I gave up on this blog after my designer said she couldn’t work with wordpress’s new format. Not a huge fan of the layouts they provide, though. I’m ready to be consistent and give this blog a new focus, so this is a call to action to any blog designers that want to give this a stab! (Obviously, willing to compensate and I PROMISE to apply reasonable blogmanship standards if it looks pretty, so you can’t get famous 😉 )
Rule #1 of Blogmanship: Be consistent.
What can we say? We’re rule breakers.
Really, it’s be a hell of a few weeks. Between ice apocalypses, catching the plague, and nannying for a few weeks, the longest thing I wrote were the details of how a customer wanted their grass-fed burger cooked.
The great news is that the FABULOUS blog designer is going to vamp this baby up and big changes are coming to make us a real life site! It’s going to be amazing and you will want to share with everyone else. Really, it’s going to be gorgeous.
To recap, here a synopsis of the past few weeks:
Yeah, what of it?!
it wasn’t until I posted those two gifs did I realize that I have apparently been on a Kristin Bell kick for a few weeks…anddd it wasn’t until I typed that sentence did I realize that was even possible.
Anyway, Frozen is as catchy as the buzz claims it is and of all the movies a 7-year-old could want to watch on repeat, it’s certainly the lesser of evils. Veronica Mars needs to make a comeback, and more than just a straight to instant stream Kickstarter movie comeback. The amount of Neptune cameos makes for a hell of a drinking game. (A quick Google search leads me to find I’m not the first to think so.)
So, hang in there, and thanks for all the recent followers in light of our long hiatus! Big thangs a’comin…
dogsitting tends to put quite the hamper on my internet accessibility.
…well, scratch that. forgetting to text the family for their wifi password and leaving my laptop at home actually does that.
i finally got online, though!
but not after being nearly abducted first.
i watch this family’s house probably every other month and never experience anything strange. in fact, i basically watch half of this city’s houses, animals, and kids, and always feel reasonably safe. it once crossed my mind once that if a burglar saw my car at the house, he could see its occupant status and decide not to break in… OR… he could see my car at the house, see my 20-something self get out of it and no one else go into the house, and be like “oh shit, this will be a cake walk.” i won’t be of much use defending the house, then.
then i remembered only people in white suburbia need house and dogsitters, and relaxed.
my biggest fear thus far comes from the fact that in the family who put up shop before this one had a little girl who died of cancer in the house. that’s very tragic and no jokes to be made on the matter, but the possibility that i have ghoulish slumber parties does not escape me.
i keep the little girl away by leaving the TV on until i’m asleep and turning it off sometime in the middle of the night when i’m too sleepy to care. the night before last was like any other, except that not five minutes after i turned off the tv, someone began banging on the doors and windows.
i went straight buffy. not really buffy summers buffy, but more like harmony buffy, but immediately looking for an escape plan.
my thoughts within 30 seconds of being jolted from my sleep:
-burglars don’t bang
-someone is here to get you
as i’m on the phone with the dispatcher, i can’t help thinking that if someone noticed that i was alone and is here for me, this little chat with a guy wearing a headset isn’t going to offer much protection.
luckily, an officer arrives within a couple minutes to deliver the news that my big bad is a teenage looking white male in a gray hoodie, and that apparently some hooligans are spending their monday night playing
ding dong rapist knock ditch.
so, i’m annoyed. what happened to rolling your friend’s front yard or even egging your guidance counselor’s house? i take no saintly award for my high school years, but i feel like i had enough wits to know that if i go knocking on the wrong house, i’m not always going to be lucky to find an 20-something female armed with only a barking dog.
i can’t tell if i’m officially old for hating these kids and siding with the cops for the first time in my life, so i’m contemplating reconciling my old fogey-ness by leaving bags of dog shit on the porch if they come back.
good news: Con-Air was on HBO for the two hours i couldn’t sleep, and i got wifi so i can compile a list of relatable nick cage one liners to summarize my situation.
Shout out to my favorite blog, #myfriendsaremarried, for forever being on point
They say the way you spend your New Years Eve is the way you spend the rest of your year. Nearly two full months later, I’m starting to consider the truth in that….
Traveling is all about discovery. In Denver, we discovered bad drivers every where, all you can eat chicken wings, and people cradling two-foot weed plants in the street.
