Music: Robyn

Let me save you some time: If you don't like pop music of any kind, you may leave. I know, it's not for everyone and I accept your choices. That said, let's talk about one of my favorite pop singers of all time, Robyn! If you haven't heard of her, you must have skipped 1997. She had one of the best songs on the charts at that time and my god if writing that doesn't make me feel old. I was 14 when I first started listening to Robyn. And then in 2010 I rediscovered her and was like holy shit I have been missing SO MUCH.

This Swedish singer is wacky to the max and I love every bit of it. Her hair, her wardrobe. All of it. I love it. My favorite part of all she does, besides her singing of course, is her dancing. I can't even use words to describe it so I will provide exhibit A for evidence:

I may or may not have attempted this routine at some point. How could you not? (Side note: THAT SONG. Let's just say I listened to it on repeat for the better part of 6 months. And while we're on that topic, the acoustic version of Hang with Me will steal your soul. And now I've officially spiraled.)

Because I love you, I'm going to share with you one of the greatest things to ever happen, in which I fell deeply in love with Taran Killam of SNL fame:

Life, changed...am I right? I know I can be snotty about my musical choices, I'm the first to admit that. And obviously this is a little off. But sometimes I just want to get weird and dance, and I think Robyn exists just for that reason.

Must listen to tracks: Call your Girlfriend, Indestructible, Dancing on my Own, Get Myself Together and any acoustic version of any song of hers. So, so lovely.

Get weird. Dance. You know you want to.

A wedding and a near funeral.

This weekend was the first of the 5 weddings I have to attend in the next 9 weeks. You may have heard me mention that one or 16 times here. The couple, Bryan & Michelle, started out as friends of my sisters and then at some point we all decided to adopt them because they are wonderful and hilarious. Bryan also happens to be one of my favorite drinking buddies. Our favorite game is called, "see how much beer you can drink in one night." So needless to say, we knew it was going to be fun and dear god it got wild.

This is going to call for a lot of photos because #1 I don't get dressed up much and #2 I don't remember that much.

Oldest sister Jennifer, me, niece Samantha, and little sister Brooke
looking all ladylike early in the night.

Big sisser Jennifer.

This little studly nephew of mine
wearing the bowtie he requested.

He loves when I take 14,000 pictures of him. Little shit. 

Twin sisser Brittany was a bridesmaid. This is one of 2 new
dance moves I learned that night, The Bernie. The other is the burning tree.
I don't know what that means.

Me, Jennifer, cousin Jamie (alter ego Damie), and the twins.

And this is where is gets weird. That man in the photo above is my father. To say that my dad loves the groom is an understatement. He is the son he never had. They drink, swear, and watch sports and hbo porn together. It's such a lovely relationship. So dad, in rare form, busted out his famous wedding dance performance to "Shout" by the Isley Brothers. He has been doing this for as long as I can remember and not a wedding slips by without it happening. It is one of the few reasons that I would actually want to have a real wedding with a reception. Because as I told anyone that would listen, I'm not having one of these. 

This led to the "near funeral" because as you may be able to tell, my dad isn't exactly what you would call "in shape." But it was well worth the near heart attack. A true gift from Gary Golota.

I've been calling them "The Floreses" for years...it's finally official!

Some super hot messes at the end of the night.

As you can probably tell, it was an open bar and we totally destroyed it. In order to bond with my cousin's husband that I'm not that close with, he decided it would be a good idea to take shots. And more shots. And a few more with the groom for good measure. Bonding, complete. Someone thought it would be a great idea to attend Applebee's on the way home. My sister slept in the car. I was too drunk to order. It was a typical family dinner now that I think about it.

It was a lovely, lovely wedding and I'm honored to have celebrated with a couple that we all love so dearly!

Linking up with Join the Gossip, Sami's Shenanigans, & five30three for Weekend Update!

Fancy Fridays: Name that drink!

I have such a bad habit of making you people do things. You people. Today is all about Summer Treats and I understand  to most people this means ice cream and cotton candy, both of which melt and get sticky. Disgusting. I, of course, went full alcoholic and based my look on alcohol. Let's be completely honest, alcohol is a year-round treat. But one of my favorite new drinks is so damn refreshing it makes the perfect summer treat.

