💖💚🪄Oh baby, baby, it's a witchy world.💖💚🪄

Dev and me live a *very* simple life... we do the minimum outside errands that life requires us to... and then we're back at our house together and having fun. When you're married to your bestie and surrounded by people who don't care or are terrible, you tend to be more than ok staying in your little hobbit hole and hanging out.

We laugh... binge watch our favorite shows and movies... tattoo... have self-care days... take care of our pups... paint random murals... do laundry... try new recipes... dream of our future life.

This past weekend? My baby went all out and proved that he is a f*cking BEAST. How? Well... just look at my hair. That's right, he gave me the ultimate SEA WITCH HAIR and I am OBSESSED. 

Y'all... it's been so long since I've done anything to my hair other than let it grow. I haven't colored, bleached, highlighted, cut, styled... basically anything to my hair in years. In fact, I think that last time I got my hair dyed/cut was the week of our wedding... and it was such a dramatic change that I think it shocked me into pause or something.

So... it's been a good five years. And since I had my hair chopped off up to above my chin and buzzed in the back.... guess who had virgin hair?! That's right... been a minute but that shit does reestablish. Bless Dev's heart... he could care less how I actually wear my hair... but... like anybody else, the man does have a preference. And that preference happens to not be a super short cut involving a razor. So here he's been the last five years... watching my hair grow out of my head... watching with bated breath everytime I decide to trim it myself... and I know he's just been hoping I won't have another snap and CHOP.

No worries on the chopping... I love having this shit long. Feels like a mane. But... I did want SOMETHING. And that something was purple and/or pink hair. I couldn't decide. So... off to the land of misfit toys (Sally's Beauty) to pick up some supplies.

And after debating between purple and pink... we settled on green. BECAUSE COME ON I am forever living my best little witchy life and I deserve to show it. 

Also... when I say I planned to do this and then quickly established I was WAY in over my head... well.

In my defense, I used to do my hair ALL the time. I started experimenting with it when I was like twelve years old and had a damn good run. Sure, I've been to salons throughout my life, but the majority of it? Me, myself, and I... you know... after Momma stopped cutting my hair and giving my 1983 bangs. I DIGRESS. The point is, this ain't my first rodeo.

However... I haven't had this much hair since I was a little girl (maybe not ever?) and it is ALOT thicker than what I thought. It always has been... but it's thinned throughout the years and with age. Nice to know... I still got plenty. 

I literally unloaded the Sally's bag onto our table and immediately became overwhelmed. Not to be discouraged... my Gatorbaby stepped right up and was like, I got this. Mind you... he has never before dealt with bleach or dye. I mean... I've dyed his hair, but him taking the reigns? Not so much.

I explained what needed to happen and with no hesitation he jumped in. Were we nervous and unsure? Sure. Did that stop us? Absolutely not. The part that pissed him off the most? When I explained that bleach does not lather and he had to regroup and reform his gameplan. After that though? Smooth sailing.

He strapped me right into his tattoo chair, hung my hair off the back and went to town. 

NO HESITATION. NO SURRENDER. NO MAN LEFT BEHIND. #THUNDERGUN

And now... now I have magical hair that makes me feel like a whole new version of me. Dev says it suits me very well because I'm the little witch that put and kept a spell on him and now my hair just reflects that. Personally, I'm in love and may have some form of green hair until I can no longer dye it at all. Lucky for me, I married a damned ole artist that knows no bounds.

Last thing...now that we've established I have amazing green hair and Dev has amazing pink hair (because don't think for one second we didn't refresh that shit and make it POP)... how much we remind y'all of Cosmo and Wanda? 

Was it on purpose? No. Are we happy about the coincidence? Absofuckinglutely.

Senor Fancypants and his little gremlin hit the town... looking extra and shit.

We went to my company's gala event this year... ok, it's not my company's event, but it's an event my company sponsors and attends? 

Following so far? Cool.

The point is, this was the first year Dev and I were invited and to say we were a bit out of our element would be an understatement. I mean, if you need to know the levels of the class where we reside versus what was all around us let me reiterate a little something that happened that should explain it all.

