Hey guys, look at me, I'm blogging again, weeeeeeee...

Since I'm such a gifted writer, it only took me a little over a month to figure out what my next blog post would be about...

The difference of getting "dressed up" between guys and girls. 

I know what you're thinking...this is going to be good. Yeahhhhhhh, about that, it probably won't be.

Ok, so, for most girls, getting "dressed up" (like, for a date or a party or a night out with her bitches) involves a series of very specific steps that will then most likely all culminate with the disastrous revelation that she's too fat, her hair's not straight enough, her boobs aren't big enough, or something of the like. Am I right, ladies?

And, like I said, this is AFTER a strategic protocol is followed to try to ensure that these lowly feelings don't arise. A protocol that involves showering, shaving, plucking, lotioning, nail painting, hair blow drying, make-upping, booze drinking, magic potion drinking, jumping jacking, etc. (yes, I know some of these aren't real words). For some of the exceptional loony bins, it may even involve fake tanning, bra stuffing, spanx wearing, cosmetic surgery, or whatever else you might associate with excessiveness and an overall plummeted self image.

The likely end result after all of this prep work is a girl that looks as good as she can possibly look...or, at the very least, as good as she can possibly make herself look depending on her skill set. We're not all the best at makeup application, hair styling or making mountains out of mole holes. I think what I mean by that is it's hard to make boobs look big when they're actually small. Boy is that a good way to butcher the original intention of the phrase.

The point is, usually, a girl will still not be quite satisfied with her appearance even after working really hard at it. She always sees something negative or something she can improve.

Don't get me wrong, this is not always the case. We all know hideous looking girls or extremely overweight girls that somehow lack common sense and have an over abundance of self confidence and think they are the hottest thing since, well, anyone.

And, then there's the hot girl that thinks she is hot and knows that other people think she is hot and so, she likes to flaunt it around. Barf. But, the fellahs love this. Not good relationship material gentleman. But, yeah yeah yeah, a good show, nonetheless...I get it.

These last two paragraphs nicely sum up all the types of girls I never want to be friends with.

Uh oh, I'm losing track of my point. Ok, back on topic...girls try hard to make themselves look good, but they still don't think they look good enough.

Now, guys on the other hand...
The short version of this is a guy only has to roll out of bed, run his fingers through his receding hair and put on some clothes that are maybe clean to think that he looks like a shining star that every girl would want a piece of.

Have you guys ever seen that photo of the difference between what a girl sees when she looks in the mirror and what a guy sees when he looks in the mirror? Oh, ya know what, I'm on the internet machine right now, so let me just go ahead and google that shit for you. Here:

So true. I think this pretty much summarizes up all my points quite nicely.

If a guy is really trying to look good for a special lady, sure, he may try hard, but a guy's version of trying hard is so much easier and takes so much less effort than a girl's version of trying hard.

Guys don't typically highlight or dye their hair or blow dry it or straighten it or curl it or pin it up or whatever the fuck we do. Guys wash it, maybe...let it air dry...and put some gel in it...again, maybe. Guys shave their face, maybe. Guys may also shave their balls like once a week. Girls shave a million different things all the time. And, if you're a girl with a stache or those weird sideburn things, forget it. Then you're doing the guy shaving aaaand the girl shaving and things are just a big ole' mess for you.

Guys will put on a button down shirt or a nice t-shirt. A nice t-shirt, CHRIST. Imagine that, ladies. Guys will wear jeans 9 times out of 10. Oh, and most likely, some sort of flat, comfortable sneakery type shoe. Basically, for a guy to look his best, he has to be clean, somewhat well kept and have on a decent looking outfit. Maybe slap on a watch if he's feeling really spiffy. For a girl to look good, she has to come up with some sort of outfit that is much more like creating a cute, one-of-a-kind ensemble and much less like throwing together whatever is clean at the time. This can involve jewelry, scarves, hair accessories, high heels, uncomfortable clothes, makeup, belts, cardigans, hats, you name it.

I'm getting tired just thinking about it.

I think what all this is leading to is...this is precisely why guys should try their best to make a lot of money and pay for every date. I'm not really sure what else we possibly could have learned here.

The end! :-)

"Walking" the Youngin'

Just look at this sorry ass picture and you tell me if that looks like a dog having a good time. 

Head down, sauntering forward very slowly, hanging back just as far as her leash will allow her...all the tell tale signs of a dog in a gleeful state of mind about their walk. 

We're in Florida people...in NOVEMBER...so, the weather here is beautiful, breezy, not hot or humid. We're walking on quiet, palm tree lined streets where friendly people go by and wave and smile happily...and where Pippi can see other small dogs (usually also in pink accessories, which makes her feel comfortable) and socialize. She even has on a harness to ensure I don't pull too hard at her delicate throat. She has it made in the sun. This is cream puff status right here. Did I mention we rode in a golf cart first before the walk to try to get her amped up for the actual walk?!? 

Like, I imagine this must be how hard dorky guys try when they want to get laid by respectable, non-dorky women. Probably not good to bring up sex analogies when I'm talking about my dog, but you get the point. I don't want to have sex with my dog, you crazy monster.