My favorite local bar calls it a "Donkey." A double is called a "Donkey Punch." It's also referred to as a "Kentucky Mule" and a "Buck." I like to call it my lover. This variation of the classic Moscow Mule is made with whiskey instead of vodka, which is so much less ladylike which is so much more me.

But this has been one of THOSE WEEKS in which alcohol was a strict requirement for survival. I won't bore you with the details of my trials and tribulations (even though I know you care so much and you would reach out and give me an internet hug). This week completely ruined our attempt at a Sober Week. Sober Week lasted, well not even one day. My stress level reached obnoxious levels and I couldn't even blog straight. I hope to get back to normal programming next week.

Cheers to the weekend, bitches!

linking up with {av} of long distance loving

A monthly game.

Ladies. Allow me to talk about feminine bits for a minute here. Is there nothing worse than having to go to the store just to buy tampons? I know I'm not alone in this. Because when you realize you are in need, you have 4 choices. You can go to the corner liquor store. OR NOT. Why would you ever do that? They sell a 3 pack that is marked up 75% and it smells in there. Please don't do that. You can go to a drug store like CVS or Walgreens. But again, the markup is ridiculous and the only people that actually go to these places are senior citizens and they only go there for the free blood pressure machine. You can go to the grocery store, but who wants to buy feminine hygiene products from the same place you buy items that will go in your mouth? Or you can go to Target. Which I mean, come on. Do you really want to pay $120 for tampons? You know you will.

So when I forget to buy these very important products during one of my big Target stock-ups every other month, I then later find myself in the above situation and completely panicked. I choose to not go with ANY of those choices. I choose to scavenge.

That's right. Think about it. How many places do you keep tampons? I always find some that have fallen out of the box floating around the bathroom cupboard. Then there is the few in the bathroom drawer. Oh, and my purse! And then my backup purses. And probably my weekend travel bag. My car. My desk. Your desk. Just kidding.

Then I get all weird about it and make it a challenge. I will find EVERY PLACE that I have stashed tampons to challenge myself not to go to the store. This morning I found some in the bathroom drawer and totally cheered for myself. Yessssssss. It sure as shit looks like I won't be walking to the liquor store this week for tampons. Nope. Just for beer. I totally won this month.

Looking for Love?

Single ladies of the blogosphere, I have answers for you. Well, not me personally. But my dearest friend Emily sure does. Her very honest and informative blog is here to help you find the man of your dreams. Why do I speak so highly of this lovely lady?

Because without her, I wouldn't have met the man of my dreams (story to follow one day soon). Okay, without her fiance I wouldn't have. Don't tell him I said that. Also, she got proposed to on National Television. Is that supposed to be capitalized? Unclear. However, her man proposed on Wipeout as evidenced below. That instantly makes her one of the coolest people I know.

Emily has taken time out of her busy celebrity-life to give love and dating advice to those of us who need it. Oh, you don't need it? Tell me about all of your boyfriends! We all need it. I needed it. I took it. And it worked.

Visit Nerd Love 101 today to get started on the road to romance!

A three-hour tour...

I'm finding it incredibly hard to believe that this weekend is over. Forgive me if I sound a little grouchy. I haven't gotten this much sun since 2003. Two days in a row in the sun? I'm a goner.

Saturday we celebrated Justin's best friend's birthday (also Justin, for those of you playing at home) by riding around in a boat on the bay, drinking beer, and stopping at bars to drink beer. It was incredible. It was a beautiful and breezy San Diego day spent with hilariously enjoyable company. I'd love to tell you more, but I don't remember many details.

The winningest shirt ever.

The winningest boyfriend ever.

Saturday night, bestfriend cousin arrived with tiny cousin godchild Riley. Jmeoww was thrilled to have the company of a tiny human and expressed her happiness by hissing. Every 3 minutes. She is such a pleasant creature. She also jumped out of the window onto the bed to stare down Mandy, just in case we forgot who was really in charge. By morning, this is what poor little Riley felt she had to do to protect herself. We really need to work on being nice to company...

While Mandy was at a bridal shower, Riley & I went to the zoo where we met up with my sister, my niece and my nephew. I hadn't seen any of these little monsters in nearly a month and I was dying to see them! While the zoo seemed like a good idea, it in fact was not.

