A Magical Night

Last night, at 12:01 to be exact, I had the privilege to view one of the greatest cinematic masterpieces since Titanic with a group of seven classy, sober ladies.* I apologize if you're unfamiliar with this film, and I hope this review doesn't bore you.

Magic Mike is about young men trying to find their way in life. Oh who the hell are we kidding? Magic Mike is about MALE STRIPPERS. And the point of the entire movie is the stripping. And gyrating. And asses. So many asses. Does anything else matter? Full disclosure, I've been to a male stripper performance once (okay fine, twice) in my life and it makes me seriously uncomfortable. Am I the only one who doesn't like sweaty man parts thrusted in my face? Shut up, all of you.

My true love ladyboner was for Joe Manganiello (for the love of god, google him). Also known as Alcide on True Blood. Also known as a national treasure. Unfortunately he was only a supporting character. But still supported my ladyboner. There were some other men in the movie too.

I went into this movie lukewarm about Channing Tatum and Matthew Mcconaughey. Not impressed, ever. I left the movie with a little spark in my pants heart for both of them. Channing Tatum can real life dance. While his character doesn't have much depth (see above, depth not required), he plays him well and is very charming. And dear god, he makes sweatpants look gooood. Matthew Mcconaughey. I never felt the love. However. Because the character he plays in this movie is the closest thing to what he is probably like in real life, he won me over. Narcissistic, sweaty, bongo-drum-playing, assless-pants-wearing, sweaty, and flame throwing. I suspect they didn't even give him a script. "Hey, Matthew! Want to be in this movie? No, no acting. Just do you. Bring your own clothes." PERFECT. Nailed it.

If you take Magic Mike for what it's worth, you will have a hell of a time. We giggled a lot. We blushed a lot. Also, male strippers.

*False. Far from classy. Farther from sober. I'm also not sure if Titanic is considered a cinematic masterpiece. Doubt it.

Fancy Fridays: Let's go to the BEACH

Try and say "Let's go to the BEACH, BEACH" and not use your best Nicki Minaj voice. Not possible, right? Anyways, I have a confession to make. Actually it's not really a confession because I'm not really ashamed of it. I dislike the beach. I live in San Diego and I dislike the beach. I don't hate the beach because I appreciate the aesthetic and recreational value it offers others. I am a student of marine biology for shit's sake. I have to intrinsically like the beach. However, sand is my worst nightmare. And the sun has never been a good friend of mine. I've struggled with an interesting skin condition for years and rather than risk it, I've always chosen to take the easy way out and avoid the sun.

When I do hit the beach, it's for shopping or for the bars. One bar will typically turn into two, and you know the rest of the story. Therefore, a hat and sunscreen are absolutely essential for me, and should be for you too! The Maybelline babylips are my new favorite staple because not only do they offer just a touch of color, they also contain SPF 20. So practical and protected (and probably a little bit drunk) is how I do the beach!

My Precious

I have been drooling over La Mer watches since I first spotted one as I was window shopping on Urban Outfitters a while ago. Window shopping online is one of my favorite pastimes, and safer than shopping in real life. In real life, I can find something and then wander around a store convincing myself that it is okay to buy it and then do so and then hit the food court for something fattening because why not? I'm already broke lets add fat to that list as well.

But when you shop online, shit starts to add up. Shipping is always an insane amount. Unless I'm being enticed with free shipping if I spend only $15 more! So yes, lets do that! And then I ALWAYS forget about tax. So by the time I'm ready to submit my order, I've scared myself away from purchasing anything and now I'm going to drive to the food court just to be fat because I'm still feeling sorry for myself, this time for not purchasing anything. See how quickly things spiral?

And then. THEN. One of the hundreds of newsletters I've subscribed to over the years made me an offer I couldn't refuse. Refinery29 has what I've been calling a "fancy groupon," also properly known as Refinery Reserve. A coup for a La Mer? Hell yes. I snatched that sucker up without even thinking more than three times about it. 