Me: *picks up tiny little round ball of whatever is on a little plate on our table, twirls it around and inspects it* "Dani... what's this?"

Dani: "That's butter, Katie!"

See, even their butter was so fancy it threw me off. 

We had a nice time though. Definitely different and nothing we're used to, but nice all the same. We agreed that getting all dressed up and going out somewhere to feel fancy was fun and we should definitely do it more often... even if it's not a charity and/or work event. 

Can't you just see us all decked out in all our extraness pulling up to the KFC? Pfsh, I can. 

Well, that is if D and I could eat fast food without our stomachs revolting. Eh, tomato, potato.

We spent a few hours with the crew and then we all decided to head out early. I think we all left between 8:00-8:30? It wasn't that we weren't having a nice time, we were all just tired and had other plans.

Kind of... D and I didn't really have any other plans except to hang out with our pups in pjs, catch a buzz, and cuddle where the warmth and cookies didn't end. Probably how I got started watching Hawaii Five-0 from the beginning all over again. I'm not even sorry about it, because now D gets to join in on the fun. He's seen episodes here and there with me, but never from the start.

I even tried to be a fancy adult and have a cocktail... vodka and cranberry, because isn't that the ultimate safety drink? Yeah, well, not for me it isn't apparently. I took like two-three sips of that thing and couldn't do it. Truly, I mean I physically couldn't choke it down and my stomach was like nah bro. I swear, the Katie from two years ago wouldn't even recognize lightweight me. D enjoyed his two cocktails and said he wouldn't be doing that again once we got home. The more you know.

So yeah, we got all fancy looking and froze our patooties off for an evening, but all in all it was different and we had a good time. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some cuddles to attend to.

I drive like my Momma and her daddy before her.

**random conversation between D and I while sitting on our bed Friday evening**

D: “What do you do when you get your car stuck in the snow?”

Me: “I put it in reverse and back up until the spirit of my ancestors tells me to stop and then I put it in drive, floor it and let Jesus take the wheel while using curse words that got me kicked out of Sunday school.”

D: “………….”

Me: “Repeat steps as needed.”

D: “……. you’re so damn dramatic.”

Me: “Says the man who chose to spend the rest of his life with me and then complains every time one of my seventeen personalities shows up.”

Say what you will, but I'll tell you the same thing I told my MIL when she told me she would freak out if she ever got her car stuck in the snow:

Nah. I'm either gonna get it out or get taken out. There's really only so many options.

And honestly, when you know those odds? You kind of just have to go with it. #Survivor

I feel personally attacked in the absolute most hilarious way.

NOTE: No, I'm not actually offended or anything. I just thought this was f*cking hilarious and oh so accurate. I couldn't resist.

"Our brains? A woman’s brain is a 24-hour thinking machine. Yep. Everybody in here knows what I’m talking about. Every woman in here knows what I’m talking about and every guy in here is using his man logic and saying 'that is physically impossible, you have to sleep at some point.' No, we don’t. We’re perfectly fine watching you guys’ sleep. Which every woman in here has done by the way. And it’s just as creepy as it sounds. The second you fall asleep we’re like **stares into the void with a blank look** And we don’t just watch you. Check your girls’ phone there’s like a million pictures of you sleeping. 'He’s such an angel.' *makes camera clicking sound* Eww, what are you a serial killer? Relax." -Gina Brillon

Call it the holler in me, but I don't trust it.

**5:30am**

D: "Wait until you feel the weather outside. It warmed up and it's nice."

**6:45am**

Me: *walks outside, feels the breeze, peers around suspiciously and texts husband** "This feels like some tornado weather bullshit and I don't trust it." 

A thirty-one year habit broken. (Side note: my hubby might be a wizard).

Everyone has bad habits. I don't care who you are or where you're from (I totally just sang that in my best BSB voice), you have them. And if you don't think you do, ask anyone that knows you well and I guarantee that they can pull something out of their hat. Some people twirl their hair, others smoke. Lord knows I have a long list of bad habits that I don't foresee going anywhere, but the one I've had the most consistently and longest? 

Nail-biting.