These little things make my heart infinitely happy.

Besides the fact that it was one-million degrees outside, the World Famous San Diego Zoo also happens to be the most confusing place on the planet. It was also built on a very hilly terrain. So as you are trying to figure out how to find the damn hippos even though the sign is telling you to go six different directions, you have to choose to fly down a very steep hill or truck up the opposite direction. All in the middle of a jungle setting. With birds. They even FORCE you to go through an aviary at one point. Filled with giant, disgusting birds flying at your head. It's a little frustrating. And by frustrating I mean awful. And because we were situated at the center of the sun, the animals were smart enough to stay in the shade out of our view. Bold move, animals.

Needless to say, it wasn't the best idea to go to the zoo in the middle of summer. However the kids had a great time, and I got to have some love time with all of my babies. And that's all that really matters.

Linking up with Join the Gossip, Sami's Shenanigans, & five30three for Weekend Update!

Fancy Friday: We're goin' to France Y'ALL!

Name that movie! Why do I keep testing you? Because I can. We really, in all actuality are not going to France. I'm sure someone you know is or you have and that instantly makes you cooler than me. However, here is a little story.

A few weeks ago when we were deep in the trenches of the great FLEA WAR of 2012, we went out to dinner and got a little drunk in order to cheer me up because I was completely losing my shit. Shocking, I know. This led to a conversation about taking a vacation when led to him telling me that he would one day like to take me to Paris. And then I died. And now he has to take me because I blogged about it. That's how this works, right?

And because this is a safe place, I'm going to come out and admit that I have no idea what the hell you are supposed to wear while you are in the most romantic city in the world. All I know is THIS DRESS. That dress. Right there. Is what dreams are made of. Oh, Anthropologie why must you kill me so? I can't even walk into that store without feeling like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. And it's so quiet. I can't help but feel like I'm not quite enough of a lady yet to shop there. One day, Anthro. I will come to you.

Linking up with {av} of Long Distance Loving for Friday's Fancies.

*Disclaimer: I don't typically post things that I truly can't afford. But, see above. The dress made me do it.*

The JMEOWW diaries V.2

Justin has been in JMEOWW's life since she was just a tiny terror. In fact, the night we met they also met and I'm pretty sure that is when she fell in love. Once when he was leaving my apartment on not so good terms, he said goodbye to her and she laid down on his feet. Smooth move, J! Why didn't I think of that? Okay, maybe it crossed my mind once or twice.

Needless to say, she has been quite thrilled that he is around more and more now. Except for the part where he took her spot in the bed. You see, my beloved cat is a tiny bit territorial. She had her very own pillow that she slept on every night. It also happened to be my tempurpedic pillow but the comfort of my neck is not nearly important as hers. She would literally come to bed every night with me and get cozy on her pillow. If I stayed up a little later to read in bed, she would stretch her little paws out and tap me on the cheek which I took as a demand to shut off the light so she could get her beauty sleep. I wish I was kidding.

For the Motherland.

We initially tried locking her out of the bedroom but she protested quite loudly and kept me up half of the night. Justin suggested slowly moving the pillow to the end of the bed, and then eventually to the floor. In the animal training world this is known as "successive approximations" to "shape" her behavior. I know this shit. The next night I moved the pillow down the bed a foot or so. And she slept ON MY CHEST. No one puts JMEOWW on the floor. 

I photographed this failure to send to him, which led to one of my favorite conversations of all time:

me: She looks like Stalin in that picture.
him: She does.
me: I wonder if there's any relation.
him:....to?
me: STALIN. Both socipaths. Murderers. Russian. So much in common.
him: She's probably a marxist.
me: Most likely.

Over the course of the past few weeks she has gotten much better at sleeping like a normal animal either on the floor or between us in bed like a human child. There is the occasional night where she sits on Justin's chest and stares at him in order to assert her dominance. Or to seduce him. It's hard to tell the difference with her. 

She can't seem to keep her legs closed.

Music: Daughter

I prefer my music to have feelings, so that when I need something to validate my crazy feelings I know it is there. Sometimes these songs makes me want to throw my ipod out of my car window (if only it rolled down...). Other times they makes me smile because I feel so alive with emotion. Once, I made my BFF a mixtape that she decided to name, "Suicidal Lesbian." I listened back on the playlist and thought, holy shit she was SO right. This can't be healthy.

