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!