In 2013 I...

A year in review already? Yea, yea. I know. But I have decided to end this blogging year early with the hope that I will be completely blogging-refreshed in the new year. Basically, its my blog and I do what I want and you all love me anyways. And as I accidentally humblebragged to Michelle, I actually have some decent time off work this holiday season and I would like to enjoy it to its fullest! Working on those Federal holidays really paid off, Americans. TAKE NOTE.

Let's take a look back at the year that was 2013....

I did not meet my fitness goals. Hashtag proud. I started off so strong and then the commitment waned away as life's silly excuses got in the way. I did, however, make my best effort to eat better, drink less, and move more. That's really not too much to ask of myself. REALLY. So although my weight remains nearly the same as the beginning of the year, my ass is definitely firmer and my armpit fat is well on its way to being non-existent or less squishy by the time wedding dress time hits us.

I turned 30 and my family and friends threw me an amazing party. Which was followed by an amazing vacation up the central California coast. Which I ruined by blacking out via wine tasting.

My loverly friend got married which meant that we got to go to Vegas first. I tried to remove a temporary tattoo with a magic eraser. And yes, that was the most important lesson I learned from the trip. That, and that sometimes strippers will entrust your friends with their money. And shorts.

Jmeoww pooped herself and continued to be as jmeoww as she possibly could be throughout the year.

WE GOT ENGAGED.

And then I became a crazy wedding planning person that I said I never would be. I became grossly addicted to wedding blogs before performing a self-inflicted intervention. I peek every now and then. Hashtag relapse.

I became more of an adult than I have ever felt like. What does that even mean, oh wise Tiff Gee? It means that, with the help of my ever-wisdomous fiance, I set some boundaries in my life. Allowing the positive to shine, and removing or limiting any negative influences that affected me in that way that I hate. Yes, removing and limiting may have made me seem like a complete asshole. Self-centered. You name it. But along with setting these boundaries comes a level of self-respect and self-love that I didn't know I needed in my life. I have been more at peace. And I am happy.

signed, sealed, NOPE.

You guys. I have a confession to make. And because it is Friday the 13th and I feel like making up a superstition, I feel as though today is a day to be honest with you. Ready?

I hate Christmas cards.

I KNOW, right? What am I, the Grinch? Kind of, and totally maybe a little.

I love receiving Christmas cards, I really do. I DO. It is honest Friday the 13th, remember? I cannot tell a lie. And the fact that people think to mail me something and even some of you blog ladies take that extra step to send snail mail? Well that just warms my cold little heart.

I waffled on this, especially this year because of our engagement and upcoming wedding. My thought was we should be a real adult couple that does real adult things! We should really EARN those wedding gifts we will be receiving! So I forced Justin to take photos with me for these incredibly festive Christmas cards I was going to create. This is how they turned out:

Do you have any idea how nervous this makes me for wedding photos? Its like we can't NOT be assholes. I took that one nice photo and inserted it into some of the templates from popular online retailers. And then I threw up a little. Christmas card template people we are not. And if I had the patience and money I would've searched longer and harder (ahahaha) for the PERFECT template but as you know, (everyone at once) ain't nobody got time for that!

Also, because I feel like continuing my tirade, you can't put the pictures that you are going to put on your Christmas card on the social medias! THAT IS CHEATING! So basically, my Facebook family and friends have already seen these luscious photos of us. Why would I pay money to print them on a false-ass card and then go to the actual post office to do mailing things? Y'all have seen it!

So this is my confession, dear friends. Please don't take my lack of effort and enjoyment of all things Christmas cards to mean that I like you any less. It's not you, it's the actual fucking Christmas cards. HONEST.

This is the best I will do. Feel free to print it and hang it (Kelsey).

the uncommon gifts guide.

More presents? YES. I am sure you are getting the idea that I love stuff. STUFF. And buying things! For other people! Although I am not above spending the extra dough required to get free shipping on myself. So thanks for that, Forever 21.

If you come from a ginormous family as I do, you have a lot of buying to do. A LOT. And to people who say, "Just don't buy for each other then!" I say, "Are you not human?" Because guess what. If you don't buy you don't receive and although I wouldn't be mad if I didn't get anything in return...okay who am I kidding, I'd be pissed. My one rule for my sisters this year when I asked for their wish list was DO NOT ARBITRARILY CHOOSE ITEMS OF CLOTHING. We all have enough clothing. We could clothe an entire nation, if needed. I really wanted to go rogue on etsy and buy every and all of the things, but I behaved. Kind of. In addition to the family I was born into, there is also a Justin to shower in gifts. There are a handful of coworkers. Oh and also about 5 birthdays in the month of December. I have work to do.

Puss in Books Calendar - Cats in costumes with quotes from classic literature? Paired with a donation to a no-kill cat shelter, this is practically a perfect calendar for your lady workers or your crazy cat lady friends.

How Joyful Handlettered Calendar - Beautiful lettering and inspiring quotes. Her shop is closing TODAY for holiday travel so get your orders in quickly! (disclaimer: her shop closed yesterday. I wrote this and didn't publish in time because I got drunk baking things. so, new year's gifts instead?)

Bourbon Glasses - These are so impossibly cool and classic. If we had room in our cupboards I would've bought an entire set. For the gentlemens in your life that enjoy a good classic cocktail. 

Craft Beer Poster - We are lucky enough to live in one of the craft beer capitals OF THE UNIVERSE PROBABLY. Craft Beerd is a super cool vendor and if you happen to live in San Diego there are options that highlight all of our breweries and craft beer bars. SO RAD. Buy this for your beer loving brother.

Frostbeard Candles - Wasn't I just bitching about expensive candles? I WAS. But $15 and amazingly geeky? GIVE THEM ALL TO ME. Wait, I am supposed to give these to others...these would go to all of my Harry Potter loving friends. And LotR. And GoT. You know who you are!

The Shine Project State Charms - If you are a blogger and unfamiliar with The Shine/Threads project, you are doing it wrong. These bracelets are gorgeous and well-priced. I was lucky to see them in person at a boutique, but I didn't buy one because I was incredibly indecisive. And they are created by at-risk youth to help them raise money for college. They would be perfect for your sisters, cousins, or out of state besties.

Coralie Couture Gemstone Bracelets - THE DEAL OF THE SEASON. I bought a ton of these. She will customize your bracelets to your liking. And they are dainty and gorgeous. AND proceeds from her sales will go to purchase items for Toys for Tots. Perfectly sized stocking stuffers!

