The Daily Grind

I'm a tweeter.  I love it.  I think I've had my account since like 08, which is kind of a long time.  I'm not really sure why I'm mentioning this.  Wait, I know why.  It's because early yesterday morning, one of the funniest people I follow on Twitter said it was National Blog Posting Month. The challenge is to write something, anything, every day.  I needed this motivation and decided to have it full.  So here I is, posting away.  I'm really excited and determined.  I even printed out a little calendar in Word and started to fill in the days with topics and ideas.  I'm not married to all of them, but a few got me pretty committed.  Plus, I have like 3 or 4 drafts sitting and waiting to be edited, so this challenge right here, again, is the perfect jump start for me to write, right now.

Happy reading!   


p.s. I love homophones.

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I Feel Like Puking

Well, at least that was the overwhelming feeling I had over the weekend.  I went out on Friday night, for homecoming (Goooooo Terps) and did the most.  I had high hopes for celebrating being an alumni from the great University of Maryland, but tuh I foiled those plans...QUICKLY.  At least I had fun, right?  Here's how it all went down:

*Friday

• Showered
• Poured a glass of wine
• Sipped aforementioned while applying makeup
• Got dressed
• Drove to happy hour/party
• Accepted glass of wine from friend
• Kee-cackled
• Accepted glass of wine from friend
• Took pictures
• Attended a meeting in the ladies room (fun talks)
• Participated in champagne toast for chum's bday
• Giggled
• Drank a shot of patron (I completely FORGOT about this until a recap with BF)
• Accepted glass of wine from friend
• Became concerned
• Posed
• Said goodbyes
• Drove home
• Slept

Saturday

• Woke up RIDICULOUSLY early (6am)
• Wandered aimlessly around house
• Tripped over dog a few times
• Prayed to porcelain God
• Complained
• Whined
• Moaned
• Chanted
• Gave an ef you to porcelain God
• Sulked
• Missed another homecoming party
• Slept, finally

Sunday

• Felt better

*no food was consumed since morning

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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. 

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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.

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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.    

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