Hello all!
So this weekend I met a boy. Now, now, nobody go crazy. I didn't "meet" a boy. Poor fella actually, I felt and still feel bad for him. This is the story:
Cassie and I decided to stay in Tallahassee this weekend. I was glad for some down time because the driving back and forth between home was starting to wear on me and my Ipod playlist was starting to get old. I am happy Cassie was here too because she insured that I was not a total hermit this weekend, even though the torrential downpour we experienced on Saturday tried its best to keep us inside.
To our delight, we awoke on Sunday (at a time that shall remained unmentioned) to find the sunshine's rays doing a tantalizing dance through the curtains. A sunny day with nothing to do? You know what that means.... POOL DAY! We quickly gathered our beach towels and tanning oil and hit the pavement. By the way, my roommate Chelsey let us in on a slightly hilarious secret. If you hate paying the outlandish price for Hawaiian Tropic instant bronzing spray or, my favorite, Banana Boat, use Afrosheen instead!
When we arrived at the pool there was quite a crowd of college kids drinking and having a good time. It was a perfect day for this, except for one thing. One of the apartments right behind the pool was blaring house music. I believe I have already publicly stated my absolute distaste for house music. It was so loud that I thought that it was coming from the pool area speakers. The same repetitive beat was reverberating off the walls and unpleasantly into my ears. After about 45 minutes I had had enough. I took Cassie's phone and called the front desk. I was too in love with the sunshine to get up and walk inside for a face to face confrontation about the terrible tunes. When someone picked up the line I politely asked if there was any way they could change the radio station to something other than house music. Seriously, I was ready to listen to chamber music over that junk. They confirmed what Cassie said, that it was coming from behind us. I inquired as to if there was anything they could do about it and the man said he would send someone over to the apartment, but that he thinks that resident in question is actually at the pool.
Ten minutes later, Cassie was done with the music too and called back up to the front. The man suggested that we ask around and see if we could get them to turn it off. Being as lazy as we were, we asked the two guys closest to us if they knew who was the culprit DJ. They did not, but of course we continued to talk to them because well, that is what we girls do. He asked if we didn't like it and we said not for that extended of a period of time. He said, "I bet y'all want to listen to some country, dontcha?" Well, frankly yes. I'd personally love to have Luke Bryan serenade me as I soaked up the sunshine.
I noticed one of the boys was particularly good looking. He had dirty blonde hair and the bluest eyes I have ever seen. They were bluer than the bluest of a friend of mine, and that is saying something. He had a pretty buff chest without looking roided out and a nice little six pack to compliment his man pecks. Needless to say, he was a slice of sunshine himself. He laughed as we said we would rather hear anything but this stuff any longer. That was pretty much the end of our conversation, or at least it was over for a few minutes.
To our distinct pleasure, the music cut off for a few minutes. I quickly redialed the front desk and frantically demanded they turn something else on while they had the chance. The lady who answered chuckled at my dramatic intensity when I said, "They have turned the shitty music off, HURRY!" Hooray! Something else was finally on. I'm not quite sure what it was, it was a little jazzy, but hey, I was pleased.
One of the boys looked back and said, "I bet y'all are happy now." Yes, yes we were.
The sun was absolutely beaming down on us and though the pool was frigid cold, we left our seats to dip our legs in the pool. Shamefully, mine were on the manly hairy side. I thought of everything else before I left the house, except for shaving my legs. Oh well, I thought, we typically don't talk to anyone, especially cute boys when we come to the pool because Cassie, Jess, and Chelsey have boyfriends, and I am, well, I'm me. So, naturally, we would engage in conversation with this fine specimen of a man.
As we dipped our toes in the icy water, he swam up to where we were sitting and said, "Can I ask y'all a question?" In my mind I was thinking, "Sure darlin', you can ask me anything you want." I kept my sassy, flirty inner Cara in check though. Cassie and I both nodded and he went into a spill I think we were both totally unprepared for.
"So, I have this girlfriend who I am out here visiting this weekend..."
Before he could even finish his sentence I blurted out, "Well, where is she?" She was working.
"...She is at work but I drove 2 and a half hours here from Jacksonville to spend time with her, and she just acts like I am not even here. She ignores me and is either on Facebook, texting someone secretively, or has her nose shoved in Pinterest..."
I am sorry dude, we always have our sniffers and eyeballs glued to Pinterest. Cassie and I both kind of laugh when he says the part about Pinterest. I'm not sure if it is because he actually knows what Pinterest is or the way he rolled his eyes when he said it, but it was kind of adorable.
"...Also, she has these "guy friends" that she won't let me meet. I get here, she tells me about it, we argue for 20 minutes about some dudes that I don't even know... I mean what do y'all think? What should I do?"
Cassie and I both look at each other and use our Jedi mind powers to communicate through the eyes, trying to figure out what to say to this poor handsome soul in front of us.
Cassie says, "Go out without her! It is Sunday Funday and if she isn't going to pay you any attention you shouldn't sit around and wait on her."
"Did she give you a reason as to why you couldn't meet her "guy friends"?" I ask.
"After we got into a huge argument she finally freaked out and said, "FINE! YOU CAN MEET THEM!!!""
Cassie said, "You need to tell her it is either your guy friends or me." Amen sister, she was always stronger than me with stuff like this. I envy her ability to cold turkey a guy if need be. It's a problem for me, I'm working on it.
I got really serious with him and said, "The reason you can't meet these so called guy friends is because the friends are not her friends, they are the guy who she is cheating on you with's friends. The person she is texting is this guy." I wanted to say, she's on Pinterest planning her imaginary wedding with this guy and she's not paying you any attention because she wants you to leave so she can be with this guy. But I didn't, I felt too bad for him and I thought the first part was enough.
You see, I know all about dating someone who lives two and a half hours away. He had "girl friends" too, who I never really met. Of course he was probably with half of these besties with boobies while I was studying my life away at FSU and behaving myself. I know what it is like to drive home, ready to spend some time with my honey and all he wants to do is play COD or MLB the Show depending on the boyfriend at the time. Yep, I know all the games.
Cassie and I came to the same conclusion and told him, "You need to get rid of her. Ain't nobody got time to be driving from Jacksonville to Tally to be ignored." Seriously, that kind of effort deserves some on arrival TLC. And I don't mean watching Gypsy Sisters together.
So my question is, why do we make ourselves miserable in these relationships? I mean, here this beautiful creature is swimming in an apartment complex pool with his friend, when the person he really wants to be with is off not wanting to pay him a lick of attention, and asking two strangers for relationship advice. How awful is that? This guy could have any girl he wanted; he's good looking, he has a good job with the Air Force, and he is obviously committed. I'd definitely pay attention to that.
Why do we do this to ourselves? Is the fish really worth it if it is going to snap the expensive fishing rod? If we know something is going on behind our backs, why do we let it continue? Surely, there is something better out there.
I think people stay in a "scandalous" relationship because we are afraid of being alone. Humans are naturally social and the thought of being by ourselves is almost unbearable. We tell ourselves, "It worked once, maybe we can get it back," when in reality we already know the ending isn't going to be one written by Nicholas Sparks. We would rather be with someone who treats us like crap than be with nobody at all. Some attention is better than no attention. I am saying the same things over and over, but it is all of equal truth.
Let's not put up with this kind of bull anymore. When you play with the bull you get the horns, and by that I mean one straight through the heart. Quit waving the red flag antagonizing the beast and fly the white one. Surrender the bad relationship in exchange for one that I promise you will be so much better, even if it means waiting a little while. You'll be surprised at how much your standards are revamped after a little time to reevaluate what you really want.
If someone is being super secretive about their phone, not really paying attention to you, hanging out with "friends" who weren't existent a few months ago, and you have that little voice in the back of your head telling you it's time to go, don't walk away, RUN!
To the boy who we met this weekend, I hope you leave her. You are far too fine of a man, in other ways than just physically, to be putting up with that mistreatment. Go and find you a girl who will greet you with a big wet kiss instead one who barely opens the door for you before going straight back to her phone to text her thing on the side. There are plenty of women out there who would better appreciate you.
I'm glad Cassie and I were too lazy to go get some adult beverages. I probably would have invited you over for the AMAZING Italian style pasta salad I made, had I had some liquid courage. He might not have worried about her anymore after he took a bite.
Monday, March 25, 2013
Friday, March 22, 2013
Making a List, Checking it Twice
Hello all,
Have you ever thought about what you want in life? Like really sat down and made a list of all the goals you want to accomplish or the qualities you are looking for in a significant other? A few weeks ago I was visiting my Gigi and Papa Joe when I started thinking about this. She is the sweetest little old lady and Papa Joe is quite the jokester. He tells me all the time that I am his date for any family events that we have. My Uncle Jack and Aunt Lori were there, too. Uncle Jack is a very intuitive man and he asks me a ton of questions at Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners. The conversation was mainly circled around school, they always ask me what I am doing with my life since I am constantly changing my mind.
Inevitably, the conversation turned to boys. It always does. It isn't just them who ask me about my relationships; its my mom, my grandma in Seattle, and pretty much everyone else. I guess it's understandable. Until now, there hasn't been an extended period of time when I was single. I hate the word single. Just one. It sounds so sad when really, you are just you doing your own thing for a while. Do we have to label it? I don't really care for the word couple either. What are you a couple of? A couple of eggs? A couple of pizza rolls? Currently craving both of these, if you cannot tell. Maybe I am just bitter about these couples. I was with someone all throughout high school. I never had over a month or two of being by myself. Perhaps that is what is wrong with me.
My Uncle asked me if I was still with the same boy, I shook my head and said, "Praise the Lord, no!" They laughed at me and asked why, I told them the partial truth, that he didn't see me as good enough for him when in reality he was no where near halfway good enough for me. I should have beat him to the punch, but we all know I am no track star.
Uncle Jack got serious with me after I got through telling them why I was no longer with my ex. He told me to make a list of all the qualities and attributes that I wanted in the next man I dated, and if I could find one who met every single checkpoint, he would be the man I married. He told me to make a physical list on a piece of paper that I could see every day and refer to if need be. A mental list isn't good enough. "Be really serious," he said, "Do not stray from this list and you will be the happiest girl in the world."
So, I have decided to take Uncle Jack's suggestion to another level. Let's be honest, if I write it down on a piece of paper, I will lose it ten seconds after I finish with it. So I am putting in a blog. I read these on a daily anyways so it's the perfect keep safe place. I feel as though if I can see it every day or at least once a week, I will hold true to the list and not let my standards slip again. Settling is not an option for me. I want to "settle" with someone who doesn't make it feel like I am giving up something else in exchange. A relationship is not a bartering trade, so you shouldn't have to give up anything about yourself (anything good anyways) in order to comply with the needs of a boyfriend/girlfriend.
A while back, I posted a status on Facebook that was quite popular. I had just purchased and watched one of my all time favorite movies, The Avengers. As I drooled over the multitude of sexy men in this movie, I couldn't help but think of how perfect a man would be if he was a combination of all of them.
I want a man with Iron Man's sarcasm and brilliant mind, Captain America's humbleness and love of his country, the Hulk's muscles and practiced self- restraint, Hawk Eye's precision and quiet patience, and Thor's divine good looks and smoldering eyes. I wouldn't say no to his accent either. These men are super not just because of their incredible strength or hidden genetic anomalies. They have so much more than that.
Notice I did not comment too much on outward appearance. Sure, I would love to have a man with Captain America's deliciously buff bod, Thor's beautifully mythical face and strong jaw line, and Iron Man's facial gruff and sexy smile. However, I would prefer a man who can carry himself with confidence rather wallow in conceitedness. A guy who knows he is hot is too much diva to be in a relationship with me. I am the queen, you can't be one too. However, I would like for my man to be decently attractive. That's how it all starts. Anyone who says they fell for someone's personality first is a liar. You just met them five seconds ago, you don't know what crazy could be lurking under that sweet smile and small talk.
Truth is, you have to be lured in by something first. It could be something small like pretty teeth behind a crooked grin or long eye lashes covering mysteriously enticing eyes. I am not asking for someone who could pose on the cover of Men's Health, although that would be a serious added bonus, but you have to have something about you that I can look at and say "wow" about as my heart melts and blood simmers.
I have to say, my favorite physical features are pretty, straight, white teeth, dimples, tall stature, and facial hair. I heard an ad on Pandora the other day saying that 85% of women prefer a clean shaven man. This is false. I don't know who their sample pool of women were but I completely disagree. I don't need a Duck Dynasty beard or anything, a little stubble is all I require. Nothing feels sexier rubbing your lips and nose along their gruffly jaw line before planting a kiss on their lips. Dimples are so amazingly hot. I once heard a myth that babies born with dimples got them because they were poked during pregnant sex. Obviously, this is not true but I got a good laugh when I told someone's momma this. Yes, her son had dimples. I like my men taller than me. It makes me feel safe for some reason, like he could defend me if need be. I love standing on my tip toes to kiss a guy. I prefer for him to be about a foot taller than me, but a few inches is fine too.
The next boyfriend I have will dress nicely. Or at least be open to letting me help put outfits together. He will NOT wear basketball shorts under regular shorts. Why do guys think it is appropriate to wear a cut off sleeve shirt meant for the gym to dinner? Where do they get these ideas?! Would you want me wearing my yoga pants, hoodie, and no make up out in the public eye where people are?! NO, you would be embarrassed! This is a man's worst double standard. Does everyone know what "jorts" are? Jorts are jean shorts and they are not okay unless you are my Papa wearing them to do yard work, maybe not even then. A man who wears jorts will be a deal breaker from now on. If you have a pair of those, burn them immediately. My guy will put in a good effort to wear nice things. If I have to get pretty for you, you can at least wear a shirt without holes for me.
He has to like to kiss. I will kiss you anywhere, anytime, in front of anyone. I don't mean sloppy PDA, we can save that for the backseat of a car, the movies, sitting on the bathroom sink, etc. I love kissing. For some reason, it is more enjoyable than anything else to me. This may be a bit much for some readers. Oh well. Someone told me the other day that I am ridiculous and obscene. My response was, "I am pretty good at being ridiculous and obscene." This was probably meant to be an insult, I didn't take it as one since I both of these things.
Although personality is not what I notice first, it is a biggy with me. If you have the personality of a wet mop, we just won't work. I need someone who loves to have fun and can make me laugh. That's really not a tall order because I laugh at everything. If I am not laughing, you aren't funny and shouldn't take up a career in comedy. He has to be motivated and help me in whatever I want to accomplish whether it is working out, for school, or anything I need to be inspired about really. I am probably the most helpful, supportive person (not trying to be conceited but it's true), so I expect this guy to be the same way with me. You remember the boyfriend who told me I was fat? Yeah, I asked him several times to go to the gym with me and he wouldn't get off his lazy ass to do anything of the sort. Call of Duty doesn't burn calories. I want someone who will laugh at my terribly dry jokes and kid around with me. Just because we are older doesn't mean everything has to be serious. I need my man to be smart. Not like rocket scientist smart though because then I will feel inferior and stupid. But someone has to be able to help the kids with their math homework and it won't be me if it is anything past long division and multiplying fractions. I can't have a boring boyfriend. He needs to be a fun seeker. I like to do off the wall, random things. For instance, this week I have had the sudden urge to go kayaking. The bf has to be down to just get up and go do something cool at the last minute.