The Study of Change T-shirt (aka the Walter White head) - Why no, I am not over this show ending. I came across this shirt on Threadless and wanted to buy 10 of them. A seriously cool design. And if you are looking for other pop culture/geek/science/internet related t-shirts or posters, Threadless is your jam.

Los Pollos Hermanos apron - I DIED. This is just hilarious. I guess this would be for the Breaking Bad lover that has everything? Also, once you reach Think Geek, you will never leave. For the geeks in your life, TG is your one stop shop. 

I do have a ton of other favorites, but I actually purchased them and didn't want to give away any secrets. SECRETS. But really, I hope this helps with some of your Christmas shopping (if you are still shopping and if you haven't started you should just give up now). And if anyone wants to buy me a Shire candle I totally won't be mad.

guidance to giving.

If you follow me on twitter (wink, wink) then you already know this about me...I LOVE GIFT GUIDES. I have looked at approximately 67 and a half different gift guides and purchased approximately zero things from them. Online window browsing is my life. Guides for a girl. Girlie girl. Manly Man. Techie Man. Your Bestie. Your Coworker. YOUR MOM. You get the point.

But each of these amazing guides I've seen have one thing in common: EXPENSIVE ASS SHIT. Now listen, I absolutely love and adore the people I buy gifts for or else they would receive a pile of jmeoww's shit. However, I am a shopper on a budget, you know? Oh, you don't know? SEE YOU IN ANTHROPOLOGIE THEN. I'll be in the clearance section.

For those of us on a budget, we all know we are not going to buy the $80 candle or $120 mittens that I have seen on multiple lists (maybe I am exaggerating). Because who the hell wants those things anyways? Beyond the bougie folk, I mean. But if you want to send me an $80 candle I won't be mad.

Now to be fair, I did put a $24 candle on my wish list (not pictured because it looks like a candle) but it is from New Orleans and therefore exotic and not something I would purchase myself.

So what would a girl on a budget ask for? SO GLAD YOU ASKED. Because what kind of gift guide connoisseur wouldn't make one of her own?

Dayton blouse / Mossimo Supply Co. tall boots / Pendant necklace / Tartan plaid scarve / Sonia Kashuk makeup brush / Drinkware / Katy Perry Killer Queen Eau de Parfum / TOMS Metallic Silver Herringbone 

Yes, this is basically my pinterest board made into a remedial collage. But you get the point. And don't you dare judge me for my deep love of Katy Perry's perfume like my "friends" did in Ulta the other night. Granted, I did spray most of the bottle all over myself. I smelled like a goddamned queen.

But what about gifts for others, oh goddess of gift guides? How kind of you. And since you asked, check back on Monday for more guidance to giving!

the jmeoww diaries: v.12

Well, hello there! Long time, I know. We are beyond overdue for this edition of JMD and while the Queen Beast and I were brainstorming we came up with nothing! Nothing monumental, you see. She has become increasingly more lovable and cuddly. STOP THE PRESSES. Right? You see now why I have no blog content. However, she still has and always will have her evil tendencies. And her hilarious moments. So here are a few notable ones that occurred over the past few weeks:

The love of her life, Justin, bought her a house (so he could put away the plastic storage bin she had proclaimed her land). Her very own house aka the new base of attack operations. Shortly after the house purchase, I received a new purse in the mail that came in OMG A BOX. With tissue that made REALLY FUN TISSUE BALLS. Which means I won the house wars. Until I went out of town for a minute and Justin threw the precious box away. Like the devil himself.

HEAVENS.

Once she decided that said house was acceptable and totally not scary, she started sleeping on the cozy spot on top of it and my heart exploded into a million and one thousand pieces. Guys, when your cat has chased your naked ass through the living room trying to make you bleed, the quiet and sweet moments are much more meaningful.

We also sleep here. We sleep a lot.

She stole my cuddle spot. What the fuck are you even talking about, Tiffany? Okay, bear with me on this one. When we go to bed at night, I always curl up in the same spot on Justin. GROSS BARF, I KNOW. I will give you a minute to recover from our disgusting adorableness. One night as I was ipadding and pinning all of the things as usual, she jumped up on the bed like she always does for aggressive nighttime cuddles. Except she didn't come and stand all 15 pounds of herself on my delicate sternum like she always does. No. Instead, she went straight for the cuddle spot and stretched out all fucking proud. I WAS APPALLED. But also hysterically laughing because of her smug little expression. She laid there for about 4 total minutes (which is about 2 minutes longer than her normal cuddle sesh) and the entire time kept looking at me over her shoulder, like "SEE. SEE THIS?" Yes, animal. I see that you remain as the dominant being in our relationship.

She proved the Japanese wrong. And continues to do so. I can call her name from another room and she comes right to me and jumps up for some brief cuddles. Shit, she hears my car beep when I lock it and walk upstairs and she is at the door like a proud puppy ready to greet me. THEY CARE, JAPAN.

And like the stereotypical feline that she is when she thinks no one is looking, she has taken up her holiday residence underneath the Christmas tree. MY HEART. You guys, it is so fucking cute. Until we go to bed and hear the gentle rattle of ornaments and run out to catch her staring at the shiny balls on the floor like they are the most special treasure we have ever given her. The tree has been up for 5 days. She has knocked off 5 ornaments. And she is so happy about it. She just loves the tree we gave her.

Like a goddamned Christmas card.

I know. You try successfully photographing an all-black cat and report back to me. Better yet, those of you with an elf on the shelf — replace said elf with this photo and tell those damn kids that JMEOWW IS WATCHING.

That might be the best idea I've ever had. Look out, Christmas 2014. Jmeoww on a shelf, coming to a store near you! 

coming out of the fort.

It is incredibly rare that I stumble across a pin on the pinterest that fills me with so much emotion. I think I clapped my hands together and nearly started crying. THE NEST.

Most of October, I lived in a nest. Except, I call it a blanket fort. My days were filled with anxiety, with reason and without, and the only thought that gave me comfort was knowing that I would soon be able to flee to my home, my comfy couch, and my blanket. And I knew that I could cover my entire body and free my mind of any burdening thoughts and just be in that blanket fort. Because I could not do much else without crying or finding a reason to yell about something or just completely shutting down.

And that Justin of mine? He let me be in that blanket fort. For a few weeks. And when I finally just became a complete ridiculous and unreasonable mess, he life-coached the shit out of me and gave me incredibly rousing come-to-jesus talks that left me without reason for needing my fort. And while I hated mostly every second of the life-coaching because, hello blanket fort is so much easier than facing any bit of reality, I loved every minute that he took to do so. Because he cared enough to pull me out of the fort and kick my ass into gear.