Anyway, just to give you a little background on Pippi (the moment you've all been waiting for), she is actually quite hearty for someone so little in stature (7 pounds). Now, when I use the word "hearty", I am using it in the sense that you already know she's 7 pounds. So, like, she's hearty for 7 pounds...get it? Knowing this background, she has more leeway room.

It's kind of like being a "good" driver when you're Asian. If stereotypes aren't failing us (when do they really ever let us down?), you're probably not that good of a driver...but, like I said, you have way more leeway room to suck ass. There are a plethora of other similar scenarios I can unfold for you, but I don't want to piss anyone off here...well, apparently, I don't want to piss any white people off...pissing off the Asians was fine I guess. It's ok, you rear-ended my car (case and point, bam), so we're sort of even.

Anyway, you're smart people, so you get what I'm laying down. Basically, the Youngin' (a.k.a. Pippi) is a little weakling, but she is a terrier, so she has some fire/spunk/personality. Therefore, you'd think she'd be able to get through a 20 minute walk with a little excitement and pizzaz and show a little damn appreciation for the person walking her. 

No no no. Not in Pippi's book. I might as well be walking a decrepit 15 year old pug...or a dog with a serious case of mono. It looks like I'm torturing her by making her do the worst thing in the world. It's like I told her right before the flipping walk, "when we get home, I'm not going to feed you, and bonus, I'm also going to kill every chameleon in the state of Florida so that I can take away the one thing you love the most in life".  

That's what it looks like. In actuality, I'm obviously doting (get it yet Steve?) over her, singing her sweet nothings, coddling her, picking her up at random so that she gets to take a break from such an unusual and cruel form of punishment, etc.

Now, she does get hot easily (she's like a little furnace), and she has a thin trachea...so, to her credit, with lots of walking in warm weather, she does have breathing trouble. But, these aren't really excuses given that I'm not making her walk a marathon in 90 degree heat. 

So, what gives? She never used to be quiiiite this bad before. I mean, she was always kind of a little fickle pants, but never to this extreme. I'm dog sitting this weekend, and Pippi has been living with my parents in The Villages while I live in St. Pete. Therefore, I have no say anymore over how spoiled she gets. Welllllll, here is why she seemed extra bad:

Oooooooooh, well, excuuuuuuuse me! Now she's accustomed to and prefers walks at fancy pants recreation centers (like Seabreeze and Lake Miona), so neighborhood walks are no longer on par with her high levels of expectation. 

O-M-G! Really?!? Really? Really?

Dawes - A Little Bit of Everything

With his back against the San Francisco traffic,
On the bridges side that faces towards the jail,
Setting out to join a demographic, 
He hoists his first leg up over the rail.
And a phone call is made, 
Police cars show up quickly.
The sergeant slams his passenger door. 
He says, “Hey son why don't you talk through this with me, 
Just tell me what you're doing it for.”

“Oh, it's a little bit of everything, 
It's the mountains,
It's the fog,
It's the news at six o'clock, 
It's the death of my first dog, 
It's the angels up above me, 
It's the song that they don't sing,
It's a little bit of everything.”

An older man stands in a buffet line,
He is smiling and holding out his plate,
And the further he looks back into his timeline,
That hard road always had led him to today,
And making up for when his bright future had left him,
Making up for the fact that his only son is gone,
And letting everything out once, His server asks him,
Have you figured out yet, what it is you want?

I want a little bit of everything,
The biscuits and the beans,
Whatever helps me to forget about
The things that brought me to my knees,
So pile on those mashed potatoes,
And an extra chicken wing,
I'm having a little bit of everything.

Somewhere a pretty girl is writing invitations,
To a wedding she has scheduled for the fall,
Her man says, “Baby, can I make an observation?
You don't seem to be having any fun at all.”
She said, “You just worry about your groomsmen and your shirt-size,
And rest assured that this is making me feel good,
I think that love is so much easier than you realize,
If you can give yourself to someone,
Then you should.

Cause it's a little bit of everything,
The way you choke, the way you ache,
It is waking up before you, 
So I can watch you as you wake.
So in the day in late September,
It's not some stupid little ring,
I'm giving a little bit of everything.

Oh, it's a little bit of everything,
It's the matador and the bull,
It's the suggested daily dosage,
It is the red moon when it's full.
All these psychics and these doctors,
They're all right and they're all wrong,
It's like trying to make out every word,
When they should simply hum along,
It's not some message written in the dark,
Or some truth that no one's seen,
It's a little bit of everything.

Ok, so this is what happened...

It kind of goes like this:
Blah blah blah, one thing lead to another, yada yada yada, craziness/confusion/fast action ensued (a.k.a. I went on one interview and looked at one apartment and had to make moves at lightning speed...something I am no longer accustomed to in any way, shape, or form due to the relaxed nature of the last year of my life)...aaaaaaand now I live in St. Pete and have a full time job! Ta da!

The main reason it was crazy fast is because the job I got is through a temp company, and those people are always crazy movers and shakers...and want you to like basically commit to starting the job and giving away your first born child before you even go on the damn interview. It's kind of like having to pay for the milk before you even see the cow. Oh, wait, nevermind. I'm pretty sure that's inaccurate.