This song is no exception and was a track that I clinged to with all of my might earlier this year. I know many of you have felt the same sentiment as this song is singing out and jesus if it isn't some of the worst emotional pain you will ever go through. 

Daughter is a folk duo from London and I found this track on itunes for free last year (I've found some of my favorite songs that way!). There isn't too much information on the interwebs about them but from the raw lyrics to her delicate and haunting voice, Daughter totally nails it. I can't even write more about it without getting all weird and emotional. That right there is powerful music that you should listen to when your feelings have no words.

All melodramatics aside, what are YOU listening too? What should I be listening to? Something a little more cheery, perhaps? Excuse me while I wipe off my excessive black eyeliner, blow out these candles, and pump up some happy tunes.

Bricks & Bottles

Justin's birthday was technically Thursday but as he found out, in my world birthdays last a week. Because when my special day comes along, we celebrate like it's Hanukkah. But with more than eight candles, obviously.

Happiness is VIP parking for Volvos. Not only are we elite,
but also the safest drivers on the road mofos.

So Saturday we went to Legoland. Now why would two grown-ass adults choose to go to a place that is clearly designed for children? Because I had free tickets. Because folks, my loving lovable boyfriend is a geek that enjoys all sorts of geekery including LEGO and Star Wars. It's okay, he knows. And, not to be outgeeked, Legoland features a SeaLife Aquarium which I was totally pumped to visit because they have a new CLAWS exhibit of freakish crabs that I peed my pants over. There was geekery for both of us. 

Japanese spider crabs. AKA BIG ASS CRABS.

This is the bad guy, right?

We spent most of our time in Star Wars miniland where Justin reverted back to, well every day of his life because it's a joy that has never gone away. I asked a million questions that I would probably know the answers to had I actually watched the movies instead of falling asleep. I also tried my hardest not to laugh too loud at the little kids that were geeking out at the same level that my beloved boyfriend was. It was definitely one of those relationship moments where you realize, this is now my life. And it was awesome.

We also spent a significant amount of time in the biggest gift store which Justin kept apologizing for but, hello. SHOPPING. Not a problem! They sell mini-figures in a surprise package so you don't know which one you are getting and because I'm a sucker for those types of things, we bought two of them. I ALWAYS end up with the dumbest option and get super pissed and vow never to buy a stupid grab bag item again. This time, however, Justin got the one that he wanted and I ended up with a bride. A BRIDE. I get it, Legoland. 

It wouldn't be a proper birthday celebration without beer, beer, and more beer so we stopped in The Lost Abbey on the way home (Inspired Beer for Saint & Sinners Alike. It's like it was made for us.) Unknown to us, The Lost Abbey was having it's annual Christmas in July celebration. Meaning, SANTA! Meaning we had to pay to get in, but we were still able to enjoy some amazing brews and of course choose a couple to take home. Which of course, I am drinking right now and blogging in between Star Wars episodes IV-VI. Or as Justins calls it calls it, The Best Birthday Ever. 

I call this, "The Drunken Elf."
Attractive, I know.

Two of the best beers I've ever tasted.

Linking up with the lovely ladies of Join the Gossip, Sami's Shenanigans, and five30three for their weekend update bloghop.

It's a Mexican drinking worm...

If you immediately get what this post title is referencing, you are my best friend forever. If not, get a life. But here's a little help:

So anyways, I got a tattoo! Meet my little Khaleesi (I just really wanted to name something that...):

Please disregard my cankle.

Yes, that is right on the ankle bone. The inspiration came from two places: My dearest friend Jenna, and because we felt like it. Why an octopus? Her eight arms represent the eight sides to my soul. Just kidding. She really doesn't have any profound meaning. Well, I am a scientist (not really, but that's what my friends call me because they don't understand what I do for a living) and cephalopods are really fucking cool. Octopuses are definitely one of my favorite marine invertebrates and I'd list the reasons why, but then I would be showcasing my severe nerdiness for the world to see. Although I try to stay out of the ocean as much as I can, my deep love for what lies beneath has brought me to where I am in life today. Everything happens for a reason. Live, laugh, love. Profound yet?

