Hello all,
It has been a while, but since most of my days are filled with folding endless, sky high mountains of sweaters in a variety of colors and wiping noses of two year olds, my nights are pretty much dedicated to the most important thing in my life right now: sleep. I do not have as much time as I would like to dedicate to writing, meaning my blog and other mystery project are getting the short end of the attention stick right now. It really does sadden my soul, because this is my biggest passion in the world.
This weekend, before I went and watched my Florida State Seminoles defeat the Miami Hurricanes into something more like a nice autumn breeze, I spent my day with a pregnant woman while working on another one of my creative outlets: photography. But seriously, I cannot be more proud of my boys! They showed stamina and grace on the field even in light of a few mistakes and mishaps, and I am delighted that I had the pleasure to watch the game of the year.
Okay, back to my day with a pregnant lady whom I had only met once. My work had talked me into taking pictures for an Instagram contest (of which I was also pushed into being in charge of). My friend Sarah and I do pictures on the side, just because she is really good at it and I thought she should make a little money from it. We have a page called Little B Photography on Facebook. She is definitely the master photographer, where I am more of the idea girl. My creative outlet is always on overload, so coming up with poses and the looks for picture sessions every once in a while has got to be healthy for me.
Let me start with how I met Julia. It was at my work. My boss came up to me one day and asked me if I would be down to promote the huge baby sale we were having a few weeks ago by dressing up in a cute "baby shower-esque" outfit and standing back in the baby section. Of course I was down! I love sitting back there in the land of all things cute and cuddly. It almost makes me want a little one to stuff into the overly fluffy jackets with the animal ears. But at the same time, it makes me want to get sterilized because the adorable clothes don't look nearly as sweet on a toddler who is screaming at and kicking his mother.
Working with children has got to be the best form of birth control out there. Someone should really get on that and profit from it. Like have class a few times a month where a few girls are left with a bunch of out of control toddlers, all with loaded diapers and hangry (pissed because they are hungry). I guarantee you the next time her boyfriend crawls into bed with her and tries to turn up the magic, she stops him, makes a saran wrap pair of underwear, and builds a wall of pillows between them that his penis couldn't possibly hope to get through.
While hanging up baby booties and folding onesies, I had another job. I was to use my cellphone and take pictures of pregnant ladies and babies for the two contests we had going on. One was cutest mommy belly and the other was cutest kid. "Go up and take their pictures" they said, "You won't look like a creeper at all" they said. Well, that was totally false. I attempted to be charming by complementing the rosy cheeked tots or the beautiful glow the preggers had, but some people still looked at me like I had a pedophilic gleam in my eye and pulled their babies a bit closer to them when I asked to take their pictures on my personal cell phone. I have to admit, if some lady in a pink shirt with bows for buttons came up to me with their iphone and asked me to let me photograph their baby, I'd probably see little red flags popping up faster than zit on a thirteen year old's face, too.
I met this one lady who looked like she might pop if she brushed up against something hard enough. She was looking over at the boys clothes as I approached her trying to look not like a child snatcher. I asked her how far along she was and she blushed redder than a candy apple and said, "Don't laugh, I am only 23 weeks along. I am having twin boys, I know I look huge and ridiculous." I could tell she was feeling, I don't know, self- conscious maybe? I proceeded to tell her that she was beautiful and that I didn't think she looked bad at all. She had warm, chocolate hair with hints of natural red and had very pretty smile. The only thing big about her was her belly, and when you are carrying twin boys, how could you be anything else? I told her about our contest and she seemed rather reluctant telling me she didn't feel very up to a picture, but I told her the prize was supposed to be pretty cool, even though I didn't know all the details yet. She let me snap her picture and then we went our separate ways after a few more minutes of chatting and me trying to reassure her she was a cute mommy to be. After she left, I couldn't help but hope that she would be the one who won the contest.
A few weeks passed and I was delighted to hear that she had in fact won. My boss told me she wanted me to take a few pictures, maybe like ten, let her choose the picture and then we would print it. Well, we all know that I like things bigger and better so I wasn't about to be able to take just ten pictures. My creative flow would have turned to poison if I would have limited myself. Instead I went absolutely crazy, pinning ideas on Pinterest and scouting possible locations for our shoot.
I just have to say that my morning with Julia and Mason and Tucker (her twins) was absolutely stunning. We had fun kicking people out of filming because we wanted to take pictures in front of this really pretty door to a grief and counseling building. I told her to look super pregnant when we needed someone to move or let us borrow a space for just a few moments. She laughed and told me she liked my style. She was such a trooper getting up and down into different poses that I suggested. We told jokes and laughed over the snow cone she bought me as a treat for doing this for her. She was super excited about one of the locations being Lake Ella because the Snowball place was right there beside it. She said it was her biggest pregnancy craving and this was their last week open for the regular season. I thought it would be funny to document her craving and we took some pretty hilarious pictures in front of the sign with her holding her snowball and eating it.
One of the funniest moments of the day was when we were doing a picture that she really wanted done. She wanted the belly shot with the blocks on top spelling out the word "twins." I had just put the blocks on her belly when one of them fell off. I asked her if that was her and she giggled saying, "No, that was the boys kicking." I laughed so hard as I kept putting the block back up and watching it slide back down again. Another highlight was when we were talking about her husband's parents and how she loved them so much. I told her about the one set of parents from a boyfriend I dated that I was really fond of. I told her the mom was cool like she is and how she got younger people's banter and jokes, and told her about the time I explained to the mom how babies were born with dimples. "It's from the dad having sex with the pregnant mom, and the baby gets poked in the face and that is how the baby gets dimples." Julia's reaction to this was priceless.
She was one of the sweetest people I have ever had the pleasure of taking pictures for. She has to know I was being honest, because she wasn't charged for this. She made it fun for me by relating to me in ways most people over 30 can't anymore. Her conversation skills were on the same level as mine and we talked the whole time. At the end of the day I dubbed her the coolest pregnant woman I have ever met. If I couldn't make it to College Game Day, I am glad to say I spent my time with her. Pictures to come soon! Be sure to check out our page on Facebook.