Yeah, yeah, I know its a disgusting habit that is not only annoying, but also unsanitary. And the fact that I take sometimes three showers a day, because I'm a bit of a hygiene freak and still have this gross habit doesn't make much sense.

I've always prided myself on being able to step away from bad things. Sure, I've tried things and some I've even done for awhile, but eventually I realize that this isn't what I want to do and I simply walk away. No ifs, ands, or buts. It's just always been that simple to me. A mind over matter kind of thing.

Now, I know this isn't that easy for many people, but I've just been fortunate enough in my life to be able to make a decision and once that decision is set, there's no going back. Call it the stubborn in me, but my personality is what it is and its not going anywhere. (And yes, I usually hate the saying "it is what it is" but the fact of the matter is, in this situation, it applies.)

But, nothing has ever broken me of the habit of nail-biting. I'm not sure when exactly it started, but Momma always told me she couldn't keep my fingers out of my mouth even as a baby, so I'm thinking it dates back a long ways. You would think something along the way would have stopped it. I've even semi-attempted it many times over the years.

I've tried it all. The polishes, the oils, the hot sauce. You know, all the things you're supposed to put on your nails to break the habit of biting? Yeah, I just ate through it all. I tried to get acrylic nails once and just ended up chewing them off while watching a movie that very same night like an angry honey badger. And the biggest thing that I did that should have most definitely changed my mind and ended the habit? I worked in a motherf*cking nursing home and assisted in wound care. I'm sorry, but if that doesn't break the habit all on its own, then you need to seriously apply yourself, because you have a problem. 

And by you, I mean me.

My aunt once told me that it takes twenty-one days to break a habit. She said if I could just make it to twenty-one, then I was home free. I tried that countdown method too, but it didn't work. Instead, what broke my thirty-one year struggle?

My f*cking husband.

That's right, I said it. And you may be wondering how he broke me of this habit that has managed to stick with me longer than quite literally everything else in my life. Well, to be perfectly honest, he Jedi-mind tricked me. Oh yeah, straight up, 100%, Jedi'd the f*ck out of me.

How may you ask? A couple of weeks ago, we were laying in bed watching tv and D had his head on my belly and I was scratching and running my fingers through his hair (which he has since cut off). Out of the blue he sighed and said, "this feels nice.... you know what would make it feel even better?" I waited for him to continue and a few seconds later he followed it with, "if you didn't bite your nails they would be longer and then the scratching would feel ooohhhh ssssooooo gggoooooodddd." And then he kind of wiggled and snuggled more into me. I just chuckled at him and continued on for a little bit until we went to sleep. Never thought about it ever again. Or, never knew I was thinking about it at least.

Cut to a little over a week later and Dani mentioned that my nails were getting long, as she could hear them tapping on my keyboard. She asked if I was trying to grow them out and once I looked down I realized that I did in fact have long nails. Not crazy bitch nails, but legit fingernails. I tried to think of the last time that I had bit them, but I kept coming up blank. I truly hadn't even noticed that I had stopped or that they were there.

Blew. My. Mind.

I immediately called D out on his witchcraft and wizardry when we both had made it home from work, but he just looked down at me with those big ass baby blues of his that make me melt into a f*cking puddle and smiled that innocent little "you know and I know and I know that you know and you know that I know that you know" smile that he always has with me, kissed me on the forehead and went on his little merry way. 

Twerp. He's lucky I love him. 

And this isn't even the first time he's used his voodoo magic on me either. Did I ever tell you about the time that he traded me a penny for my hiccups and I immediately stopped f*cking hiccupping? No. Well.... another story for another day.

The point is, I married a MOTHERF*CKING WIZARD.

No wait, that wasn't supposed to be the point. The point was supposed to be that now my habit is essentially broken and I have to do shit like cut my nails and file them. Like, what? This is some adult lady shit and I am not on board with it.

(And yes, I reserve the right to call my husband a Jedi, wizard, sorcerer, and anything else that seems appropriate for my anxiety and jumbled word vomit filled thought process). 

I learned a valuable lesson.... and felt the obligation to share.