That is how I became the proud owner of this beauty. It's an automatic arm party that also tells time! Which I forget and still bust out my cell phone. It is still a little tricky to put on and I've given up a time or two a la Samantha in SATC (double high-5 if you know what I'm talking about). But once it's on, I can't help but stare. At my own arm. You would too.

I tried to take a picture of the actual watch on my actual arm but I wasn't
impressed and you wouldn't have been either.

La Mer Collections :: Chain / Charm Wraps :: Black - Rose Gold...

Music: Something old, something new

I promise one day that we will get to the old tunes. There is just so much good new stuff lately (remember, new to me, not to the world!)! This isn't so much about the band as it is the story. I've loved this song for a while now: Take Care by Beach House. It is so delicate, simple, and just a tiny bit ethereal. It was featured in one of my most favorite episodes of New Girl (the one where Nick might have cancer so he gets drunk and they go to the beach and that’s when he and Jess unknowingly fall in love).

Okay, I feel like I need a sappiness disclaimer on this: If you aren’t one that appreciates reading about relationships or any kind of romance makes you queasy, then move on (at least GFC me before you go! I promise it won’t always be like this!).

I haven’t kept it a secret that I’m still getting used to certain aspects of being in a relationship. I’ve always been very independent and spent the last two and a half years pretty much on my own (with the exception of some stellar friends and family members). So when I got some bad news last week (or heard a rumor of bad news…same difference) and my boyfriend felt incredibly guilty for not being able to let me cry on his shoulder, I was like, no big, right? Yet he insisted that he should be there for me and I insisted that I’m used to dealing with this kind of shit on my own. Which apparently ISN’T NORMAL. He reassured me a few more times than would be necessary for a rational human that I will in fact never ever have to go it alone again. What did I do as soon as I hung up the phone? I cried. Naturally. I had to explain the conversation to my sister and she said, why the hell are you crying? BECAUSE! Because I can’t remember the last time someone said something that nice to me. And let me tell you, there is no better feeling in the world than hearing that from someone who is choosing to be there, not from someone that has to.

Did you barf yet? Well if you made it this far, hopefully this song makes sense now. It certainly has more meaning for me now. Okay, okay! I’ll stop.

BEER.

Of all of the things Justin and I have in common, our deep love for alcohol is the most dangerous. This is what led us to the International Beer Festival at the San Diego County Fair. More than 140 breweries and 300 beers? Our hoppy dream come true. After successfully parking on the side on the road due to the clusterfuck parking situation that is the Del Mar fairgrounds, we acquired our tiny cups and dove right in. Now, it probably would've been better to grab the list and mark things with a pen, which is what our neurotically organized selves would ideally do. But we just went full force into it, keeping the tiny cup full and generally having no idea what was going on. Once we got over the initial excitement, we were able to actually use our brains for a moment to learn a little about the beers we were drinking. Our overall favorite brewery was a local one, Lightning (which will hit Bevmo soon!). Other favorites included Horny Devil by Alesmith, all of the Lost Abbey selections, and that's basically all I remember. Also, beer.

After nearly an hour and a half of the beery goodness, we decided to take a break and experience the rest of what the fair had to offer. And holy shit, it was crowded. We played a couple games and I even successfully rode the ferris wheel without having a panic attack. And then. And then we found Chicken Charlie's, home of the most ridiculous and embarrassing food concoctions this side of the Sierra Nevadas. So why wouldn't we get the battered and deep-friend oreos and klondike bars? I'll tell you why. Because a few hours after ingesting these little miracles of obesity, you will find yourself in a very awkward discussion with your new boyfriend about bodily functions. And yes, we talk about that on this blog because I learned from the master. So thanks, Chicken Charlie for forcing me to cross a bridge that I pretend DOESN'T EXIST.