Sunday, November 3, 2013
Wednesday, October 16, 2013
Gasoline, Chocolate Milk, Victoria's Secret
Hello all,
I am so thrilled to tell you all that I have been getting some of male attention lately! Yep, you heard right, members of the male gender have been noticing my existence! Unfortunately, this has me involved so you all know that there is some sort of a catch.
This past week I was walking out of my apartment singing the only way I know how: terribly. I had my back facing the stairs as I locked up my fortress. Upon turning around I almost ran smack into this guy who was also making his way down the stairs. "I am so sorry!" I exclaimed. He smiled and said it was alright and continued to go on his way.... The end....
Nah, I am just kidding! That would be the saddest blog post ever if that is where it ended. This boy turned out to be my neighbor. He was pretty cute too. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he turned back to me and said, "Would you like help with those?" pointing to the large trash bag, purse, and package I was carrying with me. I was sort of caught of guard by this sweet gesture that this stranger. Was he really about to walk all the way back up the stairs to help me with my things? I quickly decided that I would feel bad if he did in fact trek back up the stairs so I kindly declined his offer. He still waited for me at the bottom of the stairs. We chatted about the music they are always blaring in his apartment. Usually loud music at 1 in the morning has the same effects of a crying baby on an airplane for me. I told him that I was so fond of his music choices, that the noise wasn't bothersome, giving my hair a light toss with the hand that wasn't clutching a Hefty bag.
My version of flirting>>> others' versions of flirting
My second encounter with the rare good looking man was at a concert performed by none other than the king of sexy himself: Luke Bryan. I donned my cowboy boots and hit up the concert with some friends of mine to see this country boy shake it for me like I was the only one in the audience. As much as I melted over his southern drawl and purring, my chances of having a flirtatious anything with Mr. Bryan has about as much a chance of happening as does the government sitting in a Khumbaya circle sipping hot chocolate spiked with Bailey's deciding how to end this shutdown.
It was towards the end of the concert. I had walked away from the stage with Hunter, Lew and Hunter's cousin. We had been standing for about 6 hours straight and as captivating as LB is, I refused to stand in hot breath cloud emitted by every girl in the greater Tallahassee area that hung over our prime stage center location any longer. I sat down on the grass for a little bit a little further away from the crowd, thoroughly enjoying watching Lew and Hunter trying to spit some game at these two girls. I am so proud to say that I think they were both successful, as they both danced for a while with their intended targets. I stood back up just in time to watch a drunk girl step on a water bottle and fall on her ass right in front of me.
Gett'er done son!
I tried to help her up but she was being really prideful/drunk and didn't want any help. When she moved away I noticed a nice looking gentleman in a plaid shirt standing rather close by. He was texting very intently on his phone, probably looking for his friends. After about ten minutes, he turned and walked over to me and asked me a question.
"Has anyone told you how beautiful and sexy you are tonight?"
I stopped, looked all around me and when I saw nobody standing remotely close I said, "No, actually no."
"Well, I just wanted to let you know that you are beautiful." He also told Hunter's cousin that she was very pretty too upon noticing her. I was thinking he was drunk, but his face wasn't ruddy with the afterglow of too much booze. He extended both of his hands out to us as if he were a preacher wanting to pray. We both took them hesitantly and he twirled us around before taking off into the night. He was a country fried Zorro, and I am pretty sure that he was dead serious.
Now, we all know that when I am involved in the story, absolutely anything that can go wrong will in fact go about as bad as a neglected Easter egg on a spring lawn. This last little love story is about as "NO" as you can get.
I was getting gas earlier tonight at Murphy's right up the road from me. It has the cheapest gas and a handsome cashier who normally works the late shifts. I made my way up to the cash register clutching a small bottle of Borden's chocolate milk. I have a very soft spot in my heart for chocolate milk and Borden's is my favorite brand. I hadn't had it in a while and I figured it was worth the short wait in line for me to have it tomorrow for breakfast. I reached the register and noticed two very large beer bottles sitting close to the lottery tickets. I kind of chuckled and asked the cashier if someone underage had tried to purchase them. And this is how it went from here:
"No, actually, they are his," the cashier said pointing to a very large, very bearded upper forties Tarzan (but not in a good way) looking man.
Tarzan walked over beside me and reached his arm around in front of me to grab his bottles of booze.
"Well, damn, these have already gotten hot..." he complained about his lukewarm beer upon touching the bottle, "But not as hot as those things," He goggled looking directly down my tank top at my boobs. SERIOUSLY!?
I was so stunned that I slapped my hand over my chest and turned away flushed. I was thinking it was either slap him or slap yourself, and in light of his gargantuan stature and my not so tough/short one, I chose the latter. Like I didn't have on a low cut shirt or anything. I had on a friggin' cardigan! There was nothing sexy about how I looked in my "running" shorts (let's be honest, I do not wear these to run), slicked back pony and sweater over tank. Hell, I didn't even match!
I was so shocked. Who just throws out that line in the Murphy's gas station right in front of the cashier and Jesus?
And y'all already know I say stupid shit whenever I get nervous, or just about anytime I feel any emotion really. I looked back at Ben, the nice man ringing me up, and said, "You know, they really aren't that great. I mean, they are, but it's mostly the bra. They aren't fake or anything. Victoria's Secret just does a mighty fine job with their products."
I think Ben struggled a little with finishing ringing up my gas and chocolate milk.
I am so thrilled to tell you all that I have been getting some of male attention lately! Yep, you heard right, members of the male gender have been noticing my existence! Unfortunately, this has me involved so you all know that there is some sort of a catch.
This past week I was walking out of my apartment singing the only way I know how: terribly. I had my back facing the stairs as I locked up my fortress. Upon turning around I almost ran smack into this guy who was also making his way down the stairs. "I am so sorry!" I exclaimed. He smiled and said it was alright and continued to go on his way.... The end....