Back in October when D and I got married, I made the decision that it would be cool to get a bikini wax for the big day. Don't ask me why I made this executive decision, because I'm not really sure as my dress was long and absolutely no one was going to be seeing what was going on under there, but I'm going to associate it with watching too many TikTok videos. That, and my paranoia of my husband taking my garter off in front of EVERYONE. Which by the way, I was extremely self-conscious and mortified about.

I digress.... you know, so we can continue on with this.

The decision was made and while I had never gotten a bikini wax before, I figured it was more awkward than painful and since I have a fairly high pain tolerance, I assumed all would be well in the world. The day came and I prepared for it almost the exact same way that you would prepare to go visit your lady doctor (ie: gynecologist). 

I would be lying if I said it wasn't a little bit painful the first time, but nothing extreme. I wouldn't associate it with torture or anything. And like I assumed, it was far more awkward than painful. However, my esthetician was very professional and friendly and actually made me feel (somewhat) comfortable. She just went on with her everyday job and informed me that it was kind of like when I worked in the nursing home, as in, once you see so many people naked, it really doesn't phase you anymore. 

I liked the results so much that I've continued to keep up with it. And honestly, the visits eventually get to be more spaced apart and so much easier to the point that you barely feel anything when you get waxed. But, then a couple of weeks ago, I decided that I would just shave instead of making an appointment, because my lazy won out over logic. And oh boy, was that an.... experience. You ever heard of the term fire crotch? Well....

Needless to say, I had to wait about a week or two and then I called and made an appointment with my new esthetician. And let me tell you a couple of secrets that they don't usually tell you. 

One: when you are used to getting waxed and then you decide to shave between waxing appointments, it is essentially making you start over from the very beginning all over again. Seriously, do you remember the first time you got hair down there? It was uncomfortable, itchy, thick and awful? Yeah, that's what you revert back to and it is NOT pretty.

Two: speaking of "starting over" when you are used to waxing and then shave in between and then go back for your first wax since you shaved, things are much more.... painful. You see, apparently by then, your "area" is much more sensitive so every little pull or tug feels like someone is essentially yanking barbwire out of your skin. (And yes, I know what that feels like). Seriously, it hurts way more than it originally did the first time you had it done. Then, it's still a little sore the next day.

Obviously, this was an unwelcomed surprise to me, but it also made me realize that there is no going back. I will either be continuously getting waxed or let's be honest, it's gonna look like a real shit show down there.

And yeah, I know I shouldn't be talking about my crotch, especially in this lengthy of a post, but I felt the need to warn other folks about the consequences of switching back and forth. Mostly because it would've been real f*cking nice for someone to have warned me. Oh well, you live, you learn, you move on.

I'm gonna stop talking about it now. 

Marriage has made me even stranger than I already was.

D and I made a deal a couple of weeks ago. I say "we" but what I really mean is D came up with a genius idea and since it was mostly in benefit of me, I was all for it.

You see, D hates and I mean absolutely HATES doing the dishes. The man will literally rinse off the dishes and stack them up in the prettiest little piles ranged from size and importance, but WILL NOT actually wash them to save his entire life.

Therefore, a deal was made. He suggested that if he never has to do the dishes then I will never have to do laundry. And, since I was doing both of those things before he suggested that, that meant that he was taking on something that I'll never have to do (even though, I probably will at some point).

This deal has been going on for the last couple of weeks and while it has worked in my benefit somewhat, the fact of the matter is, I have discovered that if I don't put things away myself, I will lose everything. He does a fantastic job, but that doesn't stop me from apparently forgetting where anything in our house is located at 6:00am when I'm running around like a chicken with its head cut off.

This morning for example, I was running late (because I had to actually use all of the force and will in my body to move and get up this morning) and couldn't find any of my underwear to save my entire life. I woke D up and asked him where they could be, but he just said and I quote, "just wear mine, it'll be fine" and he rolled back over and fell back asleep. I thought it was a ridiculous suggestion, because who wears other peoples underwear?

Well, apparently I do now. Because here I stand at work all day wearing my husband's underwear. And frankly, I'm irritated. Why? Because men's underwear are far more comfortable and superior to women's underwear and I can't stop thinking about how much easier life could be if I just always wore my husband's underwear instead of my own.