I don't think I would've made it out of there without him.

"something tells me you've already had lots of candy."

Ah, Halloween. As a grown-ass adult, I choose to celebrate Halloween on a non-school night. Can we just vote that Halloween officially move to the last Saturday in October? Thanksgiving doesn't have an official date attached to it. Am I right?!?

How unimportant was the above rant? Moving on. We celebrated this past Saturday as Tony Stark and his executive assistant, Pepper Potts. I know, the most non-costume costume ever. But I promise you that we put a whole hell of a lot of thought into it. Because it is surprisingly hard to find douchey enough sunglasses to be RDJ worthy. And Justin even shaved his beard into that miraculous Stark goatee which he really wanted to keep until I threatened his life. Balls or goatee, you can only choose one.

You may have noticed a guest star in our photo. Posing. Actually posing. We set up the camera on the bar with a self-timer and this was about our third try. I knew that she had ran back there and collapsed. I did NOT realize that she was going to smize the shit out of the camera. This is however, the closest we got to a costume this year. I know, I know. I am greatly disappointed too. But the swollen scratches on my ankles were the final caution that I needed.

Have fun tonight, kids. Keep all of your b's covered (to refresh: boobs, butt, bagina) and don't take candy from strangers.

this one time...

This one time I started a blog that I couldn't be bothered to keep updated because of 900 equally unimportant reasons. What might those be? SO GLAD YOU ASKED.

This one time...

• I severely injured my shoulder/neck trying on a wedding dress. Shit is dangerous. The first place that I went to completely dresses you. The place I tried last weekend, not so much. Also, my thighs. This combination led to me contorting my body in unnatural ways because I AM A SIZE 10 OKAY. Which led to a night filled with muscle relaxers and much whining.

• A few weeks ago, I threw my bridal party an initiation party in which I fed them fancy cheese and gave them tons of wine. I also gave them a brochure about being in my bridal party so that when they ask me questions I can say PLEASE REFER TO YOUR PAMPHLET. 

Those flower girls? I might let them wear those dresses. They kill me dead.

• I became completely enamored with Veep and Battlestar Galactica. Season 3 of BSG is giving me all the feels. And to recover from said feels we watch Veep so I can laugh for 30 minutes straight.

• Eastbound and Down came back for one final season. Enough said.

• I realized I am marrying one of those "fall people." Also possibly a "lifestyle blogger." This all started on a sunny afternoon in Manhattan Beach in which he was served beer in a mason jar and flipped his balls over it. And then all the pumpkin flavored things. If he starts hasthtagging fall and talking about sweaters and boots, I will not speak to him until winter. Lucky for him I am the best of the best so I give into making all of the pumpkin flavored things because that is practically all that exists at Trader Joe's. You need some regular flavored crackers? TRY THESE PUMPKIN ONES INSTEAD. 

• At work today I said "nail colish polor" and realized that I may in fact be ill and that I should just go sleep for hours like my body is telling me to. I think that I may be ill because I have been depriving my body of all of the fattening and greasy and alcoholic goodness that it needs to survive. Why, you ask? See the first bullet point. 

• And finally, because what with this blog be without a story about a cat and also farting...last night as jmeoww was doing her nightly aggressive cuddles, Justin spooked her when he stood up because that is so scary. This led to her digging her claws into my chest which caused me to flinch and release a fart, audibly, that I had been holding on to for dear life because I would rather die of bloating than fart in front of Justin. Because he laughed for ten minutes while I hid under a blanket and laugh-cried.

Close enough to 900, yea? 

a short story.

As I was sitting at the computer desk in the bedroom, Justin and Jmeoww were running around as they normally do. Okay, maybe Justin wasn't running. Rather he was distracting her away from my enticing skin meat that she likes to attack while I do computer things.

As they rounded the corner into the living room, I heard an all too familiar fart sound. But I brushed it off because, MEN. 

But then I hear, "JMEOWW! Was that you?!?"

And I think to myself, cats can't fart like that. So then I say out loud, "No it wasn't her, cats can't fart like that. They literally do not audibly fart. DID SHE JUST AUDIBLY FART?"

"Yea, babe. She totally did!" followed by and appropriate yet suspicious amount of laughter. I repeated my question at least nine more times and because the answer was the same, I was convinced that my cat audibly farted.

At this point I peeked my head into the living room to investigate said audible fart because I found it all too hilarious and unbelievable. And what do I find but that Justin giggling like a child who just audibly farted and blamed it on the cat and successfully convinced me that said cat was capable of audibly farting.

We are adults and this is our life. I kind of love it.

another birthday? weeeeeee!

And today just so happens to be the birthday of my second blogger friend ever, and one of the most amazing people I've ever had the privilege to know — Shaymeoww.

Shay will change the way you see the world and yourself. She will make you reevaluate how you've been living and if you have been the best version of you that you can be. And I equally love and despise her for that because I tend to want to just pretend that I am good. But she makes me want to really be good — and for that I am forever grateful.

The most beautiful and charming soul I've ever met...Happy Birthday, my Shaymeoww! 

a birthday, weeeee!

And the first of two very special birthdays this week belongs to my NY ladylove and the very first of my blogger friends, LISSA. Imagine yourself yelling as you say that.

Why yes I did troll her entire blog to steal this.

This girl? Never fails to make me laugh, or entertain me when I desperately need entertaining. She is brave, supportive, and ridiculously witty. Sometimes so much more than me and it makes me want to slap that pretty face. FACE. You thought I was going to say something else, ya perv.

Although I clearly can't teleport to NY to celebrate, I will most likely be having some Coors Lights in her honor.

Happy Birthday LISSA!

friday thoughts.

Oh, hey there. Yes, this is me. That person who once regularly wrote stuff here. I think this is the longest I have unintentionally gone without posting a damn thing.

I don't know what it is. I've been mildly sick. Majorly bored and tested. And superiorly trying to get my shit together aka budgeting actual money and aka eating actual food and not m&m's with coke zero from the employee store. Neither of those things are realistically entertaining except when I tell Justin that I need to budget for happy hour and he tries to tell me that is the opposite of my life plan but then gives in because he knows I need me some happy hour. DO NOT TAKE AWAY MY HAPPY HOUR, LIFE PLAN.

I'll come back here, I will. With stories of jmeoww's cheese farts and our 2nd trip to the vet this month because once again she is smarter than we ever will be and impossible to drug.