Nah, I am just kidding! That would be the saddest blog post ever if that is where it ended. This boy turned out to be my neighbor. He was pretty cute too. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he turned back to me and said, "Would you like help with those?" pointing to the large trash bag, purse, and package I was carrying with me. I was sort of caught of guard by this sweet gesture that this stranger. Was he really about to walk all the way back up the stairs to help me with my things? I quickly decided that I would feel bad if he did in fact trek back up the stairs so I kindly declined his offer. He still waited for me at the bottom of the stairs. We chatted about the music they are always blaring in his apartment. Usually loud music at 1 in the morning has the same effects of a crying baby on an airplane for me. I told him that I was so fond of his music choices, that the noise wasn't bothersome, giving my hair a light toss with the hand that wasn't clutching a Hefty bag.
My version of flirting>>> others' versions of flirting
My second encounter with the rare good looking man was at a concert performed by none other than the king of sexy himself: Luke Bryan. I donned my cowboy boots and hit up the concert with some friends of mine to see this country boy shake it for me like I was the only one in the audience. As much as I melted over his southern drawl and purring, my chances of having a flirtatious anything with Mr. Bryan has about as much a chance of happening as does the government sitting in a Khumbaya circle sipping hot chocolate spiked with Bailey's deciding how to end this shutdown.
It was towards the end of the concert. I had walked away from the stage with Hunter, Lew and Hunter's cousin. We had been standing for about 6 hours straight and as captivating as LB is, I refused to stand in hot breath cloud emitted by every girl in the greater Tallahassee area that hung over our prime stage center location any longer. I sat down on the grass for a little bit a little further away from the crowd, thoroughly enjoying watching Lew and Hunter trying to spit some game at these two girls. I am so proud to say that I think they were both successful, as they both danced for a while with their intended targets. I stood back up just in time to watch a drunk girl step on a water bottle and fall on her ass right in front of me.
Gett'er done son!
I tried to help her up but she was being really prideful/drunk and didn't want any help. When she moved away I noticed a nice looking gentleman in a plaid shirt standing rather close by. He was texting very intently on his phone, probably looking for his friends. After about ten minutes, he turned and walked over to me and asked me a question.
"Has anyone told you how beautiful and sexy you are tonight?"
I stopped, looked all around me and when I saw nobody standing remotely close I said, "No, actually no."
"Well, I just wanted to let you know that you are beautiful." He also told Hunter's cousin that she was very pretty too upon noticing her. I was thinking he was drunk, but his face wasn't ruddy with the afterglow of too much booze. He extended both of his hands out to us as if he were a preacher wanting to pray. We both took them hesitantly and he twirled us around before taking off into the night. He was a country fried Zorro, and I am pretty sure that he was dead serious.
Now, we all know that when I am involved in the story, absolutely anything that can go wrong will in fact go about as bad as a neglected Easter egg on a spring lawn. This last little love story is about as "NO" as you can get.
I was getting gas earlier tonight at Murphy's right up the road from me. It has the cheapest gas and a handsome cashier who normally works the late shifts. I made my way up to the cash register clutching a small bottle of Borden's chocolate milk. I have a very soft spot in my heart for chocolate milk and Borden's is my favorite brand. I hadn't had it in a while and I figured it was worth the short wait in line for me to have it tomorrow for breakfast. I reached the register and noticed two very large beer bottles sitting close to the lottery tickets. I kind of chuckled and asked the cashier if someone underage had tried to purchase them. And this is how it went from here:
"No, actually, they are his," the cashier said pointing to a very large, very bearded upper forties Tarzan (but not in a good way) looking man.
Tarzan walked over beside me and reached his arm around in front of me to grab his bottles of booze.
"Well, damn, these have already gotten hot..." he complained about his lukewarm beer upon touching the bottle, "But not as hot as those things," He goggled looking directly down my tank top at my boobs. SERIOUSLY!?
I was so stunned that I slapped my hand over my chest and turned away flushed. I was thinking it was either slap him or slap yourself, and in light of his gargantuan stature and my not so tough/short one, I chose the latter. Like I didn't have on a low cut shirt or anything. I had on a friggin' cardigan! There was nothing sexy about how I looked in my "running" shorts (let's be honest, I do not wear these to run), slicked back pony and sweater over tank. Hell, I didn't even match!
I was so shocked. Who just throws out that line in the Murphy's gas station right in front of the cashier and Jesus?
And y'all already know I say stupid shit whenever I get nervous, or just about anytime I feel any emotion really. I looked back at Ben, the nice man ringing me up, and said, "You know, they really aren't that great. I mean, they are, but it's mostly the bra. They aren't fake or anything. Victoria's Secret just does a mighty fine job with their products."
I think Ben struggled a little with finishing ringing up my gas and chocolate milk.
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
Cara's Rendition of The Voice
Hello loves!
For the first time this week I am logging on to my computer to do something other than homework. Okay, maybe I looked at Wanelo and Hautelook once or twice...okay okay it was 12 times! Or more like every time I opened Blackboard. I know, I have a problem.
I have been neglecting posting this for a while because it always slips my mind, but as I am watching Abbey Lee's Ultimate Dance Competition and The Voice , and as I think and pray for the very talented Sara Beth (a beautiful, amazing, musically and acting inclined woman from my hometown who was in a terrible accident today) I am reminded that I need to post this because this girl is definitely worth listening to. I filmed her in Key West at a raw bar. Okay, that sounds really awkward. I didn't like creep up behind her and film her eating oysters or anything. But she did something so bold that I felt compelled to take out my phone and record her beautiful voice.
My mom, brother Tyler, Bryan (Tyler's friend), and I were all starving after a long day of being tourists. My mom is really picky about her restaurants and so is Tyler, so trying to find somewhere they will both eat is challenging. I didn't much care for the dinner part. My main course for that night would be "Better Than Sex." We will visit that foodgasm later so I can take you through the whole sensually erotic experience.
Hot, sweaty and tired, my mom decided on a raw bar with a name I cannot remember. It had something to do with bikers though. Oysters aren't really my thing so I sipped a water and ate a side of boiled potatoes. I know, I am so strange! But it is what I wanted.