After polishing off some of the best tasting yet worst inventions in human history, we returned to the beer festival. Or so we thought. Because in the hour that we wandered, shit had gone weird. And by weird I mean that all of the bottled beer was completely gone. Which was quite unfortunate because we had at least two more rows to explore. So the entire crowd was centered around the tapped sections in the middle. A crowd full of drunken hipsters, east countyers, and skanks. Also known as, our worst nightmare. We tried to squeak in a few more tastes, but believe it or not it started getting weirder. The obnoxiously drunk crowd started chanting, "U.S.A! U.S.A!" Why? Why not? Which then led into every national chant you can think of:  the German (?) "Ziggy Zaggy" and the Spanish (according to wikipedia?) soccer chant "Ole, Ole, Ole." And because we were the most sober people in the crowd, we decided it would be best to leave before I started tossing dirty looks around (dirtier than normal).

We considered the outing a great success because, well BEER. It's hard to be disappointed when you got to taste that much good beer. This also led to my ever so classy declaration to make it our mission to visit every brewery in town. Because of all of the great things about San Diego, the beer is my favorite. No, not the beach or the weather. Beer, obviously.

Fancy Fridays: Summer Day Tripping

Besides the 5 weddings I will be attending this summer, I have about 78 other weekend outings planned. Am I complaining? A little. I like to be lazy. However, beer tasting at the fair, wine tasting, concerts, and multiple birthday parties are way to much fun to pass up. Also, I have issues saying "no." Let's talk about it.

This color blocked skirt looks so summery and fresh. I don't really understand how a skirt can look fresh, that was just the first word that came to mind. I love this look because it is simple, but looks like a real grown-up put it together. I typically don't dress like a real grown-up. Unless tank tops with skinny jeans count. I also don't typically dress this ladylike. Well guess what, you guys. I'm becoming a lady! A real grown-up lady!

Link up with av of Long Distance Loving for Friday's Fancies!

The JMEOWW Diaries V.1

This may have caused some of the behavioral issues.

World, meet the JMEOWW. Why yes, I did name my kitten after JWOWW. It was funny at the time. I have been paying for it ever since. 

You see, J (or The Meoww as she is also commonly referred to) isn't just any cat. She came from humble beginnings (meaning, feral) and lost her mother at too young of an age. She also lost her brother that I had chosen to raise as well. By "lost" I mean we think she murdered him. The loss of Doogie Meowser, M.D. will forever be one of the greatest mysteries in our lives. So needless to say, homegirl has some issues.

My decision to get a kitten was not made lightly. Especially since at the time I was single and I didn't want to hear everyone's shit about becoming a crazy cat lady. I NEVER intended to be one of "those people." But you guys, I so am. And it's not because of the cute things that she does. It's because if I don't talk about the havoc she causes in my life, the trauma, the injuries, I will hold it all inside and end up in therapy. She is the weirdest animal I've ever known. Do I love her dearly? Absolutely. Is she completely dominate over me to the point in which she knows I am sometimes afraid of her? Yes. Have I thought about giving her xanax? Several times. We are currently testing a pheromone calming collar and I'm not sure how well it's working. She's been slightly less vocal and a bit less violent. I'd like her to be at a level of ZERO VIOLENCE. So maybe more collars. And a hat. A tiny, calming hat. My point is, I will be telling stories of The Meoww here. They are often too hilarious not to share.

We should've seen the warning signs from a young age.

Aliases: J, The Meoww, JJ

DOB: August 28th, 2011
Place of Birth: An abandoned house in the rough streets of La Mesa, California
Relatives: Deceased (cause unknown...)
Likes: Fuzzy blankie, tempurpedic pillow, OCTOPUS! magnet, the taste of blood
Dislikes: You, the vaccuum, phones, rational thought
Hobbies: Meowing, chasing ankles, attacking the TV, hoarding trash

MINE! Trash and other various treasures under my bed.