I baby sat at 5 a.m., EST. By the time we arrive at the airport at 9 a.m. I’m dying and fiending for caffeine. I don’t take any mind or mood altering substances, but given my past with panic attacks on airplanes, I fiddle two emergency Prozac I stole from a dog between my fingers like it’s my precious.
Our first flight into DC is something along the lines of angelic, thanks to Antonio, our charismatic flight attendant who returned the terror in our eyes with a pitiful smile until we reached cruising altitude and felt safer so much further from the ground. A seasoned pilot who decided to catch a ride chatted nonchalantly across the aisle from us as if the plane was not going to crash, but what does he know?
I’m one thousand percent over it during our flight to Denver. Truth be told, it was really peaceful and relaxing, but it was also four hours long and we didn’t get any pretzels.
Fast forward a few hours and I’m passing out into my flaming-spider-volcano-in-the-Artic sushi roll. I’m Prozac free and totally sober, but it’s been probably a full year since I stayed awake later than 1 a.m., so even think about midnight (2 a.m. EST) at mile high altitude is actually insane. However, giving up now would be like taking a smoke break a mile from the tour de France finish line, and I’m no quitter.
At midnight, we wander through weed smoke and dreadlocks to find ourselves in an SLC Punk themed dive bar, with seats shaped like red flames and a baked DJ who forgot to give a count down. There’s also one of those things where you put your head in the face and take a picture with a wooden body, so naturally, we indulged. Three hours later, eight million drunk teenage girls who use CB’s shoulder as a seat or butt warmer interchangeably, directions from a pleasant mountaineer couple, and a high heeled journey through the ice, we are clinically dead on a pull out trundle bed.
Happy New Year, we’re lame.
Don’t you hate it when you hook up with two brothers and find yourself sitting between them on a couch in their mom’s house in a city you’re visiting for the first time?
Yeah – the worst.
Here I am, trying to do something with my life. I studied, I slaved, I spent a lot of money, and now I’ve been accepted to post-grad schools around the country. Hospitable student ambassadors escort me around campuses and I purse my lips and nod slightly as we pass the library, as if I’m a wealthy new home buyer and not actually being duped into a lifetime of debt.
Traveling is expensive and I wait tables, so therefore, when I fly, I squat. Not that it’s any of your business, but I became vaguely comfortable with the some of the most sordid tile floors in a past life, which makes accommodating to a stranger’s 2×2 closet space pretty easy.
I planned a trip up North to check out my top pick school and reached out to a guy whose social circle brushed mine in high school. He was a few years older and our interaction rarely exceeded drunken stumbling into each other at someone’s house after a football game. Oh, that, and I walked out of a Planned Parenthood for the first time with the morning after pill and my first birth control script after a hazy, sleepless night with his older brother. I never saw that brother again, but silently thanked him a few times when hasty pregnancy tests returned negative.
Facebook told me that younger brother increased in attractiveness since our last encounter, so I considered expediting my Brazilian appointment or straightening my hair for safe measures. Then, I counted my sexual partners in the past two years on one hand and remembered I wasn’t 16 anymore, and actually DGAF.
YB picked me up from the airport and mentioned seeing older brother and telling him I was coming, to which OB responded “Who?” I’m not even offended. I almost wiped imaginary sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand, but instead I chuckled and feigned bashfulness.
A few flirty grazes against my lower back and chocolate stuffed pastries later, I was saddled up against his six pack watching a French film I didn’t care about. I fell asleep and woke up to one thing leading to another. He dropped me off at the school the next day and I fell in love with the library, feeling satisfied with my trip and grateful to be flying out that evening.
…Except that I misread my itinerary and missed my flight by two hours….
The next flight left in the morning, so YB picked me up and I apologized/thanked him too many times, while I shriveled on the inside as I pictured how the rest of evening would go. Long distance trysts never exceed an evening, so what the hell was this?
I had no idea my short lived affair would become a family affair.
“I am so sorry, thank you so much for picking me up, I feel so stupid…”
“No problem, but you’re buying me breakfast in the morning! We also have to run by my mom’s house, so you get to hang out with her for a minute.”
Hmm, this is kind of weird, but he picked me up and is providing a pillow as an alternative to a metal airport chairs, so I can get over it.
