the opposite of spring cleaning.

I don't spring clean. I clean, all the time. I am constantly throwing shit hell-west-and-crooked (hell-western-crooked? discuss...) because I love getting rid of things. Because it means I can get more THINGS.

The lovely Christina of Easily Entertained sent me a Modcloth gift card for my birthday and I have never been so indecisive in my life. I want to buy one of everything, but then I want to hoard my gift card JUST IN CASE. You never know what they will add to their lovely and addicting boutique!

Spring is finally speaking to me, guys. I mean, not to brag but its been pretty nice around these parts for the past few weeks. I know, I know. Hashtag California problems. I think I am ready to give up my comfy, baggy sweaters for something light and bright. Help me decide, will ya?

You in first place.

Something is going on with my music choices. Meaning, shit got ghetto. Real ghetto. Meaning, this song has been on repeat even though it has nothing to do with my life and I don't really want to be buried in the booty club. I might win a bad bitch contest though. That could actually happen.

While I'd like to state that I'd like nothing more for my birthday than peace in the blog world and stricter gun laws, we all know that isn't ever entirely true. I like things. Pretty things. 

You know, in my 29.975 years on this planet I still haven't mastered the light scarf. I'm setting my goals really high this year, guys. Thirty is the year of the light scarf.

make me over.

In 19 days...NINETEEN DAYS...I will be celebrating my 30th birthday with my most beloved family and friends. In 21 days I actually turn 30 and will be on a vacation along the central California coast with that Justin of mine.

I had planned to lose 20 pounds in time for my birthday bash. I lost maybe 2. But I feel (and look!) so much better from eating healthier, drinking less, and working out regularly.

Two weekends ago when my momma visited I forced her into the center of her hell known as the two-story Forever 21. And yes, I know I am turning 30 and still shopping at Forever 21. POINT BEING, I found the dress I had been anxiously searching every corner of the interwebs for. It is a little bit too short and a little bit see-through. Nothing a slip won't fix, or as my little sister kindly suggested, a spanx! Which she kindly suggested more than four times. I get it.

So now I must accessorize THE DRESS. Help me, won't you? I am most stuck on shoes and for some reason I am really stuck on mint/turquoise shoes. It would be most economical to go with the closed toe black suede shoes because I own them. But. BUT this is my party and I need some fancy feet. Which shoes would you choose?

I will also be visiting my hairstylist to get my bangs back and rejoin the ranks of the banged, along with some fun color that is yet to be determined. And because I cannot enter my 30s with these tranny brows, I'm going to visit the Benefit Brow Bar.

And then, and only then, my 30 makeover will be complete! Clearly this 30 thing is going to be fun. Clearly.

Have something fun to talk about today? Link up with Join the Gossip!

You're doing it wrong.

Relationships. We've all had them. Good, bad, really bad. As I told my dearest hetero life partner Leeann, practice makes perfect.

Saturday night I was in a REALLY BAD MOOD. Like really bad. Like holy shit don't even look at me bad mood. All because it took me 4 tries to get my outfit right and then I was all sweaty but damn if I didn't rock those boyfriend jeans (thanks for the recommendation, Kathrin!). And also because I didn't know where I was supposed to be driving us to, and also it really wasn't that big of a deal. I just couldn't handle my shit, and you all know what I mean. And Justin just let it happen and rolled with it, like it was no big deal that I was stomping through the streets of Solana Beach like a major beast. At least I looked good doing it...

Fast forward to Sunday night. Justin caught the REALLY BAD MOOD/also probably a hangover from the 190 whiskey shots he took with the boys Saturday night. I don't catch onto his bad moods very well because, well, quite honestly they are rare. I know, I found an angel from the heavens that farts confetti. I wish. But, this is when he loses his patience and I turn into a toddler.

I have a habit of asking mindless questions that don't really require attention. So at one point, he got up to go to the bathroom and I said, "where are you going?" GOOD QUESTION, Tiffany. Narnia? There are three places he can go in this apartment and not one of them require permission nor space physics to enter.

So, he lost his patience with me and like a proper 29-almost-30-year-old I cried. Well, kind of. I waited to cry until he shut the bathroom door, which before he did he had ALREADY apologized for being short with me.

At bedtime, the same thing happened. Except it was, "when are you coming to bed?" which I knew would happen soon enough when he finished using the internets. Just mindless questions, you see. And then he was all, wtf and I was like omg now I'm crying again.

And then there were more apologies and yesterday morning when I was giving him the JMEOWW feeding update (we are trying to cut down on her food intake...it's not going well...she thinks she is dying...) he apologized again. And then I apologized again and promised to be more mindful of the pointless questions I ask, and he said:

Once a relationship starts going down the road of "it's okay to do this in this situation but not in this one," and when you're talking about basic stuff like just asking questions, you start inhibiting who someone is. I REALLY don't ever want to inhibit who you are, because I love you with all my heart - even things that you think are annoying (leaving cloTHES* around?) I still love because it's YOU.

And then maybe I teared up a little at my desk, but didn't like cry-cry because I'm growing up, guys.

The point, the real point of all of this? Is that practice does make perfect. And there will be awfully bad moods and annoying questions, and super sexy looking boyfriend jeans. But beyond that, all that matters is that you remain YOU in a relationship, and never inhibit or silence a part of yourself that you think you should be insecure about. Except farts. Those should always be silenced, ladies.

*For the life of me, I cannot pronounce clothes properly...I say "close." You?

Fancy Fridays: Back to school. Booty school.

Things got weird with that title. See what happens when I try to make a Friday's Fancys theme relevant to my attempt at dieting? The main point here is that I am officially motivated to do something about the ever present and ever growing beer belly (and thighs, and buttocks). I am tall, but I am curvy. I am slender, but I jiggle. And not in a good Beyonce sort of way.

I've hit this weight before, about 5 years ago. But I was unknowingly in the throes of a deep depression and a very unhappy period in my life and had zero motivation to do something about it. Until some of my family members were like, "you know what..." and one of my friends husband asked if I got implants. Fine. I get it.

This time, I am motivated but busy and tired and insert excuse here. But it has to happen. IT HAS TO. Last time I did Weight Watchers and turned into a crazed fanatic. This time, I'm just going to not eat everything that is placed in front of me. And not drink every night of the week. Only two nights a week for alcohol. Okay maybe three. And special occasions. Like Columbus Day.

And I will exercise. And not in the streaming netflix fitness shows kind of way that always turns into a giggling dance party. Real exercise.

Also, VEGAS is happening very soon. Like 6 weeks soon. Like I want to fit in a skanky leather dress soon so goddamit Tiffany put down the cheese danish! I will fit in these dresses.

linking up with {av} for friday's fancies! 

And don't forget to enter my super awesome giveaway! Cheers to a more sober and less-fattening weekend!

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!

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!

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!