Stories of how our dvr broke and I lost 14 episodes of My Cat From Hell and at least 6 crime dramas that we know are irreplaceable. Oh AND the episodes of SOA that I was hoarding so that once I caught up I would have them at my disposal, fo FREE. And possibly stories of how my mom suggested we go try on something that rhymes with "shedding fress" this weekend and how I immediately decided that I need to slip a flask in my purse for this occasion.

I sense many adventures with mom happening this weekend. Stay tuned.

the jmeoww diaries: v.11

Fans, today is a special day. My dear friend and Jmeoww Fan Club President, Ashley, has shared with us her amazing artistic talents for this edition of JMD. I cannot stop giggling. Enjoy!

It all started with her fucking collar.

It just disappeared. Yes, it was a safety release collar but how could it just disappear? We hypothesized the many fates that befell said collar.

• She threw it off the balcony during her nightly neighborhood watch shift.

• She shoved it down the garbage disposal because it totally was making a funny noise the other night.

• She left it at her boyfriend's house.
  
  

• And my favorite — she ate it. LISTEN. I never ever found her favorite pink fish kitten toy when we moved and I still believe that she ate it. So why wouldn't she eat a collar?!?

We half-ass looked for it a few times and continued to joke about until I had a panic attack that she was going to escape and not know her phone number. So I decided to really look and had another panic attack when I found it. The metal nametag was stuck in between two parts of my shoe rack. It was quite difficult for my human self to get the collar unstuck and then I had one of those Sookie Stackhouse moments in which I saw what happened to her as I touched the collar.

My poor precious angelmeoww had been STUCK by something around her NECK in a DARK closet! I wanted to cry. But I didn't. Because she was watching me remove the collar. Pissed because I was in her hiding spot, I thought. But then I pulled the collar out and holy shit. She looked at it and visibly trembled. Like it all came back to her in that one single moment of terror. MY POOR ANGELMEOWW. 

Now please note that my moments of extreme sympathy are few and far between with that one. Mostly because my ankles are consistently covered in blood and scratches. But this moment — not unlike the time I put a dragon hat on and made her puff up 3 times her size because she was so scared — this moment was heartbreaking. 

We left it on Justin's desk because that is where things go to die. That is also where she conducts her business so each time she was on the desk, she would sniff the collar and bat at it. I called this "immersion therapy" and assumed that she was ready to have it back on. So back on it went.

And then things changed. She stopped greeting me at the door when I got home from work. She wouldn't even come out when her boyfriend got home from work. She would meow from under the bed to let us know that she still existed, but she would not move. Even all of the shreddy cheese and treats in the world wouldn't get her to come out from under the bed.

When she did come out from under the bed she would not leave the room. Like would not cross that threshold. The PTSD she was experiencing was far too severe and we thought that she would never return to her old angelic-self ever again.

So Justin, being the softhearted slave to the jmeoww that he is, removed the collar. 

And then things changed, again. SHE WAS FREE, YOU GUYS! The trauma. The torture. IT WAS ALL OVER CAN WE PLAY NOW? How about now? Should we play now? CAN YOU AT LEAST SIT ON THE FLOOR BY ME? I've only had 6 treats, do you have any more? ARE THOSE MY TREATS?

I'm pretty sure Justin has been playing with her ever since. Her energy level? Unmatched by any cat I've experienced in my life. And we can't just give her toys to play with. WE are her toys. She requires us to interact with her. And by us I mean Justin because my ass is too busy watching Scandal and also she bullies me. She Has. Not. Stopped. since that fateful day Justin removed her collar.

She also somehow got the idea in her tinyass head that if she came in our bedroom at 6 am and stood next to the bed and consistently meowed, that we would know that it was time to play again and we would get up and play! AT 6 AM! Yes, we would get up and feed her. But she followed us back into the bedroom every damn time and meowed. And meowed. And meowed. And although it breaks my heart, she is now banned from the bedroom in the wee hours of the morning.

Will she ever wear a collar again? Unclear at this point. I'd like her to because, hello accessories! But until then, the burden and terror of those dark times in her life are gone and she finally can be herself again.

To see more of Ashley's work, visit her blog!

blogtember, day 9.

Personality test day, whoooo! This is a blogtember post I can do, yes it is. Although I wish it was one of those online quizzes that was like, "Which Mad Men character are you?" or "What kind of fashionista are you?!?"

Introvert. Not so obvious to others, but obvious to me. I am quiet, not bitchy, thank you.

Intuitive. Okay, I had to google this one. "Paying the most attention to the impressions or the meaning and patterns of the information I get. I would rather learn  by thinking a problem through than by hands-on experience." Kind of? I guess that is why I only scored 25%. There are definitely things that I prefer to get my hands on to learn and while we're at it get your minds out of the gutter.

Feeling. OBVIOUS. ALL THE FEELINGS ALL THE TIME. Refer to blog posts 1-1,000,000 for evidence of this.

Judging. "Like to have things settled and organized." Yes, yes, and more yes. I can't believe I only got 22% on this one, actually. Probably because I want to appear carefree and cool, but honestly. I usually have at least one to-do list going and in fact I have about 3 separate ones in the works for wedding planning. And although this made me giggle, I do understand the difference between "judging" and "judgmental. Because if it were the latter I would've gotten at least 104%.

Should we try to estimate how many of us score 65% and over on Introversion?

how not to plan a wedding v.2

I have a severe and unnerving addiction to The Wedding Blogs. All 9,000 million of them. And I know how bad they are for me but I cannot and will not stop looking. Because at one point I might find something that inspires me. Although this is rare.

Below are thoughts that have occurred whilst perusing 9,000 million wedding blogs:

• Your wedding is not an adjective. Your wedding is not RUSTIC. Vintage rustic. Elegant vintage. Classic elegance. DIY boho. Rustic cultural vintage hobo clown. WHIMSICAL SHARKNADO. 
• Mason jars have had their moment. Plenty of them, in fact. Stop with that.  
• But who cleans up all that confetti? 
• Those cowboy boots with your $7500 dress? Bitch we all know you've never been on a horse and this is your first time at a farm. So stop it.
• Do I need 18 bridesmaids?
• Stop standing in fields, casually. You're getting fucking married not tilling the land.
• I wonder if they would sponsor my wedding.
• Why is she in a canoe? SIT DOWN.
• SMILE. You are not Linda Evangelista for the love of baby jesus, smile in your wedding photos! 
• Why is he holding antlers?
• Chandeliers should probably not be in trees because that really seems like a fire hazard.
• THAT WAS MY IDEA.
• Do I rent the minihorse or was it just casually strolling in a nearby field and she grabbed it for photos?
• I really need to do more pushups.
• I could probably budget for that $6,000 dress.
• THAT WAS MY SONG.
• Haven't I seen this wedding 6 times already?
• Peonies? Unsurprising.
• Oh, I can totally make that.