While I was happily munching on my bland potatoes, there was a very amazing male singer with the vocals to match that of my favorite male band The Script. He was singing me into a splendid stupor as I dazed out while staring at him singing. I may or may not have been daydreaming about me being the only one there, laid out on the bar while he sang to me and only me, and him taking body shots off my collarbone between songs. I mean most of my fantasies that week had to do with tequila, some body part and a sexy Key West man. When I was on the catamaran boat, it was the chiseled chap with the Australian accent, and in the chocolate shop it was the man with the chocolate key lime pie on a stick. What can I say, if it breathes and does something cool, I am probably thinking with my sexy cap on.
I was just in the middle of this talented man with the sultry voice licking salt off my neck when my day visions were interrupted. The future Jack Johnson announced that he had to step away for a minute. The band he was opening for was running late. He came back with whatever he retrieved to sing a few more songs in the meantime. Someone had requested a song that he declared was "out of his range." Some man in the back stood up and said "Sarah can sing it!" I turned around to see who was speaking. It was a man who was pushing an excited looking young girl up to the stage. If someone had been pushing me up on stage to act, I would have been fainting. But this girl looked so eager that I became suspicious. Oh no, this is going to be like a bad American Idol tryout, I thought as she walked up onto the stage practically bouncing on her toes as she adjusted the microphone.
This girl asked if anyone had any requests. "I don't know what I should sing!" she exclaimed as she blushed.
"Sing some Miranda Lambert," I suggested. I immediately mentally took back my suggestion because I knew I would be disappointed if she did one of my idols wrong.
"Which song?" she asked excitedly.
"Hmm, how about Mama's Broken Heart?" I offered.
After a few seconds of going over the lyrics in her head, she picked up her guitar and settled it across her lap. What she unleashed was talent rawer than the oysters the people around me were sickly slurping down.
I have to say, she did Miranda very proud with that song.
Everyone was so impressed that we all begged for more. My brother who was looking at her very intently asked her to sing something that she wrote if she did in fact write. Turns out she did. This is the song I recorded of her. Please excuse the guy in the powder blue shirt who can't make up his mind as to where he is going. The background noise and everything really don't do what I heard in person justice, but the video is still really good.
Her name is Sarah Spicer. She has a Facebook (I think) and I believe she sells music on itunes or Amazon. Something like that. Look her up and give her a like if you feel inclined to do so. I told her she was worth more than a small time blogger's post, but her face little up like a Christmas tree when I told her I wanted to post her video on my blog. She was the sweetest thing, and she really does deserve more than my little blog.
For the first time this week I am logging on to my computer to do something other than homework. Okay, maybe I looked at Wanelo and Hautelook once or twice...okay okay it was 12 times! Or more like every time I opened Blackboard. I know, I have a problem.
I have been neglecting posting this for a while because it always slips my mind, but as I am watching Abbey Lee's Ultimate Dance Competition and The Voice , and as I think and pray for the very talented Sara Beth (a beautiful, amazing, musically and acting inclined woman from my hometown who was in a terrible accident today) I am reminded that I need to post this because this girl is definitely worth listening to. I filmed her in Key West at a raw bar. Okay, that sounds really awkward. I didn't like creep up behind her and film her eating oysters or anything. But she did something so bold that I felt compelled to take out my phone and record her beautiful voice.
My mom, brother Tyler, Bryan (Tyler's friend), and I were all starving after a long day of being tourists. My mom is really picky about her restaurants and so is Tyler, so trying to find somewhere they will both eat is challenging. I didn't much care for the dinner part. My main course for that night would be "Better Than Sex." We will visit that foodgasm later so I can take you through the whole sensually erotic experience.
Hot, sweaty and tired, my mom decided on a raw bar with a name I cannot remember. It had something to do with bikers though. Oysters aren't really my thing so I sipped a water and ate a side of boiled potatoes. I know, I am so strange! But it is what I wanted.
While I was happily munching on my bland potatoes, there was a very amazing male singer with the vocals to match that of my favorite male band The Script. He was singing me into a splendid stupor as I dazed out while staring at him singing. I may or may not have been daydreaming about me being the only one there, laid out on the bar while he sang to me and only me, and him taking body shots off my collarbone between songs. I mean most of my fantasies that week had to do with tequila, some body part and a sexy Key West man. When I was on the catamaran boat, it was the chiseled chap with the Australian accent, and in the chocolate shop it was the man with the chocolate key lime pie on a stick. What can I say, if it breathes and does something cool, I am probably thinking with my sexy cap on.
I was just in the middle of this talented man with the sultry voice licking salt off my neck when my day visions were interrupted. The future Jack Johnson announced that he had to step away for a minute. The band he was opening for was running late. He came back with whatever he retrieved to sing a few more songs in the meantime. Someone had requested a song that he declared was "out of his range." Some man in the back stood up and said "Sarah can sing it!" I turned around to see who was speaking. It was a man who was pushing an excited looking young girl up to the stage. If someone had been pushing me up on stage to act, I would have been fainting. But this girl looked so eager that I became suspicious. Oh no, this is going to be like a bad American Idol tryout, I thought as she walked up onto the stage practically bouncing on her toes as she adjusted the microphone.
This girl asked if anyone had any requests. "I don't know what I should sing!" she exclaimed as she blushed.
"Sing some Miranda Lambert," I suggested. I immediately mentally took back my suggestion because I knew I would be disappointed if she did one of my idols wrong.
"Which song?" she asked excitedly.
"Hmm, how about Mama's Broken Heart?" I offered.
After a few seconds of going over the lyrics in her head, she picked up her guitar and settled it across her lap. What she unleashed was talent rawer than the oysters the people around me were sickly slurping down.
I have to say, she did Miranda very proud with that song.
Everyone was so impressed that we all begged for more. My brother who was looking at her very intently asked her to sing something that she wrote if she did in fact write. Turns out she did. This is the song I recorded of her. Please excuse the guy in the powder blue shirt who can't make up his mind as to where he is going. The background noise and everything really don't do what I heard in person justice, but the video is still really good.