So yeahhhhh, in summary (this will not really be a summary of any kind), the whole theme of my blog is no longer relevant. FAIL. It was so creative and original before too. Now it's just gonna be some played out shit like "I have a regular corporate job, am sleep deprived, overworked and underpaid, I'm trying to pay my bills, keep up with my chores, party like a rockstar sometimes, and not get pregnant." So yeah, pretty much living the dream...just like before...only in a different way this time.

I'll probably keep the same theme to my blog for posterity's sake. And, if you're just starting to read my blog now and are all confused, well, you're way behind the times anyway, so eff you!

I no longer live in a retirement community with my parents. I got out before I turned 30 BETCHES!

Ok, this was supposed to be a nice post about the newest update on my life and feature some photos of my new apartment...but, that went downhill quickly, and also, I have no photos to speak of. Well, you can't win 'em all.

Sooooo, in my next post, I'll write more about my new job, life, and upload some photos of this pli-zace.

Until then, toodle loo!

Update!

Ugh, worst.blogger.ever.

I'm really just writing to say hey, I'm still alive and kickin'. I wish I could say I've been part of some noble cause lately like ending world hunger, promoting world peace, eradicating teen pregnancies, or curing cancer, but really, I got nothin'.

I've sort of been working, applying to jobs (I need more money, in a more regular fashion), and exercising. I've also sort of been drinking a lot...but, what else is new? We all need consistency in our lives, right?

Here are some random/unimportant things to clutter up this (devoid of direction) post:

~ I realized recently that I have 44 photo albums on Facebook and almost crapped myself. I mean, that's just not right or acceptable or non-egotistical in any way. Look at me in these 44 fucking albums everyone...aren't I cool?!

~ I have the itch to get another tattoo. I'm wondering if going from three to four crosses over into "trash" territory...probably...although, I suppose placement/size/design is largely the key to remedy that.

~ I've really been digging the Avett Brothers' new album "The Carpenter". I even ordered an Avett Brothers t-shirt off their website because I'm rad. I'm pretty sure no one around here has a flipping clue what it means and probably just assumes I'm really tight with my biological bros. That's good enough for me!

~ New episodes of pretty much all my favorite shows start this week. I'm kind of feeling like I need to be showered and get all my homework done in time so my parents will let me stay up late to watch them. Um, what?

~ I finished reading that book that I ranted about in a previous post..."I hope they serve beer in hell". They might as well have just called it, "I hope I don't ever have to read a book so stupid ever again in my whole life because I'm pretty sure if I had to take the SATs again, my test scores would plummet just from reading this book alone". I heard that was an alternate title they didn't go with. Anyway, obviously I didn't have to read the whole book, but oh well, I did because I'm stubborn. I will not read the rest of his books. Stupid frat guys. I mean, if I were lying in a hospital bed with nothing better to do and someone wanted to read his other books aloud to me, I might listen, but I will certainly and by no means be making an effort to read such horrible filth on my own. I do have some standards.

~ My brother and his girlfriend are moving out of The Villages this weekend to a cute suburban area right outside of Orlando. She got a better job, and it's obviously a much better location. I'm happy for them. They are good eggs.

 ~Pippi continues to chew on dried bull dicks/spinal chords like it's her only lot in life (uhhh, if you don't know what the hell this weirdness means, you're not very good at reading my blog posts). It's pretty much her favorite thing ever. She comes to bed smelling like a miniature pony at low tide. It's kind of gross, but it's ok because I love her.

Ok, I think that meets and possibly even exceeds my own expectations for this post. What about you? Gooooo me!

One Year

I've been feeling a bit sentimental lately. I think it stems from my CT trip and seeing old friends, doing familiar things, feeling nostalgic, walking in the woods (gay, I know) and all that. I'm not even supposed to be getting my period right now, so it's not that, ha. I think I need to get out of The Villages before I turn all faggot-y. I have to live around people my own age and have promiscuous sex and stuff that young people do...yeah!

But, anyway...

Almost exactly a year ago was when big decisions were made and I moved to Florida. It's not easy to look around at the life you've so painstakingly built, the person you've built that life with and shared everything with, all your possessions...and decide you need to vacate.

But, I guess sometimes that happens and such is life. During those rare moments of absolute clarity, I think deep down, on a subconscious level and perhaps even a molecular one, we are all aware of what we need the most. As humans, when we are in tune with ourselves, we can know...and we can make the most educated decisions because we have known ourselves, inside and out, our whole lives. And amidst the chaos and the tough decisions to be made, it's nice to at least have that one constant...you.

It's so easy to go about your daily life as just that...your daily life. The little routines, the monotony. You can do that for weeks, months, even years. And, don't get me wrong, it can be great and full and peppered with many wonderful things. But, it's easy to get wrapped up in all of it and have blinders on and not look around and not think any new thoughts or see anything new or really do anything different. Until one day, for one reason for another, it hits you that you have to make a change. And perhaps it's not so much a unique revelation as an unraveling over time, of sorts.

Time does heal all things. Or maybe not "heals", per se, as the layers of emotion can thicken and then even out and you can go about your business almost as you had done before...but, the scar will always be there, even though it may be small. A little mark the world has imparted on you.