We highly recommend Above All Tattoo
in Pacific Beach.

Khaleesi is my third tattoo and she joins the tiniest star in the world (on my other foot) and my "keep calm & carry on" crown on my ribs (THAT I GOT BEFORE IT WAS COOL, THANKS). The star was my first tattoo, that I got against my mother's wishes. Although I was 23 and it is no bigger than a dime, she still refused to talk to me on my birthday when I revealed it to her. Even though she has a tattoo now (I held her hand and gave her booze as I held on to the memory of the time she gave me the silent treatment on my birthday for doing the exact same thing), she still pretends to be mad when we get more. She tried to ground me last night even though I don't live anywhere near home and I am 29 years old. Nice try, mom.

Fancy Friday: Summer Weddings x 5

Hey, have you heard? I have 5 weddings to attend this summer! FIVE! Now I'm not complaining about the actual weddings. I love weddings. It's kind of sick how much I love weddings. And open bars. I'm complaining about how many times I have to dress my ass up and try not to look like a total hot mess.

HENCE. Incorrect. Therefore, below you will see two of the dresses I've already purchased. Aren't they fucking adorable? I can't wait to spill beer on them. Now, because I'm financially challenged, I thought I could kill two birds with one stone here and get one pair of shoes to match both dresses. What do you think? Do any of my options fit both dresses appropriately? I'm bad at matching shoes to dresses mostly because my feet are so far down my long ass legs I forget about them. And one dress is satin and one is not and I don't know if that's okay for the shoes and holy shit I just got stressed again. Help me. Please.

I'd also like to minimize the amount of accessories I add to my ever-growing ridiculous jewelry collection. Can any of these bracelets pull double duty? Please say the bow bracelet. The bow bracelet, right?

Linking up with {av} of Long Distance Loving for Friday's Fancies!

Adventures of the Cousins: The Road Trip

Casual-seductive pose with a telescope at Meteor Crater.

10 years ago, my bestfriend cousin and I embarked on a road trip across America with a final destination of Key Largo. Take a moment to reread that sentence and absorb everything that is wrong with it. A 17-year old and a 19-year old drove nearly 3,000 miles across the country (including THE SOUTH) in a Pontiac Sunfire in the middle of July. The idea for this trip was based on the fact that our moms used to drive back and forth between Minnesota and California all of the time when they were young and if they did it so could we! 

Our first stop after a full day of driving was somewhere in New Mexico. Unremarkable, except for the time when Mandy lost the car keys and then thought she locked them in the car so we called Triple A to find out they were in fact not in the car but actually the front pocket of her suitcase the entire time. Our other nighttime sleeping stops included Oklahoma City, New Orleans, & Port St. Lucie, Florida. We made it a point to stop at any ridiculously cheesy roadside attraction that we passed. This led us to get lost in ghetto Jurassic Park in Arizona. And to Meteor Crater in Arizona which, as one other crater patron put it is "a big ass hole." But seriously, it really is kind of astonishing now that I think about it. In Oklahoma City we set aside time to stop at the memorial which is absolutely breathtaking. We spent quite a bit of time reflecting and reading the messages there until some asshole honked at Mandy because apparently she looked damn sexy being all emotional. In Texas we saw a lot of trees. Texas is stupid.


My favorite driving moment happened somewhere in the middle of Texas, I think. As we were driving down a seemingly endless highway, a bible camp van ended up next to us and oh my god if those boys weren't staring at us like they had never seen female flesh before. So we're laughing, which of course makes them stare more and little did they know we were approaching THE LARGEST CROSS IN THE COUNTRY (alledgedly). Which I suspect was the entire purpose of their bible camp. At this point, it's not funny anymore and they were legitimately going to miss the cross so Mandy yells, "Look at the fucking cross!" And because I was sure they heard us through the closed window, I sped away hoping they were not cursing our Pontiac Sunfire and that they would pray for our depraved souls. 

Former home of Ernest Hemingway.
He didn't have A/C. But I had a sarong so its cool.