Her name is Sarah Spicer. She has a Facebook (I think) and I believe she sells music on itunes or Amazon. Something like that. Look her up and give her a like if you feel inclined to do so. I told her she was worth more than a small time blogger's post, but her face little up like a Christmas tree when I told her I wanted to post her video on my blog. She was the sweetest thing, and she really does deserve more than my little blog.
Sunday, September 22, 2013
Story Time with an Anonymous Donor
Hello all,
So I have the most brilliant idea ever. There have been many of times when I have had people approach me with stories about things they have done or have witnessed or have had done to them. I enjoy hearing them so much that I am always like, "Please let me put that in a blog." I am practically begging on my knees to get them to let me because the stories are just so entertaining, but alas, sometimes they are too scandalous or personal for them (and sometimes myself) to feel comfortable with me posting them. But I still feel the itch to write them as my fingers hover over the keyboard when I go to write a post. So my dilemma is, how am I to do this without exploiting anyone?
Well, I took a little leaf out of one of my favorite books, The Help. If you haven't read this book/seen the movie, it is truly a wonderful read. Basically, these black women who work as the help in white folks' homes team up with an intelligent, aspiring writer to tell the stories about how their employers treat them and about things they have witnessed going on in the house. It goes from the good all the way to the terribly ugly. But the beauty of it is, they get to say what they have to say without anyone ever knowing for sure who it is about. One could speculate, one could tell out loud, but that would then mean the person had a conscious that it was about them.
Without further ado, I give you my newest segment: Anonymous. Hmm, maybe there is a better name for that... Suggestions? Leave a comment and let me know what you think. These stories will not have the names of the people involved. I will change the names of the people they are about.
Natalie and her boyfriend have decided to take the big leap and do the do. That's right, they were going to have sex for the first time. They were both younger and naive, not really knowing what to expect. After about 10 minutes, it was over and definitely not anything like the movies portrayed it to be.... (what happens moments later is for another time, it is quite hilarious).
Let's skip ahead about 4 weeks later. Natalie is mortified and making herself sick thinking she may in fact be pregnant. She confides in her boyfriend when she can no longer keep quiet about it and says, "We have to find out, I am freaking out thinking about it. I cannot go another day without figuring this out"
Natalie is too scared to go buy a test so she demands that her boyfriend do it. "It is your fault," she whined, "you have to go get the test." The boyfriend, feeling really bad and scared to death, retreats to the store to buy the fateful and potentially problematic pregnancy test.
The boyfriend returned with a very large plastic shopping bag. Natalie was quite puzzled. Weren't those little pee sticks, well, little? She stared at her boyfriend and asked in an incredulous tone, "how many did you buy exactly?"
"Well, I figured you'd want to be really sure," he said with a note of nervousness in his voice. He was as white as a sheet as he handed the bag to Natalie.
Taking the bag in her shaking hands, she closed her eyes and dumped out the bag and spread the ridiculous amount of small cardboard boxes over his old, tattered bedspread. She picked up one of the boxes to read the directions while her boyfriend turned progressively greener over on the opposite bed corner. The box was laying with the back and directions facing her. This looks complicated, Natalie thought as she flipped through the little booklet of directions.
"Geez, it's got like a calender and stuff in here that you have to count the days and take it on an estimated day. I thought you just peed on it and it showed up?" she looked at her boyfriend puzzled. There's all sorts of smiley faces and... estimated days to get pregnant," she said slowly.
Natalie laid the directions aside and flipped the box over. What she saw sent her into fits of laughter so hard she couldn't breathe.
"What is it?!" the boyfriend asked very confused.
"You didn't... buy pregnancy... tests," she said through gasps and tears rolling down her cheeks. "You spent 50 dollars on ovulation tests!!!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!" Natalie rolled over and laughed solidly into one of the pillows as the boyfriend just stared blankly at her.
"What is the difference?" He asked obviously not getting what was so hilarious.
"Babe, those help people when they are trying to get pregnant, not to find out if you are pregnant!" Natalie said wiping away tears and mascara streaks.
"You have to take these back!" Natalie said still giggling.
"Absolutely not! I am not going back in there," the boyfriend said like he would rather dive in a pool of razor blades than face going back in with a huge bag of ovulation tests.
"I have to pee, I'll be right back babe," Natalie said as she walked out of the room and into the bathroom.
As soon as she pulled down her pants, she knew she was definitely not pregnant. Perfect timing mother nature.
The ovulation tests sat in the boyfriend's closet for as long as the boyfriend lived in the house.
So I have the most brilliant idea ever. There have been many of times when I have had people approach me with stories about things they have done or have witnessed or have had done to them. I enjoy hearing them so much that I am always like, "Please let me put that in a blog." I am practically begging on my knees to get them to let me because the stories are just so entertaining, but alas, sometimes they are too scandalous or personal for them (and sometimes myself) to feel comfortable with me posting them. But I still feel the itch to write them as my fingers hover over the keyboard when I go to write a post. So my dilemma is, how am I to do this without exploiting anyone?
Well, I took a little leaf out of one of my favorite books, The Help. If you haven't read this book/seen the movie, it is truly a wonderful read. Basically, these black women who work as the help in white folks' homes team up with an intelligent, aspiring writer to tell the stories about how their employers treat them and about things they have witnessed going on in the house. It goes from the good all the way to the terribly ugly. But the beauty of it is, they get to say what they have to say without anyone ever knowing for sure who it is about. One could speculate, one could tell out loud, but that would then mean the person had a conscious that it was about them.
Without further ado, I give you my newest segment: Anonymous. Hmm, maybe there is a better name for that... Suggestions? Leave a comment and let me know what you think. These stories will not have the names of the people involved. I will change the names of the people they are about.
Natalie and her boyfriend have decided to take the big leap and do the do. That's right, they were going to have sex for the first time. They were both younger and naive, not really knowing what to expect. After about 10 minutes, it was over and definitely not anything like the movies portrayed it to be.... (what happens moments later is for another time, it is quite hilarious).