And, I'm happy to be where I am today. Even though you don't know what's going to happen, life is a journey along the way. I'm happy to have change, be living in a new place, keeping in touch with my good friends, be around family, meeting new people, dating. And, I'm happy I didn't "settle down" too soon or have kids or have mortgage payments. Everyone is different, but I think I've made the right decisions for myself. And really, that's all you can ask for.

Life is short, but it's also the longest thing in the human experience, and so I don't think there's any need to rush anything or overanalyze or overplan. You can't forget about living along the way. I think the best way to be unhappy or full of hope that won't be fulfilled is to have unrealistic expectations. You have to live in the present with pure body and mind and try to enjoy every moment.

So, that's what I'm trying to do. Tomorrow, who knows.

Photos from my CT trip

I decided to stop being lazy for a minute and post some pics from my recent CT trip. I think I took around 200, and even though most are on Facebook, I'm posting a few selections here as well for posterity's sake. Enjoy!

During a walk on the Litchfield boardwalk with Ms. Danielle A.

Mike and the 3 Danielles in Danielle M.'s boat...Woodridge Lake in Goshen (I know it's blurry, but I love this one)

My feet :-)

Nicole and Blake at the Ben Taylor concert at a winery in North Stonington

Hiked up to the Hublein Tower with Nicole!

All the Keiler girls reunited for the first time in a while!

Impromptu roadside photography with D. Andrews on the way to pick up the other Danielles from the train station

View from Blake's parent's house

Sunset!

Nicole and me at the Ben Taylor concert

The famous Westy!

Nicole picking wild flowers :-)

Random wonderfulness

Ya know...

...sometimes I think I'm halfway decent at this whole writing thing, and then I read something like this, and I realize I'm not even close; not even close.

Homework

Lately, when I've been thinking about what to write about in my blog, it feels more akin to a homework assignment than something enjoyable. It's hard to find that happy medium between not writing about anything too personal/sentimental/boring, and yet, on the other hand, not offend people with a slew of completely inappropriate ramblings. Cuz I could be sooo good at that. Now, I know I need to placate all my wonderful darlings that follow me on here, but you might just have to suffer a little bit from time to time. Because I'm only going to write when some random nugget pops into my little pea head or when I'm reallyyy bored or maybe when I'm drunk...time will tell!

For today...
I'm reading this book called "I hope they serve beer in hell" by this disgusting author man...and I'm not even going to mention his stupid name because based on the book, I, and every other girl on the planet, hate him. I think even a lot of guys would hate him instead of giving him high fives. Basically, the whole gist of the book is how he's a soulless, spineless, gross, vulgar, raunchy, lots of other bad adjectives, expletives thrown in there, etc. person. Like, I'm literally surprised a random, crazy girl (or a sane one) hasn't murdered him yet. Or, I'm surprised his own mother hasn't. The book is that bad. It's all about his sex-capades, his terrible work ethic, his general laziness, his alcoholic drinking, how he thinks he is awesome, how all his friends are huge douche-bags, etc. It's hard to even accurately describe the filth that fills the pages until you read about all the asinine shit he has done...but, just to summarize a teeny bit, it's a myriad of situations like getting a blow job on the toilet while shitting, crapping all over himself/the toilet/floor and running around a hotel lobby with shit smeared in every which way, crapping/throwing up/popping in a breath mint/drinking some more alcohol/having sex with multiple girls in one night, getting wasted and having sex with his boss, crashing random people's cars into stores while drunk/throwing the keys into the woods/running away from the scene, etc etc etc. All lovely scenarios unfolding in that manner. One.chapter.after.the.next. God awful. He's had sex with well over 100 girls and should probably be dead. It's even on the NY Times Best Seller list, and apparently he has more books. Wtf?! I guess I can somewhat understand the appeal, because even though I'm not reading the book too quickly, I'm still reading it. Like a fucking idiot. I'm not sure why. I guess because it's hard to believe that someone could act like that and then also proudly write a book about it. So, it's like a bad car accident...or something. Orrrrr (more likely), I'm just stubborn and don't like not reading a book from beginning to end.

At any rate, it's gross, don't read it. If you do, it will kill your soul a little bit.

I'm Baaaaack!

Ok, so, first things first...we did pretty well re-creating the picture! Take a gander...

At first I tried to have everyone line up in the exact opposite/incorrect order because apparently I'm not the brightest (and had already been drinking). Luckily, Danielle (the one on the right...the other two are also named Danielle...it gets confusing) was there to set me straight, like she is so fond of doing, and get us all in a perfect queue.

Afterwards, we took photos reminiscent of the prom in front of the vineyard. Pretty sure we were the only ones doing that.

So, now I'm back in Flor-ee-da. I was supposed to fly back on Monday, but I ended up changing my flight and flying back on Sunday instead because Florida was getting hurricane Isaac on Monday. It wasn't supposed to be bad in central Florida, but I figured it would be wise to not be in a flying object in the sky when it hit. That, and I figured I could forego one additional day of spending money, eating whatever I wanted, and drinking whatever I wanted. It turns out I couldn't and ended up following the exact same protocol on Monday anyway. 