See?!!?! Marriage has made me f*cking weird. (Well, weirder than I already was, which let's be honest, was already pretty extreme). Eh, I'm good with it.

Yeah, I've watched too much Criminal Minds in my day.

I used to think that my paranoia was on a whole other level. I've been like this my entire life and while I've always been a pretty straight-laced person, the fact that I've had my "wild" moments is forever prevalent in the back of my mind.

Sure, I may not be a criminal in any sense of the word, but I'm also not completely innocent and have done things that while I may not regret (even though we all have regrets) I have done things that have been incredibly stupid.

So, maybe my paranoia comes from a place of deeper meaning. Honestly, I'm not sure. I just know that I have always been on edge and that my delusions of the world around me have always made me extremely aware of the fact that anything can go terribly wrong at any moment.

Maybe that's not a way to live life, but it's the life that I've been living and there's no way to get around it. It also probably doesn't help that I can't stop watching murder/mystery shows and police dramas that constantly have me on the edge of my seat and sanity. 

Eh, you win some, you lose some.

The point I'm trying to make is, even when I'm in my own house or car, I feel the overwhelming urge to still be unsettled. Sure, I'm more comfortable in my own home or car than I am someone else's, but to say that I can let my nerves and hyperawareness placate would be a bold faced lie. I've never been one to not be anxious and I'm constantly in a battle within my own mind to just calm myself and make my anxiety simmer down.

Unfortunately, that is not the mindset that I find myself dealing with on a daily basis, hence the constant checking of my backseat before I get into my car and the questioning stance I have on what lays behind my shower curtain in the bathroom.

I have just always felt better when my hair is dark. 🖤

Don't ask me why, but I have always felt more like myself with black hair. Sure, my natural color is somewhere between a mouse brown/sandy blonde color, but nothing speaks to my soul quite like black. Black to match my soul, eyeliner, personality and sense of humor.

A couple of years ago, I decided to quit dying my hair. Not because my hair was unhealthy or anything, I just honestly didn't feel like doing anything in general, especially taking care of myself and/or appearance. Therefore, things such as hair, makeup, and clothing pretty much fell by the wayside. I just simply didn't care.

And in a way, I still don't. But, I'm trying. 

I still don't wear makeup often, or even fix my hair everyday.... and I'm usually in pajamas or some form of sweatpants. However, I found that once I dyed my hair black again (after three glasses of wine, a few shots of whisky, and some other not to be named *shhh*) I began to feel more like myself. Not the old me, just the me in general.

More like the carefree girl that while she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders, was also carefree and completely and utterly just herself. The good, the bad, and the ugly. It doesn't matter if I'm not 100% or if everybody else thinks I look like a pale trainwreck walking. All that matters is that I'm a little more confident in myself and that I feel better, even if it's just a miniscule amount.

While that seems a little bit much to get from a small hair change, it is also something that I needed to do for myself to get back to myself. And honestly, there's no substitution for that. So, here I stand, trying and pushing through every single day. The small changes, the big decisions, and everything in between.

Happy New Year and let's try not to let 2021 be such a f*cking shitshow.

Sunburned cheeks and sleep deprivation. 😳

My house is insane and messy and chaotic.... just like my life.

I love my little house. It's sweet, cozy, full of memories, close to my job, wacky, cluttered, eclectic, and most importantly, it's MINE. I wouldn't trade it for the world, and while most people would think that it's "not enough" or that it might not be in the best neighborhood, I would say.... suck it. Because I love it.

I don't really have a style or theme in my house. I'm just not that kind of person. I don't necessarily "decorate" in any way, I just pretty much see something that I like and bring it home. I've always been like that as far back as I can remember. While my friends insisted on painting their rooms certain colors and organizing everything with matching furniture, I was just adding to my collection of nonsense as far as the eye can see.

Momma always joked that I'm a hoarder, and she wasn't wrong. I am. I don't hoard weird things like on that television show (ie: dead animals, trash, etc.), but I do hoard any and everything that I like.