One thing I demand the most out of a guy is that he is goal oriented. I cannot stress enough how much this means to me. I don't want someone who is okay a job that is fit for a high school sophomore. He has to want more for himself and more for me. I want someone who wants to be successful in whatever trade they value. This could be anything from being the CEO Apple to teaching 3rd grade English. It doesn't matter to me how much money the job makes. As long as he is passionate about something, I am cool with it. He needs to have went to college, become skilled in some sort of manly trade, or served in the military. Dreams are an important thing to have. If you aren't dreaming, you will go nowhere.
For some reason, I see myself with a boy from the country. I would consider a yuppie boy from the city but there is something about a small town boy's values that melt my heart. They are typically polite, firm, gruff,manly, and easy to have a good time with. Men raised in the South just have a way about them that I find very appealing. They aren't afraid to say what they believe in but know when to hold their tongue as well. There's a protective factor about them, too. I would like to think that if I was dropped off in the woods and told to survive like in the Hunger Games, he would be able to keep me safe and we would come out alive. I don't like feeling like the man in a relationship, so I don't need a sissy boy who can't stick up for me if need be.
The bottom line here is that he has to be able to put up with me. I am crazy, dramatic, loud, and needy. I say needy, but it is little things like: tell me I am pretty, feed me, play with my hair, scratch my back when we are watching a movie or reading, talk on the phone with me when I am walking out from Wal-Mart at night, buy me Reese's eggs for Easter, and let me pick out your shirt every once in a while. Pretty simple right? I don't think I am completely unmanageable.
So, here is the final list:
1) Slightly sarcastic/can deal with mine
2) Intelligent
3) Humble and not arrogant (unless it's appropriate)
4) Self controlled (no cheaters allowed)
5) Patient (I take a while to get ready and I am always late)
6) Attractive in my eyes
7) Taller than me
8) Sexy stubble
9) Handsome smile with a side of dimples
10) Knows how to dress for the occasion
11) Must love to kiss
12) Can joke with me and take jokes back
13) Motivated
14) Inspiring
15) Up for random road trips and small town adventures
16) Goal oriented
17) Wants the most out of life
18) Passionate about something other than himself
19) Can dream with me
20) Preferably "country" but not redneck
21) Polite
22) Manly
23) Protective
24) Could defend me if necessary
25) Can put up with me and my quirks
I am putting this list out there because I want to know what I want. To be able to have something to see physically every day will be a constant reminder of my deepest desires I want to find in someone. I should never have to settle for someone, to have to mold someone into the the "perfect" man. I really like projects, and unfortunately I let that extend to relationships sometimes. I like to take broken things and fix them. Sometimes I take on these little boys thinking I can help them and shape them into men. But no more, men aren't made out of clay. I refuse to date someone who I have to work on. This list will be a sort of mantra for me that says, "DO NOT SETTLE FOR ANYTHING LESS." I strongly encourage everyone to make a list. It will really make you rack your brain for what you value in yourself and in others. You shouldn't have to second guess yourself when making a decision about being with someone. This list is like a fool proof way to ensure that no guessing will be involved. You will already know what you want before you start talking to someone and know if he/she is a waste of time or not.
Someone asked the other day if I believe in waiting for someone who is everything you want, your true love so to speak, or find someone who you can be content with. Men are like lions, they can be trained, but not tamed. To answer that question, wait my dear. Wait until you find someone who sets your heart ablaze with more love than you can handle. The man who fits all of these things is out there, I am sure of it. They say God put a man for every woman on this Earth. In my heart, I know and feel that this is the truth. I know that He has seen these wants/needs in my heart long before I decided to put it in a blog. He made (insert future husband's name here)for me a long time ago. Until we meet, I will read over this list every so often so that when I meet him for the first time, I will recognize him. After all we have met in my dreams. Until then though, I will be patient.
Have you ever thought about what you want in life? Like really sat down and made a list of all the goals you want to accomplish or the qualities you are looking for in a significant other? A few weeks ago I was visiting my Gigi and Papa Joe when I started thinking about this. She is the sweetest little old lady and Papa Joe is quite the jokester. He tells me all the time that I am his date for any family events that we have. My Uncle Jack and Aunt Lori were there, too. Uncle Jack is a very intuitive man and he asks me a ton of questions at Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners. The conversation was mainly circled around school, they always ask me what I am doing with my life since I am constantly changing my mind.
Inevitably, the conversation turned to boys. It always does. It isn't just them who ask me about my relationships; its my mom, my grandma in Seattle, and pretty much everyone else. I guess it's understandable. Until now, there hasn't been an extended period of time when I was single. I hate the word single. Just one. It sounds so sad when really, you are just you doing your own thing for a while. Do we have to label it? I don't really care for the word couple either. What are you a couple of? A couple of eggs? A couple of pizza rolls? Currently craving both of these, if you cannot tell. Maybe I am just bitter about these couples. I was with someone all throughout high school. I never had over a month or two of being by myself. Perhaps that is what is wrong with me.
My Uncle asked me if I was still with the same boy, I shook my head and said, "Praise the Lord, no!" They laughed at me and asked why, I told them the partial truth, that he didn't see me as good enough for him when in reality he was no where near halfway good enough for me. I should have beat him to the punch, but we all know I am no track star.
Uncle Jack got serious with me after I got through telling them why I was no longer with my ex. He told me to make a list of all the qualities and attributes that I wanted in the next man I dated, and if I could find one who met every single checkpoint, he would be the man I married. He told me to make a physical list on a piece of paper that I could see every day and refer to if need be. A mental list isn't good enough. "Be really serious," he said, "Do not stray from this list and you will be the happiest girl in the world."
So, I have decided to take Uncle Jack's suggestion to another level. Let's be honest, if I write it down on a piece of paper, I will lose it ten seconds after I finish with it. So I am putting in a blog. I read these on a daily anyways so it's the perfect keep safe place. I feel as though if I can see it every day or at least once a week, I will hold true to the list and not let my standards slip again. Settling is not an option for me. I want to "settle" with someone who doesn't make it feel like I am giving up something else in exchange. A relationship is not a bartering trade, so you shouldn't have to give up anything about yourself (anything good anyways) in order to comply with the needs of a boyfriend/girlfriend.
A while back, I posted a status on Facebook that was quite popular. I had just purchased and watched one of my all time favorite movies, The Avengers. As I drooled over the multitude of sexy men in this movie, I couldn't help but think of how perfect a man would be if he was a combination of all of them.
I want a man with Iron Man's sarcasm and brilliant mind, Captain America's humbleness and love of his country, the Hulk's muscles and practiced self- restraint, Hawk Eye's precision and quiet patience, and Thor's divine good looks and smoldering eyes. I wouldn't say no to his accent either. These men are super not just because of their incredible strength or hidden genetic anomalies. They have so much more than that.
Notice I did not comment too much on outward appearance. Sure, I would love to have a man with Captain America's deliciously buff bod, Thor's beautifully mythical face and strong jaw line, and Iron Man's facial gruff and sexy smile. However, I would prefer a man who can carry himself with confidence rather wallow in conceitedness. A guy who knows he is hot is too much diva to be in a relationship with me. I am the queen, you can't be one too. However, I would like for my man to be decently attractive. That's how it all starts. Anyone who says they fell for someone's personality first is a liar. You just met them five seconds ago, you don't know what crazy could be lurking under that sweet smile and small talk.
Truth is, you have to be lured in by something first. It could be something small like pretty teeth behind a crooked grin or long eye lashes covering mysteriously enticing eyes. I am not asking for someone who could pose on the cover of Men's Health, although that would be a serious added bonus, but you have to have something about you that I can look at and say "wow" about as my heart melts and blood simmers.
I have to say, my favorite physical features are pretty, straight, white teeth, dimples, tall stature, and facial hair. I heard an ad on Pandora the other day saying that 85% of women prefer a clean shaven man. This is false. I don't know who their sample pool of women were but I completely disagree. I don't need a Duck Dynasty beard or anything, a little stubble is all I require. Nothing feels sexier rubbing your lips and nose along their gruffly jaw line before planting a kiss on their lips. Dimples are so amazingly hot. I once heard a myth that babies born with dimples got them because they were poked during pregnant sex. Obviously, this is not true but I got a good laugh when I told someone's momma this. Yes, her son had dimples. I like my men taller than me. It makes me feel safe for some reason, like he could defend me if need be. I love standing on my tip toes to kiss a guy. I prefer for him to be about a foot taller than me, but a few inches is fine too.
The next boyfriend I have will dress nicely. Or at least be open to letting me help put outfits together. He will NOT wear basketball shorts under regular shorts. Why do guys think it is appropriate to wear a cut off sleeve shirt meant for the gym to dinner? Where do they get these ideas?! Would you want me wearing my yoga pants, hoodie, and no make up out in the public eye where people are?! NO, you would be embarrassed! This is a man's worst double standard. Does everyone know what "jorts" are? Jorts are jean shorts and they are not okay unless you are my Papa wearing them to do yard work, maybe not even then. A man who wears jorts will be a deal breaker from now on. If you have a pair of those, burn them immediately. My guy will put in a good effort to wear nice things. If I have to get pretty for you, you can at least wear a shirt without holes for me.
He has to like to kiss. I will kiss you anywhere, anytime, in front of anyone. I don't mean sloppy PDA, we can save that for the backseat of a car, the movies, sitting on the bathroom sink, etc. I love kissing. For some reason, it is more enjoyable than anything else to me. This may be a bit much for some readers. Oh well. Someone told me the other day that I am ridiculous and obscene. My response was, "I am pretty good at being ridiculous and obscene." This was probably meant to be an insult, I didn't take it as one since I both of these things.
Although personality is not what I notice first, it is a biggy with me. If you have the personality of a wet mop, we just won't work. I need someone who loves to have fun and can make me laugh. That's really not a tall order because I laugh at everything. If I am not laughing, you aren't funny and shouldn't take up a career in comedy. He has to be motivated and help me in whatever I want to accomplish whether it is working out, for school, or anything I need to be inspired about really. I am probably the most helpful, supportive person (not trying to be conceited but it's true), so I expect this guy to be the same way with me. You remember the boyfriend who told me I was fat? Yeah, I asked him several times to go to the gym with me and he wouldn't get off his lazy ass to do anything of the sort. Call of Duty doesn't burn calories. I want someone who will laugh at my terribly dry jokes and kid around with me. Just because we are older doesn't mean everything has to be serious. I need my man to be smart. Not like rocket scientist smart though because then I will feel inferior and stupid. But someone has to be able to help the kids with their math homework and it won't be me if it is anything past long division and multiplying fractions. I can't have a boring boyfriend. He needs to be a fun seeker. I like to do off the wall, random things. For instance, this week I have had the sudden urge to go kayaking. The bf has to be down to just get up and go do something cool at the last minute.
One thing I demand the most out of a guy is that he is goal oriented. I cannot stress enough how much this means to me. I don't want someone who is okay a job that is fit for a high school sophomore. He has to want more for himself and more for me. I want someone who wants to be successful in whatever trade they value. This could be anything from being the CEO Apple to teaching 3rd grade English. It doesn't matter to me how much money the job makes. As long as he is passionate about something, I am cool with it. He needs to have went to college, become skilled in some sort of manly trade, or served in the military. Dreams are an important thing to have. If you aren't dreaming, you will go nowhere.
For some reason, I see myself with a boy from the country. I would consider a yuppie boy from the city but there is something about a small town boy's values that melt my heart. They are typically polite, firm, gruff,manly, and easy to have a good time with. Men raised in the South just have a way about them that I find very appealing. They aren't afraid to say what they believe in but know when to hold their tongue as well. There's a protective factor about them, too. I would like to think that if I was dropped off in the woods and told to survive like in the Hunger Games, he would be able to keep me safe and we would come out alive. I don't like feeling like the man in a relationship, so I don't need a sissy boy who can't stick up for me if need be.
The bottom line here is that he has to be able to put up with me. I am crazy, dramatic, loud, and needy. I say needy, but it is little things like: tell me I am pretty, feed me, play with my hair, scratch my back when we are watching a movie or reading, talk on the phone with me when I am walking out from Wal-Mart at night, buy me Reese's eggs for Easter, and let me pick out your shirt every once in a while. Pretty simple right? I don't think I am completely unmanageable.
So, here is the final list:
1) Slightly sarcastic/can deal with mine
2) Intelligent
3) Humble and not arrogant (unless it's appropriate)
4) Self controlled (no cheaters allowed)
5) Patient (I take a while to get ready and I am always late)
6) Attractive in my eyes
7) Taller than me
8) Sexy stubble
9) Handsome smile with a side of dimples
10) Knows how to dress for the occasion
11) Must love to kiss
12) Can joke with me and take jokes back
13) Motivated
14) Inspiring
15) Up for random road trips and small town adventures
16) Goal oriented
17) Wants the most out of life
18) Passionate about something other than himself
19) Can dream with me
20) Preferably "country" but not redneck
21) Polite
22) Manly
23) Protective
24) Could defend me if necessary
25) Can put up with me and my quirks
I am putting this list out there because I want to know what I want. To be able to have something to see physically every day will be a constant reminder of my deepest desires I want to find in someone. I should never have to settle for someone, to have to mold someone into the the "perfect" man. I really like projects, and unfortunately I let that extend to relationships sometimes. I like to take broken things and fix them. Sometimes I take on these little boys thinking I can help them and shape them into men. But no more, men aren't made out of clay. I refuse to date someone who I have to work on. This list will be a sort of mantra for me that says, "DO NOT SETTLE FOR ANYTHING LESS." I strongly encourage everyone to make a list. It will really make you rack your brain for what you value in yourself and in others. You shouldn't have to second guess yourself when making a decision about being with someone. This list is like a fool proof way to ensure that no guessing will be involved. You will already know what you want before you start talking to someone and know if he/she is a waste of time or not.
Someone asked the other day if I believe in waiting for someone who is everything you want, your true love so to speak, or find someone who you can be content with. Men are like lions, they can be trained, but not tamed. To answer that question, wait my dear. Wait until you find someone who sets your heart ablaze with more love than you can handle. The man who fits all of these things is out there, I am sure of it. They say God put a man for every woman on this Earth. In my heart, I know and feel that this is the truth. I know that He has seen these wants/needs in my heart long before I decided to put it in a blog. He made (insert future husband's name here)for me a long time ago. Until we meet, I will read over this list every so often so that when I meet him for the first time, I will recognize him. After all we have met in my dreams. Until then though, I will be patient.
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Spring Breakers
Hello all,
I regret to inform you all that I am no longer on Spring Break. It was a nice little vacation away from my ridiculously hard college load. I mean, only having school on Tuesdays and Thursdays can really wear a girl down (my inner soul is feeling very sarcastic tonight). Regardless, it was nice to be somewhere other than Tallahassee. West Tennessee street was starting to look like a concrete Slip n Slide to Hell.