Music: Something old, something new

If you have a pulse, you've probably heard Somebody That I Used to Know by Gotye. If you haven't, dear god where have you been? I cannot escape this song that I originally had a deep, dirty kind of love for. Which is unfortunate because, well GOTYE. That voice. Those piercing eyes (Hello, lover! It's not your fault, pretty one. There is a such thing as loving a song too much, radio.).

Today's post isn't about those piercing eyes though. It's about the other voice on that song. The female voice that starts off so timid before rising into full-blown anguish. That voice belongs to Kimbra. This exquisite New Zealand native knocks all other pop "princesses" down with her soulful voice and insightful lyrics. And holy crap, this girl is gorgeous.

image via kimbramusic.com

Settle Down is one of my favorite tracks. The musically and lyrically simple tune boldly showcases Kimbra's powerful voice. With the exception of the creepy dolls, this video KILLS IT.

If you're into funky, soulful pop that wasn't created in a factory then Kimbra is your girl.

Irish Celebrations & Amish Living

The Big Irish Fair in Irvine is becoming our new family tradition. Although I drank too much beer to remember it last year, I was very much so looking forward to it this year. Mom, Dad, and I suited up in green and drove out to Irvine Lakes to celebrate our heritage (Well, Dad doesn't count. He's mostly Polish. There aren't many Polish fairs. We should fix that).

What in the hell...

Dad wanted to eat as soon as we got there (unsurprising) and I too was hungry (I didn't eat in the morning because I was recovering from a severe jmeoww attack). For some reason, I was really drawn to the fish and chips, which is British, in case you forgot that. I haven't eaten fish since before I hit puberty. It was a decision I made when I decided I wanted to be a marine biologist. But lately I've been envious of the fish tacos I see my friends eating. So for the first time in many years, I tried battered fish. It was okay. I think I like malt vinegar much more than fish.

After walking around the trinket stands (which were few and far between, unfortunately) and grabbing some beers, we settled down in the shade to watch one of our favorite Irish bands, Brick Top Blaggers. These dudes rock it out. Besides the incredible lead singer and the guitar player that sometimes sings in Russian (which makes NO sense), the band includes a banjo player, a fiddler, and an accordion player (who also plays the bagpipes. Which instantaneously makes my mother cry).

Upon arrival at home, we discovered the power was out. Most of my parents' cul-de-sac had lost power. We thought we would kill time going out to dinner, but when we got home we were still powerless. So what else would we do in a situation like that? We went SHOPPING! My sister Brooke and I tortured my mom throughout H&M, Victoria's Secret (semi-annual!), Bath and Body Works (half-yearly!), and Forever21 (where I found 1 of 5 dresses I need for summer weddings!). During our extravagant and unnecessary venture, the power was restored temporarily while a contract company worked on fixing the major problem (a blown transformer...). We were able to watch The Departed, which I was forcing my parents to watch after much inspiration from the Irish Fair. Right at the most pivotal point in the movie, the damn power blew again. So we hung out by flashlight for a while before heading to bed.

These guys made some serious OT cash money.

I tend to panic during emergency situations, but I kept it pretty cool this time. However, we did have our moments. We thought we could go in the spa. We thought we could bake cookies. We turned on the light switches more than once or twice. Brooke didn't want to go to sleep in the dark. She also wanted to wake our Dad up to tell him the power was out. I guess you tend to lose your senses during a late night power outage.

Luckily when we woke up, power was restored and all was well. Which was fortunate because Dad had plenty of NASCAR and golf to watch.

Where I get it from

My dad is a man of few words, but when he speaks you know he must really mean it. He has worked hard his entire life and instilled that same work ethic into 4 daughters. He is a self-proclaimed comedian with a sense of humor that would make many cringe, but makes me laugh. He is a fan of almost every type of reality show on television and will make sure that you know that. He is also a fan of every sport, including NASCAR (because it IS a sport...) and isn't bothered by the fact that he doesn't really have a strong loyalty to any team. We joke that during football season he wear a Chargers hat, Vikings jersey, and Titans socks. He loves his beer and prefers the regular kinds, "not that fancy crap you drink." He's not much of a dancer, but "Shout" is his theme song complete with a dance routine. Lately he's been pretty interested in the home shopping networks.