“OB is there, too I think, so you can hang out with both.”
So, here I am. I’m sitting on a couch that is tall enough to leave my feet dangling like a child. OB wakes up from a nap at 9 p.m. and sleepily hugs me in a way that tells me he does remember me and sits next to me. He wants to know how I am, how everyone else is, and tells me he’s thinking about moving home. YB sits across from me and I look everywhere but at him. His mom sits on her own love seat to my left and she wants to know how we all know each other, and how I like NC, and if I like the north…
Between innocent smiles and subtle searches for anything made with chocolate or bread that I can stuff into my mouth, it hits me that I’m a two hour flight from home, in a city I have never been to, sitting on a couch in a home I have never been in, and I have a history, one long enough for a very awkward hour.
My presence must have seemed pleasant and welcome because every time I looked anyone in the eye, I started laughing out loud. I stifled my cackle and managed to smile really hard at everyone in the face instead, like I could not have been more ecstatic to be exactly where I was. I think I even tapped my dangling feet together like Dorothy, subconsciously trying to get the fuck back down South where a new scandal would start buzzing between lips and ears before I could bless this family’s heart, and I could forget this ever happened.
An incredibly awkward hour later, YB and I shacked up once more for good measure and this little piggy laughed her ass off allllllll the way home!
My favorite thing about snow in the South is the free pass to sit on my ass and watch TV. It’s the one time that excessive binge watching loses the earmark of laziness and lack of ambition. Not that it ever made a difference for me, but…. anyway.
Genetically, Southerners are unable to drive in snow and we can only play it in for so long before our hearts stop from overexposure to sub 30-degree things. That leaves TV and snacks. Most amateurs stock up on milk and bread but the real pros (myself) buy the last four buffalo chicken pizzas in the grocery story and get stuck at a house where funny people live.
Stocked with the necessities, let the OnDemand and shitty TV movie marathon begin:
- Enough Said, 2013
Best movie ever? No. Would I own it and watch it for good feels? Yes. The chemistry between James Gandolfini and Julia Louis-Dreyfus is ahhhh-dorable and awkward, relying a lot more on witty charm than prototypical Hollywood romance. Scratch the staring into the eyes and intense make out sessions and sub awkward flirting and giggles. They don’t seem like a believable couple aesthetically, but that seems to be the point. I like when films pull at the heartstrings of reality, and we found ourselves involuntary grinning and cringing as their on screen, awkward relationship unfolded and unraveled. It nailed the romantic ending, too, in my opinion. I won’t spoil it, but I would describe it as clean. Gandolfini: miss ya tons.
- You’ve Got Mail, 1998
If you haven’t seen this…. I don’t… I don’t even know. Go watch it and pretend you’ve seen it the better side of twenty times. Don’t ever admit out loud that it’s taken you this long. My mom went through an obsessive phase with this movie, but for the rest of us, it’s one that you don’t go out of your way to watch but you always watch it when it’s on… which it was. Bursting in nostalgia, from the whining screech of dial up AOL to Meg Ryan pre-plastic surgery, it’s the perfect afternoon-on-the-couch romantic comedy that not even the most manly man can escape from loving. (Also, does anyone else get surprised and confused every time Dave Chapelle appears?) It happened to air in the morning as we all started to wake up, which leads me to believe half of the magic of this movie is in the timing of the rerun.
- A Case of You, 2013
After switching back and forth between Rehab Addict (or as I call it, the show that would be really cool if the most annoying girl ever didn’t host it) and US Drug Wars on NatGeo, we found this random gem OnDemand. I’m not surprised this went under the radar. It had potential but just fell short in every element, even with such a promising cast – Justin Long, Evan Rachel Wood, Vince Vaughan, and even short appearances by Sam Rockwell and Peter Dinklage. It was a timely story of a dude who Facebook stalks his crush and pretends to like all the same thing as her. Who can’t relate to that? Unfortunately, the acting fell on the axe of the boring writing and it took us four hours to get through because more interesting things interrupted. (More interesting things while trapped inside with nothing to do, at that.)
There was one random scene where Justin Long puts a dollar in a hipster’s chai latte because he thought he was a homeless person that made me laugh really hard, though.