And since my house is so small, and I'm so strange, most people are a little taken aback by the layout of it. Mostly because, the living room is our bedroom, the second bedroom is our spare room (my brother has the first bedroom at the moment), and I have a giant freezer in my living room. Also, the closets are whatever I want them to be and I have cabinets and shelves throughout the whole thing with miscellaneous items. It's weird to people.... but it works for me and I love it.

I was told that was the most important part. Apparently, you're supposed to surround yourself with things that make you happy and organize your life to suite yourself. My life is utter chaos and that's reflected in the house. And I love that. I love that it doesn't work for most people, but it works for me. And I'm going to keep doing it that way.

Sure, most people think it's odd, but I'm odd, and the fact that I can watch tv while laying on my bed eating takeout and reach into my freezer for my liquor makes me.... well.... me. And D and my pups are good with it too. My brother thinks it's insane, and my uncle thinks I'm off my rocker, but honestly have they met me? Of course it is and of course I am.

And the fact that I'm going to just keep adding shit and being weird and hoarding the most random things is so truthful that it's borderline psychotic. But, you know what? I'm good with it.

Our one year anniversary.... I should've known there'd be a fight. 🚗🚕🚙

Last weekend was Memorial Day (I mean, I guess technically only Monday was Memorial Day making it just Memorial Day weekend?) and we decided to celebrate it down at Aunt Poot & Uncle D's, per usual.

I should also probably tell you that this month I celebrated an anniversary. A milestone of an anniversary (am I using that right?) that I like to call "our one year together in happiness." That's right, May made it official.... I've been in my current relationship for more than a year now and I'm not even looking for an exit strategy.

Oh yeah, my one year anniversary is with Ricardo, by the way. That's right.... my car.

And no, I'm not in one of those weird "car relationships" like that psycho on My Strange Addiction, but I would be lying if I said I didn't love Ricardo (again, not in the creepy way).

We've been through alot together, he and I, in the short amount of time that we've known each other. And I'd like to think that we've grown with each other and accept one another's flaws. When we first met I was so terrified of driving and there was definitely some give and take (mostly I took and he was patient) getting back in the groove of things.

Now, we're practically two peas in a pod and happy together. Sure, we have our fights and little tufts.... I treat him like a truck (ie: hauling random shit and stuff like that) and he gets back at me by locking me outside while he is RUNNING and I have to have someone with way more street cred and experience than me to break into him, but for the most part, we're in this together.

Here's to a year, little dude. Let's keep going strong! (Like seriously, please keep going strong for YEARS UPON YEARS).

My irrational fears: Sharks and why I fear the ocean out of respect.

Someone asked me one time what I was scared of. Afterall, some people are scared of spiders or small spaces, others clowns, and honestly the list just keeps going on. I couldn’t think of anything off the top of my head, so I let them know I wasn’t sure.

Of course, jokes were made that “I wasn’t scared of anything” and I “must be related to John Rambo” but the truth is, there are things that scare me. I just needed a minute to think them through.

You see, I have fears that are a little.... how should I say this?.... we'll go with odd. I wouldn’t say I’m the oddest given the fact that some people are afraid of cellophane, but that’s neither here nor there.

My list of fears include: ventriloquist dummies, outer space, falling from high places (I’m not actually afraid of heights, but I am afraid of falling from somewhere high), Freddy Kreuger.... and sharks.

Actually, if I’m being fair, the entire ocean in general petrifies me, but I’m sticking with sharks on this go around. I’m not sure why, when I was a kid I loved swimming out and would go out pretty far. I wasn’t in the same skill set as an Olympic swimmer or anything, but I was decent enough. My brother, cousins, friends, and I used to horse around out there with no more than a half thought. We would all be out there for HOURS and never once did we think about being eaten alive.

And now? It seems the older I get, the more bodies of water sharks terrify me.

It probably doesn’t help that some of my favorite movies include sharks (have y’all seen Deep Blue Sea?), and that I won’t stop watching them, even though clearly it’s becoming a problem. (Anxiety, amirite?!).

So, what does my dumbass do even though it could potentially give me heart failure?! Well, I watched a particularly terrifying movie that was literally my worst f*cking nightmare crammed into 85 minutes.... 47 Meters Down.

Yeah, because that isn’t my greatest fear come true.

