i took a little trip back to Hometown to visit the fam & BFF before the holidays.
naturally i spent almost the entire 6 days in transit to/from or inside of, a Target store.
note: there are Target stores in The City.
like, a bunch of them.
i spent, oh idk, about nine-hundred-thousand dollars on unnecessary stationary, stickers, makeup, new clothes, shoes, stamps, gift wrap & tons of other things i can't even remember
#shopperprobz
#vacay
new years resolution:
have some goddamn moderation in 2014
Monday, December 23, 2013
Sunday, December 22, 2013
friends forever
best friends really are the best thing in life
so much laughing
so much eating
so much drinking
so much saying weird things
so much doing weird things
and by 'doing weird things' i mean i just scored a free nail polish because i sniffed my BFF's rancid barefeet for more than 5 seconds without barfing.
those were the terms of the agreement.
'sniff my feet for more than 5 seconds without barfing, & you can have a free nail polish from me. any color'
i chose an Essie shade. had to make it count.
Thursday, November 21, 2013
baby statuses : a guide to online posting
it's been all about the engagement/bridal/wedding/ pregnancy/baby/birthday announcements lately. they've been barfing up all over my newsfeed on facebook, instagram & twitter. clogging it up like a medieval toilet. i've been told, its just that time of the year.
uhhh pardon me?
no. it is not a season. giving up single-hood, entering parent-hood or celebrating your son's first birthday is not a season. there are only 4 seasons and they are related to the position of the sun and the moon. unless there's some weird sex trend where you only do-it during certain months.
idk, is that a thing?
i've just hit that time of my life. a season of life, maybe. i'm 26 years old & now i have to start hanging out with 19-year-olds if i want to be out past 10 pm on a saturday. or if i want to binge drink in a park, ever.
all of my other friends are:
a.) on a date with their fiance
b.) have to get up early for a dress fitting
c.) need to rest their swollen ankles
d.) or have to give up booze & sushi for 9 months.
9 whole months?
i'll adopt.
if you feel like i'm targeting you & your current lifestyle, well.
it's because i am.
sorry sister!
A Guide to Posting Baby Statuses
by: Your Single, Non-parent Friend
1. do not post a picture of something you put between your legs, then peed on. then stared at, motionless, for exactly 3 minutes. and then took a picture of with your iPhone, and then uploaded, captioned & posted without washing your hands. you sicko.
2. the new 3D ultrasounds make your unborn child look like an alien. we're already taking bets on who's deranged genetics will dominate their facial features. sorry. but do not make this your new profile picture.
3. the posting about morning sickness. has. got. to. stop. seriously. oh it's Wednesday and you threw up this morning? sweet me too. you don't see me blabbing about it. no one likes to hear about vomiting when they log onto social media, after successfully enjoying their own breakfast.
be courteous to others, New Mommy.
4. you know that completely peaceful, warm moment you experience in the instant riiiiight before you wake? well how would you like it if your dorky dad flipped on the light and started snapping pictures of you first thing in the morning? huh? and then what if he posted them on the internet for his friends to look at while you're still covered in a thick womby-mucous. give your kid some privacy, you creep. one measly minute into this world and the poor thing is already being gawked at butt-naked.
talk about violating.
now if you'll please excuse me.
it's thursday & i'm thirsty.
uhhh pardon me?
no. it is not a season. giving up single-hood, entering parent-hood or celebrating your son's first birthday is not a season. there are only 4 seasons and they are related to the position of the sun and the moon. unless there's some weird sex trend where you only do-it during certain months.
idk, is that a thing?
i've just hit that time of my life. a season of life, maybe. i'm 26 years old & now i have to start hanging out with 19-year-olds if i want to be out past 10 pm on a saturday. or if i want to binge drink in a park, ever.
all of my other friends are:
a.) on a date with their fiance
b.) have to get up early for a dress fitting
c.) need to rest their swollen ankles
d.) or have to give up booze & sushi for 9 months.
9 whole months?
i'll adopt.
if you feel like i'm targeting you & your current lifestyle, well.
it's because i am.
sorry sister!
A Guide to Posting Baby Statuses
by: Your Single, Non-parent Friend
1. do not post a picture of something you put between your legs, then peed on. then stared at, motionless, for exactly 3 minutes. and then took a picture of with your iPhone, and then uploaded, captioned & posted without washing your hands. you sicko.
2. the new 3D ultrasounds make your unborn child look like an alien. we're already taking bets on who's deranged genetics will dominate their facial features. sorry. but do not make this your new profile picture.
3. the posting about morning sickness. has. got. to. stop. seriously. oh it's Wednesday and you threw up this morning? sweet me too. you don't see me blabbing about it. no one likes to hear about vomiting when they log onto social media, after successfully enjoying their own breakfast.
be courteous to others, New Mommy.
4. you know that completely peaceful, warm moment you experience in the instant riiiiight before you wake? well how would you like it if your dorky dad flipped on the light and started snapping pictures of you first thing in the morning? huh? and then what if he posted them on the internet for his friends to look at while you're still covered in a thick womby-mucous. give your kid some privacy, you creep. one measly minute into this world and the poor thing is already being gawked at butt-naked.
talk about violating.
now if you'll please excuse me.
it's thursday & i'm thirsty.
Saturday, October 26, 2013
alone time
this morning i had several hours, and the apartment all to myself
i'd like to say i threw a massive party & invited all my friends over for girl time,
but i didn't.
it was 9am.
they were hung over.
& so was i.
it was only a stage 1 hangover though.
not the kind where you're pretty sure you think you might die before the day is over.
i was thirsty & had a headache.
barely a hangover at all i guess.
Stage 1.
i spent my time cleaning.
i know, i knowwww.
i cleaned the bathroom.
sick.
i did laundry.
i washed the dishes.
cleared off the table.
swept.
changed the sheets.
you know...domesticated stuff.
i love a clean apartment.
i also love being able to fart as loud as i want.
& as often as i want.
is it not completely liberating when you don't have to squeeze your buttcheeks together as tight as possible to avoid farting around your boyfriend?
it is.
& this is how i spend my me time.
farting and cleaning.
it's been a productive Saturday morning.
Sunday, October 6, 2013
the happiest hour
my work had a company happy hour at some restraunt some place.
and it was open bar.
so you know how this story ends.
by the time 4:30 rolled around i had consumed 5 too many beers in one hour.
it was the happiest hour.
remember those beloved fitness classes i joined?
the expensive ones?
well i was too drunk to go to the gym.
so i went to a different bar.
then ate pizza.
i felt sick but didn't barf on anything.
#areyoudisappointed?
the end.
and it was open bar.
so you know how this story ends.
by the time 4:30 rolled around i had consumed 5 too many beers in one hour.
it was the happiest hour.
remember those beloved fitness classes i joined?
the expensive ones?
well i was too drunk to go to the gym.
so i went to a different bar.
then ate pizza.
i felt sick but didn't barf on anything.
#areyoudisappointed?
the end.
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
for the ladies
this is for all the women out there who spent all of their time learning how to be fabulous and not enough time learning how to feed themselves.
or their families.
or their families.
well this book is for you. it's a kitchen book for girls who think they can't cook.
#brilliant
take a look. order a copy. make a donation. share it with your friends. like the facebook page. follow it on twitter. whatever. support this idea!
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
happy 26th
celebrating your 26th birthday at your favorite bar with all your friends is so so so fun...
...until you get home & you do that really cute thing where you go to the bathroom and clog the toilet and barf all over the rug at the same time.
and then you realize its pizza barf.
and the rug is white.
and new.
#ruined
then you panic because your boyfriend is home.
then you panic because the plunger isn't working.
then you remember that you're trashed.
& then you remember that you don't have time for this shit.
literally.
so you leave the bathroom as-is.
aka a stage 5 biohazard.
and you go to bed.
and your drunk-self says to you,
it'll all get sorted out in the morning.
you wake up.
your bathroom is covered in pizza-vomit.
it is clear that nothing was sorted out while you were asleep.
you are able to plunge the toilet enough times that all the yucky brown water dissipates.
this is your favorite trick.
you throw the rug in the wash.
after one cycle it is stained orange.
four cycles later - the stains are out.
the boyfriend wakes up.
he is none the wiser.
#relationshipsaved
...until you get home & you do that really cute thing where you go to the bathroom and clog the toilet and barf all over the rug at the same time.
and then you realize its pizza barf.
and the rug is white.
and new.
#ruined
then you panic because your boyfriend is home.
then you panic because the plunger isn't working.
then you remember that you're trashed.
& then you remember that you don't have time for this shit.
literally.
so you leave the bathroom as-is.
aka a stage 5 biohazard.
and you go to bed.
and your drunk-self says to you,
it'll all get sorted out in the morning.
you wake up.
your bathroom is covered in pizza-vomit.
it is clear that nothing was sorted out while you were asleep.
you are able to plunge the toilet enough times that all the yucky brown water dissipates.
this is your favorite trick.
you throw the rug in the wash.
after one cycle it is stained orange.
four cycles later - the stains are out.
the boyfriend wakes up.
he is none the wiser.
#relationshipsaved
Monday, September 23, 2013
lately
i've been known to compare this blog to a child. a baby. or a pet.
i now know that it is much more comparable to a house plant.
if you've ever owned a plant before, you know you can only neglect it until the point right before it begins to die. then water it a million times to bring it back to life.
rinse & repeat.
when this theory is applied to anything other than houseplants & blogs, it is considered abuse.
#nowyouknow
i now know that it is much more comparable to a house plant.
if you've ever owned a plant before, you know you can only neglect it until the point right before it begins to die. then water it a million times to bring it back to life.
rinse & repeat.
when this theory is applied to anything other than houseplants & blogs, it is considered abuse.
#nowyouknow
Thursday, August 15, 2013
progress
today marked my 23rd fitness class in 31 days.
for the record:
lifting gallons of milk no longer pulls my arm from its socket
pushups don't make me want to die
& arm jiggle? - think again.
this is the first gym membership that lasted through the honeymoon stage.
and best of all i've created healthy eating habits & maintained a realistic exercise plan to continue on this path.
sadly, maintained a realistic exercise plan sort of actually means, no more binge drinking or eating pizza late at night, which is a damn shame.
#collegedaysareover
but i gotta get that pre-engagement bod
and just so you know, i don't really obsess over fitness or calorie counting or engagements or binge drinking this much. it's just exciting that i'm starting to become not such a total weakling.
for the record:
lifting gallons of milk no longer pulls my arm from its socket
pushups don't make me want to die
& arm jiggle? - think again.
this is the first gym membership that lasted through the honeymoon stage.
and best of all i've created healthy eating habits & maintained a realistic exercise plan to continue on this path.
sadly, maintained a realistic exercise plan sort of actually means, no more binge drinking or eating pizza late at night, which is a damn shame.
#collegedaysareover
but i gotta get that pre-engagement bod
and just so you know, i don't really obsess over fitness or calorie counting or engagements or binge drinking this much. it's just exciting that i'm starting to become not such a total weakling.
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
Dear Abby
i received a panicked text the other morning:
how do you get skid marks out of lace underwear?
my friend wants to know.
given my expertise, there are several questions that immediately came to mind:
how large of a skid?
what color lace?
style of underwear?
color of skid?
length of time skid has been present?
for the record, if managed early the skid will not stain permanently.
i suggested to 'tell her friend' to stay calm & spray the skid with stain remover when she (or he?) got home.
typically these skids do not remain forever.
unless they're those pesky period skids.
in which case, just throw them away.
#girlperks
#butnotreally
i really should have been an advice columnist.
