Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Puppy Love

Ran into a college friend (and his pup), on a random Sunday night, in a hookah bar, in DC. 
I walked away with this gem of a picture. 

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

It's My Birthday and I Cried Cuz I Wanted To and Had No Phucking Choice

I can't really go into details, but if you're reading this blog you should know the following 10 things:

1.  The smile in this picture is fake and it ain't sexy. 

2.  In 2003, my beloved cousin Snowball died two days before my birthday, thus making it the worst birthday ever.  This was a close second.   
3.  I spanked my daughter, for the first time in her 11 years of living, on the day of my cookout. 
4.  I cried for hours on my actual birthday.
5.  Two reservations were made for me, one at an Ethiopian restaurant and the other at a French one.  I ate Chick-Fil-A. 
6.  I canceled attendance to my birthday cookout, just 2 hours, before it started. 
7.  The "small" cookout, was closer to medium/large, so I'm glad I experienced all of the love.


 8.  I over-accessorized to make myself feel a little better.  It worked. 

9.  While perusing Jet magazine, at my parents', I found an article on my friend!

10.  I'm still experiencing guilt, from eating WAAAAY too much and then devouring these leftovers, for days later.

Monday, October 4, 2010

She's Alive!!!

I was quite the social bumblebee this weekend. Wait, it's a butterfly!  I'm going overboard comparing myself to anything or one who fluttered in and out of the DC social scene.  I went out to a god damn happy hour in ANNAPOLIS (the MD state Capitol), on Thursday.  Friday I had dinner and dancing with my girlfriend and her co-workers.  Damn, that's a stretch.  Okay, we had an appetizer at DC Coast (see pic below of "shrimp and grits") and then we went to Park.
You can barely tell, but that really was shrimp and grits, though I mostly tasted corn and something spicy.  I'm NOT complaining, because it was really delish.  I've been inspired to taste and eat anything, since watching the latest season of Top Chef.  I hardly ever know the ingredients, but they seem to look so damn good that, while this dish sounds pretty basic, my taste buds were doing a two step.  And since the restaurant can come across all hoity toity, I let my tongue do the jig and saved my actual moves for the club later.  Now, the club was totally different since last I trotted my ass out there.  It was such a scene and quite frankly I was amused.  Pleased.  Pleased that I'd gone out.  Pleased that I saw my friend Tiffany, who I hadn't laid my precious eyes on in forever.  Pleased with my outfit. 

But mostly I was pleased with my confidence.  I didn't care that my insanely wide-legged jeans were in a league of their own (per Rachel Zoe, my baggy, skinny, fashion idol).  I didn't care that my boobies were covered, in a sea of round ones spilling out all over the place.  I didn't care that there wasn't a single soul in the hizzy worthy of my digits or time.  I just wanted and needed a breather and I got it.