That final bullet point? I've already had my first DIY fail. I suspect it will be the first of many. I'll tell you about it one day when I recover from wasting half of my whimsical, rustic kraft paper cards.

Now if you'll excuse me I have a full list of wedding blogs to catch up on before the weekend. I can't stop. And I won't stop. Cheers!

Wake me up when blogtember ends.

Although as I told Shay, this makes me crave xanax, here we are. As since I haven't been the most productive blogger in all the blogland lately, I can't really complain about having some writing prompts to kick my ass into gear.

Describe where or what you come from. The people, the places, and/or the factors that make up who you are.
I come from a modest upbringing. Meaning I learned very early on that things weren't just given to everyone. This might be the most important lesson I've ever learned. I have no sense of entitlement. I take pride in my work ethic. And I find it fair to myself to judge those that don't. I come from effort.

I come from a suburb that is west of Riverside and east of Los Angeles. It is not the nicest place in California, but it is far from the worst place in California. A safe place to raise a family without much trouble to get into. 

I come from love and sacrifice. Empathy and mildly tough lessons. I come from a family that is whole — made up of broken pieces, each with their own jagged edge trying desperately to fit together without making each other bleed. 

I come from learning and science and reason. I come from star stuff.

hipster high-kicks.

Sometimes Justin and I buy concert tickets without thinking things through, or without consulting each other first. Which is fine, as they say "When in Rome!" Which also means we have to drive 2-hours away in the middle of a work week to see said concert. Which is also fine. When in Rome. So Tuesday I left work early and we journeyed up to Los Angeles to see one of our new favorite bands Alt-J.

Oh you haven't heard of them?

Just kidding. I won't hipster you. Rather, I'd very much like to share Alt-J with you because they are quite spectacular. And in the fashion of one of my other favorite bands (BONNIE BEAR), you can't understand a damn word they are saying. In a good way, naturally.

Because they are such a different type of music, I was really curious as to what type of crowd would be there. The short answer? LOS ANGELES. 

First of all. We really in all seriousness might have been the oldest people present. I had no idea that the kids would be into this cool of music these days. It seemed mature to me, I guess? But yes, we in fact we the only mature folks present at this venue.

Secondly, we had entered hipster nation. Fine. So we are dealing with a mass of young hipster Los Angelenos, what could go wrong? Nothing went particularly wrong. HOWEVER. I spent 85% of the show distracted by two individuals. I shall call them NUMBER ONE FAN and the Stripster-Hipster.

You guys. YOU KNOW how much I love people and the things they do to unknowingly entertain me. THESE TWO WERE GOLD. Maybe I pre-partied a little too hard. Or maybe they really just had gold running through their veins. Either way, I WAS IN HEAVEN.

NUMBER ONE FAN, NOF for short and yes all in caps-lock because he lived in caps-lock, was the tallest person in the entire crowd. Yes, taller than me. Ya dicks. We were in the upper balcony/old-folks zone so I had a great view of the sea of youngsters below us. And when the openers starting playing NOF went HAM. He was the singular person in the steadily growing crowd that rocked his huge heart out to each and every song. The singular person fist-pumping to every song. And when Alt-J came out, HE HAD TRIANGLE SIGNS (Tesselate is one of their big hits...so triangles...you get it, you do). I lived for him and those triangle signs.

Stripster-Hipster. I don't even know where to begin. From my vantage point, she appeared to be on the younger end of the young-kids crowd. And she danced. AND DANCED. And thrusted. And flipped her hair. And then, to cap off my entire night, she added high-kicks to her routine. HIGH KICKS. Soon a young gentleman joined her (because most of her friends had walked away) in the high-kicking stripper hipster dance routine along the safety barriers and I was practically jumping up and down cheering them on. I mean if Alt-J calls for ANY kind of stripper dancing it is definitely the high-kicks.

Like proper old folks we left early as not to get caught in traffic because old people hate traffic more than anything. And although we were beat the next day, a two-hour drive to LA to see a really, really rad band and the hipster groupies that love them was totally worth it.

ww: rip tiff gee

I keep telling myself, "This is morbid, morbid, so bad." And then I remember when I willingly took a class on the psychology of death and bereavement and remind myself that morbidity is a part of life. And this is no less morbid than when I tell Justin that I want a Viking burial at sea. Or when I tell THAT CAT that I am going to sell her to the neighbors to make her into soup. More to come on that one.

Tiff Gee (March 11, 1983 – August 21, 2013)

Tiffany Ann Gee lost her battle to hemorrhoids, allegedly induced by her breakfast smoothie addiction. It was a catch-22 for her. Without the smoothies, she was "not herself." But with the smoothies, the trauma that she would suffer many hours later made her wonder if it was all worth it. A vicious, vicious cycle indeed. However her bridal weight loss goals did in fact push her to make the decision to continue the smoothie torture. And now a bride she never will be.
Tiffany is best remembered for her knack of creating stories about strangers, mostly at the gym. She was the lead crusader of the "LEGGINGS ARE NOT PANTS" movement at her place of employment. She would be honored if her legacy was the success of this crusade. Please take this hint, everyone. She was quick-witted, foul-mouthed, and could drink a sailor under a table. She accomplished a little bit of everything in life, yet was a master of nothing. And yes, that was just her face.
Mrs. Gee is survived by her fiance, Justin Dee, who shall never ever marry anyone because Tiffany would want it that way; her lovingly insane bombay cat from hell, jmeoww, who will have no one to cuddle with EVER; her family, which speaking of please post this to facebook so they know of her demise; and her blog friends, although they sent her ridiculous blog prompts once a week that made her very uncomfortable about her mortality.
Please join us this weekend for a Viking burial at sea. 

happy things friday.

Sometimes I let my mind get the best of me. Sometimes like all of the time. So when I am frustrated with life, things including but not limited to humans, employment, and feline alarm clocks really, really drag me down to that place of no return. And then sometimes you will be driving home on the freeway in a totally relaxed state and turn your blinker on and the woman behind you will wildly and rudely wave her arms like she is doing you the biggest favor in the world and then you cry. And then you drink wine all night and then you spend the rest of the week trying not to let those days happen again.