Sunday, August 11, 2013
false alarm #893
i walked through the door of the apartment:
the floor was swept
the dishes were washed
and put away
the counters were wiped
the trash was emptied
the table was set
the laundry was folded
the bed was made
and Mr. REA was beaming with pride.
notice anything different?
i scanned the room for that little velvety box
#delusional
they are velvety right?
usually black, or maybe dark blue, right?
just so that i'll know when i see it.
#whatstheholdup
Wednesday, August 7, 2013
and now for a misquote
when those fancy new dressers came in,
...i know what i heard.
we moved all our old clothes into them.
naturally.
naturally.
in classic Mr. REA fashion, he demanded to know why i'm hoarding so many pairs of huge underwear
helloooo FYI they are called boy shorts & they are extremely comfortable you jerk.
the only reason women wear underwear is to seduce and arouse men.
those are neither seducing nor arousing.
destroy them.
he will also claim he has been severely misquoted on this topic.
...i know what i heard.
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
no subject
let's take a break from all the crap & poop & poop & crap stories for just a sec.
---
okay people, the break is over.
it was short-lived, i know.
but i'm hard pressed to find another topic of interest right this very minute.
remember those fantastic fitness classes i started?
well the good news is - i'm still doing them!
the poop news is - i farted my way through an entire 55-minute workout today.
and yesterday.
thank the lord baby jesus for the circulating fans & high intensity music or someone would have been onto me.
i can't help what this new high-protein diet is doing to my system.
#fartprobz
#sowhatimgross
#realtalk
---
okay people, the break is over.
it was short-lived, i know.
but i'm hard pressed to find another topic of interest right this very minute.
remember those fantastic fitness classes i started?
well the good news is - i'm still doing them!
the poop news is - i farted my way through an entire 55-minute workout today.
and yesterday.
thank the lord baby jesus for the circulating fans & high intensity music or someone would have been onto me.
i can't help what this new high-protein diet is doing to my system.
#fartprobz
#sowhatimgross
#realtalk
Sunday, July 28, 2013
crappy cruise
three years ago i went on a cruise with my boyfriend-at-the-time
and i crapped my pants on the first day.
in the security line.
and i'm not even kidding.
it went like this:
we were waiting in line.
i felt something creep its way out of my b-hole.
i panicked.
all of the bathrooms were on the other side of the security gate.
i whispered to Gman:
i seriously just pooped myself.
yes. yes i absolutely did.
i know what i felt.
well. you already know who won that bet.
but then he reminded me that you're not really the winner if you're the one who shit your pants.
and i crapped my pants on the first day.
in the security line.
and i'm not even kidding.
it went like this:
we were waiting in line.
i felt something creep its way out of my b-hole.
i panicked.
all of the bathrooms were on the other side of the security gate.
i whispered to Gman:
i seriously just pooped myself.
what? no you didn't
yes. yes i absolutely did.
i know what i felt.
no you didn't.
i bet you $10 you didn't.
well. you already know who won that bet.
but then he reminded me that you're not really the winner if you're the one who shit your pants.
Thursday, July 25, 2013
solid advice
it is better to fart into a toilet
than crap into your pants
being someone who has crapped their pants more than once in the adult life, this advice truly hits home.
so thank you, Gman
for this kind reminder.
Happy Thursday everyone.
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
false alarm
i returned from a long voyage.
on my dresser there was a black cubed box.
Mr. REA sat quietly on the bed.
i walked into the bathroom.
i started sweating.
i convinced myself i was getting engaged.
because i swear to you,
i thought i was getting engaged.
i came out of the bathroom.
i grabbed the box.
i jumped up on the bed with Mr. REA.
oh look at that! how sweet,
i wonder what's inside??
i opened the box.
and it was a watch.
but i do actually love watches.
on my dresser there was a black cubed box.
Mr. REA sat quietly on the bed.
i walked into the bathroom.
i started sweating.
i convinced myself i was getting engaged.
because i swear to you,
i thought i was getting engaged.
i came out of the bathroom.
i grabbed the box.
i jumped up on the bed with Mr. REA.
oh look at that! how sweet,
i wonder what's inside??
i opened the box.
and it was a watch.
but i do actually love watches.
Friday, July 19, 2013
a friday feel-good
happy friday ya'll.
not usually too sappy around here at Single in The City, but every once in a while i have a strong connection to something and then all i want to do it talk about it.
over & over & over.
and i have to tell ya, this little man has tugged on my heart strings & boy did he win me over.
big time.
if you're looking for a good cause to support, this is it my friends.
this is it.
so take a minute to check out his incredible story & 'Like' his Facebook page:
https://www.facebook.com/MilesCobbSellai
or skip the binge drinking this weekend & make a donation to support his on-going therapy:
http://www.gofundme.com/miles-to-go
or buy a t-shirt!
we could be twins!
http://www.bonfirefunds.com/smiles-for-miles
if that doesn't leave you feeling good this friday, well then i just don't know what will.
sending you big smiles from Miles & promising to get back to sharing my embarrassing lifestyle on Monday.
not usually too sappy around here at Single in The City, but every once in a while i have a strong connection to something and then all i want to do it talk about it.
over & over & over.
and i have to tell ya, this little man has tugged on my heart strings & boy did he win me over.
big time.
if you're looking for a good cause to support, this is it my friends.
this is it.
so take a minute to check out his incredible story & 'Like' his Facebook page:
https://www.facebook.com/MilesCobbSellai
or skip the binge drinking this weekend & make a donation to support his on-going therapy:
http://www.gofundme.com/miles-to-go
or buy a t-shirt!
we could be twins!
http://www.bonfirefunds.com/smiles-for-miles
if that doesn't leave you feeling good this friday, well then i just don't know what will.
sending you big smiles from Miles & promising to get back to sharing my embarrassing lifestyle on Monday.
Thursday, July 18, 2013
fitness group - round II
remember when Mr. REA bought me that month's worth of hot yoga?
well. that lasted exactly one month.
it turns out, i don't actually like to reach body temperatures of over 98 degrees.
or uncontrollably drip sweat from every pore in my body while standing perfectly still.
wasn't really my thing, if you know what i mean.
i've been in a bit of a fitness funk lately.
haven't felt like going to the gym.
haven't felt like going for walks.
haven't felt like in-home-yoga dvds
haven't felt like much at all really.
bummer.
but don't you worry, i snapped out of that grey cloud & i'm back in the game.
i found a sweet little secret pilates-weights-cardio studio a few blocks from my apartment
& man am i in love.
...
but let's be real here.
the only reason i joined this new fancy expensive fitness group is so that when that juicy moment comes & Mr. REA finally proposes i will be in the best shape of my life.
i also plan on jumping up on him and kissing him all over his handsome face and i'd like to do so without shattering any of his vertebrae and/or accidentally killing him.
the instructors are amazing.
and beautiful.
and have perfect bodies.
the clients are basically lulu lemon models.
with perfect hair.
then there's me in my worn out old navy gear sweating my ass off to keep up.
and you gotta love the one pervert guy in the back who's really only there to flirt with the lulu lemons.
i don't have a good closing statement right now. too much protein powder today.
bye.
well. that lasted exactly one month.
it turns out, i don't actually like to reach body temperatures of over 98 degrees.
or uncontrollably drip sweat from every pore in my body while standing perfectly still.
wasn't really my thing, if you know what i mean.
i've been in a bit of a fitness funk lately.
haven't felt like going to the gym.
haven't felt like going for walks.
haven't felt like in-home-yoga dvds
haven't felt like much at all really.
bummer.
but don't you worry, i snapped out of that grey cloud & i'm back in the game.
i found a sweet little secret pilates-weights-cardio studio a few blocks from my apartment
& man am i in love.
...
but let's be real here.
the only reason i joined this new fancy expensive fitness group is so that when that juicy moment comes & Mr. REA finally proposes i will be in the best shape of my life.
i also plan on jumping up on him and kissing him all over his handsome face and i'd like to do so without shattering any of his vertebrae and/or accidentally killing him.
the instructors are amazing.
and beautiful.
and have perfect bodies.
the clients are basically lulu lemon models.
with perfect hair.
then there's me in my worn out old navy gear sweating my ass off to keep up.
and you gotta love the one pervert guy in the back who's really only there to flirt with the lulu lemons.
i don't have a good closing statement right now. too much protein powder today.
bye.
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
a short list & a shout out
it's like clockwork:
Mr. REA comes home
we eat dinner
Mr. REA says, i'm going to take a shower now
i start washing dishes
Mr. REA locks the door to the bathroom
and immediately i have to go #2.
bad.
and no, its not like, oh gee i think i might need to go to the bathroom...
its more like, dear god please hurry up in there i'm about to crap my pants and i'm not even kidding.
my apartment has one bathroom.
and in case you're wondering - we are not at that point in our relationship yet where one of us can be in the shower and the other one can be taking a dump 12 inches away. i'd actually like for us to never reach that level.
ever ever ever.
i contemplate where else i could go #2.
the answer is no where else.
i stop washing dishes
i sit motionless for 25 minutes
he comes out.
then it's a quick peck on the cheek & i'm on my way to work.
and by work i mean business
and by business i mean poop.
obviously.
and you better believe this has had its influence my list of fears:
3. bear attack
2. shark attack
1. taking a crap outside to avoid shitting my pants
-- oh and shout out to my baby brother. if you see him around say happy birthday. he's tall & has sort-of-blondish sort-of-brownish hair but its real short. love you bro --
Mr. REA comes home
we eat dinner
Mr. REA says, i'm going to take a shower now
i start washing dishes
Mr. REA locks the door to the bathroom
and immediately i have to go #2.
bad.
and no, its not like, oh gee i think i might need to go to the bathroom...
its more like, dear god please hurry up in there i'm about to crap my pants and i'm not even kidding.
my apartment has one bathroom.
and in case you're wondering - we are not at that point in our relationship yet where one of us can be in the shower and the other one can be taking a dump 12 inches away. i'd actually like for us to never reach that level.
ever ever ever.
i contemplate where else i could go #2.
the answer is no where else.
i stop washing dishes
i sit motionless for 25 minutes
he comes out.
then it's a quick peck on the cheek & i'm on my way to work.
and by work i mean business
and by business i mean poop.
obviously.
and you better believe this has had its influence my list of fears:
3. bear attack
2. shark attack
1. taking a crap outside to avoid shitting my pants
-- oh and shout out to my baby brother. if you see him around say happy birthday. he's tall & has sort-of-blondish sort-of-brownish hair but its real short. love you bro --
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
ze party pooper
i love a lot of things.
but at the very top of my list are:
1. german accents
2. poop talk
this fabulous video includes both.
i'm in #7thHeaven.
jennifer is a party pooper - video link
you're welcome.
but at the very top of my list are:
1. german accents
2. poop talk
this fabulous video includes both.
i'm in #7thHeaven.
jennifer is a party pooper - video link
you're welcome.
Monday, July 15, 2013
yoga
i have some thoughts about yoga.
well specifically about yoga pants.
whichever pervert made the executive decision to allow women the freedom to now wear yoga pants freely in public, you have made my errand running more comfortable and getting dressed each morning much less stressful.
and for that, i thank you.
however, having said that, there should be guidelines as to what is appropriate yoga pant wearing and what is not appropriate yoga pant wearing:
my list is short.
no panty lines - ever ever ever ever. news flash! yoga pants do not require underwear.
no yoga pants in the work place - unless you are in fact a yogi, in a yoga studio.
no chronic camel toe - i do believe this one explains itself.
that is all.
Happy Monday.
well specifically about yoga pants.
whichever pervert made the executive decision to allow women the freedom to now wear yoga pants freely in public, you have made my errand running more comfortable and getting dressed each morning much less stressful.
and for that, i thank you.
however, having said that, there should be guidelines as to what is appropriate yoga pant wearing and what is not appropriate yoga pant wearing:
my list is short.
no panty lines - ever ever ever ever. news flash! yoga pants do not require underwear.
no yoga pants in the work place - unless you are in fact a yogi, in a yoga studio.
no chronic camel toe - i do believe this one explains itself.
that is all.