Let's skip ahead about 4 weeks later. Natalie is mortified and making herself sick thinking she may in fact be pregnant. She confides in her boyfriend when she can no longer keep quiet about it and says, "We have to find out, I am freaking out thinking about it. I cannot go another day without figuring this out"
Natalie is too scared to go buy a test so she demands that her boyfriend do it. "It is your fault," she whined, "you have to go get the test." The boyfriend, feeling really bad and scared to death, retreats to the store to buy the fateful and potentially problematic pregnancy test.
The boyfriend returned with a very large plastic shopping bag. Natalie was quite puzzled. Weren't those little pee sticks, well, little? She stared at her boyfriend and asked in an incredulous tone, "how many did you buy exactly?"
"Well, I figured you'd want to be really sure," he said with a note of nervousness in his voice. He was as white as a sheet as he handed the bag to Natalie.
Taking the bag in her shaking hands, she closed her eyes and dumped out the bag and spread the ridiculous amount of small cardboard boxes over his old, tattered bedspread. She picked up one of the boxes to read the directions while her boyfriend turned progressively greener over on the opposite bed corner. The box was laying with the back and directions facing her. This looks complicated, Natalie thought as she flipped through the little booklet of directions.
"Geez, it's got like a calender and stuff in here that you have to count the days and take it on an estimated day. I thought you just peed on it and it showed up?" she looked at her boyfriend puzzled. There's all sorts of smiley faces and... estimated days to get pregnant," she said slowly.
Natalie laid the directions aside and flipped the box over. What she saw sent her into fits of laughter so hard she couldn't breathe.
"What is it?!" the boyfriend asked very confused.
"You didn't... buy pregnancy... tests," she said through gasps and tears rolling down her cheeks. "You spent 50 dollars on ovulation tests!!!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!" Natalie rolled over and laughed solidly into one of the pillows as the boyfriend just stared blankly at her.
"What is the difference?" He asked obviously not getting what was so hilarious.
"Babe, those help people when they are trying to get pregnant, not to find out if you are pregnant!" Natalie said wiping away tears and mascara streaks.
"You have to take these back!" Natalie said still giggling.
"Absolutely not! I am not going back in there," the boyfriend said like he would rather dive in a pool of razor blades than face going back in with a huge bag of ovulation tests.
"I have to pee, I'll be right back babe," Natalie said as she walked out of the room and into the bathroom.
As soon as she pulled down her pants, she knew she was definitely not pregnant. Perfect timing mother nature.
The ovulation tests sat in the boyfriend's closet for as long as the boyfriend lived in the house.
Monday, September 9, 2013
Jokes on Monday
Hello all,
I am feeling a little bit jokey today so I am going to tell you all a joke that Cassie and I used to laugh at all the time:
There were three couples going out on a triple date together. (Here we used to insert our own names or names of people we knew). They went out to a nice restaurant and sat together in a booth. The men were all trying to be sweet to their sweethearts and thought of clever flirty things to say. One turned to his girlfriend and said, "Pass me the sugar, sugar" with a sexy wink. The other boy, not wanting to be outshone on this group date said, "Pass me the honey, honey" and leaned over to kiss his girl on the cheek. The last man looked at his girlfriend, who was expecting to be called something sweeter than sugar or honey, and said, "Pass me the bacon, pig!"
I can barely type because I am laughing so hard at myself right now. These are the kinds of men I tend to be attracted to, the insensitive ones who don't get how to be sweet and charming. Or even worse, they think this sort of thing is sweet and charming. Whew! Good times, that one never gets old!
Happy Monday y'all, stay classy:)
I am feeling a little bit jokey today so I am going to tell you all a joke that Cassie and I used to laugh at all the time:
There were three couples going out on a triple date together. (Here we used to insert our own names or names of people we knew). They went out to a nice restaurant and sat together in a booth. The men were all trying to be sweet to their sweethearts and thought of clever flirty things to say. One turned to his girlfriend and said, "Pass me the sugar, sugar" with a sexy wink. The other boy, not wanting to be outshone on this group date said, "Pass me the honey, honey" and leaned over to kiss his girl on the cheek. The last man looked at his girlfriend, who was expecting to be called something sweeter than sugar or honey, and said, "Pass me the bacon, pig!"
I can barely type because I am laughing so hard at myself right now. These are the kinds of men I tend to be attracted to, the insensitive ones who don't get how to be sweet and charming. Or even worse, they think this sort of thing is sweet and charming. Whew! Good times, that one never gets old!
Happy Monday y'all, stay classy:)
Thursday, September 5, 2013
The Dirtaay 3's Go Shopping
Hello all,
Here we are back with another tale of the infamous Dirtaay 3's. This was actually when we were still just 2 D3s. Cassie and I had to go shopping after the freezer broke and turned into something a raccoon would have considered a feast. I had been grocery shopping before, obviously, but I normally had a list of things to get from my dad or mom. I figured we were smart and we could just wing it. When we got to the "ghetto Walmart," the Walmart just up on West Tennessee Street that always has lines back to electronics because they keep maybe half of a register open all day long to supply all us needy college students. I call it ghetto Walmart because there is always something funky going on with it and I always see the most fabulous people up there. And by fabulous I mean they need to be on What Not to Wear faster than Anna Kendrick can do the "Cups" song. I went up there one night around 2 in the morning to get something that I must not have been able to wait another 7 or 8 hours for and stood in line for the only register open for about 15 minutes. I was behind this black woman and man who couldn't have been much older than I am. The guy was being very flamboyant and animated about everything from magazine covers to what his female friend was buying. All of a sudden he looked down at the floor and squealed, "UGGHHH, EW Jasmine what is that!? Look at that creature on the ground!" He was pointing to a mole cricket that was lying lazily on the floor just doing whatever mole crickets do I guess. I am not sure how it got there, but I have learned not to question what you find/see in Walmart. A mole cricket is certainly not the weirdest thing I've seen. The guy was still talking about it trying to figure out what this "wild animal" was. I was trying not to laugh because it was very entertaining listening to him talk to his friend and the cashier about it. Finally, he seemed to have had a light click on over his head. "I know what it is," he exclaimed excitedly, pointing to the mole cricket. "It's a crawdad! Yep, I knew that's what it was. Look at that crawdad! I wonder how it got in here!? Damn animals in Walmart, what the hell?" I then actually laughed out loud very audibly. How on earth he figured that little bug was a crawdaddy is totally beyond me! If there was an actual crawdad in Walmart, that might just take things to a whole new level.