So. Because that happened and because my life isn't that bad at all, I feel like listing the things that made me happy this week. And you feel like reading it or else you wouldn't subscribe to this shitshow.

• When Justin came home with a box of wine (even though I abused this privilege).
• When Angi led me to the glory of etsy clipart and then I spiraled into free font heaven.
• When I finally realized that Kings of Leon had a new single out and it is pretty.
• When we officially booked our wedding designer/coordinator.
• When my friend stopped by my office with a giant flemish rabbit, just to hang out.
• When my nephew and I started our own inside joke about his sister looking like the hyper little lemur guy from Madagascar and how happy that made both of us.
• Seeing my dad interact with my my niece.
• When that hyper little lemur girl called the armadillos "armadillys."
• When this happened.

Toothless, is that you?

• When this girl started blogging again.
• Anytime these girls email me all day err day.
• And also when two of those three girls bullied me into listening to the new Katy Perry pop music song on the interwebs and I actually liked it.

So yes it seems that it hasn't been that terrible of a week after all. I think I will survive, I will. Hey, hey.

Cheers to the weekend!

ww: thanks for stopping by but mostly stay classy.

It's Wednesday which means it's whatever! Everyone's favorite linkup that you too can be a part of! Just email the fine ladies in charge to get on the weekly mailing list. Now you know the secret.
This week's topic: someone or something you take for granted. And as I plan this out in my head, I know I am taking the easy way out. I am. For no good reason. Other than my desire to keep things in my life light right now. Also for no good reason. Because I feel like it, damn it. So the thing that I take for granted? San Diego. The city that I have lived in since 2001 - twelve years you guys. Nearly half of my life for those of us that are bad with math. I have lived in a college town, the beach, in the super-hip part of town, and now in the suburbs. 
And there are so many things I haven't seen or done it is actually embarrassing to admit! I've definitely hit up da clubs and bars if you know what I mean. We are becoming much more familiar with the local breweries. But my list of things I still NEED to do or do as a responsible adult is neverending. Here are a few things on my (or by default mine and Justin's) San Diego Bucket List:

• Visit Julian - a little mountain town about an hour east famous for apple pie.
• Go kayaking or snorkeling in La Jolla Cove. Or take a La Jolla Cave Tour. CAVES!
• Visit the Carlsbad Flower Fields.
• Take a haunted tour downtown.
• Go to another Padre Game at Petco Park.
• Visit the Little Italy Farmer's Market.
• Hike Cowles Mountain & Mt. Woodson.

My mija, Jenna, at the top of Mt. Woodson's "potato chip cliff."

Besides the bucket list, just getting outdoors and enjoying the amazing weather is something that we have been making a bigger effort to do. I mean, it really is amazing. Not that I'm going to get all crazy and visit the beach (SAND. SO MUCH SAND). But we are valiantly trying to get some fresh air and vitamin D. Because we are truly lucky to live in such a beautiful climate and although our couch is insanely comfortable and our netflix queue is neverending, nothing is as rewarding as spending a day outside in America's Finest City. 

In the spirit of learning.

Oh hey, did you know that it is Shark Week? Also known as my least favorite week on television. You see, I have this biology degree and work somewhere that revolves around animals and education. And I don't like to play the biologist card because I've never done field work but I do the reading and the learning and the loving of all things science. So the Discovery Channel's idea of teaching people about sharks? MY NIGHTMARE.

Full disclosure: I actually haven't watched anything from Shark Week yet. Or in years actually. But the social media shitstorm of ignorance that results from what they are airing hurts my shark-loving soul so deeply that I cannot, CANNOT just sit here and ignore it.

This article that I wanted to make love to already made nailed the core issue here. So what is my deal? I aim to educate you, y'all. I present to you - really fucking cool facts or otherwise interesting information about sharks.*

• Sharks have 7 senses. That's right, seven. In addition to the normal 5 senses, they also have a lateral line (to sense vibrations/movement in the water) and ampullae (am-pew-lay) of Lorenzini (which detect bioelectric fields - which all living things produce). Pores that detect electrical fields in the ocean? You can't even be on that level.

• Sharks do not, I repeat DO NOT have to keep swimming to survive. Not all of them. Yes, they have low-blood pressure and swimming aids in bloodflow. However, some are fully capable of spending long periods of time resting on the ocean floor.

• They can have up to 30,000 teeth in a lifetime. Because they break/fall out when they are eating. Because they don't have dainty hands to use utensils. Your teeth would break too...

• Their scales are actually tiny teeth, with the three tooth-layers and all. 

• The largest living shark is the whale shark, growing up to 45 feet long (yes, a school bus). Not a whale, but a shark. I understand how that can be confusing, I do. They filter-feed and don't even have functional teeth in that massive mouth.

And now - things that are more likely to kill you than sharks. All stats courtesy of the International Shark Attack File.

• Dogs. In 2010, 33 humans were killed by dogs. Only 2 humans were killed by sharks.

• Boats. From 1998-2010 an average of 254 humans were killed in boating accidents. Shark attack fatalities? An average of 0.8.

• Lightning. From 1998-2010 an average of 38 humans were killed by lightning strikes. Shark attacks fatalities? 0.5.

Are we noticing a theme here? Guys, sharks are not the worst animals in the world. But they are really fucking cool and you know what? Humans are demolishing their populations and their habitats. Sharks are very, very susceptible to overfishing because they are slow-growing animals that reproduce at a later age. 

What did she just say? Basically it takes their population a long time to recover if we take too many from the ocean. And SURPRISE. We are. We are taking too many on accident (entanglement in fishing gear set out for other animals) or on purpose (sharks are hunted legally and illegally for their meat and fins). And without enough sharks to keep the ecosystem in balance, the food chain would become a complete disaster and the ocean would go to shit. Long story short.

So what can you do? First of all, please educate yourself. I know it is easy to get wrapped up into the OMGSHARKWEEK hype. I know, I do. The Florida Museum of Natural History has an amazing site that is one of my go-tos. The documentary Sharkwater, although melodramatic at times, is a much better movie than anything you will see on Discovery. Secondly, if you eat seafood look for sustainable brands that don't heavily impact populations or habitats. Monterey Bay Aquarium has a great sustainability guide or just ask your waiter at restaurants, they'll totally love you for it I'm sure.

Thank you for allowing me to be a biologist for a moment. And promise me that we will never have to do this with mermaids, okay?

*I can provide citations, if necessary.

My soul-inmate

I wasn't going to do one of those I'M ON VACATION, BITCHES posts.

But...