- Crazy, Stupid, Love, 2011
Sjdsfjsdwajkcsk, this movie is just the best. It’s a guilty pleasure with no reason to feel guilty, because it’s just good. Ryan Gosling and Steve Carrell’s banter makes me want to third wheel their bromance. The whole movie has a really playful tone and remains laughable even during the most awkward scenes. The casting and acting is well done and the script is well written with perfect comedic timing. No, obvs not an award winning drama, but it’s not written to be one, either. It’s just a perfectly messy love story(ies). I think the gushy romantics could get lost in the Gosling/Stone relationship, but the real adorable factor is Steve Carrell and his family and their accidental hopeless romantic genes. If I see this in the DVD bin while grocery shopping, I’ll buy it.
- The Way, Way Back, 2013
Sibling to Little Miss Sunshine, it’s pretty much perfect, despite what a lot of critics said about it. I appreciate a good coming of age story and this one centers around the worst age ever with a 13-year-old boy lead that deals with his patronizing dick-face mom’s boyfriend and his own crippling insecurity. Sam Rockwell (<3<3<3<3!!!), the charmingly deadbeat operator of a shitty water park, unknowingly guides him into growing up. Not to mention: Maya Rudolph and the two writers who fit like gloves in supporting Rockwell’s character. Steve Carrell plays a phenomenal asshole boyfriend and I almost suspect they cast him for his ability to nail a condescending facial expression in a rear view mirror. It’s my humble opinion that if you don’t like this movie, you’re probably dumb.
- The Ring, 2002
I love horror movies but I admit that most don’t actually scare me for longer than the credits that follow. This movie legitimately
scared scares me. The literal concept of a VHS tape with a deadly vendetta is pretty ridiculous. However, The Ring rocks because when I saw it in theaters, my brothers pinned my arms down on the arm rest so I couldn’t cover my eyes and I had nightmares for weeks about it. The tape seems to be the center of fear, but the film actually uses everything but the tape to induce horror – the acting isn’t shitty, the tone is really consistent and impressionable, and the cinematography has a lot of special detail to create a creepy and unnerving story line that uproots from the normal flow of a horror movie. The Ring was groundbreaking in a way, giving birth to that whole grudge-faced creepy girl/lurking demented shadow character and expanding past the boogy-man or big bad in the closet. My one gripe is that the clairvoyant child is sort of random and inconsistent, but despite him, I get nervous I might die in a week every time I watch this movie.
Also good for the Snowpocolypse:
-Getting the car stuck trying to get to the store
-Trying to sled on yoga mats
-Building snowmen who lay down instead of stand up, because “No one stands up on a snow day.”
…but that’s for another post another day. Anyone else on the Southeast have a snowpocolyptic movie adventure?
Valentine’s Day is literally THE BEST. IDGAF if you’re single, in a relationship, or try’na get hitched. If anyone comes at you with that “It’s all just corporate, Hallmark marketing BS” BS, shove a chocolate heart in their face and tell them to STFU and stop complaining about candy.
There’s several things I’m looking forward to today as a completely single lady:
-House of Cards binge-a-thon.
-Perfect excuse to binge eat chocolate
-Totally appropriate time to be completely inappropriate and creepy
I cannot, for the life of me, figure out why anyone would hate Valentine’s Day. So, no one bought you chocolate and flowers and you don’t have a romantic date night planned. Good news: it’s now Valentine’s Day so all of the chocolate and flowers are 50% off at the drug store and you don’t have to get out of sweat pants.
Have you ever met a couple who LOVED Valentine’s Day? Hell no. They have to face the pressure of a perfect evening and perfect gifts. The rest of us get to take advantage of everyone else’s miserable relationship and eat enormous amounts of discount candy while we Netflix binge.
So, get over being single and if you’re in a relationship: bummer. It’s the best day ever.
(Also, go buy this:)
Welcome! We have a lot of work to do, but we wanted to get the gears rolling. Our blog is under professional design as we crank some posts and write some info about ourselves. This is a lifestyle blog, all about the style of living…
We eat, travel, and embarrass ourselves. We hope you can laugh at us as hard as we do. Maybe even a few of you will eat an entire box of Peanut Butter Patties in one sitting and we can chuckle together about our impending dietary illnesses…
So, hello, and enjoy!