Happy Monday.
Sunday, July 14, 2013
smooth talker
ring ring ring
The Waxer: hello?
Me: hello, hi i'd like to set a waxing appointment.
The Waxer: okay what time you want?
Me: do you have any openings tomorrow, around 5?
The Waxer: okay good good. what area?
Me: underarms, full leg, full bikini please
The Waxer: okay good. is the hair long enough?
Me: ... excuse me?
The Waxer: your hair, is it long enough?
My Mind: what? long enough?
long enough?!
My Mouth: yes actually it might be too long.
ever waxed a wildebeest?
The Waxer: okay yes good see you tomorrow.
click
The Waxer: hello?
Me: hello, hi i'd like to set a waxing appointment.
The Waxer: okay what time you want?
Me: do you have any openings tomorrow, around 5?
The Waxer: okay good good. what area?
Me: underarms, full leg, full bikini please
The Waxer: okay good. is the hair long enough?
Me: ... excuse me?
The Waxer: your hair, is it long enough?
My Mind: what? long enough?
long enough?!
My Mouth: yes actually it might be too long.
ever waxed a wildebeest?
The Waxer: okay yes good see you tomorrow.
click
Friday, July 12, 2013
keyword search
behind the scenes here at Single in The City By The Bay, i am able to see what search terms are used most often that result in a person stumbling across my online diary blog.
& the most used word in my keyword search is...
drumroll please...
...Cuddle Fish.
cuddle fish.
cuddle fish.
can you believe that?
cuddle fish.
the more i say it the weirder it gets.
cuddle fish.
& the most used word in my keyword search is...
drumroll please...
...Cuddle Fish.
cuddle fish.
cuddle fish.
can you believe that?
cuddle fish.
the more i say it the weirder it gets.
cuddle fish.
that term yeilds higher page views than i would have imagined.
like, ever.
like, ever.
so thank you, Mr. Cuddle Fish, for my internet popularity.
and to all those innocent internet bystanders researching obscure marine life, minding their own beeswax, who happen to stumble upon this mess that i call my life,
sorry that i'm not sorry.
and to all those innocent internet bystanders researching obscure marine life, minding their own beeswax, who happen to stumble upon this mess that i call my life,
sorry that i'm not sorry.
Thursday, July 11, 2013
overzealous
out of the blue, Mr. REA suggested we go for a walk in The Park.
note: Mr. REA never suggests walking in The Park.
so in true Crazy Girlfriend fashion, i convinced myself he would propose.
and if you yourself have ever been a Crazy Girlfriend, then you understand the logic here.
we left the apartment and strolled to the park.
then strolled on inside the park.
strolled all around the park.
we found a bench.
he suggested we sit down.
so we sat down.
and i waited.
and waited.
and waited.
no proposal.
just regular chit-chat about how perfect the weather was.
lame.
but when i got to thinking, i realized we were both wearing gym clothes.
his shorts didn't have pockets.
no room for a ring.
maybe they had a secret little pocket in the back.
they didn't.
we took a few minutes to enjoy the silence.
then he said my name.
yeeeees?
careful when you get up. there's dog crap over there.
that's the punchline to yet another anticlimactic story that did not end in my engagement announcement.
the end.
note: Mr. REA never suggests walking in The Park.
so in true Crazy Girlfriend fashion, i convinced myself he would propose.
and if you yourself have ever been a Crazy Girlfriend, then you understand the logic here.
we left the apartment and strolled to the park.
then strolled on inside the park.
strolled all around the park.
we found a bench.
he suggested we sit down.
so we sat down.
and i waited.
and waited.
and waited.
no proposal.
just regular chit-chat about how perfect the weather was.
lame.
but when i got to thinking, i realized we were both wearing gym clothes.
his shorts didn't have pockets.
no room for a ring.
maybe they had a secret little pocket in the back.
they didn't.
we took a few minutes to enjoy the silence.
then he said my name.
yeeeees?
careful when you get up. there's dog crap over there.
that's the punchline to yet another anticlimactic story that did not end in my engagement announcement.
the end.
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
craigslist
thanks to the recent style-merger, i've spent an obsessive amount of time posting my things on the beloved Craigslist.
one item in particular was a large white dresser.
i bought it about a year ago, put it together myself. and nothing was wrong with it.
i may be a woman who has high anxiety mixed with OCD tendencies who can't control her alcohol intake, but i would never ever sell something broken to an online stranger who has my phone number and is about to meet me at my house.
no thank you.
but then this text conversation happened:
hi. just an FYI. the dresser was messed up n we threw it out today ): the drawers were all broken n wouldn't fit right. oh we'll. i guess crap happens. ur a good person n i like you but i did want to tell you it was broken and we didn't even get to use it. it's ok i'm not upset or anything just disapointed. i dont mean to bother you just wanted you to no. no hard feelings :)
i asked how exactly the drawers were messed up. ikea furniture can be a bit tricky.
they were getting all chipped when we were trying to put them into place. now they're garbage. its ok tho. don't worry about it. just wanted you to know.
okayyy
so this is the data i've gathered from that exchange:
- you purchased a dresser from me, that you then destroyed to the point of being non-functional.
- you like me, but you want me to know you broke my dresser.
- you're not mad at me, but you can't use something you bought from me.
- you think i'm a good person, but you can't figure out how to assemble a dresser.
am i missing something?
did you tell me this just to put some weight on my conscious? or what.
oh hi excuse me yes. hello corner liquor store. i purchased a few handles of bottom-shelf vodka from you earlier today. im not mad or anything but i drank one on the way home and the other three aren't useable anymore. idk what happened but they're broken on my driveway. they got dropped i guess. you were really nice but i just wanted you to know i cant drink any of them anymore. i'm not mad or anything, just disappointed.
see mines a joke because bottom shelf vodka is plastic.
moral of this story: you bought it you broke it.
one item in particular was a large white dresser.
i bought it about a year ago, put it together myself. and nothing was wrong with it.
i may be a woman who has high anxiety mixed with OCD tendencies who can't control her alcohol intake, but i would never ever sell something broken to an online stranger who has my phone number and is about to meet me at my house.
no thank you.
but then this text conversation happened:
hi. just an FYI. the dresser was messed up n we threw it out today ): the drawers were all broken n wouldn't fit right. oh we'll. i guess crap happens. ur a good person n i like you but i did want to tell you it was broken and we didn't even get to use it. it's ok i'm not upset or anything just disapointed. i dont mean to bother you just wanted you to no. no hard feelings :)
i asked how exactly the drawers were messed up. ikea furniture can be a bit tricky.
they were getting all chipped when we were trying to put them into place. now they're garbage. its ok tho. don't worry about it. just wanted you to know.
okayyy
so this is the data i've gathered from that exchange:
- you purchased a dresser from me, that you then destroyed to the point of being non-functional.
- you like me, but you want me to know you broke my dresser.
- you're not mad at me, but you can't use something you bought from me.
- you think i'm a good person, but you can't figure out how to assemble a dresser.
am i missing something?
did you tell me this just to put some weight on my conscious? or what.
oh hi excuse me yes. hello corner liquor store. i purchased a few handles of bottom-shelf vodka from you earlier today. im not mad or anything but i drank one on the way home and the other three aren't useable anymore. idk what happened but they're broken on my driveway. they got dropped i guess. you were really nice but i just wanted you to know i cant drink any of them anymore. i'm not mad or anything, just disappointed.
see mines a joke because bottom shelf vodka is plastic.
moral of this story: you bought it you broke it.
the merge
my style is very eclectic.
if eclectic is synonymous with hoarder.
Mr. REA is very modern & simple.
this has sparked what i define as a style-merging.
Mr. REA bribed me to get rid of all my crappy-ass college junk, by promising to purchase new things.
our things.
together.
well you better believe i fell for it.
big time.
we remodeled the entire apartment.
together.
the only thing missing is a ring.
or a baby.
at this point, i'd take either.
just kidding.
but no, really.
if eclectic is synonymous with hoarder.
Mr. REA is very modern & simple.
this has sparked what i define as a style-merging.
Mr. REA bribed me to get rid of all my crappy-ass college junk, by promising to purchase new things.
our things.
together.
well you better believe i fell for it.
big time.
we remodeled the entire apartment.
together.
the only thing missing is a ring.
or a baby.
at this point, i'd take either.
just kidding.
but no, really.
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
update
well folks.
life got a little insane in the membrane there for a while.
for reasons that were not made public, there actually was no Wedding #8.
so that's that.
but in an entirely selfish way, that actually helped me to reach the 10 goals previously outlined.
oh except i did eat at a buffet.
and i liked it.
i'm gross.
life got a little insane in the membrane there for a while.
for reasons that were not made public, there actually was no Wedding #8.
so that's that.
but in an entirely selfish way, that actually helped me to reach the 10 goals previously outlined.
oh except i did eat at a buffet.
and i liked it.
i'm gross.
Wednesday, May 8, 2013
wedding #8
in just a few short hours i will be finding my seat on a crowded airplane complete with insufficient leg room & minimal overhead space.
when i arrive at my destination, i will be having dinner with my best friends ever-in-the-history-of-ever, and then attending my 8th wedding in 3 years.
madness.
absolute madness, i tell you.
and because i'm the ambitious type,
i've set some goals for this vacation:
1. no peeing on hotel floors
2. no sleeping wrapped around toilet
3. no kissing cousins
4. no long island iced teas
5. no unlimited-drink-specials
6. no buying new clothes
7. no buffets
8. no drunk dialing
9. no barfing in public
10. no crying
they're more like rules rather than goals.
but call them what you will.
i call them whatever keeps my dignity intact.
when i arrive at my destination, i will be having dinner with my best friends ever-in-the-history-of-ever, and then attending my 8th wedding in 3 years.
madness.
absolute madness, i tell you.
and because i'm the ambitious type,
i've set some goals for this vacation:
1. no peeing on hotel floors
2. no sleeping wrapped around toilet
3. no kissing cousins
4. no long island iced teas
5. no unlimited-drink-specials
6. no buying new clothes
7. no buffets
8. no drunk dialing
9. no barfing in public
10. no crying
they're more like rules rather than goals.
but call them what you will.
i call them whatever keeps my dignity intact.
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
crop dusting
and no, i'm not referring to the farm machine
i'm talking about when you're walking around in a small area, farting.
don't lie.
we've all done it.
as Urban Dictionary so eloquently puts it:
crop dusting (v) -
walking while farting;
farting while walking;
passing gas in a stealth manor, usually while walking through a crowd or a group, so that someone else gets blamed for the stench, or at the very least people besides the assailant must suffer
only this weekend, i was at a concert.
so there was no moving around.
there was no dusting, so to speak.
just cropping.
or is it just dusting, no cropping?
which part of that phrase is the farting part?
whatever.
i was standing in a huge sweaty mob of people,
farting my little heart out.
as loud as i wanted.
as stinky as i wanted.
as often as i wanted.
and Mr. REA was none-the-wiser.
we blamed it on innocent strangers,
labeling them as the disgusting, stinky pigs.
and for this reason, i love crowds.
i forget what we had for dinner that night.
but i wish i knew, so that i could never eat it again.
unless it was delicious.
because in that case,
it was worth it.