Bitches, I'm on vacation.

the jmeoww diaries v.10

Last time we met we wondered if this would be the end of The JMEOWW Diaries — she was doing so well! She was so nice!

And yet, here we are. Friends of the Queen Beast, she is back and better than ever. Her good behavior lasted just long enough for Justin to take us out of consideration for My Cat From Hell and then BAM. Jmeoww's back, y'all. Miss Jmeoww, if you're nasty.

The worst of the worst started two weekends ago, when Justin was preparing her for her trip to the vet (vaccines, flea shot, lobotomy). As you all well know the vet will not see her unless she has taken a sedative. Which I still call bullshit on because it is their one job. But I digress. So Justin was going to be Saint Justin as per usual and let me sleep in while he tricked Jmeoww into eating sedative-laced treats.

Okay maybe sedative-laced cheese.

Well how about sedative-laced treats AND cheese all inside a pill pocket with a $100 bill as a thank you?

She was having none of that. None of it. So he very apologetically woke me up and in my half-awaken state I grabbed the pill, put Jmeoww in a leglock and tried to force the pill down her throat. She was like, no thank you to that but here's a side of IMMA CUT YOUR LEG OFF for your troubles. If I wasn't awake yet, I was after I got the bunny-kicks to my upper thigh. I lost some blood.

And then after that she went full-rainmeoww and we decided to call off the vet trip for all of our emotional well-being. So we rescheduled for the following week. Because we are adults and totally in charge here.

We were so well prepared for the next trip. Our new plan was to crush the pill and put it in some wet food, which she normally doesn't get. So we gave her wet food every few days so that she wouldn't be suspicious. I still have the same bowl that I used when she regularly got wet food as a kitten so when she sees it her tiny meowbrain explodes out of her ears and she's like THE RED BOWL IS FULL OF GLORY.

We were totally pumped. We had this.

Except. Well. She saw the pill bottle. She made eye-contact with the pill bottle and knew that something was up. By the time I was dragging my ass out of bed she was already on her way back under the bed all slinky like. When I met Justin in the kitchen with a What Did You Do Wrong face his response was, "I didn't realize she was THAT smart."

Um excuse me. I'm taking her to Vegas to count cards. Obviously she is THAT smart.

But the battle wasn't over yet. We got her out of the bedroom and shut the bedroom door so she would have nowhere to retreat to and we just knew that she was starving and she would HAVE to eat the food. She had to.

Well, instead she hid behind the bar like a wounded warrior and flinched anytime someone made a sound. At this point, my motherly instinct kicked in and I knew what I had to do. So I sat behind the bar with her and rekindled our relationship. Although I was trying to get her to trust me so that I could betray her again, it needed to be done. Once she was more comfortable, I found a piece of string that she had clearly been saving back there and we played with a goddamned piece of string for a good 25-minutes. A. Piece. Of. String. We had a couple of very scary moments filled with loud noises that Justin was making (like throwing trash away), but eventually after much trust-building she went out and ate some of the goddamned sedative-laced food.

I was so fucking proud at that moment it was like she spoke an entire sentence in English or something. But I couldn't celebrate too loudly because loud is totally scary.

By this point, it was too late for the sedative to really kick in and she didn't eat nearly enough of the drug-food but I took her to the vet anyways because it is their one job. Upon walking through the door the receptionist looked at my haggard face and at the Queen of all Veterinary Visits and said, "Oh is that my friend?!?"

Yes. Yes she is your friend. She is everyone's friend. Just don't let her see the fucking pill bottle ever again.

getting my goop on.

After seeing Gwyneth "Goop" Paltrow's abs in Ironman 3 I decided that I really needed to get my shit together. And what better way to do so than to turn to Pepper Pots' trainer extraordinaire, Tracy Anderson. I browsed some of her dvds on Amazon and decided on the Mat Workout because I figured it would involve mostly laying on the ground, which I can totally handle. I didn't take the extra time to actually research what in fact her method is because if Gwyneth can do it I totally can do it. Totally.

Well it turns out that THE METHOD is largely dance based. And, while I'd hate to shock you all, I am not what you would call "a dancer." Also, it turns out that there was a lot of standing involved and a lot of really intense movements and I totally understand why this method works — if you do it Tracy's 4-6 recommended times per week. FOUR TO SIX. Here is a sample of my favorite part, also known as the part in which I just decided to start wildly waving my arms around because it made more sense to me that way.



As I started the warm-up segment, I quickly learned that working out at home wasn't really the best idea I'd ever had. Because as soon as I was bent-over and reaching towards the ground to stretch, this black furry monster comes flying at me claws-out. Did jmeoww really just attack me as I am trying to go Method? Yes, OF COURSE she did. Once I brought out the chair for the leg segment it was game over because it was the perfect place for her to not only sit and silently judge me, but also attack me with her dainty paws through the chair rails.

Turns out this was the least of my problems. For the arm segment that uses weights, my dearest Tracy uses 3-pound weights. Well shit and a half I only had 5-pound weights at home. And because I'm fully capable of using at least 12 pound weights in a normal workout, I did not listen to her warning that I could injure myself.

And to no one's surprise, I did in fact injure myself. Which led to a sprained wrist that I am kept wrapped for a few days so that I remembered that I had a sprained wrist — not in fact, to be dramatic or to welcome inquiries from strangers. You don't know me, or my wrists so please do not ask me what happened.

The Method has been placed on hold until I can get my weak hands on some 3-pound weights and can get some professional dance training. I guess I will be returning to the gym like a normal, uncoordinated person. That's what Gwyneth would do, right?

ww: confessions

This week, the harlots behind Whatever Wednesdays want to know what I spend wayyyyy too much time doing.


I mean, this is pretty obvious right? Anyone who has had any kind of conversation with me lately knows EXACTLY what I spend too much time doing.
Here it is. My confession.
I spend too much time plucking my eyebrows.
Oh what, you thought that I would own up to the inordinate amount of time I spend looking at wedding blogs? Pssshaw right. That is called RESEARCH and it is important. 
Now, back to the real problem at hand here. These eyebrows. You see, I've stopped waxing my eyebrows because #1 MONEY and #2 BANGS. Why spend money on something that my bangs will cover anyways? Hello, logistics.
Also, #3 I spent many hours watching Game of Thrones and obsessing, OBSESSING over Daenerys' and Cersei's voluptuous brows. Please see exhibit A below to understand why I needed to stop visiting my torturous waxing lady.

EXHIBIT A BELOW.