Once we made finally made it to Key Largo, our first order of business was to go use Mandy's fake ID to buy alcohol, naturally. Of course a 17-year old would pass for a 26-year old. And of course she did! Our second liquor stop will go down in history as one of our favorite moments ever. The older gentlemen who probably owned the store asked to see both of our IDs and while I was stuttering and stammering for an excuse he starting cracking up and was like, "OF COURSE you guys are old enough! I'm just giving you a hard time." OF COURSE!

If you travel anywhere with Mandy, she makes friends (Her life quote, "Hi! My name is Mandy!"). Lucky for us, she made a friend that was a butcher (totally safe) at the Winn-Dixie and he was helpful in so many ways. He got us into Coco-Nuts Nightclub (AKA Coco-Sluts), got us into his brother's bar after hours so we could drink straight from a beer tap, and helped us fix the car when it suddenly died. He kindly told us, "Maybe y'all just got some bad gas"...to which we replied, "Were you following us? How do you know that?" He also taught us an important lesson about putting a vehicle in "park" while "parked" at a gas station. Do it, or else your car rolls backwards and hits some snotty family and the two underage drunk girls that you have with you will have to go hide in the liquor store and help the old man working there stock the shelves until the cops are gone.

And of course, we did all of the things that we told our mothers we were doing which was the purpose of our entire trip. We snorkeled. We saw Christ of the Abyss. We toured Key West (and vowed to one day go back when we were legitimately of age and that one day still hasn't happened!). We took one million and four pictures and learned as much as we could. More importantly, we laughed a hell of a lot and still do when we reflect on this trip. We strengthened an already 17-year old friendship that is bound to last a lifetime. And no, our children will absolutely NOT be able to replicate our journey.

Music: Something old, Something new

As I wrote the title to this I realized how much I hate it. The title that is. Music I love and want to marry. Is that legal? I hope so. I want something more sparkly and catchy. Like, "Music: Fuck yea!" Or, "Music: It's What's Dinner." Point being, it needs some love.

Moving on. This week's post is dedicated to a group that I am absolutely enamored with. The Icelandic indie folk group Of Monsters and Men stole my heart with their song "Little Talks." The lyrics, combined with the loveliness of the male and female (Raggi & Nanna!) voices melted me into a puddle of slushy feelings and oh god why won't anyone love me, I'm going to be alone together with this stupid cat and I hate my life! Thank god that's over with.

Ahem. Moving on, again. Their album My Head is an Animal is flawless. I listen to it nearly all day in the office and it doesn't upset me to hear it again at home, which is a rare gift of an album. I could keep talking about their greatness, but I am going to offer you one more song to let you hear for yourself. That's right. I'm telling you what to do. Another favorite, "Dirty Paws." And this video happens to be amazingly rad.

Are you in love yet?

So this mom walks into a bar...

Every few months, not nearly often enough, my mom comes down to San Diego to visit and relax. This time was extra special for two reasons: she was going to meet my boyfriend and she was lucky enough to deal with the aftermath of my little sister's car accident (she's fine, it's funny, I promise). My initial plan for when she arrived on Friday afternoon was to have a nice relaxing night drinking wine, eating mexican food, and watching Friday Night Lights. 

She raised 4 girls. She's seen it all.

Because Friday must've been International Opposite Day, instead of relaxing Friday night we ended up out in Pacific Beach at the request of my little sister's boyfriend. PB is where you go to get drunk or get laid. Not necessarily where I wanted to take my mom. Luckily, she has a great sense of humor and adventure and willingly drank beer, took fireball shots, and laughed at the skanky humans in the disgusting nightclub we ended up at.  There was also some sort of ladies soccer team there. In their soccer gear. Dancing. At one point, one of the more masculine soccer players started battling a guy on the dance floor and I (ALLEGEDLY) shouted, "Go, Lesbian! YEA!" Which was apparently the most offensive thing of the evening.

The next night after a lovely dinner in Old Town in which mom got to meet my boyfriend and approve of him (naturally), we got to help Brittany fill out her claim for her car accident. This is important because: my mom learned how to draw, Brittany learned how to spell, and Brittany learned that we do in fact live in Southern California (not Northern...seriously. We live 20 minutes from the Mexican border.)