I'm not going to bother posting more photos on here because they're all on Facebook anyway. I was good about taking photos, just like I promised myself...I took a shit storm!

Overall, it was sooo fun to be back in CT and see everyone. I majorly lucked out by having the best.weather.ever! It was literally sunny every single day, no humidity, windows open all day/night, crickets, etc. Couldn't have asked for anything better. I figure God was rewarding me for being such a loyal follower. 

And, I got to see everyone I wanted to with the exception of like 1-2 people. Lots of hiking, lots of walking, lots of being outside, lots of eating & drinking out, lots of eating & drinking in, wineries, tubing, bbq-ing, bon fire, a couple concerts, etc. Ahhhhh, so nice!

I want to end this post on a high-note and a philosophical meandering of sorts (so, it doesn't just seem like I was eating and drinking during my whole vacation). So, heed my advice young ones. Hint: Heed my advice with a huge grain of salt. Remember? I'm single and living with my parents in a retirement community at almost 30 years old, so clearly I may not be the best advice dispenser around.

But, seriously, I think it's important to do things like this, take time out, and go on vacations. As the saying goes, "we do not remember days, we remember moments." And, it's so true. When I look back on various parts of my life, days that stretched into weeks and even months/years seemed so long at the time, but now are only viewed as a particular snapshot in time. You remember the moments. You remember vacations. You remember the memories. You don't remember all the shitty, little, in-between stuff. Granted, the grass is always greener at the time, but one of the greatest parts about being human is, when reflecting back, your mind conveniently grasps tightly to the best times. You remember all the good stuff. 

So, keep in touch with the people that matter the most to you and don't be surprised when there's a natural falling out with others. That's bound to happen. It was fun to see some of my good friends but then also see people I hadn't seen in quite a while and don't necessarily keep in great contact with. The sporadic connections are fun in order to see where everyone's at at that point in their life. And, even though people, situations, and circumstances change, it still feels the same, in ways, because of the rooted platform we all jumped off from. 

Ok, that is all my darlings :-)

Mid-week Music & See Ya Later!

I'm leaving for CT tomorrow morning, super early, on a jet plane…and by jet plane, I mean a Village Shuttle Van with boat loads of senior citizens. It will take me to the Orlando Airport for my 9-ish am flight. That all translates to me waking up at 4:30am, which I couldn't be more pumped about…at least I'll be in CT before noon! 

So, since I'm going to be gone Aug. 16 - Aug. 27, don't expect any blog updates from me any time soon. I mean, you can still check my posts obsessively (like I'm sure so many of you are quite fond of doing) to see if maybe I decided to post something wonderful while on vacation, but don't hold your breath.

One of my goals is to recreate this picture…which I think is possible with enough perseverance and hard work (or, neither of those things…pretty much all that's needed is a winery and 3 girls all named Danielle).

OCD

I forgot to mention in my The Villages post that this place has a really high STD rate. I'm not sure how that tidbit slipped my mind because it seems like pretty important information...a retirement community with a very sexually active demographic. I just threw up in my mouth a little bit.

Also, I've heard (mostly from my brother, who may or may not be an authority on such topics) that if you're wearing gold sandals or have your tag sticking out of your shirt, then you're DTF. That's how the classy men can pick the classy broads out of a crowd, evidently. I imagine it's a lot like the way a male baboon picks out the female baboon with the reddest butt. If you don't know what DTF means, watch an episode of "Jersey Shore" (I can't believe I'm recommending that). Or just google it because apparently it runs rampant in organic search results.

BTW, my one lone pair of gold sandals have yet to be on my feet since moving to this area. Such a shame considering how stellar they could look with some gold accessories!

That little epilogue aside, I hope we all have some closure and can move on now...

My mom was telling someone recently that I have OCD. Moms are always saying the nicest things about their kids. I don't reeeeally have OCD. It's just that I prefer everything to be neat and tidy and clean and non-shedding...aaaaand, deliberately placed at perfect 90 degree angles. I mean, who doesn't like that shit? Riddle me that.

Plus, doesn't everyone have their shoes/socks grouped together by color, type, and style? And, doesn't everyone strive to have their clothes folded in such a way to resemble that of the Gap? Who wouldn't want their clothes to look like a retail clothing shop display? Ummm, I do, and it rates pretty high on my list. I think these are healthy semi-normal characteristics we can all agree on that don't cross that fine line into OCD territory. Right? I like to know the shizzle I have, I like it to be organized, and I like to be able to find it. Just because the rest of all you crazy people prefer to have piles of crap lying all around doesn't mean that I'm the one with problems!

Following suit, I have a scary and uncanny ability to be super observant about almost everything. My mom loves to make comments about how I'll take such great care of her when she is older. Usually she's being sarcastic because at the time, I'm pointing out that she has crumbs all over her face or tried to put two earrings in one earring hole. Nice try. I can't just let that shit slide. I can always notice if anything is out of place. It's not really something I'm proud of...it's just innately wired in my head I guess, and I can't do anything about it. Like, I used to be able to tell my ex-boyfriend, "you came home from work, went for a run, drank a beer, and then had this as a snack"...or something along those lines. And, then we'd laugh and laugh and laugh. Actually, I'd laugh, and he'd mostly sit there looking perplexed and wondering what he had done wrong in a past life.