Because my dad didn't have any sons, I was his fishing buddy. Now I'm his sports buddy (and drinking and swearing buddy. Makes mom real proud). And today we will watch a golf tournament together. Because that's all it takes to make him happy.

Fancy Fridays: Summer Wedding

Today I'm linking up with Long Distance Loving for Friday's Fancies. This week is about crushes. You know that feeling that you get when you see someone that makes you smile? They take your breath away and you just know that you could love them forever. That is EXACTLY how I feel about these shoes. When it becomes legal to marry shoes, this is happening.

I’m desperately searching for summery wedding-appropriate dresses because I have 5 weddings to attend this summer. Yes. FIVE. This dress is an unexpected pairing with the shoes, but I love how it works together and suggests a little vintage flair. If I had the necessary padding on my chest to support a strapless dress, this would be mine.

I am...

Not an official link-up, but I got the inspiration from the delightful Danielle of Sometimes Sweet. 

Reading: Abraham Lincoln Vampire Hunter by Seth Grahame-Smith, which was a birthday gift from my boss. She either knows I enjoy vampire stories, or agrees with the rest of my friends that I sometimes resemble Abraham Lincoln (Only with a beard on, they say! One time, I tried on a beard…). This book started off incredibly strong, until about halfway through when my attention started to dwindle. I’ve been “finishing” this book for two weeks now. I’d still love to get through it before I see the movie.

image via ew.com
"I want a baby dragon!"...
"You have one... (points to jmeoww)." 

Watching: Game of Thrones, Season 2. We just finished watching Season 1 earlier this week and I immediately wanted to jump in to Season 2. I keep asking myself why I didn’t start watching it from the beginning. Just kidding, I know why. My original answer was always, “I don’t like period pieces!” To which my friends would reply, “Um, what does that even mean?” It means it looks historical and old-timey to which I say YAWN. Then I saw a picture of Daenerys with BABY DRAGONS and I was sold. I realize the show doesn’t revolve around baby dragons (dragonlettes?), but they were the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. I can’t stop talking about how great this show is.

Working on: Being comfortable knowing that I’m happy. What? Right, I know. I’m not sure if this is yet another one of the pitfalls of depression or conditioning as a result of many years of discontent, but everything right now is so foreign to me. I should be happy; I’m finally with the man that I love and having the time of my life. A couple of weekends ago I was driving home from my parents’ house after a really fun weekend, the finale of which was spent splashing around the pool with my 4-year old nephew, and I caught myself reflecting on how enjoyable that was. I couldn’t remember the last time I even swam in my parents’ pool, let alone jump off the diving board and get my hair wet. Genuine, unadulterated fun made me stop and think. Life is wonderful right now and I AM happy, but I can’t help but feel uncomfortable and awkward about it. But, I’m trying. It's a wonderful thing to get used to. And no, this is not a humblebrag.

Anticipating: A phone call from Human Resources. Good or bad. At this point, I don’t even care!

Laughing about: The time a coworker colored his nose orange to make me think he had been eating too many carrots. This was as a result of learning how flamingos obtain their coloration, to which I compared to humans eating too many carrots. Maybe you had to be there. Probably.

Gal Pal Weekend in Palm Desert

This spring was a little rough for me as I tend to borderline lose my mind sometimes. As a result of this, my dear friend Jenna brilliantly suggested that we runaway for a weekend to her Mom’s condo in Palm Desert. Because we are both extremely busy humans, this past weekend was the first opportunity we had to do this.

For once I wasn't the oldest person in the group!