Anyways, Cassie and I were shopping in ghetto Walmart and I went in on an empty tummy. Probably not a very good idea because everything from powdered sugar to sweet gerkin pickles sounds as wonderful as a Ruth's Chris filet. At some point, I decided I wanted bacon. I wanted to make my favorite meal, breakfast for dinner, later on that night. I walked over to bacon section next to the deli meat and found myself beside this guy. He was actually rather handsome standing there minding his own business. I thought Cassie was somewhere near me and I was going to ask her what kind of bacon we should get. I was going to be cooking for her too since she can barely boil water without getting bored waiting for it. I pondered for a moment over all the different sorts of bacon. I never really realized there were so many until that moment. I said, "So, do you like it thin and crispy or thick and hearty?" thinking that Cassie was still right there. That's when I noticed the guy made some sort of distressed sound and took two steps further away from me and then walked away giving me an odd look. I turned to look over my shoulder, Cassie was no where to be seen! Oh shit, I thought, this dude probably thought I was making some sort of sexy insinuation through means of strips of bacon! I was so dumbfounded and embarrassed that I didn't even get the bacon. I had to get Cassie to go and pick it out. She refuses to let me live this story down, so might as well tell it to the world anyways.
Needless to say, my favorite kind of bacon is thick, center cut. No more need to consider each type aloud and potentially scare off other males in search of the best breakfast meat there is.
Here we are back with another tale of the infamous Dirtaay 3's. This was actually when we were still just 2 D3s. Cassie and I had to go shopping after the freezer broke and turned into something a raccoon would have considered a feast. I had been grocery shopping before, obviously, but I normally had a list of things to get from my dad or mom. I figured we were smart and we could just wing it. When we got to the "ghetto Walmart," the Walmart just up on West Tennessee Street that always has lines back to electronics because they keep maybe half of a register open all day long to supply all us needy college students. I call it ghetto Walmart because there is always something funky going on with it and I always see the most fabulous people up there. And by fabulous I mean they need to be on What Not to Wear faster than Anna Kendrick can do the "Cups" song. I went up there one night around 2 in the morning to get something that I must not have been able to wait another 7 or 8 hours for and stood in line for the only register open for about 15 minutes. I was behind this black woman and man who couldn't have been much older than I am. The guy was being very flamboyant and animated about everything from magazine covers to what his female friend was buying. All of a sudden he looked down at the floor and squealed, "UGGHHH, EW Jasmine what is that!? Look at that creature on the ground!" He was pointing to a mole cricket that was lying lazily on the floor just doing whatever mole crickets do I guess. I am not sure how it got there, but I have learned not to question what you find/see in Walmart. A mole cricket is certainly not the weirdest thing I've seen. The guy was still talking about it trying to figure out what this "wild animal" was. I was trying not to laugh because it was very entertaining listening to him talk to his friend and the cashier about it. Finally, he seemed to have had a light click on over his head. "I know what it is," he exclaimed excitedly, pointing to the mole cricket. "It's a crawdad! Yep, I knew that's what it was. Look at that crawdad! I wonder how it got in here!? Damn animals in Walmart, what the hell?" I then actually laughed out loud very audibly. How on earth he figured that little bug was a crawdaddy is totally beyond me! If there was an actual crawdad in Walmart, that might just take things to a whole new level.
Anyways, Cassie and I were shopping in ghetto Walmart and I went in on an empty tummy. Probably not a very good idea because everything from powdered sugar to sweet gerkin pickles sounds as wonderful as a Ruth's Chris filet. At some point, I decided I wanted bacon. I wanted to make my favorite meal, breakfast for dinner, later on that night. I walked over to bacon section next to the deli meat and found myself beside this guy. He was actually rather handsome standing there minding his own business. I thought Cassie was somewhere near me and I was going to ask her what kind of bacon we should get. I was going to be cooking for her too since she can barely boil water without getting bored waiting for it. I pondered for a moment over all the different sorts of bacon. I never really realized there were so many until that moment. I said, "So, do you like it thin and crispy or thick and hearty?" thinking that Cassie was still right there. That's when I noticed the guy made some sort of distressed sound and took two steps further away from me and then walked away giving me an odd look. I turned to look over my shoulder, Cassie was no where to be seen! Oh shit, I thought, this dude probably thought I was making some sort of sexy insinuation through means of strips of bacon! I was so dumbfounded and embarrassed that I didn't even get the bacon. I had to get Cassie to go and pick it out. She refuses to let me live this story down, so might as well tell it to the world anyways.
Needless to say, my favorite kind of bacon is thick, center cut. No more need to consider each type aloud and potentially scare off other males in search of the best breakfast meat there is.
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
The Joker
Hello once again,
As most of you know, the majority of my posts have been about embarrassing myself. When I say embarrassing, what the event is to me and what it is to someone on the outside looking in are two totally different things. I grew up with my mother as my mom, meaning I do not get embarrassed easily. She made me immune to all that when I was younger. Nothing really gets to me to where I am ashamed of myself. I say embarrassed because this is an emotion understood by others.
In this blog post, however, I would like to talk about other people doing stupid things that I have witnessed over the past few years.
If anyone knows me, they know that I really love baseball. I may not understand all the ins and outs of it or what each of the numbers on the scoreboard mean, but I really love to watch baseball games. My friend Alexis Washington shares my love of the great American pastime so we frequently watch games together. Typically, this involves me driving out to Gainesville to watch the Gators play. I know, I know, I sound like a traitor. I go to FSU but I still watch the Gators? Yes, yes I do. I had a boyfriend my senior year who loved to go to the Gator games and frequently took me with him. In fact, our first "real" date was a Gator baseball game. So, naturally, I came to enjoy watching these fine men play the all American sport. When I say fine, I mean it literally.