So, I left off with us finally getting on the road to PCB. After two hours of a two lane highway and jamming to my insanely awesome playlist which includes a mix of Wicked Soundtrack, Brittney Spears, and Jason Aldean, we made it to the condo. It was one of the seven tasks of Hercules to get all our crap out of the car and up to the room. I was feeling pretty run down after the whole running out of gas thing and driving for two hours. Chelsea was insisting on going out. The thing you have to know about Chelsea is that she is pretty much a firecracker and has to go go go all the time. This makes her the perfect gym partner. Had it been up to me, we would have sat in the living room and watched Breaking Dawn part 2. Thank goodness it wasn't up to me because that night at Spinnakers was amazing!
For my fellow Tallahassee Lassies and Lads, you could say Spinnakers is a Potbelly's but about twenty times better. It has two outdoor decks with several bars. The decks housed a country band and a rock band. There was an inside part that was more club like playing a mix of hip hop and house music. Can I just throw out that I really really really cannot stand house music? Some of it is okay I guess, but that needs to be left in Miami for the Ultra freaks. I mean I could sit on a computer and put beeps and sirens that sound good together and be famous... Hey, that's not a bad idea at all, but I think I will stick to blogging. Spinnakers was definitely my kind of place though. It was the right balance of chill and hype, outside and inside, bar and club, and fresh air and sweaty dancers. I highly recommend it to anyone in the PCB area.
The next night we went to the world famous Club La Vela. I have to say, I have no idea why it is world famous. The cover is ridiculous and after you pay it you really don't want to buy drinks. Go to Club La Vela they said, the celebrities rage there they said. If I was a celebrity I would not want to party there. Surely, there is a secret passage to like the one in Narnia that takes you to a better part where the world's most celebrated go and get wasted at. I'll say this, the rooms were really cool. They have something for everyone. If traditional clubbing is your thing, there is a room for that. If you want to step back into the 80's and rock out to Guns N Roses, there is a room for that. There was one room that was particularly frightening. It was called something like the Pussy Cat Lounge, I am fuzzy on the details. It was like I had walked into Christian Grey's red room of pain. There was a big red plush bed where some couple were literally fornicating on. Along the walls were sleek leather couches where boys and girls engaged in racy conversation and make out sessions. Above the couches were pictures of naked women, like really naked. There was no holding a python to cover the breasts or standing in front of a bush to hide the one between their legs. It was just out there for everyone to see. I wondered who these women were. Some of the photos were signed. Perhaps they were famous porn stars. Well girls, this just proves you don't have to be a centerfold to have your picture out there for horny college boys to see.
Speaking of hormone ridden college boys, the boy to girl ratio was pretty awesome. Awesome for the ladies that is. Too bad everyone down there was on drugs. Seriously some kid almost got beat up because he was jumping around like an ape and knocking into people. I don't know what he was on, but he took way too much. I have an issue with men at the club. When did it become okay for a guy to come up behind you and start dry humping you as an introduction? I mean, what happened to saying hello and asking first? Is that outdated now? Did I miss the cool and happening boat? I don't know what you boys are thinking, but we will still turn you down flat even if we can't see you so you might as well just face us the manly old fashioned way. You see, girls have a code, a system so to speak. While we are there to dance with our girlfriends or a boyfriend if we have one, the prospects of dancing with a cute fella are not totally improbable. So, we may let you come up and dance with us, especially if we are on the hunt for a new man and smell blood. However, we will give a look to our other friends in the dance circle. The look is to say, "Do I dance with him? Is he good looking or is he a total nasty?" If we get a smile and nod or some sort of agreed upon signal, we just might continue to dance with you. However, 99 % of the time, we get the widened, horrified eyes and slight shake which means, "You need to get away from him! RUN GIRL RUN!" Then we will proceed to do that awkward shimmy away from you and deeper into our group of friends maneuver. If I was a dude, I would not want to be dancing on some girl and then her just suddenly dart away from me. That has to be a serious ego killer, but I am sure some of you need that every once in a while. Just save yourself the bubble buster and don't do it. We are not an open pole that you can just come and rub your body all over.
I had one promising interested party eying me at La Vela. He was tall, had facial gruff, and you could see the definition in his arms and chest underneath his tshirt. I gave him an extra point for his sexy stubble, but then had to take it away when I noticed that his shirt was an Abercrombie logo tee. He had been watching me for a while, so I was attempting to make myself look as desirable as a girl could whilst being knocked into by drunken fools and sweating. Eventually he made his way over to me. He asked me if I wanted a drink. I turned down his offer, you aren't supposed to accept drinks from strangers. He could have carried me off to Rape Land on the Ru-phenol Express. He walked away but he was persistent. I like that in a man. He asked me if I wanted to dance and I said sure. So we were dancing. It was pretty decent. I mean it wasn't ballroom dancing or anything, guys just sort of stand there while you go all Chicago on them. He grabbed my arm and pulled me close and whispered something in my ear. Just wait. It is not as sexy as it sounds. He asked me if I was "rolling." Now, I had no idea what that meant. My body was rolling but I had a sneaky suspicion that that is not what he meant. So, I said no and kind of got away from him. I asked my friends what that meant and they looked at me and laughed. Apparently, rolling means you are on a drug called Molly. Why do we name bad things with girl names? Like Kesha is pot, Nina is a gun, and now Molly is a brain rotting drug. Needless to say, Abercrombie cowboy lost all his points for "rolling."
Poor Michelle was getting hit on by everyone, including all the thug nasties. Thank the Lord her Hispanic temper came out and she was able to fend for herself. If she needed back up, Sandy was there to jump in and save her. The two of them are dynamic duo and are great party partners. None of the boys even put up the good Harvard try after they got through saying no to them. If they did, they would end up sorry and walking away with their tail between their legs.
The last night we went to my personal favorite, the Coyote Ugly Saloon. It is just like the movie! There were clothes lines running across the ceiling that displayed bras of every color and size as decoration. If I had not been overly fond of the one I was wearing that night I would have gladly added it to their collection. It would have made for a great story to tell the grand kids one day. But I kept the bra on and boobies retained. There was the iconic metal pipe hanging up over the bar for the girls to get up and dance on. I saw guys reaching up and slapping the girls' behinds so I skipped out on that experience too. I had on really high shoes too. A bar plus me plus dancing plus high heels equals a visit to the ER and a few weeks in a cast on some body part.
I did indulge in one of Coyote Ugly's famous attractions: the mechanical bull. My friends were laughing at me saying I wouldn't be good at it, but I fired back that I have ridden horses since I was a little girl. Eventually you learn to hold on if you don't want to be walking funny from falling on your butt. I was terrified though. The mechanical bull looked vicious as I watched it sling victim after victim off onto the blow up mat. There was a crowd of people standing around watching that did not dissipate when it came time for my turn on this beast. I approached the bull with caution, as though it were real. I placed my hands on its back and attempted to mount it. I say attempted because I completely underestimated how tall it was and how short I was, so I missed it and fell back down onto the padded floor. Talk about embarrassing! These people were probably like, "look at this girl, she can't even get on!" But I shook off my blushed cheeks and jumped up on it like a pro. The man behind the bull started to twist the knobs that would inevitably throw me off. To my surprise, I did not fly off. I stayed on for a hot minute. 5 dollars bought you three attempts. My second round with Bucky was not as good as the first, but I was still holding on for longer than the bull master wanted. On my third ride, he really cranked it up and I only lasted about 15 seconds. He spun me so fast that I flew to the edge of the mat when I fell off. I had saddle rash when I got off because I was wearing shorts that night. The sides of the bull had rubbed my thighs raw. The bull tech offered me some soothing lotion. I looked closely at the bottle and it had a note that read, "to be applied by the bull tech only." I politely declined his offer.
PCB was completely amazing. I think everyone deserves the real college spring break experience. Even though I will have graduated by the time the next spring break rolls around, I plan on doing something similar around the same time. I am thinking of going out of the country or on a cruise. I am 21 years old and have yet to leave this country, I think it is about time.
I regret to inform you all that I am no longer on Spring Break. It was a nice little vacation away from my ridiculously hard college load. I mean, only having school on Tuesdays and Thursdays can really wear a girl down (my inner soul is feeling very sarcastic tonight). Regardless, it was nice to be somewhere other than Tallahassee. West Tennessee street was starting to look like a concrete Slip n Slide to Hell.
So, I left off with us finally getting on the road to PCB. After two hours of a two lane highway and jamming to my insanely awesome playlist which includes a mix of Wicked Soundtrack, Brittney Spears, and Jason Aldean, we made it to the condo. It was one of the seven tasks of Hercules to get all our crap out of the car and up to the room. I was feeling pretty run down after the whole running out of gas thing and driving for two hours. Chelsea was insisting on going out. The thing you have to know about Chelsea is that she is pretty much a firecracker and has to go go go all the time. This makes her the perfect gym partner. Had it been up to me, we would have sat in the living room and watched Breaking Dawn part 2. Thank goodness it wasn't up to me because that night at Spinnakers was amazing!
For my fellow Tallahassee Lassies and Lads, you could say Spinnakers is a Potbelly's but about twenty times better. It has two outdoor decks with several bars. The decks housed a country band and a rock band. There was an inside part that was more club like playing a mix of hip hop and house music. Can I just throw out that I really really really cannot stand house music? Some of it is okay I guess, but that needs to be left in Miami for the Ultra freaks. I mean I could sit on a computer and put beeps and sirens that sound good together and be famous... Hey, that's not a bad idea at all, but I think I will stick to blogging. Spinnakers was definitely my kind of place though. It was the right balance of chill and hype, outside and inside, bar and club, and fresh air and sweaty dancers. I highly recommend it to anyone in the PCB area.
The next night we went to the world famous Club La Vela. I have to say, I have no idea why it is world famous. The cover is ridiculous and after you pay it you really don't want to buy drinks. Go to Club La Vela they said, the celebrities rage there they said. If I was a celebrity I would not want to party there. Surely, there is a secret passage to like the one in Narnia that takes you to a better part where the world's most celebrated go and get wasted at. I'll say this, the rooms were really cool. They have something for everyone. If traditional clubbing is your thing, there is a room for that. If you want to step back into the 80's and rock out to Guns N Roses, there is a room for that. There was one room that was particularly frightening. It was called something like the Pussy Cat Lounge, I am fuzzy on the details. It was like I had walked into Christian Grey's red room of pain. There was a big red plush bed where some couple were literally fornicating on. Along the walls were sleek leather couches where boys and girls engaged in racy conversation and make out sessions. Above the couches were pictures of naked women, like really naked. There was no holding a python to cover the breasts or standing in front of a bush to hide the one between their legs. It was just out there for everyone to see. I wondered who these women were. Some of the photos were signed. Perhaps they were famous porn stars. Well girls, this just proves you don't have to be a centerfold to have your picture out there for horny college boys to see.
Speaking of hormone ridden college boys, the boy to girl ratio was pretty awesome. Awesome for the ladies that is. Too bad everyone down there was on drugs. Seriously some kid almost got beat up because he was jumping around like an ape and knocking into people. I don't know what he was on, but he took way too much. I have an issue with men at the club. When did it become okay for a guy to come up behind you and start dry humping you as an introduction? I mean, what happened to saying hello and asking first? Is that outdated now? Did I miss the cool and happening boat? I don't know what you boys are thinking, but we will still turn you down flat even if we can't see you so you might as well just face us the manly old fashioned way. You see, girls have a code, a system so to speak. While we are there to dance with our girlfriends or a boyfriend if we have one, the prospects of dancing with a cute fella are not totally improbable. So, we may let you come up and dance with us, especially if we are on the hunt for a new man and smell blood. However, we will give a look to our other friends in the dance circle. The look is to say, "Do I dance with him? Is he good looking or is he a total nasty?" If we get a smile and nod or some sort of agreed upon signal, we just might continue to dance with you. However, 99 % of the time, we get the widened, horrified eyes and slight shake which means, "You need to get away from him! RUN GIRL RUN!" Then we will proceed to do that awkward shimmy away from you and deeper into our group of friends maneuver. If I was a dude, I would not want to be dancing on some girl and then her just suddenly dart away from me. That has to be a serious ego killer, but I am sure some of you need that every once in a while. Just save yourself the bubble buster and don't do it. We are not an open pole that you can just come and rub your body all over.
I had one promising interested party eying me at La Vela. He was tall, had facial gruff, and you could see the definition in his arms and chest underneath his tshirt. I gave him an extra point for his sexy stubble, but then had to take it away when I noticed that his shirt was an Abercrombie logo tee. He had been watching me for a while, so I was attempting to make myself look as desirable as a girl could whilst being knocked into by drunken fools and sweating. Eventually he made his way over to me. He asked me if I wanted a drink. I turned down his offer, you aren't supposed to accept drinks from strangers. He could have carried me off to Rape Land on the Ru-phenol Express. He walked away but he was persistent. I like that in a man. He asked me if I wanted to dance and I said sure. So we were dancing. It was pretty decent. I mean it wasn't ballroom dancing or anything, guys just sort of stand there while you go all Chicago on them. He grabbed my arm and pulled me close and whispered something in my ear. Just wait. It is not as sexy as it sounds. He asked me if I was "rolling." Now, I had no idea what that meant. My body was rolling but I had a sneaky suspicion that that is not what he meant. So, I said no and kind of got away from him. I asked my friends what that meant and they looked at me and laughed. Apparently, rolling means you are on a drug called Molly. Why do we name bad things with girl names? Like Kesha is pot, Nina is a gun, and now Molly is a brain rotting drug. Needless to say, Abercrombie cowboy lost all his points for "rolling."
Poor Michelle was getting hit on by everyone, including all the thug nasties. Thank the Lord her Hispanic temper came out and she was able to fend for herself. If she needed back up, Sandy was there to jump in and save her. The two of them are dynamic duo and are great party partners. None of the boys even put up the good Harvard try after they got through saying no to them. If they did, they would end up sorry and walking away with their tail between their legs.
The last night we went to my personal favorite, the Coyote Ugly Saloon. It is just like the movie! There were clothes lines running across the ceiling that displayed bras of every color and size as decoration. If I had not been overly fond of the one I was wearing that night I would have gladly added it to their collection. It would have made for a great story to tell the grand kids one day. But I kept the bra on and boobies retained. There was the iconic metal pipe hanging up over the bar for the girls to get up and dance on. I saw guys reaching up and slapping the girls' behinds so I skipped out on that experience too. I had on really high shoes too. A bar plus me plus dancing plus high heels equals a visit to the ER and a few weeks in a cast on some body part.
