Check your facts, factchecker

Fact: I like hugs...to the point where I may be addicted to them. And if you're all "Hey, this girl needs help and I know of a hugging hotline," right now, then I demand you keep that number to yourself. Because if hugging's wrong, I don't want to be right.

My hugging has no limits and is also, apparently, accepted as tender in major cities across the U.S., namely Fargo, North Dakota. This weekend I hugged a bunch of people I don't know, including:

1. The two maintenance men at my apartment (pictured above). They cut down a pipe outside my door last minute on Friday, so that my new couch could fit in. Sadly, couch still wouldn't fit and had to be returned. But, hey, if I can't get one couch, I will gladly take two hugs to make up for it. Every cloud, I always say. Actually David Brent says that, but let's not focus on the details.

2. The glasses doctor at LensCrafters. Well he might not technically be a doctor, but he wearing a lab coat, so I'll give him the benefit of the doubt. (I realize this assumption is not only offensive to those who go to "doctor school," but that it could be problematic in the future, say Halloween time. We'll cross that bridge when we get to it.) Anyway, I bought a pair of sunglasses online and he adjusted them for me. And guess what, people - it was free of charge! "Well, not in my world, pseudo-doctor," I thought. He deserved something for that skill set, and that something was a hug. Sidenote: the little nose piece fell off later that day. I have to go back and get that fixed this week...and after that hug I may or may not be allowed back in the store, so if you know of another place that does that sort of thing - or appreciates hug payments - let me know.

3. Kyle, the manager at Forever21. Okay, I didn't really hug him. I tried to, though, because he helped me exchange a pair of jeans there. And if you've ever been to a Forever 21 you know that there's basically one size of each item in the store and none of them are by each other. It's basically a time warp when you walk through the door. All of a sudden you have no concept of time or space, everything looks like it could fit you cute (but doesn't), and you somehow every $7.80 shirt seems like it could have staying power in the world of fashion. At Forever 21, I needed Kyle and he really pulled through for me. He laughed at my and Kelly's bizarro jokes instead of trying to have us committed on the spot. He told the cashier to exchange my jeans, even though it's against the rules. And, I'll be honest, he was not bad looking one bit. So, Kyle. Thank you. And watch out. Because next time, my friend, you are not getting out of Good-deedsville scott free. You are getting hugged.

p.s. If the quote "Brothers don't shake hands, brothers gotta hug" has been ringing in your ears because of today's blog topic, then guess what? Me too. And for that, I want to basically hug the heck out of you.

p.p.s. I know you're totally like "Ew, cell phone pics. My eyes are burning due to poor quality. It feels like crushed up salt&vinegar chips are being dumped in my retinas through a tobasco funnel. Ouch, ouch." Well, I'm sorry. My highly skilled paparazzo were on vacay this weekend. Everyone deserves a break, you guys.