentially, I committed the 6th grade faux-pas of talking about a cute boy while he was within hearing distance. And even though I am 21 years-old and I no longer wear leggings or bows in my hair, the 6th grader inside of me was still mortified. And blushing.