I did indulge in one of Coyote Ugly's famous attractions: the mechanical bull. My friends were laughing at me saying I wouldn't be good at it, but I fired back that I have ridden horses since I was a little girl. Eventually you learn to hold on if you don't want to be walking funny from falling on your butt. I was terrified though. The mechanical bull looked vicious as I watched it sling victim after victim off onto the blow up mat. There was a crowd of people standing around watching that did not dissipate when it came time for my turn on this beast. I approached the bull with caution, as though it were real. I placed my hands on its back and attempted to mount it. I say attempted because I completely underestimated how tall it was and how short I was, so I missed it and fell back down onto the padded floor. Talk about embarrassing! These people were probably like, "look at this girl, she can't even get on!" But I shook off my blushed cheeks and jumped up on it like a pro. The man behind the bull started to twist the knobs that would inevitably throw me off. To my surprise, I did not fly off. I stayed on for a hot minute. 5 dollars bought you three attempts. My second round with Bucky was not as good as the first, but I was still holding on for longer than the bull master wanted. On my third ride, he really cranked it up and I only lasted about 15 seconds. He spun me so fast that I flew to the edge of the mat when I fell off. I had saddle rash when I got off because I was wearing shorts that night. The sides of the bull had rubbed my thighs raw. The bull tech offered me some soothing lotion. I looked closely at the bottle and it had a note that read, "to be applied by the bull tech only." I politely declined his offer.
PCB was completely amazing. I think everyone deserves the real college spring break experience. Even though I will have graduated by the time the next spring break rolls around, I plan on doing something similar around the same time. I am thinking of going out of the country or on a cruise. I am 21 years old and have yet to leave this country, I think it is about time.
Are we There Yet?!?!
Hello all,
I am officially on Spring Break, and I am loving every minute of it. Actually I have been on break "officially" since last Thursday. This is the first collegiate spring break that I have actually went on vacation somewhere other than good ole Baker County. I was needing something new in my life, something other than Tallahassee or Glen. I was going somewhere whether I went by myself or with a crowd of ten. Needless to say, I was thrilled when Chelsea threw out an idea. This year, Chelsea invited me to go stay at a condo right on Panama City Beach. Here's the kicker: I would be staying there for four days for only 50 bucks! Beach front view for fifty bucks? I mean I was practically in the car with my beach towel and tanning oil as soon as she said Panama City Beach.
I had a dilemma. I looked in the mirror and I was terrified at the fact that I would be wearing a bathing suit in front of all these sexy college boys. I felt like someone would be yelling, "Whale siting!" if I flopped out on the sand to get some sun. I was/am still not where I want to be weight wise. I have a horrendously long journey still, I know. I decided right then and there that I was not going to the beach looking like that, no matter what.
Chelsea and I agreed to add a group exercise class into our workout mix. We chose to give Cardio Party a try. Cardio Party is like a hip hop dance class with a little zumba flair. There is a lot of ass shaking and ridiculous dance moves that the average white girl, such as myself, is incapable of doing. The music is great though. It ranges from "Get out of your Mind" by the Ying Yang Twins to "Wannabe" by the Spice Girls. On a serious note, I am the worst dancer ever. I do not have a rhythmic bone in my body. People ask me how I can't dance when I cheered... did y'all ever see me up front in one of the dances we performed at a pep rally? NO!!!!! I have learned to just dance like there is nobody around to see me busting a bad move. When I look around the dance floor during the class, I see a bunch of other less than coordinated girls trying to get their booty shaking on. And they look terrible too! There are even a few guys in there doing it too. They are worse than the girls. After several CP classes and grueling abs and legs workouts with Chelsea, I lost ten pounds before Panama. True, it is not a whole lot of weight, but it is a heck of a ton better than what I was. I mean I need to lose about 60 more, but I accomplished what I wanted, I did not go to the beach looking like I was that night I looked into the mirror trying on bathing suits.
So, ten pounds down and way too much money spent on clothes that I did not need later, Friday had arrived and we were beach bound. Well, almost anyways. Chelsea was all prepared and her things were all neatly packed while mine still lay all over my floor. I was throwing clothes in my bags, trying to clean, and put make-up on all at the same time. Needless to say, I was a not so hot mess. The other two girls, Sandy and Michelle, showed up not too long after Chelsea. I thought we were ready to go, until I turned around and saw the pile of luggage the size of Mt. Everest sitting behind the car waiting to be loaded in. My poor car had so much stuff shoved in its trunk that it couldn't drive straight for a few days. Sandy and Michelle were sitting in the back seat, though you wouldn't know that sitting where I was. They were practically buried underneath bags of groceries, coolers full of tasty beverages, and towels upon towels. We could have run a small convenient store out of my car.
We were ready to go.... or so I thought. Chelsea needed to print out our parking pass and beach chair rental slip. I offered up my apartment's computer lab since it was on the way out. It would have been quicker driving to campus and back rather than trying to use Boardwalk's bobo computers and printer. Seriously some of the computers won't even turn on and the printer is always losing connection with the computers. It took us 30 minutes to print four pieces of paper. I secretly prayed that this was not a foreshadowing of what the rest of the trip was to be like.
Surely, we were ready to go now... NOT! I return to my car to hear nothing. This is interesting because I left the car running, so I should have heard a steady hum indicating this. I asked Sandy if one of them had turned the ignition off and they said no but that the car had shook violently before going completely silent. Mildred was completely out of gas. Perfect. You would think I would have learned my lesson when I left Mildred on empty with Nanny using it one day. She called and freaked out telling me the car was out of gas and then refused to speak with me for the rest of the afternoon. And yet I still drive my car on fumes. I guess I just like to test limits.
A few years ago, my mom packed me a survival pack in my car, complete with a gas can. She always likes to tell me the story of how she broke down only feet from a gas pump and the man in the store wouldn't lend her a gas can. She didn't feel like paying 20 bucks for a plastic container. So what does she do? She dumps the ridiculously long Slim Jims and uses the tall plastic holder to get gas. I'm pretty sure the store clerk hated her. In Mom's mind, there is no such thing as being too prepared, which means storing a camping tent and blanket in her car, "just in case." That day, I was singing her praises for stashing that gas can in my trunk. Without it, we would have been screwed. We all hoped in Chelsea's car and went to the gas station to get enough gas to get me to the station in my car. At this point, Boardwalk's pool was looking better than the blue waters of the Gulf Coast.
Somehow, we managed to get the gas into my tank and to the gas station without anything catching on fire or blowing up. I filled up my car as full as it would let me, bought a Coca Cola, turned on 90's pop on my Pandora app, and hit the road. We were about two seconds down the road when a little voice from somewhere in my car asked, "Are we there yet?" I just laughed because really, what else could I do. We made it to PCB without anyone breaking a bone or careening off a cliff, praise the Lord!
I am officially on Spring Break, and I am loving every minute of it. Actually I have been on break "officially" since last Thursday. This is the first collegiate spring break that I have actually went on vacation somewhere other than good ole Baker County. I was needing something new in my life, something other than Tallahassee or Glen. I was going somewhere whether I went by myself or with a crowd of ten. Needless to say, I was thrilled when Chelsea threw out an idea. This year, Chelsea invited me to go stay at a condo right on Panama City Beach. Here's the kicker: I would be staying there for four days for only 50 bucks! Beach front view for fifty bucks? I mean I was practically in the car with my beach towel and tanning oil as soon as she said Panama City Beach.
I had a dilemma. I looked in the mirror and I was terrified at the fact that I would be wearing a bathing suit in front of all these sexy college boys. I felt like someone would be yelling, "Whale siting!" if I flopped out on the sand to get some sun. I was/am still not where I want to be weight wise. I have a horrendously long journey still, I know. I decided right then and there that I was not going to the beach looking like that, no matter what.
Chelsea and I agreed to add a group exercise class into our workout mix. We chose to give Cardio Party a try. Cardio Party is like a hip hop dance class with a little zumba flair. There is a lot of ass shaking and ridiculous dance moves that the average white girl, such as myself, is incapable of doing. The music is great though. It ranges from "Get out of your Mind" by the Ying Yang Twins to "Wannabe" by the Spice Girls. On a serious note, I am the worst dancer ever. I do not have a rhythmic bone in my body. People ask me how I can't dance when I cheered... did y'all ever see me up front in one of the dances we performed at a pep rally? NO!!!!! I have learned to just dance like there is nobody around to see me busting a bad move. When I look around the dance floor during the class, I see a bunch of other less than coordinated girls trying to get their booty shaking on. And they look terrible too! There are even a few guys in there doing it too. They are worse than the girls. After several CP classes and grueling abs and legs workouts with Chelsea, I lost ten pounds before Panama. True, it is not a whole lot of weight, but it is a heck of a ton better than what I was. I mean I need to lose about 60 more, but I accomplished what I wanted, I did not go to the beach looking like I was that night I looked into the mirror trying on bathing suits.
So, ten pounds down and way too much money spent on clothes that I did not need later, Friday had arrived and we were beach bound. Well, almost anyways. Chelsea was all prepared and her things were all neatly packed while mine still lay all over my floor. I was throwing clothes in my bags, trying to clean, and put make-up on all at the same time. Needless to say, I was a not so hot mess. The other two girls, Sandy and Michelle, showed up not too long after Chelsea. I thought we were ready to go, until I turned around and saw the pile of luggage the size of Mt. Everest sitting behind the car waiting to be loaded in. My poor car had so much stuff shoved in its trunk that it couldn't drive straight for a few days. Sandy and Michelle were sitting in the back seat, though you wouldn't know that sitting where I was. They were practically buried underneath bags of groceries, coolers full of tasty beverages, and towels upon towels. We could have run a small convenient store out of my car.
We were ready to go.... or so I thought. Chelsea needed to print out our parking pass and beach chair rental slip. I offered up my apartment's computer lab since it was on the way out. It would have been quicker driving to campus and back rather than trying to use Boardwalk's bobo computers and printer. Seriously some of the computers won't even turn on and the printer is always losing connection with the computers. It took us 30 minutes to print four pieces of paper. I secretly prayed that this was not a foreshadowing of what the rest of the trip was to be like.
Surely, we were ready to go now... NOT! I return to my car to hear nothing. This is interesting because I left the car running, so I should have heard a steady hum indicating this. I asked Sandy if one of them had turned the ignition off and they said no but that the car had shook violently before going completely silent. Mildred was completely out of gas. Perfect. You would think I would have learned my lesson when I left Mildred on empty with Nanny using it one day. She called and freaked out telling me the car was out of gas and then refused to speak with me for the rest of the afternoon. And yet I still drive my car on fumes. I guess I just like to test limits.
A few years ago, my mom packed me a survival pack in my car, complete with a gas can. She always likes to tell me the story of how she broke down only feet from a gas pump and the man in the store wouldn't lend her a gas can. She didn't feel like paying 20 bucks for a plastic container. So what does she do? She dumps the ridiculously long Slim Jims and uses the tall plastic holder to get gas. I'm pretty sure the store clerk hated her. In Mom's mind, there is no such thing as being too prepared, which means storing a camping tent and blanket in her car, "just in case." That day, I was singing her praises for stashing that gas can in my trunk. Without it, we would have been screwed. We all hoped in Chelsea's car and went to the gas station to get enough gas to get me to the station in my car. At this point, Boardwalk's pool was looking better than the blue waters of the Gulf Coast.
Somehow, we managed to get the gas into my tank and to the gas station without anything catching on fire or blowing up. I filled up my car as full as it would let me, bought a Coca Cola, turned on 90's pop on my Pandora app, and hit the road. We were about two seconds down the road when a little voice from somewhere in my car asked, "Are we there yet?" I just laughed because really, what else could I do. We made it to PCB without anyone breaking a bone or careening off a cliff, praise the Lord!
Thursday, March 7, 2013
No Hair, Don't Care
Hello all,
I would like to start with saying I was told yesterday by someone I had just met that I am, "one of the top ten coolest people to meet in Tallahassee." I mean I have to say, I was/am pretty flattered. Apparently, I am pretty funny and I give off the feel that I "give 0 f's" about things that most do and shouldn't. My head is about the size of my car tires right now. Thank you for your generous compliment Angie! It was awesome meeting you and Sammie yesterday and I hope to see y'all again soon.
So, two nights ago, I told everyone to be on the look out for post about a "procedure" I was having done. After someone on Facebook wished me luck, I feel as though procedure may have been the wrong word. It may have been too strong for what it was that I was actually having done. I have since then changed my mind. It was a hell of a procedure.
Yesterday morning, my friend Chelsea and I dove head first into a field of cosmetic care we knew absolutely nothing about: waxing. And not just like eyebrow waxing. Oh, no my friends, we went as hard as you could go with waxing and got the mother of all hair removal tactics done: a full Brazilian wax. Yes, I did it and this is the story of how.
Spring break is here. It is less than 24 hours away now for FSU students. Originally, I had no plans. I knew one thing was for certain, I was getting the hell out of here. And I don't mean like out of here back to my home in Glen. No, I wanted to go somewhere away from everything I know. My mind and body are craving adventure somewhere else, and I see spring break as the perfect opportunity to give into their demands. I wasn't sure where I was going until Chelsea and her awesome self decided to invite me along to her dad's friend's condo in Panama City Beach. Naturally, I agreed before she could even finish her sentence. Who wouldn't be all in on that offer?
I started planning for this a few weeks ago when she mentioned it. I was already mentally putting outfits together, adding up the cost of tanning oil, and going to extra Cardio Party classes. I lost a pants size and I am happier about how I look now than I was a few weeks ago. I'm not as jiggly in certain spots, and this makes me smile. I still have a long ways to go though and I am ready to embrace the challenge even further. I have a sneaky suspicion that all I lose, he is gaining. Checkmate bitch.
I was in the shower about a week ago (I have bathed since then, but this particular shower is when the idea spawned). By now, you should all know that I absolutely detest shaving. It is such a chore and no matter how many times I go over my ridiculously white legs, I always miss a spot. As I popped the top to my Winter Candy Apple body wash, I had a horrifying thought, I would have to shave every single day while I was at the beach. I shivered with disgust at the thought. I have extremely sensitive skin, so shaving every day is not an option for me. I thought, I can deal with my legs, but there is no way I can take care of other parts like that. While I massaged my orgasmic smelling shampoo in my hair, I thought, "I will go get a Brazilian!"
Clearly, the chemicals from the shampoo had somehow seeped into my brain and affected my rational side. The normal me can barely stand getting my eyebrows waxed. I have the pain tolerance of a three year old, where boo boos that don't bleed still need band aids and kisses. Unfortunately, I shared this erratic idea with Chelsea. If you are on the fence about doing something crazy, do not tell Chelsea. She is extremely brave and up for just about anything unless it has to do with heights. Before I could change my mind, she booked our appointments at Brazil's on West Tennessee Street. There was no backing out now. I mean, I guess I could have, but my curiosity and inner warrior had gotten the better of me.
So, yesterday, I woke up at the ridiculous hour of 9 a.m. to prepare for this waxing fiasco. When I wake up that early, I lay there and usually fall back asleep. Of course, when I needed to be somewhere, this happened. When I woke up again I only had about fifteen minutes to find a little something to munch on as there was no way I was doing this without having something on my stomach, and get all the way over to Monroe Street. All of my fellow Tallahassee lassies and lads know that making it down this highway to Hell in that amount of time is about as easy as climbing a tree without using your arms. I threw back a few Ibuprofen and snatched a Nature Valley bar out of the pantry and rushed out the door to make my appointment. Even with the cop right beside me the whole way, I made it on time.