As if that wasn't overdramatic enough, my precious JMEOWW decided to act like my mother was a third-class citizen. You see, since the invasion of the fleas (which that nightmare is finally fucking over and I can go back to being a normal human that isn't vacuuming and crying and scratching every second of the day) the meoww hasn't quite been herself.  When my mom has visited in the past, meoww has been very excited and lovely. This time, she was an absolute fucking terror.

Laser eyes prove she is not a real animal.

My mom, like a good grandma, always brings a few little toys for J. When she presented them to her, J looked at them and walked away. Like a true spoiled asshole. Then in the morning when my mom wanted to lay on my bed, J literally refused to move from the spot she was in. So I scooted her and she hissed. Naturally. Not once, but THREE times. Then she sat on the end of the bed and glared at my mother as if she was plotting her painful death. Then, because apparently she felt she wasn't getting her point across, she moved swiftly and violently back and forth between the windowsill above my bed and this nice little spot in the closet where she could keep her eyes on mom. Nice work, JMEOWW. 

After a nice breakfast and a little walk through one of San Diego's finer beaches, Ocean Beach (home to hippies and crackheads galore), mom headed home. Although it was probably not as relaxing as she hoped, it was a very lovely weekend and I truly hope that we didn't scare her away with venereal-ridden nightclubs and sociopathic animals.

Linking up with the lovely ladies of Join the Gossip, Sami's Shenanigans, and five30three for their weekend update bloghop.*

 *not featuring Jimmy Fallon, Amy Poehler, or Norm MacDonald.

Pacific Beach on Dwellable

Fancy Fridays: Stripes & My Summer Uniform

Today I'm guest posting for Miss Christianna of The Girl with the Blue Bow while she is on a fabulous vacation that I'm so jealous of.


Let's be honest here for a moment. This is a safe place, right? So I started browsing for items based on the FF stars & stripes theme, and I was mildly appalled. Is there no other way to express your pride than a string bikini with stars on the nips?

So, I opted for stripes and found all of these lovelies which I would wear every day of my life. Which leads to my next point. You guys, I'm getting a little chubs. My friends have called it "the love weight," which I know sometimes happens, but refuse to accept that is the problem here because I haven't changed my eating habits (only an increase in my drinking habits...) AND I quit my 4-a-day diet soda habit (because my boyfriend was convinced it was killing me but I still haven't lost any of the bloating that diet soda contenders claim happens) and I spent about 5ish weeks in a bootcamp. What the hell is happening, body?

Therefore, it's the middle of summer and my pants are bursting at the seams and the best outfit I can come up with is a sheer, loose top, pants that have some forgiving stretch in them, and a shitload of obnoxious accessories to distract from the fact that I am growing more quickly than Violet in Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory. Ask me about the time I ripped the crotch out of my favorite gap jeans. I DARE YOU.

Sheer top / Sheer top / Sheer top / Striped tunic / The Breeze Knees Top

Linking up with {av} of Long Distance Loving for Friday's Fancies!

DIY Fireworks

Not DIY like make your own and then display them in a mason jar with some colorful tissue paper poking out the side, Marth Stewart. DIY meaning light those fuckers yourself and hope that you don't start yourself on fire. This is the core of July 4th in my hometown of Chino, California. For some reason, fireworks have not been outlawed. So you can buy a wide variety of "legal" fireworks and create a lovely show in your cul-de-sac. Most of the legal fireworks create pretty showers of color or spin for like 6 seconds while everyone pretends to be amazed. There's also the most annoying device ever created, the Piccolo Petes, which release an ear-piercing screech for a good 45 seconds while setting off car alarms and pissing off dogs. These must always be on sale because you can't escape the sound all damn night.

If you belong to my family, you also somehow acquire illegal fireworks and scare the shit out of everyone in a 6 block radius. Over the years, this has has led to the following experiences:

2011. AMERICA. Hell yea.

• My dad starting his pants on fire. We can laugh about this now. And unfortunately I wasn't present for this moment. ALLEGEDLY, my little twin sisters were fighting over those little popper snapper things that you throw on the ground and they explode. Aren't they like little balls of gunpowder? Why is that okay? Anyways, my dad took them away from the girls and put them in his pocket. Then somehow, he ignited them by bumping into a table, lighting his shorts on fire. While the resulting burn wasn't a joke, the mental image of my dad's pants literally on fire and jumping in the pool to extinguish it will always make me giggle.
• My dad (notice a trend?) shooting bottle rockets into the area where we were all sitting with CHILDREN.
• Someone (probably my dad) lighting the neighbor's fence on fire.