Hey, it's not like I have to turn light switches on and off 17 times for fear that if I don't, my dog might keel over and die. And, it's not like I feel the need to clean my asshole out with a toothbrush after taking a bowel movement (not even kidding - that was a legit episode I saw one day on "Obsessed" on TLC). Those are serious fucking issues. Mine can still be considered "cute" or "not too crazy".

Organization has always been one of my number one strong suits...in fact, many of the jobs I've had in the past have focused on it. Maybe because I'm a Capricorn (if you believe in astrology...which, let's be honest, you probably shouldn't because it's kinda silly).

At any rate, I'm a great house guest. If you invite me over and I stay for a little while, I'll always leave the place in better condition than before I arrived. The only annoying thing is, this is exactly the type of shit messy people don't even notice. Ya know what they do notice though? The missing booze.

I don't really know how else to say this...

...so, I guess I'll just come right out and say it. I love Taylor Swift! Were you thinking I was going to say I'm pregnant due to immaculate conception? Probably'd be equally as shocking.

I'm just as surprised as you are. Normally, since I'm a pretty cool person, I like cool music like rock, indie, folksy type stuff. Maybe a little Slipknot here and there for good measure. Just kidding, I don't really listen to freaking Slipnot. See? I can't even spell their name correctly two times in a row. I mean, does anyone listen to Slipknot? Anyone that doesn't have long, black, dyed hair that is.

And just kidding, I don't really think I have the greatest taste in music. I just listen to what other people tell me they like or what Pandora tells me I like (I do like this? Meh, ok, I guess you're right)...and, when I find something I actually enjoy, I listen to it over and over til I go retarded and start to hate it and want to hurt myself or others. My playlists (I don't really make playlists - this just seemed like a convenient word to use) are a lot like the top 40 pop radion stations except with a lot more Avett Brothers and Brett Dennen all up in them.

But yeah, so Taylor. That reminds me, James Taylor is pretty good if you're ever in the mood for something sort of boring slash sort of "feel good" (even if you don't really feel good because of the music itself, a nice little side effect is the music can be so depressing that you might start to feel good organically)...which I actually am in the mood for that a good amount of the time.

Back to Taylor though...I don't know how it happened. I don't know how she wriggled her little way into my life and tugged on my heart strings. Is this getting weird?

I know she's only like 15 years old or something. Getting weirder. Ok, maybe she's older than that by now, but still, she's pretty frickin young. And she supposedly writes all her own music/lyrics and plays the guitar and has won all these awards and is really good at wearing winged, cat eyeliner. I'm not sure how that last part applies to her musical abilities, but I'm sure it's relatively pertinent in some way. So anyway, she's very talented in many ways. I don't think her voice is all that great live, but is that really all that important in singers these days?

She writes all these songs that are a very good combo of being relatable and whimsical and nostalgic, etc...and I'm not quite sure how she does it because I can't imagine she has all those real-life experiences to draw from, but it's believable nonetheless. And, they're all so damn catchy...and great for singing in the car or shower.

Just recently, I was driving home from Orlando, blasting Taylor (first name basis, right here) and I was so into the music that I completely missed my turn. I didn't realize it for a while because the song was so good. Actually, that's probably about 9% of the truth. Mostly it's because I'm directionally challenged and apparently have no real knowledge of where I live. But anyway, I blamed Taylor and then got home 20 min. later than I should have.

I've been listening to her a lot today and now I feel roughly about 21 years old. It's great. And, that will last until tomorrow morning when I wake up hungover.

P.S. I know I've made fun of Taylor before in a previous post, but that's just what girls do. We are dismissive to things we actually like to appear cooler and more popular.

The Villages...Florida's Friendliest Hometown!

Ok, this is where I live...The Villages. Make sure your speakers are on to get the full effect...then, hit the little speaker icon in the top/middle of the page...scaaaaaaary, am I right?!

I can't believe I haven't really written an actual post about it (it=The Villages) yet. It's just that it's like, a big, huge undertaking to depict it accurately, and I've always been too lazy and found writing about crackheads to be exponentially easier.

Soooooo, here goes...The Villages is an "active adult" retirement community in central Florida...about an hour north of Orlando. Basically, it's in the middle of the sticks. The outskirts of The Villages (a.k.a. the bubble) are scary and look like a scene out of the movie "Deliverance"...i.e. a lot of run-down trailers and toothless rednecks that work minimum wage jobs, yet somehow find a plethora of money to spend on cigarettes. I guess it evens out somewhere along the way when you don't spend a dime on dental care (?). Anyway, I'm being mean and spoiled, but I'm just trying to set the scene accurately for ya'll (plus, it's not like any of these aforementioned rednecks would be reading my post anyway and getting annoyed because a) I'm not sure they can read and b) I'm certain they don't own computers...ok, sorry again, too much damn Tosh...stupid Daniel! I used to be a nice person).