After signing in and being asked a few questions, I was led back into a quaint little room with the sunshine peeking through some blinds. I thought, this is nice. As I am now writing this, I realize that the blinds in a waxing salon are probably unnecessary... I mean I am sure the specialist is used to seeing what she sees on a daily, but had those blinds been left open, there may have been a few car wrecks on West Tenn. So, why are there blinds?!
I took off my linen yoga pants as I had been directed, and sat down in my chair. I scrambled with the medical draping they provided me. I don't know why I was being so self conscious, I was about to have my stuff out there inches away from a woman's face. Sitting partially naked in a gyno like chair should have been the least of my worries.
The brave soul who was about to do her thing with my thing came in the door and introduced herself as Beth. I immediately launched into the story about how my mother initially wanted my name to be Cara Beth, but dad talked her out of it because it sounded too much like Carebear. People ended up calling me that anyways so I guess it could have been okay. Beth looked like she wouldn't hurt a fly, but I had a mental image of her being a Helga or Olga who was going to rip out my soul along with everything else, as she told me to inch down to the edge of the table. She pried my knees open like a book and got to work.
The wax was warm but not overly hot. They use a hard wax which is not anything like the sugar wax used for eyebrows. There are no paper strips involved with this kind, it is more sanitary, and hurts less. I was scared to death as Beth and I talked. She did a really good job at keeping my mind off of what was actually going on. She asked if this was my first Brazilian and I said yes. Like a sissy, I asked if it hurt. She said it was more shocking than anything, I could feel the color draining from my face.
RIPPPPPPP! The first strip came off. Yep, it was very shocking. Shocking in the sense that it hurt, but not like all the reviews said online. When people ask me what I would rate the pain on a scale of 1-10 I say it was about a 7 almost everywhere. It only hurt for a few seconds after the wax was pulled off. Don't get me wrong, it was painful, but tolerable. I told Beth I needed to see one of the strips. I told her it would make me feel accomplished and that the pain was worth it, kind of like when you put on a pore strip. Those little beasts hurt, but when you see all the dirt and clogged gunk it removes, you feel so rewarded for the trauma you just went through. She told me she would show me when she got a good one. I mean, from the feel of the first one, it was a good one.
I say it was a 7 most everywhere. There was one spot that was almost completely unbearable. It was right on the center part called "the hood." Really, what a name! I remember seeing this on one of the piercing signs when I got my belly button done and wondering what it is. Well, I got to know it really well whenever she ripped that strip off. I swear it was like she was trying to rip my vital organs and soul out along with the hair. I screeched like banshee and snapped my legs shut. I felt like I could crush her head with my knees it hurt so bad. That was a definite 11 or possibly a 12 on the Richter scale of ouch. It was the worst part of the whole process.
Beth said she was done with the front. If you don't know, a full Brazilian includes the front and back. I had to turn on my side and pull one knee up to my chest. Then she told me to lift up a cheek, and not the way a smile does. I was mortified, but made a joke that I needed a forklift to do that. She said I was hilarious. She was serious though and told me to pay attention or I was going to get stuck together. Holy wow. Surprisingly, this didn't hurt at all. Beth made me flip back over so she could put on the finishing touches. I saw her break the wax back out and I said, "you better not be going back to that middle part, I can't handle that again." She reassured me that she was not going there. I was still iffy until I felt where she put the wax.
She held up a mirror in front of me, like an artist proud of her work. Needless to say, I love it and the pain was totally worth it. It looks completely different and feels super cool, if that is not too much for me to say. She said the boy I meet on the beach will really appreciate it, I just laughed that off. There will be no one night stand for me, I'm not about that life.
If you have ever considered "going to Brazil" I highly recommend checking out Brazil's. Body waxing is all that they do and they are experts at doing what they do. I asked Beth how she felt about looking at vag all day. Her reply was, "I make about 1000 dollars a week, I am good with it." Maybe I am in school for the wrong thing. Anyways, thank you Beth for your mad waxing skills. See you in 4-5 weeks:)
I think it is crazy the things we women go through to feel and look pretty, but then again we are crazy. If the shoe fits, do wild things in them.
I would like to start with saying I was told yesterday by someone I had just met that I am, "one of the top ten coolest people to meet in Tallahassee." I mean I have to say, I was/am pretty flattered. Apparently, I am pretty funny and I give off the feel that I "give 0 f's" about things that most do and shouldn't. My head is about the size of my car tires right now. Thank you for your generous compliment Angie! It was awesome meeting you and Sammie yesterday and I hope to see y'all again soon.
So, two nights ago, I told everyone to be on the look out for post about a "procedure" I was having done. After someone on Facebook wished me luck, I feel as though procedure may have been the wrong word. It may have been too strong for what it was that I was actually having done. I have since then changed my mind. It was a hell of a procedure.
Yesterday morning, my friend Chelsea and I dove head first into a field of cosmetic care we knew absolutely nothing about: waxing. And not just like eyebrow waxing. Oh, no my friends, we went as hard as you could go with waxing and got the mother of all hair removal tactics done: a full Brazilian wax. Yes, I did it and this is the story of how.
Spring break is here. It is less than 24 hours away now for FSU students. Originally, I had no plans. I knew one thing was for certain, I was getting the hell out of here. And I don't mean like out of here back to my home in Glen. No, I wanted to go somewhere away from everything I know. My mind and body are craving adventure somewhere else, and I see spring break as the perfect opportunity to give into their demands. I wasn't sure where I was going until Chelsea and her awesome self decided to invite me along to her dad's friend's condo in Panama City Beach. Naturally, I agreed before she could even finish her sentence. Who wouldn't be all in on that offer?
I started planning for this a few weeks ago when she mentioned it. I was already mentally putting outfits together, adding up the cost of tanning oil, and going to extra Cardio Party classes. I lost a pants size and I am happier about how I look now than I was a few weeks ago. I'm not as jiggly in certain spots, and this makes me smile. I still have a long ways to go though and I am ready to embrace the challenge even further. I have a sneaky suspicion that all I lose, he is gaining. Checkmate bitch.
I was in the shower about a week ago (I have bathed since then, but this particular shower is when the idea spawned). By now, you should all know that I absolutely detest shaving. It is such a chore and no matter how many times I go over my ridiculously white legs, I always miss a spot. As I popped the top to my Winter Candy Apple body wash, I had a horrifying thought, I would have to shave every single day while I was at the beach. I shivered with disgust at the thought. I have extremely sensitive skin, so shaving every day is not an option for me. I thought, I can deal with my legs, but there is no way I can take care of other parts like that. While I massaged my orgasmic smelling shampoo in my hair, I thought, "I will go get a Brazilian!"
Clearly, the chemicals from the shampoo had somehow seeped into my brain and affected my rational side. The normal me can barely stand getting my eyebrows waxed. I have the pain tolerance of a three year old, where boo boos that don't bleed still need band aids and kisses. Unfortunately, I shared this erratic idea with Chelsea. If you are on the fence about doing something crazy, do not tell Chelsea. She is extremely brave and up for just about anything unless it has to do with heights. Before I could change my mind, she booked our appointments at Brazil's on West Tennessee Street. There was no backing out now. I mean, I guess I could have, but my curiosity and inner warrior had gotten the better of me.
So, yesterday, I woke up at the ridiculous hour of 9 a.m. to prepare for this waxing fiasco. When I wake up that early, I lay there and usually fall back asleep. Of course, when I needed to be somewhere, this happened. When I woke up again I only had about fifteen minutes to find a little something to munch on as there was no way I was doing this without having something on my stomach, and get all the way over to Monroe Street. All of my fellow Tallahassee lassies and lads know that making it down this highway to Hell in that amount of time is about as easy as climbing a tree without using your arms. I threw back a few Ibuprofen and snatched a Nature Valley bar out of the pantry and rushed out the door to make my appointment. Even with the cop right beside me the whole way, I made it on time.
After signing in and being asked a few questions, I was led back into a quaint little room with the sunshine peeking through some blinds. I thought, this is nice. As I am now writing this, I realize that the blinds in a waxing salon are probably unnecessary... I mean I am sure the specialist is used to seeing what she sees on a daily, but had those blinds been left open, there may have been a few car wrecks on West Tenn. So, why are there blinds?!
I took off my linen yoga pants as I had been directed, and sat down in my chair. I scrambled with the medical draping they provided me. I don't know why I was being so self conscious, I was about to have my stuff out there inches away from a woman's face. Sitting partially naked in a gyno like chair should have been the least of my worries.
The brave soul who was about to do her thing with my thing came in the door and introduced herself as Beth. I immediately launched into the story about how my mother initially wanted my name to be Cara Beth, but dad talked her out of it because it sounded too much like Carebear. People ended up calling me that anyways so I guess it could have been okay. Beth looked like she wouldn't hurt a fly, but I had a mental image of her being a Helga or Olga who was going to rip out my soul along with everything else, as she told me to inch down to the edge of the table. She pried my knees open like a book and got to work.
The wax was warm but not overly hot. They use a hard wax which is not anything like the sugar wax used for eyebrows. There are no paper strips involved with this kind, it is more sanitary, and hurts less. I was scared to death as Beth and I talked. She did a really good job at keeping my mind off of what was actually going on. She asked if this was my first Brazilian and I said yes. Like a sissy, I asked if it hurt. She said it was more shocking than anything, I could feel the color draining from my face.
RIPPPPPPP! The first strip came off. Yep, it was very shocking. Shocking in the sense that it hurt, but not like all the reviews said online. When people ask me what I would rate the pain on a scale of 1-10 I say it was about a 7 almost everywhere. It only hurt for a few seconds after the wax was pulled off. Don't get me wrong, it was painful, but tolerable. I told Beth I needed to see one of the strips. I told her it would make me feel accomplished and that the pain was worth it, kind of like when you put on a pore strip. Those little beasts hurt, but when you see all the dirt and clogged gunk it removes, you feel so rewarded for the trauma you just went through. She told me she would show me when she got a good one. I mean, from the feel of the first one, it was a good one.
I say it was a 7 most everywhere. There was one spot that was almost completely unbearable. It was right on the center part called "the hood." Really, what a name! I remember seeing this on one of the piercing signs when I got my belly button done and wondering what it is. Well, I got to know it really well whenever she ripped that strip off. I swear it was like she was trying to rip my vital organs and soul out along with the hair. I screeched like banshee and snapped my legs shut. I felt like I could crush her head with my knees it hurt so bad. That was a definite 11 or possibly a 12 on the Richter scale of ouch. It was the worst part of the whole process.
Beth said she was done with the front. If you don't know, a full Brazilian includes the front and back. I had to turn on my side and pull one knee up to my chest. Then she told me to lift up a cheek, and not the way a smile does. I was mortified, but made a joke that I needed a forklift to do that. She said I was hilarious. She was serious though and told me to pay attention or I was going to get stuck together. Holy wow. Surprisingly, this didn't hurt at all. Beth made me flip back over so she could put on the finishing touches. I saw her break the wax back out and I said, "you better not be going back to that middle part, I can't handle that again." She reassured me that she was not going there. I was still iffy until I felt where she put the wax.
She held up a mirror in front of me, like an artist proud of her work. Needless to say, I love it and the pain was totally worth it. It looks completely different and feels super cool, if that is not too much for me to say. She said the boy I meet on the beach will really appreciate it, I just laughed that off. There will be no one night stand for me, I'm not about that life.
If you have ever considered "going to Brazil" I highly recommend checking out Brazil's. Body waxing is all that they do and they are experts at doing what they do. I asked Beth how she felt about looking at vag all day. Her reply was, "I make about 1000 dollars a week, I am good with it." Maybe I am in school for the wrong thing. Anyways, thank you Beth for your mad waxing skills. See you in 4-5 weeks:)
I think it is crazy the things we women go through to feel and look pretty, but then again we are crazy. If the shoe fits, do wild things in them.
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
What a Girl Wants
Hello all,
So yesterday, a friend of mine sends me a screen shot of a text message convo between her and her kind of sort of boyfriend. This is the story in a nutshell: he was supposed to take her out on a nice date, kind of stood her up, and now she is mad. The part of the message she sends me is the part where he says, "Let me make it up to you this weekend. You pick the place and I'll buy. I almost sent you flowers today but I didn't want to risk wasting 70 bucks if you trashed them."...
Okay, let's talk about where he went wrong. First off, the guy should always be buying. Unless you are buying him something for his birthday, Christmas, or Valentine's Day, he pays. Especially if he is the one who asked you on the date in the first place. The fact that he screwed the whole original date up is even more reason for him to pay, and bring candy. Perhaps something else you have been wanting too. Guys don't get it. We mess up and they get over it pretty quick, they mess up and they have to go through the seven tasks of Hercules to get back in our good circle. That is just how it is.
Second, it is probably not good to say, "I was going to spend money on you, but then I didn't." Given, 70 bucks is a ridiculous amount of money for something that will die 5-7 days after you get it. That's why goldfish only cost like 2 bucks. We don't need the 70 dollar flowers. Truth be told, we would probably just rather have the money to buy something else. The point is no matter how you meant it, all a girl will see is, "I was going to make it up to you by buying you something that you would have liked but I decided against it." Your best bet is to go ahead and buy it or just not ever bring up that you were considering it. Then we won't feel like we aren't worth it.
Now, I am positive this fellow didn't mean it like that. From what I gather, he is really sorry that the whole date thing got messed up and feels bad about it. He is trying to make it up to her and has apologized. Hey, things happen! The thing is, guys just haven't got even half a clue as to how to say things. We need to hear things exactly how we want to hear them or they are wrong. Simple right? Okay, no it isn't simple. Men are not mind readers and we women should realize that. A little common sense will go a long way though.
Aside from all this, my friend Destiny and I were discussing how simple women really are. I saw a meme recently on Facebook that says, "How hard are girls to understand? We like Starbucks, compliments, Disney movies, cuddling, naps, yoga pants, and shopping." In all honesty, this is probably the most spot on interpretation about gals that I have ever come across. My other favorite is from a show on Nickalodeon. Some of you may remember the show the Fairly Oddparents. I watched it religiously when I was a tween, and pretty much still do if I am being completely truthful. Anyways, Guy Moon is the writer for this show and he gave Timmy a girl to crush hard on. Trixie Tang is her name. You can hear here repeatedly in the show demanding that he feed her and call her pretty. I mean if a cartoon producer and writer can figure it out, I have faith that other men can. I am going to break it down in the post for all those who are confused on the fascinatingly complex creature we call woman.
1) We like to eat. Like seriously anything that is remotely considered food is fair game. We will be extremely healthy one minute eating nothing but salad with no dressing and kale leaves, and then go eat a combination of greasy, salty, chocolatey, sweetness that could clog a grizzly bears arteries later that day. Please don't point this out unless our bellies start poking out more than our pregnant friends'. Don't eat the last bowl of cereal, leave our last Nutrigrain bar, and lord forbid if you stop and buy candy on the way home, you better bring us some or be willing to share like all of what you bought. If you order a steak at dinner, we are bound to follow in suit. We have girlish charm with manly appetites.