Upon arrival Friday night, we decided to stop in a highly rated local establishment called, “The Nest.” Their website states, “Life begins after 5.” I think what it meant to say was, “Life begins after 50,” the median age of the bar patrons. We walked into the piano bar area, which was packed full of snazzy dressed senior citizens getting their boogie on. A group of sweaty older gentlemen were kind enough to purchase drinks for us. One of them even offered to make-out with Jenna. One of them even asked us, "No offense ladies, but what are you doing here?" I responded like anyone should: "It was highly rated on Yelp." Naturally. They stopped purchasing us drinks when another group of silver-haired gentlemen pulled our attention away.  Fortunately, a  majorly inappropriate bartender had no problem pouring us drinks for free. I ordered a whiskey and gingerale and received WHISKEY. Jenna’s vodka and soda was VODKA. But it was FREE so we weren’t about to complain. 

Potential serial killer on the left.

We noticed that the older women in the bar didn’t take to kindly to our presence there. They danced aggressively in our direction bumping into us on purpose. It was probably because they thought we were swimming in their pool. I suggested to Jenna that maybe they were jealous that we have something they no longer do…periods. There was one woman who literally did not stop dancing the entire night. I would guess that she would nearing 70 and not one single part on her body moved. She was an absolute jewel and I hope when I'm her age I have that much fun.

There was also what appeared to be a serial killer in the bar. At least his hovering and staring at us led us to believe so. I tried to be sneaky and take a picture of him should we ever need evidence of his presence at the bar, but he kindly back away from my lens (I did get a cute picture of Jenna though!).

We danced, laughed, and drank too much as our hangovers the following day would remind us. After a long morning of recovery we lounged by the pool all afternoon, which was a perfect relief from the 100 degree desert heat. We ventured into Palm Springs in the evening to take advantage of Palm Spring Restaurant Week and have an early birthday celebration for Jenna with her Mom and neighbors. They took us to Sammy G’s Tuscan Grill for a delicious dinner. Here we were surrounded by what appeared to be Rock of Love auditions: rhinestones, infinite hair extensions and spray tans, and way too high heels paired with WAY too short skirts. Again, seems we were underdressed. After we went to Lulu for cocktails. Lulu was by far the coolest looking establishment in the city, with its South Beach meets Mid-Century décor and atmosphere.

Incredible chandeliers at Lulu.

Sunday was dedicated to shopping, which was largely unsuccessful except for some unnecessary accessories. We got lost in an amazing accessory store called Charming Charlie where everything is organized by color. Genius. Also, dangerous. After an interesting dinner at Blue Orchid Thai Bistro, we headed home. A girly weekend full of inappropriateness, alcohol, good food, and shopping is always good for the soul. And thanks to Jenna and her gracious Mom, I got just that!

Music: Something old, something new

I love music. It might be more accurate to say I am IN love with music. And I am always looking for new stuff to listen to. While it may not be new to you (hipster…), it’s new to my music library. My musical obsession of the week is Imagine Dragons. They’ve been around for a few years, but I caught their song “Round and Round” on Gossip Girl. They follow the trend of newer alternative and I’m going to use the phrase “more musically gentle” to describe their overall sound.  I might even copyright that phrase.

My favorite song on Continued Silence is “Demons.” It’s an even more relaxed song, the gentlest of the musically gentle. And although the lyrics don’t exactly fit, the overall mood of this song is expressive of how I've been feeling lately: relaxed, peaceful, and quite lovely.

Braving online dating and the hilarity that ensues.

I was single for nearly two years before I decided to dive back into the  dating world. One night after getting my heart broken by the same person for the 84^th time, I drank an entire bottle of wine and told my best friend, “It’s time…. Let’s make me a profile!” Because she is my best friend, she smiled and played along. I imagine she was silently commending my bravery; she was probably silently preparing herself for the avalanche of shit that was coming my way that she would incessantly have to hear about. So we made a profile: A perfectly well-rounded, charming, and hilarious version of me complete with flawlessly primped pictures representing what I look like about 27% of the time. 