#grossgirlproblems
i'm talking about when you're walking around in a small area, farting.
don't lie.
we've all done it.
as Urban Dictionary so eloquently puts it:
crop dusting (v) -
walking while farting;
farting while walking;
passing gas in a stealth manor, usually while walking through a crowd or a group, so that someone else gets blamed for the stench, or at the very least people besides the assailant must suffer
only this weekend, i was at a concert.
so there was no moving around.
there was no dusting, so to speak.
just cropping.
or is it just dusting, no cropping?
which part of that phrase is the farting part?
whatever.
i was standing in a huge sweaty mob of people,
farting my little heart out.
as loud as i wanted.
as stinky as i wanted.
as often as i wanted.
and Mr. REA was none-the-wiser.
we blamed it on innocent strangers,
labeling them as the disgusting, stinky pigs.
and for this reason, i love crowds.
i forget what we had for dinner that night.
but i wish i knew, so that i could never eat it again.
unless it was delicious.
because in that case,
it was worth it.
#grossgirlproblems
Friday, April 26, 2013
good for a cry
BFF sent me what i consider to be one of the most hilarious things i've ever read.
hilariously gross
hilariously true
hilariously hilarious
so hilarious in fact, i cried.
i laughed so hard i cried.
at my desk.
at work.
and then i wiped my big-girl tears
took a deep breath,
and then laughed some more.
and since i'm not a selfish b-word,
i will now share with you
this glorious piece of literature.
...you're welcome.
The Secret Lives of Girls - The Things We Do That You Don't Want To Know We Do by Kat George
hilariously gross
hilariously true
hilariously hilarious
so hilarious in fact, i cried.
i laughed so hard i cried.
at my desk.
at work.
and then i wiped my big-girl tears
took a deep breath,
and then laughed some more.
and since i'm not a selfish b-word,
i will now share with you
this glorious piece of literature.
...you're welcome.
The Secret Lives of Girls - The Things We Do That You Don't Want To Know We Do by Kat George
and btw, if you don't laugh out loud.
and i mean really laugh out loud,
then consider yourself de-friended.
happy friday.
Thursday, April 25, 2013
oh, weddings.
in nineteen days, i'll be at my 8th wedding
in 3 years.
on average, that's one wedding every 4.5 months.
is that normal?
my mom & dad each remarried
and both my brothers & my sister had weddings within 10 months of each other.
i'd say, no. that's probably not normal.
i'm going broke from
the airline tickets
the hotels
the rental cars
the gifts
& the outfits
but on the bright side,
the debt accrued on my high-interest credit card has bought me some knowledge that will be useful when the time finally comes to make my Pinterest wedding a delicious reality:
{hire a dj}
no one wants to listen to your friend's-boyfriend's-cousin's-twin's-uncle's band covering Yanni's Greatest Hits.
i repeat, no one.
{a groom's cake is unnecessary}
men barely look at things before diving right in.
this self-proclaimed theory includes food, women & IKEA furniture.
{long traditional ceremonies are b-o-r-i-n-g}
sitting in a church listening to a Holy Man (or Woman) carry on-&-on brings many people back to the days of their childhood, when they were forced to sit silently in church on wooden pews with no lumbar support. then there's the bridal party, standing up there, in heels, in front of everyone trying not to make eye contact with the groomsmen across the way for fear of giggling uncontrollably during the ceremony. short & sweet, people. keep it short & sweet. we already know you love each other, no need to back it up with 8,200 bible references & citations.
{don't stress over centerpieces}
they are centerpieces for crying out loud. they go on the table. they don't have to match.
humans are self-centered by nature & tend to only look at what's directly in front of them.
so don't let them cost a fortune. what the hell are you going to do with 15 leftover cubic zirconium-studded swan vases anyway?
{bridezillas* happen} & they're annoyiiiiiing.
note: don't be one. unless you actually are a multi-billion dollar A-list celebrity. then by all means, go ahead and act like a frantic b-word to all your adoring friends & family on your last day as a single woman. go ahead.
{open bars are dangerous} in theory open bars are your best friend. in reality, they make you dance all night, then leave you waking up on the bathroom floor with unanswered questions. in which case, open bars are still my best friend. they warrant a use-at-your-own-risk warning sign. maybe on a little DIY chalkboard sign on the counter? just an idea.
{unforeseen changes will need to be made}
note: don't panic. see note about bridezillas*.
{dance floors are a must} when else will anyone get to bump & grind with their hot cousins? am i the only one with hot cousins? is that weird?
{chair covers are frivolous} they get spilled on, farted on and torn by sharp objects. they're just another thing nobody notices.
{practice your MOH / Best Man speech}
in front of a mirror. more than once. unless you're a professional public speaker, you probably don't talk to large groups very often. or ever. even if you were the star of your high school speech&debate team, that was years ago, you nerd. you've lost the talent. practice the speech so the guests don't perceive you as a rambling idiot when you forget the punchline or laugh uncontrollably about how you met the bride, especially if the stories aren't even funny.
{flowers} two words: they die.
don't invest your entire dowry in floral arrangements.
think outside the vase.
ya see what i did there?
{programs} no one wants to read a novel. not in a church. not in a backyard wedding. not on the beach with their feet in the sand. pick a cute font, think of the most important thing you want everyone to know, and put that on a little square sheet of paper. note: unless all of your guests are scrapbooking hoarders, these programs will be thrown away, lost, forgotten, carried away in the wind, chewed on by their pet, used as scratch paper, or in the best case scenario - recycled.
so don't waste paper.
{bridesmaids} attention bride: yes the day is entirely about you. we get it. but chances are, your bridesmaids are single & using your wedding as a chance to hook up with your groom's cute friend. so take that into consideration and don't force them to wear heinous dresses in heinous colors. making your bridesmaids look like 1980's prom queens reflects poorly on your taste. this is America! don't be the Wedding Dictator. the 8th amendment protects them from cruel & unusual punishment. unless you want your husband to be your only remaining friend, allow your bridesmaids (in theory, your best friends) the opportunity to look & feel their best all night, without worrying that their beehive hair-do is going to flop over, or that the hair extensions (you required them to wear) fall out while they're making out in the elevator during the after-party. remember - all of the attention is already on you. let them wear something flattering you psycho.
{RSVPs} general statement: wedding or party or whatever it is, not RSVPing is rude. tell the host you can't go! don't blatantly ignore a question posed directly at you. that's just selfish.
{desserts} yes. please have desserts. and please invite me to your wedding. or just to the reception. where ever you're serving the desserts. i'll be there. but i have this to say: huge cakes are a thing of the past. they're a mess to cut, there's always too much leftover, it doesn't save very well, & helloooo cake is fattening. hopefully you spent at least a little bit of time during your engagement-period at the gym getting into the best shape of your life. hate to break it to ya, but never again will so many pictures be taken of you. do you really want your wedding album to be full of pictures of you looking like a whale stuffing your face with cake, and then having to eat cake for dessert every night for the next year because you paid a fortune for it and want to get your money's worth? the answer is no. nobody wants that for themselves. so lay off the cake. with the invention of Pinterest, you can instantly search over a million variations of wedding dessert tables that do not include a $2000 cake. so pick one.
and that's all i have to say about that.
excuse me while i go grab a brownie from the break room.
in 3 years.
on average, that's one wedding every 4.5 months.
is that normal?
my mom & dad each remarried
and both my brothers & my sister had weddings within 10 months of each other.
i'd say, no. that's probably not normal.
i'm going broke from
the airline tickets
the hotels
the rental cars
the gifts
& the outfits
but on the bright side,
the debt accrued on my high-interest credit card has bought me some knowledge that will be useful when the time finally comes to make my Pinterest wedding a delicious reality:
{hire a dj}
no one wants to listen to your friend's-boyfriend's-cousin's-twin's-uncle's band covering Yanni's Greatest Hits.
i repeat, no one.
{a groom's cake is unnecessary}
men barely look at things before diving right in.
this self-proclaimed theory includes food, women & IKEA furniture.
{long traditional ceremonies are b-o-r-i-n-g}
sitting in a church listening to a Holy Man (or Woman) carry on-&-on brings many people back to the days of their childhood, when they were forced to sit silently in church on wooden pews with no lumbar support. then there's the bridal party, standing up there, in heels, in front of everyone trying not to make eye contact with the groomsmen across the way for fear of giggling uncontrollably during the ceremony. short & sweet, people. keep it short & sweet. we already know you love each other, no need to back it up with 8,200 bible references & citations.
{don't stress over centerpieces}
they are centerpieces for crying out loud. they go on the table. they don't have to match.
humans are self-centered by nature & tend to only look at what's directly in front of them.
so don't let them cost a fortune. what the hell are you going to do with 15 leftover cubic zirconium-studded swan vases anyway?
{bridezillas* happen} & they're annoyiiiiiing.
note: don't be one. unless you actually are a multi-billion dollar A-list celebrity. then by all means, go ahead and act like a frantic b-word to all your adoring friends & family on your last day as a single woman. go ahead.
{open bars are dangerous} in theory open bars are your best friend. in reality, they make you dance all night, then leave you waking up on the bathroom floor with unanswered questions. in which case, open bars are still my best friend. they warrant a use-at-your-own-risk warning sign. maybe on a little DIY chalkboard sign on the counter? just an idea.
{unforeseen changes will need to be made}
note: don't panic. see note about bridezillas*.
{dance floors are a must} when else will anyone get to bump & grind with their hot cousins? am i the only one with hot cousins? is that weird?
{chair covers are frivolous} they get spilled on, farted on and torn by sharp objects. they're just another thing nobody notices.
{practice your MOH / Best Man speech}
in front of a mirror. more than once. unless you're a professional public speaker, you probably don't talk to large groups very often. or ever. even if you were the star of your high school speech&debate team, that was years ago, you nerd. you've lost the talent. practice the speech so the guests don't perceive you as a rambling idiot when you forget the punchline or laugh uncontrollably about how you met the bride, especially if the stories aren't even funny.
{flowers} two words: they die.
don't invest your entire dowry in floral arrangements.
think outside the vase.
ya see what i did there?
{programs} no one wants to read a novel. not in a church. not in a backyard wedding. not on the beach with their feet in the sand. pick a cute font, think of the most important thing you want everyone to know, and put that on a little square sheet of paper. note: unless all of your guests are scrapbooking hoarders, these programs will be thrown away, lost, forgotten, carried away in the wind, chewed on by their pet, used as scratch paper, or in the best case scenario - recycled.
so don't waste paper.
{bridesmaids} attention bride: yes the day is entirely about you. we get it. but chances are, your bridesmaids are single & using your wedding as a chance to hook up with your groom's cute friend. so take that into consideration and don't force them to wear heinous dresses in heinous colors. making your bridesmaids look like 1980's prom queens reflects poorly on your taste. this is America! don't be the Wedding Dictator. the 8th amendment protects them from cruel & unusual punishment. unless you want your husband to be your only remaining friend, allow your bridesmaids (in theory, your best friends) the opportunity to look & feel their best all night, without worrying that their beehive hair-do is going to flop over, or that the hair extensions (you required them to wear) fall out while they're making out in the elevator during the after-party. remember - all of the attention is already on you. let them wear something flattering you psycho.
{RSVPs} general statement: wedding or party or whatever it is, not RSVPing is rude. tell the host you can't go! don't blatantly ignore a question posed directly at you. that's just selfish.
{desserts} yes. please have desserts. and please invite me to your wedding. or just to the reception. where ever you're serving the desserts. i'll be there. but i have this to say: huge cakes are a thing of the past. they're a mess to cut, there's always too much leftover, it doesn't save very well, & helloooo cake is fattening. hopefully you spent at least a little bit of time during your engagement-period at the gym getting into the best shape of your life. hate to break it to ya, but never again will so many pictures be taken of you. do you really want your wedding album to be full of pictures of you looking like a whale stuffing your face with cake, and then having to eat cake for dessert every night for the next year because you paid a fortune for it and want to get your money's worth? the answer is no. nobody wants that for themselves. so lay off the cake. with the invention of Pinterest, you can instantly search over a million variations of wedding dessert tables that do not include a $2000 cake. so pick one.
and that's all i have to say about that.
excuse me while i go grab a brownie from the break room.