2) Naps are wonderful. I don't know when I flipped an internal switch that made me go from not being able to nap as a child to hibernating pretty much everyday, but I love to sleep. Not sleeping at night, but during the day. No way Mother Nature was giving me that break. If we want to sleep, let us sleep. We love it when you join us too. The nap we planned on taking may turn into a whole different bed activity.
3) We like yoga pants. Actually, let's broaden this to we like to be comfortable. We like to be lazy and enjoy comfy clothes that we can move in. Let's face it, we can't always be the tight jean, push up bra, sex kitten curls, high heel wearing beauties that we are. Sometimes we need a break and wear sports bras or no bras, flip flops, sweatpants, and a pony tail. You know you want a girl for real if you still want to pounce on her when she looks a hot mess. Also, we will raid your closet. Be prepared. Your super soft polo brand tshirts and Columbia jackets are better than the exact same ones than we have. We will wear your boxers with no underwear on. We want your old high school sweatpants and hoodies. Your clothes are bigger than ours and they smell like sexy man, so naturally we want to swaddle ourselves in them. Let us, please. Or get out. Leave your clothes though, we probably already have snuck a few things out of your drawers when you weren't looking anyways. Girls are sneaky like that.
4) Disney movies- taking average Josephines and turning them into glass slipper wearing princesses since forever. Of course we want to watch them. Just go with it. My favorite princess movie is Tangled. Sometimes I will watch it three or four times a night. It is something my next male victim will have to deal with. In return, I promise I will watch every Star Wars/ Spartacus/ and Sons of Anarchy episode ever made. In fact, I like all those kinds of shows and most girls I know do. Cassie and I are avid Game of Thrones watchers, it is full of gore, sex, cussing and all that other male- ish jazz. We love it though.
5) Shoot us a compliment every once in a while. I mean you picked your girl out of a sea of thousands, there is a reason for that. Tell us why every once in a while. Let us know that you think we are sexy or that we tell good jokes or that we are having an amazing hair day. Anything. Honestly, you could probably say you smell like shit in a nice, upbeat tone and we wouldn't skip a beat.
6) Shopping. Bitches are expensive. Don't get one if you can't cash out. I am not saying money is everything, because it totally isn't. We like for you to go shopping with us every once in a while. Go with us. We just might buy barely panties to model for you later if you behave. TLC made a song about this back in the 90s. We don't want no scrubs, whether they can't buy us that cute shirt or won't go with us to the panty section because it isn't cool. If I was a guy, I would be all up in that picking out exactly what I wanted to see later on. Truth.
7) Starbucks goes along with the food. You don't have to get it for us, although that is a really nice gesture, especially if we are having a rough day. Nothing takes the edge off like a nonfat white chocolate mocha over light ice, keep the whipped cream (my very specific, special order). Just don't criticize or hate how much of it we drink. You have your beer, we have Chai Tea lattes and triple chocolate peppermint frappes.
These perfectly explain the mysterious woman. I'd like to add a few things to this from my own personal repertoire.
8) We like to be touched. Girls have lots of fun body parts from head to toe. Really, this is to your advantage. The only difference between us and your dude friends is that you get to fondle us and kiss us. Go ahead and attempt this with one of your friends. Just try to hold your man friend's hand and see how quick you get cussed out and body checked. We like it as much as you like doing it. And honestly, that's all it takes to set us off. Give us a little and we will give you a lot. I especially love to have my hair and ears played with. It will put me to sleep almost instantly. Or maybe something else.
9) Girls are black holes for attention. End of story. We just keep taking in as much as you will give us. You didn't start dating us to ignore us. So, don't go days without texting or calling. That is so messed up. It makes us feel unwanted or like we have done something wrong. You may not mean anything by it, but we will take it to the extreme. Calls before bedtime assure that you are the last thing we think about... and not some other fella... Just saying.
Destiny agree that we girls are pretty simple to understand. What do you think? I would love to hear a man's perspective, so if you are feeling froggy, send me a message or comment on this and let me know how you feel about it.
So yesterday, a friend of mine sends me a screen shot of a text message convo between her and her kind of sort of boyfriend. This is the story in a nutshell: he was supposed to take her out on a nice date, kind of stood her up, and now she is mad. The part of the message she sends me is the part where he says, "Let me make it up to you this weekend. You pick the place and I'll buy. I almost sent you flowers today but I didn't want to risk wasting 70 bucks if you trashed them."...
Okay, let's talk about where he went wrong. First off, the guy should always be buying. Unless you are buying him something for his birthday, Christmas, or Valentine's Day, he pays. Especially if he is the one who asked you on the date in the first place. The fact that he screwed the whole original date up is even more reason for him to pay, and bring candy. Perhaps something else you have been wanting too. Guys don't get it. We mess up and they get over it pretty quick, they mess up and they have to go through the seven tasks of Hercules to get back in our good circle. That is just how it is.
Second, it is probably not good to say, "I was going to spend money on you, but then I didn't." Given, 70 bucks is a ridiculous amount of money for something that will die 5-7 days after you get it. That's why goldfish only cost like 2 bucks. We don't need the 70 dollar flowers. Truth be told, we would probably just rather have the money to buy something else. The point is no matter how you meant it, all a girl will see is, "I was going to make it up to you by buying you something that you would have liked but I decided against it." Your best bet is to go ahead and buy it or just not ever bring up that you were considering it. Then we won't feel like we aren't worth it.
Now, I am positive this fellow didn't mean it like that. From what I gather, he is really sorry that the whole date thing got messed up and feels bad about it. He is trying to make it up to her and has apologized. Hey, things happen! The thing is, guys just haven't got even half a clue as to how to say things. We need to hear things exactly how we want to hear them or they are wrong. Simple right? Okay, no it isn't simple. Men are not mind readers and we women should realize that. A little common sense will go a long way though.
Aside from all this, my friend Destiny and I were discussing how simple women really are. I saw a meme recently on Facebook that says, "How hard are girls to understand? We like Starbucks, compliments, Disney movies, cuddling, naps, yoga pants, and shopping." In all honesty, this is probably the most spot on interpretation about gals that I have ever come across. My other favorite is from a show on Nickalodeon. Some of you may remember the show the Fairly Oddparents. I watched it religiously when I was a tween, and pretty much still do if I am being completely truthful. Anyways, Guy Moon is the writer for this show and he gave Timmy a girl to crush hard on. Trixie Tang is her name. You can hear here repeatedly in the show demanding that he feed her and call her pretty. I mean if a cartoon producer and writer can figure it out, I have faith that other men can. I am going to break it down in the post for all those who are confused on the fascinatingly complex creature we call woman.
1) We like to eat. Like seriously anything that is remotely considered food is fair game. We will be extremely healthy one minute eating nothing but salad with no dressing and kale leaves, and then go eat a combination of greasy, salty, chocolatey, sweetness that could clog a grizzly bears arteries later that day. Please don't point this out unless our bellies start poking out more than our pregnant friends'. Don't eat the last bowl of cereal, leave our last Nutrigrain bar, and lord forbid if you stop and buy candy on the way home, you better bring us some or be willing to share like all of what you bought. If you order a steak at dinner, we are bound to follow in suit. We have girlish charm with manly appetites.
2) Naps are wonderful. I don't know when I flipped an internal switch that made me go from not being able to nap as a child to hibernating pretty much everyday, but I love to sleep. Not sleeping at night, but during the day. No way Mother Nature was giving me that break. If we want to sleep, let us sleep. We love it when you join us too. The nap we planned on taking may turn into a whole different bed activity.
3) We like yoga pants. Actually, let's broaden this to we like to be comfortable. We like to be lazy and enjoy comfy clothes that we can move in. Let's face it, we can't always be the tight jean, push up bra, sex kitten curls, high heel wearing beauties that we are. Sometimes we need a break and wear sports bras or no bras, flip flops, sweatpants, and a pony tail. You know you want a girl for real if you still want to pounce on her when she looks a hot mess. Also, we will raid your closet. Be prepared. Your super soft polo brand tshirts and Columbia jackets are better than the exact same ones than we have. We will wear your boxers with no underwear on. We want your old high school sweatpants and hoodies. Your clothes are bigger than ours and they smell like sexy man, so naturally we want to swaddle ourselves in them. Let us, please. Or get out. Leave your clothes though, we probably already have snuck a few things out of your drawers when you weren't looking anyways. Girls are sneaky like that.
4) Disney movies- taking average Josephines and turning them into glass slipper wearing princesses since forever. Of course we want to watch them. Just go with it. My favorite princess movie is Tangled. Sometimes I will watch it three or four times a night. It is something my next male victim will have to deal with. In return, I promise I will watch every Star Wars/ Spartacus/ and Sons of Anarchy episode ever made. In fact, I like all those kinds of shows and most girls I know do. Cassie and I are avid Game of Thrones watchers, it is full of gore, sex, cussing and all that other male- ish jazz. We love it though.
5) Shoot us a compliment every once in a while. I mean you picked your girl out of a sea of thousands, there is a reason for that. Tell us why every once in a while. Let us know that you think we are sexy or that we tell good jokes or that we are having an amazing hair day. Anything. Honestly, you could probably say you smell like shit in a nice, upbeat tone and we wouldn't skip a beat.
6) Shopping. Bitches are expensive. Don't get one if you can't cash out. I am not saying money is everything, because it totally isn't. We like for you to go shopping with us every once in a while. Go with us. We just might buy barely panties to model for you later if you behave. TLC made a song about this back in the 90s. We don't want no scrubs, whether they can't buy us that cute shirt or won't go with us to the panty section because it isn't cool. If I was a guy, I would be all up in that picking out exactly what I wanted to see later on. Truth.
7) Starbucks goes along with the food. You don't have to get it for us, although that is a really nice gesture, especially if we are having a rough day. Nothing takes the edge off like a nonfat white chocolate mocha over light ice, keep the whipped cream (my very specific, special order). Just don't criticize or hate how much of it we drink. You have your beer, we have Chai Tea lattes and triple chocolate peppermint frappes.
These perfectly explain the mysterious woman. I'd like to add a few things to this from my own personal repertoire.
8) We like to be touched. Girls have lots of fun body parts from head to toe. Really, this is to your advantage. The only difference between us and your dude friends is that you get to fondle us and kiss us. Go ahead and attempt this with one of your friends. Just try to hold your man friend's hand and see how quick you get cussed out and body checked. We like it as much as you like doing it. And honestly, that's all it takes to set us off. Give us a little and we will give you a lot. I especially love to have my hair and ears played with. It will put me to sleep almost instantly. Or maybe something else.
9) Girls are black holes for attention. End of story. We just keep taking in as much as you will give us. You didn't start dating us to ignore us. So, don't go days without texting or calling. That is so messed up. It makes us feel unwanted or like we have done something wrong. You may not mean anything by it, but we will take it to the extreme. Calls before bedtime assure that you are the last thing we think about... and not some other fella... Just saying.
Destiny agree that we girls are pretty simple to understand. What do you think? I would love to hear a man's perspective, so if you are feeling froggy, send me a message or comment on this and let me know how you feel about it.
Frat Boy Fantasy
Hello all,
I am reporting from the loft tonight. Yes, I was just here last weekend and I have been coming home a lot more often than I typically do. The driving is starting to wear me down, or maybe I just need new music on my Ipod. I was not at all planning on driving home this weekend. As a matter of fact, my whole weekend was unplanned. Not like unplanned pregnancy unplanned, but completely not what I had in mind for how I was to spend this weekend.
My friend Chelsea and I have an upcoming trip to Panama City Beach, so we decided to get together with the other two girls who are going with us and set up some plans. We had a potluck dinner thing and sat at her house and talked over things from who was driving to what night we are going to Club La Vila or whatever it is called. It's the one they show on MTV for spring break. I am kind of nervous about it. I'm not trying to end up on Ridiculousness or anything. Needless to say, it was supposed to be a quiet night in full of sweatpants and single serve popcorn. Then, my little brother came to town.
Tyler got all the crazy and wild from both of my parents, whereas I think I may have just got Momma's crazy genes. Tyler has a lot of both Brad and Caroline, so he is about as stable as a table with three legs. I don't mean it in a bad way, I just mean he can't sit still for long and he really knows how to have a good time.
Well, Tyler asked if he could bring one of his frat brothers to the house. He said the boy was a very respectable young man, so of course I said yes. I mean honestly, he had me at frat brother. Well, one turned into two, and there again that was fine with me. This may have had something to do with the fact that one of them could have been twins with Joseph Gordon- Levitt.
I left Chelsea's whenever Tyler got to my apartment because I felt bad for not being there to greet him. I was in some workout leggings and there was nothing special about my long sleeved shirt. There wasn't any part of me that wanted to go out on the town, but after one of them handed me a beer, they talked me into it. I got dressed and we all headed out. The boys had been sipping for a while so they were in a good little mood. So good in fact, that their confidence levels were through the roof, and they thought they would pee on some truck's tires because it had an FSU tag on it. Mind you, we were in Tallahassee, so all vehicles have something FSU on them. A police van pulled up. This night was about to end before it even began. Perfect.
I tried to yell discretely (this is highly impossible) that there was an officer watching them. I attempted to distract the cop by asking him if I could park on a curb dubbed with yellow paint. Clearly the answer was no, but the boys didn't get in trouble. Tyler forgot his ID back at the apartment which threw a kink in my night, but soon we were at the Strip again. We went our separate ways, he with his friends and me with Chelsey, Jess, and Jacob.
I found Connor first. He looked like he was about to get in a fight with some other guy who I did not know. Turns out, he was also in the fraternity. He was an ass. I don't like him and Tyler better never bring him around me.
At the end of the night, I had to find all three of them because I knew they didn't have a ride other than myself. I found Tyler next. He was taking a little snooze on a table at McDonald's with two homeless men who were very nice. In exchange for watching him, I gave the men a 5 dollar bill for more coffee and cheeseburgers. It wasn't much, but I felt like it was the right thing to do. I am kind of ashamed that when Tyler stood up and walked out the door, I patted his pants pocket to feel for his wallet.
Finally, we were all together in front of Mickey D's. Thank the Lord! We could go home now, which was awesome because the bones in my feet felt like they were about to shatter from wearing those heels for hours. All we had to do was walk across the street. Simple right?
Wrong. So wrong. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Connor running full speed to the end of the sidewalk. All of a sudden, I see an apartment complex advertisement sign go flying through the air. He had punted it like a football. He clapped his hand on my shoulder and exclaimed that he just had to do it. Great.
As we walk across the street, Connor still can't contain himself. He ninja kicks one of the emergency police buttons that sends a signal to the FSU PD. Naturally, they show up in about two seconds. It would take hours if someone was actually getting raped or robbed though. I have to explain that I am taking them home. The cop let's us leave with a promise that if my friend kicked that f-ing police button again he would be going to f-ing jail. Yes sir Mr. Officer!