The initial browsing of potential date candidates was so absorbing and amusing that we sat there for hours. Then the messages started flowing in, and if this is what it’s like being an international superstar of fame for no reason and having your pick of lovers, then I wanted a piece of it. And then I read the messages. Most messages go something like this:

“hey”

“hi sexy ;-)”

“nice smile :-)”

 “I know we only have a 33% match, but I think we would get along really well.”

You get my point, I’m sure. The emoticons really send those messages straight to the heart. Well articulated messages are incredibly rare, but they do happen. When you have a conversation with someone you seem to possibly have a connection with, there comes the awkward moment when one of you has to make the next real life step. If you do this right you end up on a date, and it either clicks or it doesn’t (Because this is when you find out they were lying about their height. SIGNIFICANTLY.). If you do this wrong you end up giving your phone number to an assortment of creeps and narcissists who want nothing more than to text you about their daily behaviors and send you random pictures. OF THEIR DOG. I might be the only one that thinks this, but unsolicited pictures (of a pet or the sender) really freak me out. 

I understand texting for the sake of texting when you are bored. And I love animals. I will never, EVER understand unsolicited animal photos. Do I send people random pictures of my cat? (Okay, sometimes but only my family and select friends. Because they know her…obviously). And oddly enough, I’m not the only one who has been subjected to unsolicited pet photos. Is this the new trend in getting to know people? What about those of us that don’t have dogs? Not a level playing field at all, dog-texters.

Anyways, back to the point here. What was the point? I’m not sure either. Something about how online dating is weird.  Maybe we should summarize some key moments. Let’s begin:

• The time a creepy photo-of-dog-texter got mad at me for going on vacation with my family and not informing him. Note: Had never met the guy. He never asked me to. Just texts. He would later break-up with me. Also via text. Via our pretend relationship that was apparently major in his head.
• That one time a guy showed up to meet me at a bar completely wasted. Not a little buzzed and friendly. Falling over on the sidewalk and peeing on a car wasted. I probably should’ve avoided meeting up at all after the initial drunk dial I received prior to this night. Here’s hoping he joined some sort of 12-step program…
• The time a potential date (also a good message writer turned dog-picture-texter) suggested we go to a restaurant because he had a Groupon for it. Oh, you want to argue with me about how times are tough and I should be more understanding? NOPE. Groupons are for long-term couples and our grandparents. And my friend Leeann.
• The time a guy told me that his phone must not have been working. And I fell for it because I wanted to. Oh, you’re judging me? You just wait…just wait. You too will hit your online dating rock-bottom.

This all happened in a span of about 5 months. Is it all bad? Well, kind of. But it is entertaining, and was a great distraction from what was going on in real life. I did meet some cool people, but I did not meet “the one.” Some of my friends did meet their significant others this way, so I would never tell anyone not to do it. In fact, I encourage you to. Because it’s an experience that every single should have in their lives. An experience we can all look back on and laugh at when we have lunch using Groupons at the age of 62 while we take photos of our dogs.

Welcome to my Web Log!

Hi! I’m extremely new to the blogging scene. Not the blog scene in general, as I have a minor addiction to a few blogs. Please consider PDC to be a work in progress as I will be adding much more in the next few weeks. We will be discussing random life stories, fashion, and music. I’m excited to be writing (publicly) and I’m thankful for the people in my life that practically forced me to do this. And of course, I’m open to any feedback from you expert bloggers out there. To a certain extent. Don’t make me cut a bitch.

You might be wondering where you can purchase a polka dotted cat. You probably can’t. At least you shouldn’t be able to. Polka Dotted Cats is a phrase commonly used by my BFF and I when we aren’t sure what is going on. The phrase was born after a long night of drinking and bull-riding (not by us, fortunately) and that’s all we knew. That one of us said it. We don’t know why, other than that we were comparing something completely random that happened to said polka dotted cat. So why name a blog after a drunken and probably slurred phrase? Because life is weird and random shit happens, and I’m here to tell those stories. Like a polka dotted cat.