Monday, April 22, 2013
decor
Mr. REA & i took a stroll out to the beach.
and then took a stroll to Home Depot.
and then, at his suggestion, took a stroll to Pier 1.
as in, Pier 1 Imports.
as in, my favorite store. ever.
and right there, in the front window,
we spotted the couch of our dreams.
so we strolled inside.
we sat on the couch in the front window.
we fell in love with the couch in the front window.
we found the price tag.
we gasped at the price tag.
& then we made plans to purchase that couch in the front window.
yesterday practically spells pre-engagement.
right?
am i right?
i'm right, right?
we could name our children after this experience.
Pier & something else.
or actually no.
that doesn't make any sense.
oh Mr. REA, if you only knew what kind of crazy you've just locked yourself into with this furniture purchase.
and lucky for me, he doesn't!
Friday, April 19, 2013
something cutesy
every once in a while, between trying not to embarrass myself, actually embarrassing myself, and recovering from said embarrassment, something wonderful happens.
typically these wonderful things don't make it into the blog because:
1. i don't like making people feel jealous of me.
2. i got some feedback one time that said to
stop with the cutesy posts.
well whatever.
i asked Mr. REA to run to the grocery store after work, so i could cook some delicious food for him.
not only did he come back with
everything on the list
but he also came back with flowers.
just.
for.
me.
typically these wonderful things don't make it into the blog because:
1. i don't like making people feel jealous of me.
2. i got some feedback one time that said to
stop with the cutesy posts.
well whatever.
i asked Mr. REA to run to the grocery store after work, so i could cook some delicious food for him.
not only did he come back with
everything on the list
but he also came back with flowers.
just.
for.
me.
Thursday, April 18, 2013
opening day
Mr. REA took me to a sporting event.
turns out, it's now baseball season.
who knew?
...probably everyone in the world but me.
of course, i was convinced he brought me to the game so he could propose to me on the jumbotron.
because why else would he bring me to something sportsy?
because why else would he bring me to something sportsy?
and because when you're 25 and everyone around you is planning weddings or giving birth - you tend to get a little paranoid that it might someday happen to you.
but this day was not the day.
when the torture was over,
i tried to hide my lack of prior sports knowledge by stating
oh that was loooong game
Mr. REA stared at me. blinked. then replied
no, it wasn't.
that's how long all baseball games last.
9 innings.
that's how long all baseball games last.
9 innings.
oh.
boring.
and now, a short list of things i enjoy about sports:
1. beer
2. hotdogs
3. beer
1. beer
2. hotdogs
3. beer
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
periods.
periods could be literally the worst part about being a girl
aside from not being able to sit spread-eagle in public & having to shave regularly.
but let's be honest.
periods are also a happy little message saying:
congrats! you're not pregnant this month!
and that little message is what i refer to as the Monthly Miracle
because let's face it.
5 days of complete bloody misery
is far more manageable than
9 months of no sushi, booze or roller coasters.
to quote BFF,
yah man. babies are cute or whatever.
but i really like my sleep.
so there you have it folks.
excruciating cramps & constant back-pain aside, periods aren't so bad after all.
aside from not being able to sit spread-eagle in public & having to shave regularly.
but let's be honest.
periods are also a happy little message saying:
congrats! you're not pregnant this month!
and that little message is what i refer to as the Monthly Miracle
because let's face it.
5 days of complete bloody misery
is far more manageable than
9 months of no sushi, booze or roller coasters.
to quote BFF,
yah man. babies are cute or whatever.
but i really like my sleep.
so there you have it folks.
excruciating cramps & constant back-pain aside, periods aren't so bad after all.
Friday, April 5, 2013
playing catch up
this week i've been on a little thing called
Spring Break
so far i've:
-slept in
-gone to yoga
-crafted my little heart out
-napped
-watched tv
-opened an Etsy shop
-snacked
-contemplated working from home
-cleaned my apartment
-dreamed about becoming
a stay-at-home-girlfriend
-counted my calories
-decorated
you'll notice binge drink did not make the list.
because my friends chose career paths based on salaries & retirement packages, not on spring break, winter break & summer break, i have spent this week alone.
and it turns out, it's not cool to drink alone.
hence the increased productivity levels.
meh.
Spring Break
so far i've:
-slept in
-gone to yoga
-crafted my little heart out
-napped
-watched tv
-opened an Etsy shop
-snacked
-contemplated working from home
-cleaned my apartment
-dreamed about becoming
a stay-at-home-girlfriend
-counted my calories
-decorated
you'll notice binge drink did not make the list.
because my friends chose career paths based on salaries & retirement packages, not on spring break, winter break & summer break, i have spent this week alone.
and it turns out, it's not cool to drink alone.
hence the increased productivity levels.
meh.
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
resolution revisited
hey friends!
remember when i made it my resolution to keep my blog updated?
well the good news is, i made it through march.
which means that it lasted longer than my eat-healthy-go-to-the-gym-everyday-for-a-whole-year resolution
that idea lasted all of 5 hours, until i sobered up and realized it was ridiculous.
remember when i made it my resolution to keep my blog updated?
well the good news is, i made it through march.
which means that it lasted longer than my eat-healthy-go-to-the-gym-everyday-for-a-whole-year resolution
that idea lasted all of 5 hours, until i sobered up and realized it was ridiculous.
Thursday, March 21, 2013
for the record
let me be clear.
this blog is not just about poops & farts.
it's about dating.
& The City
& boozing
& barfing
& pooping
& farting
& how i hide all those things from my boyfriend so he will love me.
this blog is not just about poops & farts.
it's about dating.
& The City
& boozing
& barfing
& pooping
& farting
& how i hide all those things from my boyfriend so he will love me.
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
summing it up
Sister - married.
Other Brother - married.
Brother - engaged to be married.
Me - in a relationship.
aka not married.
aka not engaged to be married.
Brother: Fiance asked me if a read your blog. i said 'hell no'. she says its mostly just about poops and farts. i said, yah sounds about right.
i didn't know whether to be mad at my brother for not reading my blog. or embarrassed for myself that my written life can be summed up in stories pertaining to poops and farts.
and that reminds me of something.
here are the facts:
i am an adult.
i've crapped my pants.
in public and in private.
sober and drun-- ok no. i was sober both times.
embarrassingly enough.
one time was on a cruise.
one time was laying in bed doing homework.
for college.
both times were disgusting.
both times were humilitating.
both times were within 11 months of each other.
lesson learned?
maybe.
in summary:
i am single
according to the IRS
& i have more stories about gross things than a classy lady like myself really should have.
hey. i am who i am.
Other Brother - married.
Brother - engaged to be married.
Me - in a relationship.
aka not married.
aka not engaged to be married.
Brother: Fiance asked me if a read your blog. i said 'hell no'. she says its mostly just about poops and farts. i said, yah sounds about right.
i didn't know whether to be mad at my brother for not reading my blog. or embarrassed for myself that my written life can be summed up in stories pertaining to poops and farts.
and that reminds me of something.
here are the facts:
i am an adult.
i've crapped my pants.
in public and in private.
sober and drun-- ok no. i was sober both times.
embarrassingly enough.
one time was on a cruise.
one time was laying in bed doing homework.
for college.
both times were disgusting.
both times were humilitating.
both times were within 11 months of each other.
lesson learned?
maybe.
in summary:
i am single
according to the IRS
& i have more stories about gross things than a classy lady like myself really should have.
hey. i am who i am.
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
wild weekend
...i bet you thought this post would be about a truly wild weekend.
i bet you thought it would be yet another story about how i went out with my girls and flirted with strange men for free drinks.
and i bet you thought i ate hot dogs covered in onions from the street vendors at closing time.
well friends.
i tricked you.
welcome to false advertising.
the most wild part of this weekend was the fact that i did none of those things.
none.
not even one of them.
those things that you could have easily predicted i did, because i have spent so many nights doing them before, i did in fact not do.
i ran saturday errands with Mr. REA
skipped the nightly bar scene
and i was fast asleep before 10pm.
then i woke up early to workout.
let me repeat that last part slowly.
i-woke-up-early.
to-work-out.
to get off my ass.
to sweat.
to exercise.
then Mr. REA & i went shopping.
for kitchenware.
so i can bake
and cook.
that's right people.
i bake and cook now.
i feed Mr. REA.
and neither one of us has gotten food poisoning yet.
knock on wood.
have i turned into an adult?
what the hell am i even saying??
quick, someone get me a martini while i sort this crap out.
i'm only 25, people!
- when did i make the switch from hot mess to homemaker?
- am i one day closer to the end of binge drinking and bar dancing?
- does this mean i may never pee on the floor of another hotel room?
or that i will never pull a boot & rally again?
oh absolutely not.
it's only a matter of time before the old me shows her face again.
only a matter of time.
i bet you thought it would be yet another story about how i went out with my girls and flirted with strange men for free drinks.
and i bet you thought i ate hot dogs covered in onions from the street vendors at closing time.
well friends.
i tricked you.
welcome to false advertising.
the most wild part of this weekend was the fact that i did none of those things.
none.
not even one of them.
those things that you could have easily predicted i did, because i have spent so many nights doing them before, i did in fact not do.
i ran saturday errands with Mr. REA
skipped the nightly bar scene
and i was fast asleep before 10pm.
then i woke up early to workout.
let me repeat that last part slowly.
i-woke-up-early.
to-work-out.
to get off my ass.
to sweat.
to exercise.
then Mr. REA & i went shopping.
for kitchenware.
so i can bake
and cook.
that's right people.
i bake and cook now.
i feed Mr. REA.
and neither one of us has gotten food poisoning yet.
knock on wood.
have i turned into an adult?
what the hell am i even saying??
quick, someone get me a martini while i sort this crap out.
i'm only 25, people!
- when did i make the switch from hot mess to homemaker?
- am i one day closer to the end of binge drinking and bar dancing?
- does this mean i may never pee on the floor of another hotel room?
or that i will never pull a boot & rally again?
oh absolutely not.
it's only a matter of time before the old me shows her face again.
only a matter of time.
Monday, March 18, 2013
compliments.
me:
you're Buster from Arrested Development
Other Brother:
you're Manny from Modern Family
me:
what?! why? i'm more of a Meg Ryan look-a-like
Other Brother:
far from it, sis. you're a chubby teenage boy with moobs*
*moobs:
n: Man Boobs; a combination of the words Man & Boobs. floppy, Jell-O like protrusions in the male chest area. usually sported by fat, overweight men. fat gathered in the male chest, giving the appearance of breasts. also known as breasticles.
(source: the ever-trusty Urbandictionary.com)
...meaning chubby teenager boys have larger breasts than i do.
and sadly, the kid has a point.
on a nicer, yet unrelated note:
my friend's new boyfriend referred to me as,
'the creepiest person he's met in a while'
so that's got to count for something, right?
you're Buster from Arrested Development
Other Brother:
you're Manny from Modern Family
me:
what?! why? i'm more of a Meg Ryan look-a-like
Other Brother:
far from it, sis. you're a chubby teenage boy with moobs*
*moobs:
n: Man Boobs; a combination of the words Man & Boobs. floppy, Jell-O like protrusions in the male chest area. usually sported by fat, overweight men. fat gathered in the male chest, giving the appearance of breasts. also known as breasticles.
(source: the ever-trusty Urbandictionary.com)
...meaning chubby teenager boys have larger breasts than i do.
and sadly, the kid has a point.
on a nicer, yet unrelated note:
my friend's new boyfriend referred to me as,
'the creepiest person he's met in a while'
so that's got to count for something, right?
