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

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

and btw, if you don't laugh out loud. 

and i mean really laugh out loud, 

then consider yourself de-friended. 

happy friday.

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.

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!

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.

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?

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. 

oh.
boring.

and now, a short list of things i enjoy about sports:

1. beer
2. hotdogs
3. beer

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.

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.

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.