Each year, I go to at least a few games with Alexis. We were at one about two years ago when what I am about to tell you about happened. As we sat on the bleachers, watching Austin Maddox take his place inside the batter's box, we noticed a bit of a commotion. Down the stairs, there was a rather large woman with wild, unruly hair. She looked pretty normal, aside from the hair. In a matter of seconds, I was proved horribly wrong. This woman proceeded to pull her pants up and run up and down the stairs at full speed screaming, "Show me your genitals, your genitals," in almost cheerleader fashion while pumping her fists in the air. She did this a few times. Alexis and I just looked at each other and died laughing. Everyone in the crowd looked shocked. Who does that?!
This one goes out to Cassie. We were at my Nanny's house celebrating Cassie's birthday. She had just started dating this boy named Ryan literally two weeks before, so they were still in the awkward stage where they were both trying to be awesome. Not that she isn't already awesome :). Anyways, I bought her exactly what she wanted, a child movie called Monster House. Weirdo. We sat out on my "back porch" and watched it with our boyfriends. When the night ended, I walked both of them out of the house so I could lock my door. Funny how our nights went from ending at 9 pm to not ending at all. We have a pool that is dangerously close to our door. Cassie was walking around the edge of the pool when she took the corner just a little too sharp and walked right into the pool! Somehow, half of her body went into the freezing water while the other half stayed up on the concrete. She was straddling the ledge with one leg still dry and the remainder of her body completely soaked. She looked kind of like Spider-Man post up on a building. Poor thing! Ryan helped her up but I could tell she was embarrassed and probably hurting. Mind you, her birthday is in November so the water was like ice. She had to ride home in Ryan's car drenched. I guess that is one way to break through the awkward phase of a relationship.
Just this week, Destiny texted me to tell me that she had really done it. She was leaving her place of employment to go home for the evening. While on the way out, she spotted an attractive fella in an elevator. She tried to stop the elevator in an attempt to stare at him. She put her arm in the way of the door, but it was too late. The sensor did not catch her and the elevator door shut on her arm! At that point the doors opened and she proceeded to squeeze her way into the cramped elevator. She said she was dying of embarrassment and that her arm really hurt. Oh, the things we women will do to stand next to a handsome fella.
If you can't tell already, I am posting this way way later on than when I started writing it, but I found it today and thought I should proceed in posting it.
As most of you know, the majority of my posts have been about embarrassing myself. When I say embarrassing, what the event is to me and what it is to someone on the outside looking in are two totally different things. I grew up with my mother as my mom, meaning I do not get embarrassed easily. She made me immune to all that when I was younger. Nothing really gets to me to where I am ashamed of myself. I say embarrassed because this is an emotion understood by others.
In this blog post, however, I would like to talk about other people doing stupid things that I have witnessed over the past few years.
If anyone knows me, they know that I really love baseball. I may not understand all the ins and outs of it or what each of the numbers on the scoreboard mean, but I really love to watch baseball games. My friend Alexis Washington shares my love of the great American pastime so we frequently watch games together. Typically, this involves me driving out to Gainesville to watch the Gators play. I know, I know, I sound like a traitor. I go to FSU but I still watch the Gators? Yes, yes I do. I had a boyfriend my senior year who loved to go to the Gator games and frequently took me with him. In fact, our first "real" date was a Gator baseball game. So, naturally, I came to enjoy watching these fine men play the all American sport. When I say fine, I mean it literally.
Each year, I go to at least a few games with Alexis. We were at one about two years ago when what I am about to tell you about happened. As we sat on the bleachers, watching Austin Maddox take his place inside the batter's box, we noticed a bit of a commotion. Down the stairs, there was a rather large woman with wild, unruly hair. She looked pretty normal, aside from the hair. In a matter of seconds, I was proved horribly wrong. This woman proceeded to pull her pants up and run up and down the stairs at full speed screaming, "Show me your genitals, your genitals," in almost cheerleader fashion while pumping her fists in the air. She did this a few times. Alexis and I just looked at each other and died laughing. Everyone in the crowd looked shocked. Who does that?!
This one goes out to Cassie. We were at my Nanny's house celebrating Cassie's birthday. She had just started dating this boy named Ryan literally two weeks before, so they were still in the awkward stage where they were both trying to be awesome. Not that she isn't already awesome :). Anyways, I bought her exactly what she wanted, a child movie called Monster House. Weirdo. We sat out on my "back porch" and watched it with our boyfriends. When the night ended, I walked both of them out of the house so I could lock my door. Funny how our nights went from ending at 9 pm to not ending at all. We have a pool that is dangerously close to our door. Cassie was walking around the edge of the pool when she took the corner just a little too sharp and walked right into the pool! Somehow, half of her body went into the freezing water while the other half stayed up on the concrete. She was straddling the ledge with one leg still dry and the remainder of her body completely soaked. She looked kind of like Spider-Man post up on a building. Poor thing! Ryan helped her up but I could tell she was embarrassed and probably hurting. Mind you, her birthday is in November so the water was like ice. She had to ride home in Ryan's car drenched. I guess that is one way to break through the awkward phase of a relationship.
Just this week, Destiny texted me to tell me that she had really done it. She was leaving her place of employment to go home for the evening. While on the way out, she spotted an attractive fella in an elevator. She tried to stop the elevator in an attempt to stare at him. She put her arm in the way of the door, but it was too late. The sensor did not catch her and the elevator door shut on her arm! At that point the doors opened and she proceeded to squeeze her way into the cramped elevator. She said she was dying of embarrassment and that her arm really hurt. Oh, the things we women will do to stand next to a handsome fella.
If you can't tell already, I am posting this way way later on than when I started writing it, but I found it today and thought I should proceed in posting it.
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