Friday, March 15, 2013
baby talk
last weekend Mr. REA and i visited with some friends.
and these friends have babies.
and babies are the most adorable things on planet earth.
besides puppies.
and kittens.
and itty bitty mechanical pencils.
as i watched the babies playing together
i thought to myself:
i want one.
one of the babies was lying on the floor
drinking from a bottle.
legs spread eagle
his belly showing
his eyes rolling back.
in complete comfort.
f-ing adorable.
and as i visualized the 9 month pregnancy
the swollen ankles
the stretch marks
the discomfort
the weight gain
i began to understand the true meaning of my thoughts:
i want to be one.
a baby.
i want to be a baby.
i want to lay on the floor with a bottle
with my belly showing.
and then i want someone to clean up my barf
and bathe me
and tuck me in
and remove harmful things from my grasp
before i hurt myself or choke on small parts.
my advice to babies everywhere:
ride that gravy train til it kicks you off.
you don't know how good you've got it.
once you hit college, its not going to be so cute when you make a poopy in your pants or have so many bottles that you barf all over your onesie. no one is going to clean that up for you. no one is going to put soft corners on the coffee table to protect you. and when you lose your favorite wallet in a cab in The City, and you vow not to stop crying until it's found - no one is going to return it.
being a grown up is prettyyyyy overrated.
and these friends have babies.
and babies are the most adorable things on planet earth.
besides puppies.
and kittens.
and itty bitty mechanical pencils.
as i watched the babies playing together
i thought to myself:
i want one.
one of the babies was lying on the floor
drinking from a bottle.
legs spread eagle
his belly showing
his eyes rolling back.
in complete comfort.
f-ing adorable.
and as i visualized the 9 month pregnancy
the swollen ankles
the stretch marks
the discomfort
the weight gain
i began to understand the true meaning of my thoughts:
i want to be one.
a baby.
i want to be a baby.
i want to lay on the floor with a bottle
with my belly showing.
and then i want someone to clean up my barf
and bathe me
and tuck me in
and remove harmful things from my grasp
before i hurt myself or choke on small parts.
my advice to babies everywhere:
ride that gravy train til it kicks you off.
you don't know how good you've got it.
once you hit college, its not going to be so cute when you make a poopy in your pants or have so many bottles that you barf all over your onesie. no one is going to clean that up for you. no one is going to put soft corners on the coffee table to protect you. and when you lose your favorite wallet in a cab in The City, and you vow not to stop crying until it's found - no one is going to return it.
being a grown up is prettyyyyy overrated.
Thursday, March 14, 2013
a gift: part II
yesterday i finished my 5th bikram yoga class.
you may recall, Mr. REA generously signed me up for 30 days of yoga.
a gift.
bikram yoga looks something like this:
you're on a mat.
there is a towel on top of the mat.
there are 10-15 other people in the room.
all on mats.
with towels on their mats.
these other people are wearing anything from full sweat suits to biking shorts & sports bras.
some women are not wearing bras.
& some men are wearing speedos.
some men are shaven.
some men are hairy.
some women are hairy.
the room temperature is between 90-100 degrees.
everyone is sweating.
not regular sweating.
the kind where it is dripping off your skin
rolling down your face
into your eye balls
onto your towel.
soaking the towel.
you bend over
you inhale
you sniff your sweaty butt hole
you exhale.
you release.
you repeat.
for 90 minutes.
you may recall, Mr. REA generously signed me up for 30 days of yoga.
a gift.
bikram yoga looks something like this:
you're on a mat.
there is a towel on top of the mat.
there are 10-15 other people in the room.
all on mats.
with towels on their mats.
these other people are wearing anything from full sweat suits to biking shorts & sports bras.
some women are not wearing bras.
& some men are wearing speedos.
some men are shaven.
some men are hairy.
some women are hairy.
the room temperature is between 90-100 degrees.
everyone is sweating.
not regular sweating.
the kind where it is dripping off your skin
rolling down your face
into your eye balls
onto your towel.
soaking the towel.
you bend over
you inhale
you sniff your sweaty butt hole
you exhale.
you release.
you repeat.
for 90 minutes.
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
single
the weather in The City is changing, which means its everyone's favorite time of the year.
tax season.
so although i did get myself a boyfriend this year, i am still considered by the government to be single.
and i think that when the IRS examines my bank statements, they will concluded based on my excessive bar tabs and early-morning gatorade purchases, that i do in fact live a bachelorette-for-life lifestyle.
do the IRS even examine bank statements? this goes to show how much i actually know about living in the adult world.
i think i'm actually more afraid of the IRS examining my web browser history than my bank statements, now that we're on the subject of things-i-want-to-keep-hidden.
my bank statements will undoubtedly reflect that i am what appears to be a raging alcoholic who sadly has to pay for her own saturday night tabs.
and i am okay with that.
however, my web browser history will portray me as a total f-ing weirdo. mostly for my excessive google searches containing the words CAT and MEMES.
and just in case you don't know what those are, here are a few of my favorites.
so in conclusion, this is why i am not married.
enjoy your tax refund and don't blow it all on booze like i did.
tax season.
so although i did get myself a boyfriend this year, i am still considered by the government to be single.
and i think that when the IRS examines my bank statements, they will concluded based on my excessive bar tabs and early-morning gatorade purchases, that i do in fact live a bachelorette-for-life lifestyle.
do the IRS even examine bank statements? this goes to show how much i actually know about living in the adult world.
i think i'm actually more afraid of the IRS examining my web browser history than my bank statements, now that we're on the subject of things-i-want-to-keep-hidden.
my bank statements will undoubtedly reflect that i am what appears to be a raging alcoholic who sadly has to pay for her own saturday night tabs.
and i am okay with that.
however, my web browser history will portray me as a total f-ing weirdo. mostly for my excessive google searches containing the words CAT and MEMES.
and just in case you don't know what those are, here are a few of my favorites.
so in conclusion, this is why i am not married.
enjoy your tax refund and don't blow it all on booze like i did.
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
a gift
there's a yoga studio down the street from my apartment.
Mr. REA and i were out on a walk the other night when we passed by it.
new members only : 30 days for $50
Mr. REA:
do you want to sign up?
i'll pay for it.
it'll be a gift.
oh Mr. REA, a gift like the workout clothes you gave me for my birthday? that kind of a 'gift'?
Me:
yah! thank you! this will be so fun. you're the best boyfriend ever.
yay.
i sign up.
i pay the non-refundable $50 of Mr. REA's money.
and then i read the fine print,
or rather large bold print,
stating that this studio is Bikram yoga.
Bikram yoga, in case you don't know, is the kind where the room is heated and can reach temperatures up to 110 degrees.
you will sweat from every pore in your body.
you may pass out.
your feet will slip all over the mat. unless you have any sort of muscle tone to keep you in place, which i do not.
someone may fart.
and you may soffocate.
in order to make the most of this generous gift, i have challenged myself to go 30 times in 30 days. some of the days i have already skipped, which means that on some days, i will have to go twice.
what the heck have i agreed to?
Mr. REA and i were out on a walk the other night when we passed by it.
new members only : 30 days for $50
Mr. REA:
do you want to sign up?
i'll pay for it.
it'll be a gift.
oh Mr. REA, a gift like the workout clothes you gave me for my birthday? that kind of a 'gift'?
Me:
yah! thank you! this will be so fun. you're the best boyfriend ever.
yay.
i sign up.
i pay the non-refundable $50 of Mr. REA's money.
and then i read the fine print,
or rather large bold print,
stating that this studio is Bikram yoga.
Bikram yoga, in case you don't know, is the kind where the room is heated and can reach temperatures up to 110 degrees.
you will sweat from every pore in your body.
you may pass out.
your feet will slip all over the mat. unless you have any sort of muscle tone to keep you in place, which i do not.
someone may fart.
and you may soffocate.
in order to make the most of this generous gift, i have challenged myself to go 30 times in 30 days. some of the days i have already skipped, which means that on some days, i will have to go twice.
what the heck have i agreed to?
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
nice pics
blah blah blah blah
insert backstory here
blah blah blah
so i was at the store ordering some photos off my iPhone last weekend.
i used the little kiosk thing - whatever it's called.
i was hoping for minimal human interaction.
not my lucky day.
The Man kept checking on me.
asking if i was doing ok.
asking if i knew how to work the machine.
asking if i needed any help.
asking if i needed anything else today.
and on and on and on.
he looked a lot like Napoleon Dynamite.
but without the fro.
aka a tall, lanky, freckled white guy.
with big glasses and short orange hair.
nerd heaven.
he said my photos would be ready by 7.
i returned at 9.
he saw me walk in
he went directly to the bin
and dug my order out
without asking me what my name was.
freaky?
yes.
i paid in silence.
then he said,
lovely photos by the way
if things with Mr. REA don't work out, i know where to find Mr. Rebound.
not.
Thursday, February 28, 2013
new pipes
my brother informed me yesterday
via text message
that our mother installed new toilets in her home.
yay for new toilets!
he asked her about how they were working.
her reply:
they're good. you can flush 3 Big Macs down in one flush.
should be good enough to handle your sister's dumps.
for the record, the Big Mac she is referring to is the McDonald's burger.
not a large Macintosh computer.
with the special sauce.
bun-burger-bun-burger-bun
i believe is the pattern.
so whether or not she actually flushed 3 big macs down the toilet is still a mystery.
obviously the comparison here is that she thinks my turds are as hefty as 3 McDonald's meals.
and hey i'm not saying they aren't.
but comparing poop to food is a little gross.
i like Mcdonald's.
and now i'm hungry again.
great.
via text message
that our mother installed new toilets in her home.
yay for new toilets!
he asked her about how they were working.
her reply:
they're good. you can flush 3 Big Macs down in one flush.
should be good enough to handle your sister's dumps.
for the record, the Big Mac she is referring to is the McDonald's burger.
not a large Macintosh computer.
with the special sauce.
bun-burger-bun-burger-bun
i believe is the pattern.
so whether or not she actually flushed 3 big macs down the toilet is still a mystery.
obviously the comparison here is that she thinks my turds are as hefty as 3 McDonald's meals.
and hey i'm not saying they aren't.
but comparing poop to food is a little gross.
i like Mcdonald's.
and now i'm hungry again.
great.
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
just a note
while we're on the subject of
mushy romantic things Mr. REA does
we went out a few weeks ago with a group of friends. his friends are mostly single and the on the prowl type
a lifestyle i'm familiar with - get it girl!
if you could see my face
you'd know i was winking at you
poorly, but winking.
in reality if you could see my face
you'd probably think i was just blinking.
i'm embarrassing myself again.
we were out, and his friends were chatting up all the single ladies
(cue Beyonce please)
and Mr. REA pulled me in real close and whispered,
being single is awesome.
but i'd rather be with you.
and then my heart melted into a million thousand pieces.
i also tripped down the stairs that night.
and you better believe Mr. REA was right there to catch me.
literally.
mushy romantic things Mr. REA does
we went out a few weeks ago with a group of friends. his friends are mostly single and the on the prowl type
a lifestyle i'm familiar with - get it girl!
if you could see my face
you'd know i was winking at you
poorly, but winking.
in reality if you could see my face
you'd probably think i was just blinking.
i'm embarrassing myself again.
we were out, and his friends were chatting up all the single ladies
(cue Beyonce please)
and Mr. REA pulled me in real close and whispered,
being single is awesome.
but i'd rather be with you.
and then my heart melted into a million thousand pieces.
i also tripped down the stairs that night.
and you better believe Mr. REA was right there to catch me.
literally.