The asshole frat brother who I do not care for and his attractive blonde friend who I have yet to meet are at my car with us. I guess they walked over behind us. Being the southern lady I am, I asked to make sure they had accommodations as far as a ride and place to stay went. The asshole, with his pride, said he was fine. The cuter, and obviously smarter one asked me ever so sweetly if I minded if he slept on my floor that night. Of course, he could.
We made it home all while listening to Connor's blathering about hamburger toppings (for real). Tyler and Connor went to sleep almost instantly, but Trevor and Colin stayed up to talk to Chelsey and I. Trevor continued to reassure me and Chelsey that he was an asshole but that he was the "realest." Colin looked up at some point and thanked me for giving him a warm place to stay for the night. He is welcome back at this house anytime.
So here I was, in a room with three of my brother's frat brothers. This is like every girls' fantasy and should have been mine. However, the real thing is far from what I had concocted in my mind. They were like big, sleepy, farting, burping, chatty chatty babies who needed to be taken care of. It was still a fun night though. They changed my mind on most frat boys, and in a good way. These guys were cocky no doubt, but they were funny, respectable, polite, and nice. Not at all like the big football playing, dip spitting guys who I thought they would be. All in all, it was quite an interestingly awesome night.
I am reporting from the loft tonight. Yes, I was just here last weekend and I have been coming home a lot more often than I typically do. The driving is starting to wear me down, or maybe I just need new music on my Ipod. I was not at all planning on driving home this weekend. As a matter of fact, my whole weekend was unplanned. Not like unplanned pregnancy unplanned, but completely not what I had in mind for how I was to spend this weekend.
My friend Chelsea and I have an upcoming trip to Panama City Beach, so we decided to get together with the other two girls who are going with us and set up some plans. We had a potluck dinner thing and sat at her house and talked over things from who was driving to what night we are going to Club La Vila or whatever it is called. It's the one they show on MTV for spring break. I am kind of nervous about it. I'm not trying to end up on Ridiculousness or anything. Needless to say, it was supposed to be a quiet night in full of sweatpants and single serve popcorn. Then, my little brother came to town.
Tyler got all the crazy and wild from both of my parents, whereas I think I may have just got Momma's crazy genes. Tyler has a lot of both Brad and Caroline, so he is about as stable as a table with three legs. I don't mean it in a bad way, I just mean he can't sit still for long and he really knows how to have a good time.
Well, Tyler asked if he could bring one of his frat brothers to the house. He said the boy was a very respectable young man, so of course I said yes. I mean honestly, he had me at frat brother. Well, one turned into two, and there again that was fine with me. This may have had something to do with the fact that one of them could have been twins with Joseph Gordon- Levitt.
I left Chelsea's whenever Tyler got to my apartment because I felt bad for not being there to greet him. I was in some workout leggings and there was nothing special about my long sleeved shirt. There wasn't any part of me that wanted to go out on the town, but after one of them handed me a beer, they talked me into it. I got dressed and we all headed out. The boys had been sipping for a while so they were in a good little mood. So good in fact, that their confidence levels were through the roof, and they thought they would pee on some truck's tires because it had an FSU tag on it. Mind you, we were in Tallahassee, so all vehicles have something FSU on them. A police van pulled up. This night was about to end before it even began. Perfect.
I tried to yell discretely (this is highly impossible) that there was an officer watching them. I attempted to distract the cop by asking him if I could park on a curb dubbed with yellow paint. Clearly the answer was no, but the boys didn't get in trouble. Tyler forgot his ID back at the apartment which threw a kink in my night, but soon we were at the Strip again. We went our separate ways, he with his friends and me with Chelsey, Jess, and Jacob.
I found Connor first. He looked like he was about to get in a fight with some other guy who I did not know. Turns out, he was also in the fraternity. He was an ass. I don't like him and Tyler better never bring him around me.
At the end of the night, I had to find all three of them because I knew they didn't have a ride other than myself. I found Tyler next. He was taking a little snooze on a table at McDonald's with two homeless men who were very nice. In exchange for watching him, I gave the men a 5 dollar bill for more coffee and cheeseburgers. It wasn't much, but I felt like it was the right thing to do. I am kind of ashamed that when Tyler stood up and walked out the door, I patted his pants pocket to feel for his wallet.
Finally, we were all together in front of Mickey D's. Thank the Lord! We could go home now, which was awesome because the bones in my feet felt like they were about to shatter from wearing those heels for hours. All we had to do was walk across the street. Simple right?
Wrong. So wrong. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Connor running full speed to the end of the sidewalk. All of a sudden, I see an apartment complex advertisement sign go flying through the air. He had punted it like a football. He clapped his hand on my shoulder and exclaimed that he just had to do it. Great.
As we walk across the street, Connor still can't contain himself. He ninja kicks one of the emergency police buttons that sends a signal to the FSU PD. Naturally, they show up in about two seconds. It would take hours if someone was actually getting raped or robbed though. I have to explain that I am taking them home. The cop let's us leave with a promise that if my friend kicked that f-ing police button again he would be going to f-ing jail. Yes sir Mr. Officer!
The asshole frat brother who I do not care for and his attractive blonde friend who I have yet to meet are at my car with us. I guess they walked over behind us. Being the southern lady I am, I asked to make sure they had accommodations as far as a ride and place to stay went. The asshole, with his pride, said he was fine. The cuter, and obviously smarter one asked me ever so sweetly if I minded if he slept on my floor that night. Of course, he could.
We made it home all while listening to Connor's blathering about hamburger toppings (for real). Tyler and Connor went to sleep almost instantly, but Trevor and Colin stayed up to talk to Chelsey and I. Trevor continued to reassure me and Chelsey that he was an asshole but that he was the "realest." Colin looked up at some point and thanked me for giving him a warm place to stay for the night. He is welcome back at this house anytime.
So here I was, in a room with three of my brother's frat brothers. This is like every girls' fantasy and should have been mine. However, the real thing is far from what I had concocted in my mind. They were like big, sleepy, farting, burping, chatty chatty babies who needed to be taken care of. It was still a fun night though. They changed my mind on most frat boys, and in a good way. These guys were cocky no doubt, but they were funny, respectable, polite, and nice. Not at all like the big football playing, dip spitting guys who I thought they would be. All in all, it was quite an interestingly awesome night.
Friday, March 1, 2013
Night of Magical Proportions pt 2
Hello all,
Ready for Round 2? Warning: this post contains acts that may be considered wild and unruly, drunkenness, shady bar incidences, and lots of good fun. If these things are going to twist your panties in a knot, don't read it. Please wait until my next girly, lovey post instead.
So, we chugged the birthday shots. Mind you, this is one of the first shots I have had since Cassie's twenty first Risky Business themed waltz, which was also a crazy cool night. That post is still to come, and it will in fact come soon. So, it tasted like crap, but felt sort of good after it went down. I like the warmth that spreads throughout my chest after taking one.
Don't get me confused with an alcoholic, I am not an alchie. I really do not like it all that much, but when it is time to celebrate and have a good time, it is okay. I am more of a whole bottle of juice and a splash of alcohol girl if I am drinking (which is very rare). I don't like the bitter taste of it, so my drinks have to be watered down. In short, I am a sissy.
Earlier that day (technically it is the 16th but I mean the 15th), I had received a few tokens of love from friends and family to wish me a happy birthday. So you all remember my post about me fantabulous (fantastic + fabulous= fantabulous?)ex roommate Ashley? Well, she is possibly the best gift giver I have befriended. I received a large box from Ashley. The parcel contained a pretty brown bottle and something else wrapped in paper. The bottle was Godiva Chocolate liqueur and the paper concealed a Harry Potter coffee mug with the Marauder's Map on it. It had a little tag attached that explained that when the mug is heated, footprints like the ones on the map will appear all over the mug! Holy crap alcohol that tastes like chocolate and a Harry Potter mug that does magic?! This girl knows me far too well! I would like to thank you again Ashley! I loved my presents and I will forevermore love you. A letter from my Grandma in Seattle came. She always picks out really cute cards. The 200 bucks inside of it made it even cuter. Thanks Grandma, love you! There was also a package in the mail that I bought for myself containing a bottle of It's a Ten leave in hair product. This stuff is like bottled crack for hair. Happy Birthday to me! After I got done opening all this stuff, I returned to my bedroom to find packages on my bed. They were from Chelsey and Jess. They went to this adorable store called Lola and the Bean and bought me a koozie (I think that is how it is spelled) that says, "Keep Calm and Stow your Twitchy Palm" which is from the Fifty Shades books, an elegant purple bracelet with a blinged out clasp, a headache relieving shower salt, and candy. I love everything guys! Best roomies ever! Taytum brought a present with her. Taytum and I have this weird relationship that is often shown in our gift giving to each other. Her present contained a glass cup that said Happy Birthday on the outside with a sticker that requested I look inside the glass. So, naturally, I did. At the bottom was the true message, it said, "You Dirty Slut." Perfect! Also, she had a really awesome bracelet made with GRYFFINDOR spelled out in cute little charms. Thanks Tay Tay! Mom sent Tyler up with many gift cards. She felt the need to put every single one in its own birthday card. She knows I love cards and I thought it was exceptionally thoughtful. One of them is to Longhorns and you can bet I will be getting me a steak sometime in the near future! Thanks Mommy! Tyler also had a card for me with a Starbucks card in it. The card is beautiful and very sweet. I should have known there was a catch. The real present from him was the picture he drew in the card. It is me with a funnel and a bottle of Grey Goose going into the funnel (as if anyone could do that, you would die!) with, "Happy 21st nigga, LET'S GET WASTED!" written at the top. He is so poetic isn't he? I love it and I love you Tyler! Dad sent him with money to take care of me this weekend and he had my Keurig waiting back at home for me. My Aunt Melanie sent me a card with owls drinking martinis on it with another check in it. Thank you! Cassie gave me my present at midnight and it was a bow belt I had been wanting, the shot glasses, and a statement necklace that I would wear for the night of my party. I love it!!!! Dang there is a lot of love in this post... and this was an extremely long paragraph.
We watched Pitch Perfect that night and basically just chilled out until like 4 in the morning. The real fun was to begin in mere hours, and we needed to rest up.
Later that day we put the finishing touches on the house badges, they looked like old fashioned police badges and were part black and part either garnet, gold, blue, or emerald colored glitter. At the top of the badge said Cara's Harry Potter Waltz, to let everyone know what the theme was. I tried to make the iconic Harry Potter glasses with pipe cleaners from a tutorial I saw online. I was going to buy them until the lady at Party City told me they were 6.99 per pair. Ain't nobody got money for that! Well, after three nights of attempting these glasses, I gave up because they were terrible. Cassie made my waltz sign. It was so cool looking! She cut a lightening bolt out of a piece of a neon yellow presentation board. She wrote all the twenty one things on it and wrote "Cara's HP Waltz" with the lightening bolt P like on the front of the books, in the middle and all the tasks they set forth for me to complete on the sides. I would now like to share with you all the 21 things because they are too hilarious:
1) Collect 21 straws from people's drinks
2)Get 21 kisses
3) Collect 21 dollars
4) Get 21 spankings
5)Cast 21 spells
6)Call 21st person in phone
7) Take pic with Security
8)Have a stranger buy you a drink
9)Collect 21 condoms
10) Get entire place to sing you happy birthday
11) Convince 21 people that you are Hermione Granger
12) Talk to 21 people in a British accent
13) Take 21 pics
14) Make a secret handshake with 21 people
15) Turn into an animagus
16) High- 5 21 ppl
17) Fly around the club like Buckbeak
18)Organize a Quidditch match
19) Chug a drink for 21 seconds
20) Say 21 Harry Potter quotes
21) GET THROWN INTO WESTSCOTT FOUNTAIN!
My friends really are so creative aren't they? Well I did some of these and I will tell you how I made modifications some of them later.
After a quick dinner with my roommates, Cassie, Matt and Mike, Tyler, and Taytum and Sierra, it was time for the party to begin. People started arriving by broomstick around 9:30. I say this because Cody actually called his car a Firebolt. Leave it to Cody to get really into something. I don't know why we never really hung out... We have a lot in common when it comes to going to extremes. The more the people arrived, the more the poison started to flow. There was enough alcohol to start a small store and make a profit. I took a picture of it, but that will never make it to Facebook. Let's be honest, I have several pictures from that night that will never make it to any social media outlet. There were plastic ping pong balls flying everywhere, people making hunch punch in the kitchen, and someone turned on some cool jams, all while I was sorting people into their houses. I took my super awesome Charlotte Russe bag and put all the glittery house badges into it and asked people to reach inside and let fate decide. See what I did there with that little rhyme?
Surprisingly, some people really really got into which house they were in. Cassie's bf Matt refused to continue participating in the festivities if he was not sorted into Gryffindor. Taytum texted me a little earlier that week telling me she decided on Slytherin because she wanted to be bad, and that she had planned her whole outfit around being in Slytherin. She had a green belt and a snake ring, she could have been a model for Slytherin house. Originally, I wanted to be in Gryffindor, but then I decided I would let the house choose me. After asking someone to hold the sorting bag, I reached my hand in and pulled out a badge with green glitter. I was a Slytherin! I guess even the sorting bag knew that I was a cold blooded, evil hearted, reptile underneath my seemingly sweet demeanor. Don't question the sorting bag, it knows all. So, I adorned myself with my Slytherin badge with pride.
Everyone was having a good time when Matt asked me what my Animagus would be if I had one. For those of you who don't know or can't use context clues to figure out, an Animagus is a person who can turn into an animal. I told Matt that I would have to think about it, and he said with sure defiance, "I would be a werewolf night falcon." I asked him what does that look like, and he got down in a crouched position, and slowly opened his arms and shot up into the air flapping them, along with a serious screech that could shatter glass. It was by far the funniest thing I have ever seen! I am not sure if it was because of the good little buzz I had going or what, but I almost peed on myself from laughing so hard.
Amongst people transforming into animals and hunch punch being passed around, we decided it was time to head out to Coliseum. We got there, and it was a bust, so we went to the Strip on a last minute decision. This fits, because I am a last minute person. For those of you who are not Tally natives, the Strip is on highway 90 and it is a strip of bars and mini clubs. You see where they got really creative in the name? After getting our underage friend in, we were in business at a place called Public House. When one of the guys present asked if I wanted to go to Public House, I thought he was saying Public Couch. I knew something wasn't right because that just sounded like a free for all orgy. The hunch punch must have been getting to me.
We bounced around from club to club and somehow ended up in Ken's Tavern. Amazingly we got up to the bar. Thank goodness because my feet were killing me. I had on some huge black stilettos, and there is no amount of hunch punch to make the ache from wearing those kind of shoes go away. Not for me at least. So I got to sit down and my friends started to order shots. Oh my goodness at the shots. You would have thought we were all getting vaccinated to go on an African Safari with how many we ordered. Chelsea ordered me one called a Wet Pussy. Ugh gosh I hate that word! By far one of the ugliest words someone came up with. I will say every word in the book before I say that one. I have said it a few times admittedly about a few choice ex boyfriends of mine, and it felt like I was chewing on nails as it slipped between my teeth and out for the world to hear. As I took the shot, I couldn't help but feel sorry for men. If that's what that tastes like, I might just be gay if I was a man. Maybe it got that name because that's what it does to women. I don't know, but it was pretty strong.