As I was not blessed with such luscious brows, I need to be more mindful of my plucking and waxing. Which is a problem because I will sit in front of a mirror for many, many minutes trying to get that one damn hair that you can see at one angle but not at another. So if I get up to go to the bathroom, look in the mirror and see a brow out of line I will pluck instead which can lead to very long bathroom trips that make it seem like I am doing something that we all know girls don't do. I even bought one of those horrific 10000x magnifying mirrors from Walmart. They are truly a blessing and a horrific curse. You can never UNSEE what you see in that damn thing and the next thing you know I am gouging at my pores. Thirty minutes later when I come out of the bathroom, Justin won't even make eye contact with me.
And as my sisters and Justin know all too well, I will come at you with my tweezery fingers and pluck rogue eyebrows straight from your face with my bare hands without a damn warning. I consider it a talent, I really do. 
Also, consider that your warning. Don't come at me with rogue eyebrows.

Embracing the obvious.

When I originally told friends and family that Justin was a video game designer and yes, he does game himself, they looked at me like I had gone fully mental. Did I forget what happened LAST time I dated a gamer? Um, no. One doesn't easily forget waking up at 4 in the fucking morning to scream at someone to stop screaming at the television.

Not only have I accepted the gaming, but I have also accepted a lot of geek culture that was always knocking at my door. I would just never let it in because I was far too cool for that kind of shit. SPOILER ALERT: I'm not. 

It started with Game of Thrones and those baby dragons. Then a Lord of the Rings viewing that turned me into the world's biggest fan of Gollum. A deep love for Archer soon developed. Arrested Development. Spaced. SHERLOCK. CUMBERBATCH. And currently, Battlestar Galactica. You guys, its a hardcore sci-fi show and I CRIED during an episode the other night. Cried real tears during a sci-fi show.

Last week we attended w00tstock 5.0 — a "geek variety show" put together by Wil Wheaton (geek Jesus) and Adam Savage (of Mythbusters fame). Within the first two minutes George RR Martin had walked on stage and smashed a guitar (and also Neil Gaiman and while I am not familiar with his work I know that he is basically a god) and tears welled up in my eyes and I threw my hands up to my face and completely FANGIRLED.

This spectacular evening of geekdom also introduced me to Garfunkel & Oates — the hilarious duo behind this not entirely safe for work song. Girls can be funny, you guys! And while you're at it, check out "The Loophole," which makes me blush so I'm not posting it here.

At one point in the evening Paul & Storm introduced The Best 36 Seconds on the Internet. (Also, I'm sure you've seen this but just in case you have not — The Best 36 Seconds on the Internet.)

And this is when I had my epiphany. The heavens parted, the nerdy giggling silenced, and I thought to myself, This too is my favorite video on the internet.

At that exact moment, Justin turned and looked at me with only a mildly smug smile on his face and said, "These are your people, honey. This is your home."

 And it was. It is. I can't deny it anymore. Geek culture is a part of my soul.

Now if you'll excuse me I need to go watch the above video at least 6 more times.

Who wants an iPad mini?

Hi Wittle Kitty-Ittles...my name is Alissa and I take care of things over at Graceless Lady. Tiff Gee asked me to do a guest post for her, and since she spends her days talking me off a ledge, I couldn't say no.

One of my finest moments.

I'm here today to give you some advice about blogging. I know, I know, I should be charging you peasants for this, but I'm feeling nice, so here it goes.

1. To gain followers, you must host giveaways.

Bitches love free shit! I don't know where some of these girls get their giveaway prizes from, but if you can secure an iPad or iPad mini, I can assure you, people will go crazy over it. Here's the catch - don't expect any of these new followers to care enough to stick around for non-giveaway posts. Ain't nobody got time for that!

2. Charge people for everything.

From this moment on, do not tweet/retweet/follow anyone on Twitter without charging them at least $5 first. If anyone asks if it's okay to mention you in one of their posts, make sure you're receiving royalties for every page view. In fact, if you can figure out a way to charge people in order to be able to view your blog, you could make hundreds.

3. Have an Army of Skanks.

It gets pretty rough out there in Blogland, so make sure you have a few girls who will defend you no matter what. Faithful skanks are easy to identify. They are the girls who will email you right away if they find a post that might be about you. Then, once you comment on said post, they will follow up with an, "Amen!" But be careful - you don't want anyone trying to take your place as Queen Bee.


Well, kiddles, I hope you know that I'm kidding with you. Please don't do anything that I mentioned, especially charge people for (or pay for!) blog advice. None of us went to college and majored in blogging, therefore none of us should be paid to tell you that being yourself is the best way to go.

Also, here's a thought - learn HTML. It's really not that difficult and if you spend a few minutes on Google, you will find bloggers who teach you how to design blogs FOR FREE. Or, if you're really that lazy, email me and I'll send you the links to the sites I've used.

Tiff, thanks for letting me take over for the day. You owe me $75

ww: Heartbreak, the unexplainable kind.

The wenches in charge want us to get serious this week and talk about heartbreaks. I tried that once and while it was incredibly cathartic, it is not something I enjoy doing because of you know, EMOTIONS. And beyond that, heartbreak has had no recent place in my life, only my ever-increasingly distant past which is undeserving of my attention.


This is not to say I do not feel — contrary to popular belief. And sometimes my emotions are so overwhelming, and often times random, I can't even explain them myself. And this is NOT to say that I feel more deeply or more profoundly than you, it is just well, to say at all.

Justin asked me a question Sunday night that led to a three-hour silent treatment.

"Remember when you drunk cried last night over the verdict?"

Yes. Yes I sure did remember that. But the thing is, I was truly upset. Okay and definitely drunk. Still reeling from the news of the loss of Cory Monteith, I scrolled through my twitter feed in horror as I laid in bed waiting for Justin to join me. And I just started sobbing.

This wasn't a case that I watched closely or felt extremely passionate about. I've had those cases. Let me just tell you how many classes I missed as I sat glued to my TV waiting to hear the fate of Terri Schiavo.

My heart and my spirit were just broken. Defeated. Sad. Just plain fucking sad, you know?

This was not my story, or the story of anyone that I know. But the story of what is so commonplace in our society. And so acceptable.

I silent-treatmented him not only because my delicate feelings were hurt, but also because I knew that I could never articulate exactly what bothered me so incredibly about this situation. And I still can't and I certainly won't try to any more than this.

I will leave you with a tweet from a brilliant writer that you may know as "Quinoa's Mom."

Let's be better. Let's do better.

— Tiffany Beveridge (@tiffanywbwg) July 14, 2013

Yes, let's.