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
saturday surprise
while i was away in Texas
having the time of my life
aka drinking and dancing and crying and barfing,
Mr. REA was plotting a surprise.
a Saturday Surprise.
hey babe, can't wait to see you.
i have something for you.
it's a surprise ;)
and-you-better-believe i thought it was an engagement ring.
but i also had a more realistic inkling that it was probably a KitchenAide mixer.
and i promised myself,
if it was a fatty diamond,
i would say yes yes yes.
and then
within that very same fantasy,
i promised myself
that if it was in fact a KitchenAide mixer,
that i would in fact
propose to Mr. REA.
so in my mind, i was getting engaged.
regardless of which surprise it was.
and when i arrived home,
hangover and all,
there was a beautiful white KitchenAide mixer
sparkling for me on my faux-granite counter tops.
and then i kissed Mr. REA on his handsome face until the sun came up.
because let's face it folks:
Mr. REA
is in fact
the best boyfriend
ever.
having the time of my life
aka drinking and dancing and crying and barfing,
Mr. REA was plotting a surprise.
a Saturday Surprise.
hey babe, can't wait to see you.
i have something for you.
it's a surprise ;)
and-you-better-believe i thought it was an engagement ring.
but i also had a more realistic inkling that it was probably a KitchenAide mixer.
and i promised myself,
if it was a fatty diamond,
i would say yes yes yes.
and then
within that very same fantasy,
i promised myself
that if it was in fact a KitchenAide mixer,
that i would in fact
propose to Mr. REA.
so in my mind, i was getting engaged.
regardless of which surprise it was.
and when i arrived home,
hangover and all,
there was a beautiful white KitchenAide mixer
sparkling for me on my faux-granite counter tops.
and then i kissed Mr. REA on his handsome face until the sun came up.
because let's face it folks:
Mr. REA
is in fact
the best boyfriend
ever.
Monday, February 25, 2013
the deets
as promised, here are the fabulous details of my most recent wedding weekend:
the ceremony was beautiful.
the reception was beautiful.
my cousin was beautiful.
i was beautiful.
...until about midnight.
then things turned ugly.
or i blacked out.
i'm not sure.
but i think both happened.
remember how red lipstick is always the answer?
well naturally when i asked myself,
what should i wear tonight?
i answered myself with:
red lipstick.
and so i wore it.
and it was fabulous.
until about midnight.
here are the facts leading up to about midnight:
it was an open bar.
which was awesome.
...until it wasn't.
you don't have to know me very well to know that any situation where i have open access to unlimited booze is literally the worse idea ever.
but i digress.
me + open bar = dance floor diva
i danced and danced.
and danced.
and danced and danced and danced and danced.
and then we got on a trolley and went to a bar near the hotel.
and then i sat at the bar with my cousins.
and i cried.
and cried.
and cried and cried.
and then we went to the patio.
and i smelled cigarette smoke.
and i thought of my grandma.
and i cried.
and cried and cried and cried.
and cried.
and then i drank some more.
and cried some more.
like a drunk baby.
i cried like a drunk baby.
according to my other cousin, we got back to the hotel and i couldn't find my room.
my hotel neighbor threatened to call the cops on me.
my hotel neighbor threatened to the cops on a drunk 25-year-old- baby wearing red lipstick.
and now, my last remaining single cousin has hard-core evidence of me.
legs wrapped around the toilet.
face in the bowl.
wearing nothing but a sports bra and a thong.
and red lipstick.
classy as always.
how i got the sports bra on is a mystery.
how i changed in a hotel room with my cousins, into a sports bra without anyone seeing me, is also a mystery.
i should have been a detective.
my cousin thought i was throwing up blood.
or that i hit my head on the toilet so hard i was bleeding.
but it was neither. it was the fabulous red lipstick.
all.over.the.toilet.seat.
i can now say, i have literally kissed a toilet bowl.
am i proud?
not really.
a friend later suggested i get a Hep B shot, considering my face and lips were actually touching the toilet seat.
i brushed my teeth.
i think i'll be fine.
was this a low point?
of course.
but was it my lowest?
not by far.
and i didn't lose anything this weekend.
except maybe my dignity.
well played, Texas.
well played.
the ceremony was beautiful.
the reception was beautiful.
my cousin was beautiful.
i was beautiful.
...until about midnight.
then things turned ugly.
or i blacked out.
i'm not sure.
but i think both happened.
remember how red lipstick is always the answer?
well naturally when i asked myself,
what should i wear tonight?
i answered myself with:
red lipstick.
and so i wore it.
and it was fabulous.
until about midnight.
here are the facts leading up to about midnight:
it was an open bar.
which was awesome.
...until it wasn't.
you don't have to know me very well to know that any situation where i have open access to unlimited booze is literally the worse idea ever.
but i digress.
me + open bar = dance floor diva
i danced and danced.
and danced.
and danced and danced and danced and danced.
and then we got on a trolley and went to a bar near the hotel.
and then i sat at the bar with my cousins.
and i cried.
and cried.
and cried and cried.
and then we went to the patio.
and i smelled cigarette smoke.
and i thought of my grandma.
and i cried.
and cried and cried and cried.
and cried.
and then i drank some more.
and cried some more.
like a drunk baby.
i cried like a drunk baby.
according to my other cousin, we got back to the hotel and i couldn't find my room.
my hotel neighbor threatened to call the cops on me.
my hotel neighbor threatened to the cops on a drunk 25-year-old- baby wearing red lipstick.
and now, my last remaining single cousin has hard-core evidence of me.
legs wrapped around the toilet.
face in the bowl.
wearing nothing but a sports bra and a thong.
and red lipstick.
classy as always.
how i got the sports bra on is a mystery.
how i changed in a hotel room with my cousins, into a sports bra without anyone seeing me, is also a mystery.
i should have been a detective.
my cousin thought i was throwing up blood.
or that i hit my head on the toilet so hard i was bleeding.
but it was neither. it was the fabulous red lipstick.
all.over.the.toilet.seat.
i can now say, i have literally kissed a toilet bowl.
am i proud?
not really.
a friend later suggested i get a Hep B shot, considering my face and lips were actually touching the toilet seat.
i brushed my teeth.
i think i'll be fine.
was this a low point?
of course.
but was it my lowest?
not by far.
and i didn't lose anything this weekend.
except maybe my dignity.
well played, Texas.
well played.
Thursday, February 21, 2013
the generals
i know you probably have a million questions about my wild wedding weekend.
or maybe just a few.
or one.
or none.
regardless, here are the answers to the questions you didn't even know you had:
1. was it awesome?
yes.
2. drinks?
open bar.
3. barfs?
of course.
4. did you dance?
like no one was watching.
5. do you remember getting back to the hotel?
nope.
that's just a little teaser to hold you over until i get the deets ironed out.
or maybe just a few.
or one.
or none.
regardless, here are the answers to the questions you didn't even know you had:
1. was it awesome?
yes.
2. drinks?
open bar.
3. barfs?
of course.
4. did you dance?
like no one was watching.
5. do you remember getting back to the hotel?
nope.
that's just a little teaser to hold you over until i get the deets ironed out.
Thursday, February 14, 2013
tis the season
can we all just agree that weddings are the best things ever?
unless you're divorced.
but then maybe you got remarried.
so then technically weddings would still be the best thing ever.
unless you got divorced, but then didn't get remarried.
or unless you've never been married.
and don't even want to get married. ever.
so maybe we can't all agree that weddings are the best things ever.
regardless -
I'M GOING TO ANOTHER WEDDING!
AND I AM SO EXCITED.
one of my many beautiful cousins is tying the knot this weekend.
which means, in less than 24 hours i will be happily reunited with my wacky family for a weekend full of food, booze and Texas.
but mostly booze.
the last time i was in Texas, i attended
World Fest 2011
aka heavy day-drinking of international brews in a park somewhere.
and who says i'm not cultured?
then we went out night-drinking aka regular drinking, and i barfed in the bathroom at the bar.
in my defense. my cousin did describe it as, the daintiest barf she'd ever heard.
oh and then we got kicked out of a western bar, the kind with live bull riding.
and that was a real shame.
my only goal this weekend is not to mack on anyone i'm related to.
wish me luck !
unless you're divorced.
but then maybe you got remarried.
so then technically weddings would still be the best thing ever.
unless you got divorced, but then didn't get remarried.
or unless you've never been married.
and don't even want to get married. ever.
so maybe we can't all agree that weddings are the best things ever.
regardless -
I'M GOING TO ANOTHER WEDDING!
AND I AM SO EXCITED.
one of my many beautiful cousins is tying the knot this weekend.
which means, in less than 24 hours i will be happily reunited with my wacky family for a weekend full of food, booze and Texas.
but mostly booze.
the last time i was in Texas, i attended
World Fest 2011
aka heavy day-drinking of international brews in a park somewhere.
and who says i'm not cultured?
then we went out night-drinking aka regular drinking, and i barfed in the bathroom at the bar.
in my defense. my cousin did describe it as, the daintiest barf she'd ever heard.
oh and then we got kicked out of a western bar, the kind with live bull riding.
and that was a real shame.
my only goal this weekend is not to mack on anyone i'm related to.
wish me luck !
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
friendly reminder
a friend just reminded me of a time:
i was watching tv with some guy friends.
and i started to fall asleep.
then i farted.
and i woke myself up.
and i hoped no one would notice.
but of course, they did.
did you just fart?
is that why you woke up?
thankfully, i was able to recover from that embarrassment.
but years later it happened again.
we were out at the lake with some other guy friends.
it was late
and we were watching tv in the hotel.
and i started to fall asleep.
and then i farted.
and they noticed.
did you just fart yourself awake?
ew.
this may or may not explain the exponential decrease in my slumber party activity.
i was watching tv with some guy friends.
and i started to fall asleep.
then i farted.
and i woke myself up.
and i hoped no one would notice.
but of course, they did.
did you just fart?
is that why you woke up?
thankfully, i was able to recover from that embarrassment.
but years later it happened again.
we were out at the lake with some other guy friends.
it was late
and we were watching tv in the hotel.
and i started to fall asleep.
and then i farted.
and they noticed.
did you just fart yourself awake?
ew.
this may or may not explain the exponential decrease in my slumber party activity.
Sunday, February 3, 2013
superbowl sunday
Mr. REA's team made it to the super bowl.
this has created what i consider to be a high-stakes situation.
if they win, well that's a guaranteed party-all-night-call-in-sick-to-work situation.
if they lose, it'll will be a drink-all-night-call-in-sick-to-work-because-i'm-on-suicide-watch-for-my-boyfriend-situation.
Soooo either way, we're looking at either a big win, or a huge loss.
Happy Sunday everyone.
this has created what i consider to be a high-stakes situation.
if they win, well that's a guaranteed party-all-night-call-in-sick-to-work situation.
if they lose, it'll will be a drink-all-night-call-in-sick-to-work-because-i'm-on-suicide-watch-for-my-boyfriend-situation.
Soooo either way, we're looking at either a big win, or a huge loss.
Happy Sunday everyone.
Friday, February 1, 2013
commitments
a short conversation with Mr. REA:
me: my car insurance renewal is this month. ugh.
Mr. REA: how much is it? i'll pay for it. and i should get added onto the plan anyway.
so tell me, is this what being a grown-up is like?
sharing car insurance policies?
according to me and both of my friends,
we're practically engaged.
how long do auto insurance policies last anyway?
oh, only 6 months.
well we're still practically engaged.
right?
let's hope i can get the full refund back on those Save the Dates, just in case.
me: my car insurance renewal is this month. ugh.
Mr. REA: how much is it? i'll pay for it. and i should get added onto the plan anyway.
so tell me, is this what being a grown-up is like?
sharing car insurance policies?
according to me and both of my friends,
we're practically engaged.
how long do auto insurance policies last anyway?
oh, only 6 months.
well we're still practically engaged.
right?
let's hope i can get the full refund back on those Save the Dates, just in case.