The best way to summarize The Villages is that it's a Disney World for adults/seniors. It's a man made wonderland/paradise/utopia that is strictly controlled, kept perfectly safe, clean, Republican (vote for Romney! the fact that he's Mormon isn't frightening at all), mostly white, religioned-up like whoa, manicured, watered, flowered, palm treed, etc. How does it stay this nice? Mexicans, of course! I'm not even being stereotypical...it's completely true. They do a bang up job.

Golf cart paths line every street, and I believe the stats are that for all the golf carts here, it means that every household has an average of one or more golf carts. Because sometimes you need two. Most households have one regular car and one golf cart. Oh, and they have a separate mini golf cart garage in many cases.

The healthcare is excellent. Median income is about $80K per year during retirement. People wave happily, and when you accidentally cut them off in the grocery store line because YOU have somewhere to be, they say things like "It's ok, I've got more time than money." Little dogs are everywhere; some even in pink baby carriages. Now, I'm all about little dogs, but baby carriages? Don't dogs like walking? There's been a handful of times I'm expecting to see a baby and then a Maltese pokes its little pony-tailed head up instead. Ah yes, the common, every day occurences here that become "normal" are so far from it everywhere else. I should get a picture of it one of these days. It's just that one doesn't usually think to take a picture of a Maltese in a baby carriage until it's too late. Oh, and, just about every day while walking the dogs I hear, "Who's walking who?" It's a hilarious joke that never gets old.

Bonus: If you like hearing the song "Bad Bad Leroy Brown" on pretty much an endless loop ((on the ever popular Villages AM (I can't emphasize that enough, so I've bolded, underlined, and italicized it) radio station)), then you'll love it here. If that song isn't ringing any bells for you, thank your lucky stars, and then check it out here.

The Villages, like the name implies, is divided up into a bunch of different villages (clusters of houses and neighborhoods) with different names. For example, we live in the "Virginia Trace" village, whatever that means. Each village also usually has its own pool, mailbox station, shuffleboard, and pickleball courts, etc. There are also crazily decorated huge recreation centers here that each have their own theme. It's really all quite a sight to be seen. There's over 2,000 clubs you can join here depending on what you like to do...I just hope you're a fan of knitting, bingo, or backgammon.

Then, there are two big town centers...Sumter Square and Spanish Springs (a 3rd one is being built). They each have a bunch of different stores, restaurants, bars and a big band stand in the middle. Live music (don't get excited - it's 50's music 90% of the time) is played 364 days a year. And, there is a little alcohol/bar type booth on each corner (that's right - 4 of them at each square!) where you can get 2 for 1 drinks. Every day is a weekend because most people are either retired or on vacation. Everyone is drinking by like 4pm, easily. It's like a step away from one astronomically large AA meeting. It's pretty much like being on vacation 100% of the time...except that I ordinarily wouldn't freely choose to vacation at a place with such an inordinate amount of seniors.

There was a "ladies night" I went to recently at this particular restaurant. Needless to say, there weren't many ladies there (mostly sketchy men waiting for the ladies to show up), but it didn't matter because regular sized glasses of wine were 50 cents. That's right. Insane in the membrane! Even when it's not actually happy hour at most restaurants, they say it's happy hour all day anyway, and there are always drink specials. The seniors here are so catered to, it's ridic.

If I were retired, I wouldn't want to live anywhere else. There'd be absolutely no reason not to live here. You feel safe, everyone is your age, everything is geared toward you and your outdated tastes, etc. At my age, it's quite a different story though, obviously, ha.

Ok, that was quite a rambling. If this were an essay on The Villages, I'd probably go back and make some edits to make the whole thing flow better and whatnot, but I don't really care yo. You get the gist of what this place is like. And anyway, you can't quite take it all in anyway until you visit here...which I'm sure you are all planning to do in the very near future. It's one of those things you gotta see to believe. And when you do, you'll rub your eyes in wonder and laugh about how amazing it is that a place like this exists. Just don't ever leave after you get here. Big mistake. The outside world looks really crummy, and you realize there is actually garbage (what?!), and then your palms will start to sweat. Who says crummy? Awful.

Ok, it's after 4:30pm on a Friday, and I haven't started drinking yet, so I have to go! Time to put on my sparkly visor and hit the town...until at least 8:30pm. Gotta head home before the mass exodus at 9pm.

P.S. My use of parentheses is a little outlandish, and I apologize.

Quotes!

Sightings and Sayings of Senor Puss!

Wow, it's been a whole week since my last blog post. That is almost like 4 months in blogger land, am I right? I've really been slacking now that I've made a new friend and almost have a normal social life. I can't juggle more than, like, two friends at a time. It's a gift, really.

So, I've been trying to figure out what to write about next, and finally, a light bulb went off and I came up with something completely normal and relatable to the general population...Senor Puss sightings and sayings! Maybe it can even be an ongoing feature each week or month depending on how much fan mail I receive. Actually, I'll probably forget, so your best bet is to just enjoy this one and have absolutely no expectations for my future posts, ok?

I got the idea from this book I just finished reading. It's called "Sh*t My Dad Says", and it's by Justin Halpern (in case Justin Halpern reads my blog, I want to make sure I'm all proper about it and recognize him and shit). It was pretty freaking hilarious. I'm going to read his other book next, "I Suck At Girls." When I was going through a little phase of ordering almost every book available on Amazon.com, I came across these two little gems, and I had to have them...and, like 6 other books too...only all at different times so that I was sure to have multiple shipping charges.