Because I'm irrationally paranoid about everything, the only near-death experience I've had was lighting sparklers. Excuse me if I don't want to be showered with tiny flames, everyone who makes fun of me. Yes, the children do them. GOOD FOR THEM. 

This year, I won't be part of the madness but I'm sure my dad will light a Roman candle in my honor. Be safe out there, AMERICA.

Music: Something old, something new

Finally, something old! There are certain songs in my life that I call “Top ten all time favorite songs.” Chances are my list contains more than 10, so that really doesn’t make sense. However, these are songs that immediately transport me to another time in my life. They bring back memories that I thought I no longer had and remind me of everything I have experienced whether I like it or not. Skinny Love by Bon Iver is one of those songs.

My unabashed love and enthusiasm for everything Bon Iver baffles many. Can you understand the lyrics? Not always. And when you can they usually don't make much sense. Such is the case with Skinny Love. But you just know the utter frustration and heartbreak that is the root of this song. The passion he sings with is so powerful, and if you don't believe me I beg you to see them live. I practically forced my younger sister to go with me and then because of the overwhelming intensity and emotion of the performances I literally cried 80% of the show. My poor sister. But it's THAT GOOD, you guys. (Also, completely brokenhearted at the time. I had set myself up for complete failure that night.)

This song has been covered by so many great artists including Gavin Mikhail, and another beloved of mine, Birdy.

When Linday Pavao covered it on The Voice I cried, naturally. It was one of the most genuine and beautiful performances of the season, but I knew she had lost because as we know or don't know, who the hell is BONNIE BEAR! This has become my all-time favorite Skinny Love cover. (Also, yes I watch The Voice and yes reality competitions make me cry. Apparently everything does.)

No matter which version I'm listening to, Skinny Love makes me have feelings. Somethings good, sometimes bad. But, it will always remain on my life soundtrack.

And just for S&Gs, take a look at Justin Timberlake as Justin Vernon of Bon Iver in one of the best SNL skits of the season!

Weho, Wine, and Jean Shorts

My weekend technically started on Thursday night. If you still haven't heard, there's this small indie film called Magic Mike that changed my life in so many significant ways. Friday I trekked up to West Hollywood for some adventures with my life partner, Leeann. We relived the 90s at the Summerland Tour and drove out to the middle of nowhere for a fantastic wine tasting experience. She also told me I smell like a man that wears cheap cologne. She'll tell you all about it!

When I arrived home Saturday evening, I finally accepted the fact that the few fleas I found on jmeoww had repopulated and tried to take over my home. With the help of my very patient boyfriend, we took J to a friend's house and bombed the shit out of my apartment. We also learned from my apartment manager that they pay for flea control because it's a SERIOUS PROBLEM in my complex. I must've missed that memo.

After an overdramatic Saturday night, I was really looking forward to Sunday. Because. Because it was the day that I got to take Justin shopping. You see, one time I told him that I hated his shoes. Okay let's rewind. One time when I called him sobbing for one final come-to-jesus talk, this conversation happened:

Me: Justin, can I tell you something?
Him: Yea...
Me: I HATE your shoes! (in the most pathetic sobbing (maybe a little drunk) voice you can imagine)
Him: What does that have to do with anything??
Me: EVERYTHING. It means everything! Your shoes are awful, but I still love you!

And that my friends is how you score the man of your dreams. Apparently. Anyways, since my sobbing confession he has allowed me to be his personal stylist. We immediately replaced the shoes and last weekend we cleaned his closet. I know, right? Are you jealous yet? Because the closet cleaning left him with pretty much nothing, shopping was very necessary. He did try to get out of it by seducing me with the final few episodes of Game of Thrones. It almost worked but, SHOPPING!

I decided to take it easy on him and just visit Old Navy. Which seriously failed us. The shorts were too short. Too cargo-y. Too jean. It was very disappointing, however we picked a couple of shirts out without killing each other. I call that a success. Our failure at Old Navy only means that there is more shopping in our future. The romance is too much to handle!