There were Kamikazes and Wet Pussies flying everywhere. That picture Tyler put in my card was turning out to be pretty realistic. They all started to taste the same after a few, like nothing at all. My taste buds were burned out. You could have been feeding me slugs and I wouldn't have known the difference.
After Ken's, we ended up at a place that I am fuzzy with on the name. Its one outstanding feature was two stripper poles on a stage with a DJ. There was a fine line between stripper poles and the floor, but somehow we crossed it. Every girl in the party group was up on that stage and dancing like we were having ones thrown at us. At some point the DJ gave me a birthday shout out and I decided I had to go hug him for his kind gesture. I grabbed his headphones and put them on to pose for pictures. He wouldn't let me touch the record thingy though that will make the skipping noise, I was kind of upset about that. I found out later that Mike had gotten up onstage to tell him to give me the shout out. Turns out, guys are not allowed on the stage, only females. Mike went to walk off the stage, and grabbed the handrail to the stairs, as anyone would do. However, he was on the wrong side of the stairs and just walked off into nothingness. Freaking hilarious!
At some point, I had had enough pole dancing and asked David to help me off stage. I was on the right side of the stairs, but I might have been better off pulling a Mike. I tripped down the stairs and landed wrong with my ankle on the floor and my foot turned sideways. My response to this, "I think I may have just broken my ankle, I'm just gonna walk it off, okay?" I patted David on the shoulder and went to the bathroom. When one girl goes to the bathroom, we all go. Seriously, there were like eight of us in the community bathroom. I announced that it was coming off. Everyone looked at me, wondering what exactly it was. Well, it was my shoes. I couldn't handle them anymore. Jenna Marbles would be highly upset with me. I had no shame and walked back out to the club, barefoot as a jack rabbit.
I was ready for the night to be over. I was tired and had had enough of all the calamity. The hotel bed was calling my name and I was walking out of the door hopelessly drawn to it. When I turned around to look to see if anyone was following suit, I realized we had lost people. It was freezing outside, but I was ready to go to the fountain and call it a night. When I made it down to the parking lot though, I knew this wasn't going to happen. Outside of one of the vehicles we came in was a huge puddle of puke and it was 28 degrees outside. We all found rides with some of the people who elected not to indulge in any polyjuice potion and went home or to the hotel. I got to the hotel and immediately started taking off clothes in exchange for pjs. I listened to Mike lecture me on cheap wine and how the "shit" someone brought to my party was unacceptable. Little does he know, I asked my brother to purchase it so I could make a punch that never got made. After a few minutes, I made my way to the bed and fell into an amazing sleep.
At some point I woke up and was extremely thirsty, like I had just ate sand from the Sahara desert. Somewhere in the kitchen, I heard someone rattling around in the icebox. I assumed it was Destiny so I yelled out and asked her to make me a glass of ice water. Being the awesome friend she is, she obliged and handed me the best tasting glass of water I have ever had. After that I knocked right back out.
Ready for Round 2? Warning: this post contains acts that may be considered wild and unruly, drunkenness, shady bar incidences, and lots of good fun. If these things are going to twist your panties in a knot, don't read it. Please wait until my next girly, lovey post instead.
So, we chugged the birthday shots. Mind you, this is one of the first shots I have had since Cassie's twenty first Risky Business themed waltz, which was also a crazy cool night. That post is still to come, and it will in fact come soon. So, it tasted like crap, but felt sort of good after it went down. I like the warmth that spreads throughout my chest after taking one.
Don't get me confused with an alcoholic, I am not an alchie. I really do not like it all that much, but when it is time to celebrate and have a good time, it is okay. I am more of a whole bottle of juice and a splash of alcohol girl if I am drinking (which is very rare). I don't like the bitter taste of it, so my drinks have to be watered down. In short, I am a sissy.
Earlier that day (technically it is the 16th but I mean the 15th), I had received a few tokens of love from friends and family to wish me a happy birthday. So you all remember my post about me fantabulous (fantastic + fabulous= fantabulous?)ex roommate Ashley? Well, she is possibly the best gift giver I have befriended. I received a large box from Ashley. The parcel contained a pretty brown bottle and something else wrapped in paper. The bottle was Godiva Chocolate liqueur and the paper concealed a Harry Potter coffee mug with the Marauder's Map on it. It had a little tag attached that explained that when the mug is heated, footprints like the ones on the map will appear all over the mug! Holy crap alcohol that tastes like chocolate and a Harry Potter mug that does magic?! This girl knows me far too well! I would like to thank you again Ashley! I loved my presents and I will forevermore love you. A letter from my Grandma in Seattle came. She always picks out really cute cards. The 200 bucks inside of it made it even cuter. Thanks Grandma, love you! There was also a package in the mail that I bought for myself containing a bottle of It's a Ten leave in hair product. This stuff is like bottled crack for hair. Happy Birthday to me! After I got done opening all this stuff, I returned to my bedroom to find packages on my bed. They were from Chelsey and Jess. They went to this adorable store called Lola and the Bean and bought me a koozie (I think that is how it is spelled) that says, "Keep Calm and Stow your Twitchy Palm" which is from the Fifty Shades books, an elegant purple bracelet with a blinged out clasp, a headache relieving shower salt, and candy. I love everything guys! Best roomies ever! Taytum brought a present with her. Taytum and I have this weird relationship that is often shown in our gift giving to each other. Her present contained a glass cup that said Happy Birthday on the outside with a sticker that requested I look inside the glass. So, naturally, I did. At the bottom was the true message, it said, "You Dirty Slut." Perfect! Also, she had a really awesome bracelet made with GRYFFINDOR spelled out in cute little charms. Thanks Tay Tay! Mom sent Tyler up with many gift cards. She felt the need to put every single one in its own birthday card. She knows I love cards and I thought it was exceptionally thoughtful. One of them is to Longhorns and you can bet I will be getting me a steak sometime in the near future! Thanks Mommy! Tyler also had a card for me with a Starbucks card in it. The card is beautiful and very sweet. I should have known there was a catch. The real present from him was the picture he drew in the card. It is me with a funnel and a bottle of Grey Goose going into the funnel (as if anyone could do that, you would die!) with, "Happy 21st nigga, LET'S GET WASTED!" written at the top. He is so poetic isn't he? I love it and I love you Tyler! Dad sent him with money to take care of me this weekend and he had my Keurig waiting back at home for me. My Aunt Melanie sent me a card with owls drinking martinis on it with another check in it. Thank you! Cassie gave me my present at midnight and it was a bow belt I had been wanting, the shot glasses, and a statement necklace that I would wear for the night of my party. I love it!!!! Dang there is a lot of love in this post... and this was an extremely long paragraph.
We watched Pitch Perfect that night and basically just chilled out until like 4 in the morning. The real fun was to begin in mere hours, and we needed to rest up.
Later that day we put the finishing touches on the house badges, they looked like old fashioned police badges and were part black and part either garnet, gold, blue, or emerald colored glitter. At the top of the badge said Cara's Harry Potter Waltz, to let everyone know what the theme was. I tried to make the iconic Harry Potter glasses with pipe cleaners from a tutorial I saw online. I was going to buy them until the lady at Party City told me they were 6.99 per pair. Ain't nobody got money for that! Well, after three nights of attempting these glasses, I gave up because they were terrible. Cassie made my waltz sign. It was so cool looking! She cut a lightening bolt out of a piece of a neon yellow presentation board. She wrote all the twenty one things on it and wrote "Cara's HP Waltz" with the lightening bolt P like on the front of the books, in the middle and all the tasks they set forth for me to complete on the sides. I would now like to share with you all the 21 things because they are too hilarious:
1) Collect 21 straws from people's drinks
2)Get 21 kisses
3) Collect 21 dollars
4) Get 21 spankings
5)Cast 21 spells
6)Call 21st person in phone
7) Take pic with Security
8)Have a stranger buy you a drink
9)Collect 21 condoms
10) Get entire place to sing you happy birthday
11) Convince 21 people that you are Hermione Granger
12) Talk to 21 people in a British accent
13) Take 21 pics
14) Make a secret handshake with 21 people
15) Turn into an animagus
16) High- 5 21 ppl
17) Fly around the club like Buckbeak
18)Organize a Quidditch match
19) Chug a drink for 21 seconds
20) Say 21 Harry Potter quotes
21) GET THROWN INTO WESTSCOTT FOUNTAIN!
My friends really are so creative aren't they? Well I did some of these and I will tell you how I made modifications some of them later.
After a quick dinner with my roommates, Cassie, Matt and Mike, Tyler, and Taytum and Sierra, it was time for the party to begin. People started arriving by broomstick around 9:30. I say this because Cody actually called his car a Firebolt. Leave it to Cody to get really into something. I don't know why we never really hung out... We have a lot in common when it comes to going to extremes. The more the people arrived, the more the poison started to flow. There was enough alcohol to start a small store and make a profit. I took a picture of it, but that will never make it to Facebook. Let's be honest, I have several pictures from that night that will never make it to any social media outlet. There were plastic ping pong balls flying everywhere, people making hunch punch in the kitchen, and someone turned on some cool jams, all while I was sorting people into their houses. I took my super awesome Charlotte Russe bag and put all the glittery house badges into it and asked people to reach inside and let fate decide. See what I did there with that little rhyme?
Surprisingly, some people really really got into which house they were in. Cassie's bf Matt refused to continue participating in the festivities if he was not sorted into Gryffindor. Taytum texted me a little earlier that week telling me she decided on Slytherin because she wanted to be bad, and that she had planned her whole outfit around being in Slytherin. She had a green belt and a snake ring, she could have been a model for Slytherin house. Originally, I wanted to be in Gryffindor, but then I decided I would let the house choose me. After asking someone to hold the sorting bag, I reached my hand in and pulled out a badge with green glitter. I was a Slytherin! I guess even the sorting bag knew that I was a cold blooded, evil hearted, reptile underneath my seemingly sweet demeanor. Don't question the sorting bag, it knows all. So, I adorned myself with my Slytherin badge with pride.
Everyone was having a good time when Matt asked me what my Animagus would be if I had one. For those of you who don't know or can't use context clues to figure out, an Animagus is a person who can turn into an animal. I told Matt that I would have to think about it, and he said with sure defiance, "I would be a werewolf night falcon." I asked him what does that look like, and he got down in a crouched position, and slowly opened his arms and shot up into the air flapping them, along with a serious screech that could shatter glass. It was by far the funniest thing I have ever seen! I am not sure if it was because of the good little buzz I had going or what, but I almost peed on myself from laughing so hard.
Amongst people transforming into animals and hunch punch being passed around, we decided it was time to head out to Coliseum. We got there, and it was a bust, so we went to the Strip on a last minute decision. This fits, because I am a last minute person. For those of you who are not Tally natives, the Strip is on highway 90 and it is a strip of bars and mini clubs. You see where they got really creative in the name? After getting our underage friend in, we were in business at a place called Public House. When one of the guys present asked if I wanted to go to Public House, I thought he was saying Public Couch. I knew something wasn't right because that just sounded like a free for all orgy. The hunch punch must have been getting to me.
We bounced around from club to club and somehow ended up in Ken's Tavern. Amazingly we got up to the bar. Thank goodness because my feet were killing me. I had on some huge black stilettos, and there is no amount of hunch punch to make the ache from wearing those kind of shoes go away. Not for me at least. So I got to sit down and my friends started to order shots. Oh my goodness at the shots. You would have thought we were all getting vaccinated to go on an African Safari with how many we ordered. Chelsea ordered me one called a Wet Pussy. Ugh gosh I hate that word! By far one of the ugliest words someone came up with. I will say every word in the book before I say that one. I have said it a few times admittedly about a few choice ex boyfriends of mine, and it felt like I was chewing on nails as it slipped between my teeth and out for the world to hear. As I took the shot, I couldn't help but feel sorry for men. If that's what that tastes like, I might just be gay if I was a man. Maybe it got that name because that's what it does to women. I don't know, but it was pretty strong.
There were Kamikazes and Wet Pussies flying everywhere. That picture Tyler put in my card was turning out to be pretty realistic. They all started to taste the same after a few, like nothing at all. My taste buds were burned out. You could have been feeding me slugs and I wouldn't have known the difference.
After Ken's, we ended up at a place that I am fuzzy with on the name. Its one outstanding feature was two stripper poles on a stage with a DJ. There was a fine line between stripper poles and the floor, but somehow we crossed it. Every girl in the party group was up on that stage and dancing like we were having ones thrown at us. At some point the DJ gave me a birthday shout out and I decided I had to go hug him for his kind gesture. I grabbed his headphones and put them on to pose for pictures. He wouldn't let me touch the record thingy though that will make the skipping noise, I was kind of upset about that. I found out later that Mike had gotten up onstage to tell him to give me the shout out. Turns out, guys are not allowed on the stage, only females. Mike went to walk off the stage, and grabbed the handrail to the stairs, as anyone would do. However, he was on the wrong side of the stairs and just walked off into nothingness. Freaking hilarious!
At some point, I had had enough pole dancing and asked David to help me off stage. I was on the right side of the stairs, but I might have been better off pulling a Mike. I tripped down the stairs and landed wrong with my ankle on the floor and my foot turned sideways. My response to this, "I think I may have just broken my ankle, I'm just gonna walk it off, okay?" I patted David on the shoulder and went to the bathroom. When one girl goes to the bathroom, we all go. Seriously, there were like eight of us in the community bathroom. I announced that it was coming off. Everyone looked at me, wondering what exactly it was. Well, it was my shoes. I couldn't handle them anymore. Jenna Marbles would be highly upset with me. I had no shame and walked back out to the club, barefoot as a jack rabbit.
I was ready for the night to be over. I was tired and had had enough of all the calamity. The hotel bed was calling my name and I was walking out of the door hopelessly drawn to it. When I turned around to look to see if anyone was following suit, I realized we had lost people. It was freezing outside, but I was ready to go to the fountain and call it a night. When I made it down to the parking lot though, I knew this wasn't going to happen. Outside of one of the vehicles we came in was a huge puddle of puke and it was 28 degrees outside. We all found rides with some of the people who elected not to indulge in any polyjuice potion and went home or to the hotel. I got to the hotel and immediately started taking off clothes in exchange for pjs. I listened to Mike lecture me on cheap wine and how the "shit" someone brought to my party was unacceptable. Little does he know, I asked my brother to purchase it so I could make a punch that never got made. After a few minutes, I made my way to the bed and fell into an amazing sleep.
At some point I woke up and was extremely thirsty, like I had just ate sand from the Sahara desert. Somewhere in the kitchen, I heard someone rattling around in the icebox. I assumed it was Destiny so I yelled out and asked her to make me a glass of ice water. Being the awesome friend she is, she obliged and handed me the best tasting glass of water I have ever had. After that I knocked right back out.
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