Monday, January 28, 2013
50 shades of panic
on saturday, Mr. REA left me alone for 5 hours.
alone. in my apartment.
during this personal time i:
- folded laundry
- prepared a crockpot meal
- baked treats
- attempted to write a paper
- vacuumed
- contemplated working out
oh yah, and went to the bathroom.
...number two...
it was actually the very first thing i did once he left.
who's got two thumbs and priorities?
this girl.
aaaaand i clogged the toilet.
...as is tradition.
i let the disaster fester, with the intention of returning back to the scene of the crime later to clean up.
unfortunately for me, i was too busy indulging in domestic goodness that i did in fact, forget to clean it up.
by the time i remembered it was too late.
way too late.
Mr. REA came home.
he kissed me hello.
he hung up his coat.
he took off his shoes.
he went into the bathroom.
he went into the closet.
he got out the plunger.
he plunged the toilet.
i stood in the kitchen.
at first i was confused.
then i was completely mortified.
i have vowed to myself never to mention The Incident to Mr. REA as long as i live.
what sort of sicko does he think i am?
but the good news is, he hasn't dumped me yet.
so i think we're good.
alone. in my apartment.
during this personal time i:
- folded laundry
- prepared a crockpot meal
- baked treats
- attempted to write a paper
- vacuumed
- contemplated working out
oh yah, and went to the bathroom.
...number two...
it was actually the very first thing i did once he left.
who's got two thumbs and priorities?
this girl.
aaaaand i clogged the toilet.
...as is tradition.
i let the disaster fester, with the intention of returning back to the scene of the crime later to clean up.
unfortunately for me, i was too busy indulging in domestic goodness that i did in fact, forget to clean it up.
by the time i remembered it was too late.
way too late.
Mr. REA came home.
he kissed me hello.
he hung up his coat.
he took off his shoes.
he went into the bathroom.
he went into the closet.
he got out the plunger.
he plunged the toilet.
i stood in the kitchen.
at first i was confused.
then i was completely mortified.
i have vowed to myself never to mention The Incident to Mr. REA as long as i live.
what sort of sicko does he think i am?
but the good news is, he hasn't dumped me yet.
so i think we're good.
Saturday, January 26, 2013
"enough of the domesticated bliss"
moments after i posted that last post i recieved a text message.
or rather, a series of text messages.
from Gman. a long-time reader, and ex boyfriend.
your blog is so f-ing gay these days. where are the funny stories? you forgot to leave out dinner?? yeah thats the kind of story that your readers like. maybe if you forgot dinner and shit your pants.
stop wasting my time. i eat cereal for dinner all the time. i don't blog about it because its not interesting. at all. to anyone.
lately i gag, not because you shit your pants and throat f-ed a hobo, but because you're just so gay.
so, let me begin by saying thank you Gman, for the constructive feedback.
after careful consideration, and an analysis of my sources, i have concluded that i am in fact, not gay. however, i am extremely happy with my life and the people in it.
and if blogging about it is gay to you, well then.
gay actually means happy anyway, you loser. so jokes on you Gman.
having said that, i've got a good near-pants-shitting story coming up.
or rather, a series of text messages.
from Gman. a long-time reader, and ex boyfriend.
your blog is so f-ing gay these days. where are the funny stories? you forgot to leave out dinner?? yeah thats the kind of story that your readers like. maybe if you forgot dinner and shit your pants.
stop wasting my time. i eat cereal for dinner all the time. i don't blog about it because its not interesting. at all. to anyone.
lately i gag, not because you shit your pants and throat f-ed a hobo, but because you're just so gay.
so, let me begin by saying thank you Gman, for the constructive feedback.
after careful consideration, and an analysis of my sources, i have concluded that i am in fact, not gay. however, i am extremely happy with my life and the people in it.
and if blogging about it is gay to you, well then.
gay actually means happy anyway, you loser. so jokes on you Gman.
having said that, i've got a good near-pants-shitting story coming up.
Thursday, January 24, 2013
oh mister REA
last week, i fell asleep after work, before Mr. REA came over.
so basically i went to bed at 8pm.
two nights in a row.
and silly me, i forgot to leave dinner out for My Man.
heaven forbid he look in the refrigerator.
or even think about eating leftovers.
so that's the short story about how Mr. REA ate cereal for dinner.
alone.
two nights in a row.
my poor baby.
-our drive to work the next day-
Mr. REA:
we didn't even get to talk last night...
Me:
but we can talk now.
Mr. REA:
i dont like to talk in the morning.
oh.
well then.
so basically i went to bed at 8pm.
two nights in a row.
and silly me, i forgot to leave dinner out for My Man.
heaven forbid he look in the refrigerator.
or even think about eating leftovers.
so that's the short story about how Mr. REA ate cereal for dinner.
alone.
two nights in a row.
my poor baby.
-our drive to work the next day-
Mr. REA:
we didn't even get to talk last night...
Me:
but we can talk now.
Mr. REA:
i dont like to talk in the morning.
oh.
well then.
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
comeback
...and just when you thought i was becoming a domesticated softy, i come back.
with a barf story.
it started out like most barf stories do, at the much anticipated Holiday Work Party.
it was a White Elephant.
my favorite kind of party.
i made a clever card.
i obsessed over it.
i tried to force everyone else to appreciate my cunning sense of humor.
my gift was the most coveted.
i walked away with sheers.
thats a fancy word for scissors.
and no one loves scissors more than i do.
except maybe Martha Stewart herself.
afterwards, we went to favorite bar with coworkers for an hour.
then i went home to change into something fancy for my friends party.
now, i'm sure you can piece together this puzzle rather easily.
here are the facts:
- woke up on couch at 2 am.
- fully dressed.
- covered in blankets.
- with a trashcan nearby
- and a glass of water.
and here are the mysteries:
- who's hair tie is this?
- how much did i drink?
- why does my breath stink SO bad?
- why do i have so many pairs of socks on?
- what the heck am i going to do with all this jalapeno dip?
i'm a moron.
or an alcoholic
either way, i have some explaining to do.
to my Friend, whose party i missed.
to Mr. REA, who wiped my barf off the toilet.
and to myself.
happy belated holidays everyone.
with a barf story.
it started out like most barf stories do, at the much anticipated Holiday Work Party.
it was a White Elephant.
my favorite kind of party.
i made a clever card.
i obsessed over it.
i tried to force everyone else to appreciate my cunning sense of humor.
my gift was the most coveted.
i walked away with sheers.
thats a fancy word for scissors.
and no one loves scissors more than i do.
except maybe Martha Stewart herself.
afterwards, we went to favorite bar with coworkers for an hour.
then i went home to change into something fancy for my friends party.
now, i'm sure you can piece together this puzzle rather easily.
here are the facts:
- woke up on couch at 2 am.
- fully dressed.
- covered in blankets.
- with a trashcan nearby
- and a glass of water.
and here are the mysteries:
- who's hair tie is this?
- how much did i drink?
- why does my breath stink SO bad?
- why do i have so many pairs of socks on?
- what the heck am i going to do with all this jalapeno dip?
i'm a moron.
or an alcoholic
either way, i have some explaining to do.
to my Friend, whose party i missed.
to Mr. REA, who wiped my barf off the toilet.
and to myself.
happy belated holidays everyone.
Friday, January 18, 2013
love notes
i'm not quite sure when the transformation occurred, but somehow i've turned from the icon of hot mess into a younger, more beautiful, law-abiding (debatable) Martha Stewart.
or Betty Crocker.
which one was the cooker?
regardless, i made a delicious meal one night.
frozen meatballs.
jarred pasta sauce.
rotini noodles.
broccoli.
your mouth is already watering. i can tell.
the details are beyond the point.
i created a meal from scratch and waited for Mr. REA to come over.
and waited. and waited.
and waited.
in the morning, Mr. REA was there in bed. sound asleep.
i fought the urge to wake him up abruptly and demand answers.
note: this is also referred to as hiding the Crazy Card
i walked blindly into the kitchen to turn on the sink light.
oh but wait what's this?
a note.
i turn on the coffee maker.
and what's there?
another note.
i stumble into the bathroom.
what's on the mirror?
a note.
or Betty Crocker.
which one was the cooker?
regardless, i made a delicious meal one night.
frozen meatballs.
jarred pasta sauce.
rotini noodles.
broccoli.
your mouth is already watering. i can tell.
the details are beyond the point.
i created a meal from scratch and waited for Mr. REA to come over.
and waited. and waited.
and waited.
at 9:30, i ate alone.
at 9:35, i went to bed.
in the morning, Mr. REA was there in bed. sound asleep.
i fought the urge to wake him up abruptly and demand answers.
note: this is also referred to as hiding the Crazy Card
i walked blindly into the kitchen to turn on the sink light.
oh but wait what's this?
a note.
i turn on the coffee maker.
and what's there?
another note.
i stumble into the bathroom.
what's on the mirror?
a note.
three little yellow sticky pieces of paper later, and all was forgiven.
you're so lovely.
you're the best.
you're so beautiful.
now that's what i refer to as, the cutest thing ever.
you're so lovely.
you're the best.
you're so beautiful.
now that's what i refer to as, the cutest thing ever.
Thursday, January 17, 2013
comparisons
we were out at a club one night with Mr. REA's sister.
i know i know. it was awkward.
no, not the sister part. but the being at a club part.
don't worry, i didn't dance.
so Mr. REA's sister says to me:
you know who you look like - Brooklyn Decker.
i was stunned. flattered.
i have been compared to many an actress in my days, but never the beautiful Brooklyn Decker.
the woman is a bikini model.
i am not a bikini model.
but i won't read too far into the compliment.
noticing my obvious excitement, Mr. REA inquires:
what got you so happy all of a sudden?
Mr. REA's sister repeats,
i said she looks like Brooklyn Decker.
just as i am basking in the glory of once-again being compared to a gorgeous bikini model, Mr. REA interjects without skipping a beat,
Brooklyn Decker has double D's.
and that was the end of that.
i know i know. it was awkward.
no, not the sister part. but the being at a club part.
don't worry, i didn't dance.
so Mr. REA's sister says to me:
you know who you look like - Brooklyn Decker.
i was stunned. flattered.
i have been compared to many an actress in my days, but never the beautiful Brooklyn Decker.
the woman is a bikini model.
i am not a bikini model.
but i won't read too far into the compliment.
noticing my obvious excitement, Mr. REA inquires:
what got you so happy all of a sudden?
Mr. REA's sister repeats,
i said she looks like Brooklyn Decker.
just as i am basking in the glory of once-again being compared to a gorgeous bikini model, Mr. REA interjects without skipping a beat,
Brooklyn Decker has double D's.
and that was the end of that.
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
for the love of the game
Mr. REA:
if my team loses on saturday, don't talk to me for the rest of the weekend.
Me:
excuse me?
Mr. REA:
im serious.
so we can all thank the gracious football gods for the victory in my favor.
both my relationship and my sanity were spared.
however my biggest fear still lies ahead:
I better pray for a Superbowl championship or be prepared for ongoing pouting until the next sports season starts up.
It's baseball, right?
if my team loses on saturday, don't talk to me for the rest of the weekend.
Me:
excuse me?
Mr. REA:
im serious.
so we can all thank the gracious football gods for the victory in my favor.
both my relationship and my sanity were spared.
however my biggest fear still lies ahead:
I better pray for a Superbowl championship or be prepared for ongoing pouting until the next sports season starts up.
It's baseball, right?
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
resolutions
oh hello everyone.
i'm baaaaaaack. and boy do i have some stories for you.
this year, i resolve to be more consistent in publishing posts that make you laugh out loud. or maybe just feel sorry for me. either one is fine by me.
hopefully i can make it past the end of January before i forget or give up.
cheers to you, 2013.
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