Anyway, enough rambling...let's do this in a list type fashion since I love lists!

1) Sighting #1 (there is only one sighting so don't get confused and be all like "where's sighting #2?"...that's annoying and uncalled for...there is no sighting #2 so just shush it)

Ok, so, my dad decided he wanted a chain wallet (I don't question this stuff anymore). In case you don't remember from when these actually used to be popular, there is a chain that attaches from your wallet (which is in your pocket) and then hooks to your belt loop. That way, if you're like my dad and live in The Villages, and a 70 year old geriatric tries to steal your wallet (which is pretty much a fucking epidemic over here...ummm, no), you can be like sorry Mr. Old Man, I'm working with this sweet ass chain wallet contraption so you lose.

For girls, it's an excellent form of birth control because (normal) guys won't come within a foot of you if you have some weird ass chain dangling all down your leg and what not.

Anyway, here's a pic of it. He's pointing to the chain because it's a proud moment for him. Also, below are the texts between me and my brother about it.

2) Saying #1 

Me: Mom says she is going to grow her hair instead of cutting it short because she says long hair is the only hairstyle that will work for her.

Dad: Noooo, I want her to cut it short and spiky. It will look cute.

Me: Cute? Noooo, your wife will look like a lesbian. Do you really want that? She'll look all dikey and shit.

Dad: I like lesbians.

Me: Yeah, good point, you are a pretty big fan of lesbians.

It's true, the man does love a good lesbian.

3) Saying #2

Dad: I'm really doing well with my vegan lifestyle. I've been eating healthier, losing weight, and exercising/working out more.

Me: Yeah, that's great.

Dad: I want to break 160.

Me: Breaking 160 puts you into major girl weight territory. That's just scary.

Dad: Well, I'm not trying to lose weight. I'd just like to break 160.

Me: Ummm...

4) Saying #3
Overheard while my Dad is talking on the phone to my grandmother...
Dad: Yeah, Emily's doing well. She'd like to have more friends and a boyfriend, but she's doing well.
Me (after he is off the phone): Dad, I have a couple friends and I went on a date recently. I don't want a lot more friends. I can't handle a lot of friends. Can you call Grammie back and mention those caveats?
Dad: Oh yeah, sure, I'll just call Grammie back.
Proceeds to pretend to call her back and say "Hey Mom, remember what I was saying before about Emily? Well, it was all a lie..."

A moment of silence please

Pip's emo photo shoot with her dead lizard friend...

That is all. 

There really isn't too much to say when your dog brings a deceased lizard inside, ever so gingerly places it in her bed and then proceeds to stare at it with a forlorn look.

F*ck the running part; why did I have scissors in the first place?

You've probably all done this before when you were little too..."this" being fancying yourself a miniature hairdresser and cutting your own hair...a lot of it. Just going right to town with the scissors.

I know I have, and it wasn't pretty. I can actually remember doing it pretty well.

My parents were outside doing some yard work, and I was out there helping them. "Helping" them meant I most likely wasn't doing much of anything and instead was pondering what type of hairstyle I'd like to give myself that would work well with my facial structure. After careful deliberation and an exciting new look in mind (hacked, uneven bangs), I slipped inside unnoticed.

I padded into my room and found my lefty scissors...ya know, the ones that actually say "lefty" on them, are rusty, and have red handles. The perfect haircutting tool. And, I remember just casually sitting there over my garbage cutting away as I watched wads of hair drop into the wastebasket. Yep, things were shaping up nicely and everything was going according to plan!

Once done (I'm not really sure how I determined when I was "done"), outside I went. My parents both looked up and their facial expressions quickly changed as they noticed my new doo. But, just in case they hadn't, I said breezily, "notice anything different about me?"

Let's just say it wasn't the best (or the worst) haircut of my life.

I don't have any pics of it, but I did find a perfect photo on Google that looks fairly accurate (if this is your daughter, sorry for infringing on your rights)...red scissor handles and all! However, I'm pretty sure I looked less cry baby face-ish and way more smiley/ecstatic.

Friday the 13th!

Be careful today special people…it's Friday the 13th! 

During the last Friday the 13th, I was still "working" (very little working actually occurred, and at my hourly rate, it was more akin to volunteering) at H&R Block, and I thought I had made it through the day relatively unscathed. However, around the time same time I was thinking that, some genius decided to almost drive her car through the front windows of the store. Probably because she was so fired up to get her taxes done at such a fine establishment. Apparently, her side of the story was her sandal "fell off" completely randomly, and during this little shoe fiasco, she forgot which pedal was accelerate and which was stop. Therefore, the next thing she knew, she was up on the curb, fully rammed into a supportive structural pillar. She got a couple flat tires too. Oh, and, I'm pretty sure she didn't get any type of tax refund either. Poor betch.

Gee, I hope today goes smoother than that. 

Here is a tune to get your weekend started off right!

Want!

Since America is all about consumerism and buying things you don't need, here's a bunch of crap I want. Apparently I don't like anything the least bit colorful...