Oh my Oh myy.

When you're sixteen you drive.
Eighteen you gamble, smoke, buy porn, and tell your parents that you're an adult and they can't tell you what to do. ( You rebel you... )
Twenty one, drink.
Twenty three, get lost.
Twenty four, think about turning twenty five.
Twenty five, realize that ten years ago, you weren't even driving, but people expect you to be an adult.


Hey.
I'm a novice here. I am very new at being an adult. I can live alone, pay my bills, and have intelligent conversations about the President if need be. But deep down in my guts, I can't wait for it to be summer because maybe this is the year that I'll have a throw back moment and have 3 months of a vacation to stay up way too late with my friends, sitting on random living room floors listening to music and talking about where we're going next. Isn't that what I'm accustomed to? Work nine months out of the year, play for the three warm ones, then back to work.


Everyone wants to tell you about your teenaged years. Then they wanna talk about being an adult. Not a single soul sat me down to say --- HEY from the time you turn twenty three, probably until the time you turn thirty, you're gonna feel like a child playing dress up. And you're not gonna really know where to fit in or how to make a spot for yourself.
Too young to have enough experience to be taken seriously by most adults.
Too old to have really all that much in common with anyone 21 and younger.
Out of place.


No one took the time to tell you that your mid to late twenties very well may be the most awkward time of life.


I don't even fit into adult clothes yet. But baby, you can go right ahead and stamp "determined breadwinner" across my forehead. I think I'll scare any legit adult into giving me the time of day.
Milk money style.
I could end up in jail, but by the time I'm a real legit adult, my record will be clean again. And by that point, hopefully I won't be talking about threatening grown ups for their milk money and going to jail for it.


I'm going to wax my entire body while I'm still young.
FIVE WEEKS TIL SPRING. Five weeks until temporary sanity. Five weeks until I will stop wrapping my brain around life.
Yikes. Yiiiikes.

Success.

It wasn't as if last night got out of hand in any manner. We've certainly managed much wilder times with much more grace.
But with grace stashed in our back pockets, we managed to make things a wicked fun blur.

We went to the bar we didn't belong in. We met up with a friend. Had our drinks. Met up with more people. Had our pizza at 3am. Couldn't stand straight cause my feet are used to boots and not my old favorite heels. There was a fall. It wasn't my fall, but it was quite possibly the BEST fall ever due to what happened after it.
Hand sanitizer.
A drive home.
And into bed.


Nothing out of hand. So why on earth did I wake up at 1:30 with the worst headache of my life? I managed to get downstairs and got a few pills in my mouth. I tried to lay on the couch. Moved to the bathroom floor? Because it was cooler? And much darker. The sound of the hockey game made it worse. Whatever, it was a bad game anyway. I got too cold on the floor. CRAWLED upstairs to my room and got back in bed. Until 5pm.

I feel great now!
Maybe that's why Jay said he'd never go back there... "Last time I went to that place, it ended up really bad."
Right on.
Tonight I will eat alfredo.

Destination unknown.

About 5 or six years ago I got hooked.
Diet Coke with Lime.
Before my bakery shift I had to have one. Not only am I not a huge fan of pop (sooo-dah) due to the stomach ache and grimy tooth feeling it gives me, but I'm not a fan of Coca-Cola.

But today, I find myself in the same situation. Yesterday, with nothing thirst quenching in my house aside from straight liquor and Cherry Coke that my Mom brought over for my tiny pre-new years eve get together, I opted for the latter. Though I'm not above an awesome mixed drink at noon, I figured it wouldn't be wise in the work ethic department.
I crack open the 42 grams of sugar. The new wide mouth opening pours amazingly well down your throat. It says it has "very low sodium." That's good, right? I experienced a caffeinated sugar high for the next two hours, then a really awesome crash and I was ready for a nap at 2:30.
Never again... ?

Until this morning, when I made my two Eggo waffles and practically NEEDED another Cherry Coke. I have it right here next to me. Making me sick with it's syrup and phosphoric acid. What have I become? Weak. That's what it is.



Today however, is a very special day. His name is Jonathan. I sold some product to Jonathan a few weeks ago, and today he's coming to pick it up. Jonathan, works for Google. GOOGLE. I google every day. There could be a million football players in here at once and Jonathan the Google-man would outshine them all. Though he may never have played football in his life, they have ALL googled at least once.
It's an honor.
I can tell that I make him nervous with my enthusiasm towards the situation. I'm hoping I'll be on my Cherry crack crash when he comes today to avoid any more awkward geek comments.


I think my week of internal silence and external motionlessness has worked a little magic. Consider it zen. Or consider driving with my window down at 9am attempting to soak in as much vitamin D as possible, therapeutic. This sun and warmer weather is very much welcomed.

Nancy Botwin Birthday

Be still my heart.

Anthropologie: Best dress.

That officially has gone on my birthday wishlist.
What better way to bring in my quarter life than with some gorgeous grown up threads, right? Size 4. Six if you know how to hem a little. Actually. Size 6. In hopes that one day, I will grow to be woman sized rather than junior sized.

It's such a Nancy Botwin dress..



I aspire to be her when I grow up. Perhaps I'll stay junior sized for that.

Soon as I love you, it's been too long.

The Big Pink.

I like them. Kind of. You really have to sit and let it sink in to like them. Otherwise it's just noise.

THE BIG PINK MYSPACE.


I recommend Dominos and She's No Sense.
The End.

You're not getting what you're giving -- and you don't like it, at all. Look at the company you're keeping: you hang with a bunch of takers. When you change your homies, you'll change your perspective. Stick with the winners.



Horoscopes know best.

Put on for my city,

Youngest coach to take a team to the Superbowl, in Superbowl History.
Longest return in Superbowl History.
Most franchise team wins in Superbowl History.
And Hines Ward stopped smiling (to cry) at one of the happiest points of his career. At least the cheeser grin was shown at least once through the game. Wouldn't be the same without it.

And did anyone else see, man beast, James Harrison, nearly commit murder on the field? Cause I did.
AND. I have a major crush on Mike Tomlin.


Snoop Dogg is probably really high right now.
And my cat, Daisy, now resides in my parents basement freezer until spring time and softer grounds for digging.

The end.