You know what I learned from this movie?! I learned that #1: You NEVER trust a man named Taylor and #2: If you have a fear and your gut is telling you to not do that shit, then you should probably listen to yourself and NOT do it.

Also, if you have a fear of sharks that takes you to the point of hyperventilation.... you should probably be smarter than me and stop watching shark movies. You know, those who can't do, teach, and such.

We're recruiting for our Rebellion.

Remember, remember the fifth of November.... calm down y'all, I'm just playing. I mean, I am, but I'm also very serious. GOT YOU, AGAIN. I'm very rarely ever "very and/or completely serious" and if I am, some serious shit is going down.

This morning at work, we decided to take part in a rebellion.... and no, this has absolutely nothing to do with the 2017 Presidential Inauguration (although if you ask social media, they disagree.... because they apparently know more of what I'm thinking than I do). No, no matter which "side" you are on today (happy/sad/confused/devastated/ecstatic), there is no ignoring the fact that today is a serious day and we are about to have a new president.

I have decided to ignore all things political today (mostly because I'm exhausted from hearing politics for the last 1.5 years) and play with toys/use my imagination to create a fictional world for which me and all of my loved ones/friends/all the dogs in the world will reside.

Because mature.

And also, we had an entire van full of Nerf guns and laser tag. What are two grown women, one almost twenty-seven, the other coming up on the eighth anniversary of her twenty-ninth birthday supposed to do? They should probably just let well enough alone and wait for the toys to be taken to the neighborhood kids....

Or, they could pose for pictures and bring tiny little pea-shooters into their office to screw with everybody that comes in contact with them for the entire work day. Pictures and fun, it is!! Afterall, I've watched Rambo four nights in a row (#noregrets), so I'm pretty hyped up to be holding such a massive piece of heavy (fake) artillery.

I tell you, when I was a little girl my imagination ran wild. There was nothing that I couldn't accomplish and some of the things that I came up with would probably make a very exciting sci-fi/fantasy movie (Side note: I totally thought quicksand was going to be a much bigger problem in my adult than it actually is). As an adult, my imagination really hasn't slowed down any.

It's quite distracting at times. I am always rising above scenarios that will literally never happen (when am I ever going to need to know how to not only win a dance off, but also diffuse a bomb, and beat Bobby Flay?), but I constantly win arguments that don't even make sense.... unless they're in my head, that is.

The point is, when someone is ready to indulge in my crazy, I go for it. Don't worry, we're not doing anything dangerous (unless you count shooting Nerf guns while listening to gangsta rap dangerous).... and we're only shooting our two warehouse guys and Dani's husband, so everything is good around these parts. Also? It's Friday. And we love Friday around these parts.

It's my second favorite F word.

Better late than never.

So.... I took an early lunch on Friday and went and got my driving permit. And yes, I realize that I'm twenty-six and probably should have gotten it years ago, but as that old saying goes, better late than never.

Or, as Blanche Devereaux would say.... better late than pregnant. Definitely both of those things.

There are many reasons that I haven't gotten a permit/license before now. And while I could go into the whole shpeal of it, I won't. Mostly because that's besides the point and no one cares how your irrational fears have held you back in life.

I was incredibly nervous to take the test (which is hilarious considering that is the only test that I've ever been nervous for in my whole life), but I studied, and I passed (and was kind of shocked about it).

I'm trying to conquer the driving thing, no worries, the whole being scared of sharks (but loving shark movies) isn't going anywhere. Momma always says that I never do anything until I'm the one that is ready. People can hound me and poke me and list a million reasons why.... but until I'm ready, it's not going to happen.

She's right, of course.

But the other day I decided, it was time. Just randomly out of the blue, decided. (And with her eye surgery coming up next week, I couldn't have had this epiphany at a more convenient time). I'm not sure why I decided it was time, but that's usually how I make the decisions in my life. I wait until that part of my brain clicks, and then I say- "Ok, let's do this." And do this, I shall.

Am I still afraid of driving? Of course, just because I decided it was time to be able to do it doesn't mean that it isn't still scary to me. It's just that, I'm ready to conquer that fear.... one way or another.

So, wish me luck out there, I'm gonna need it. And also? Maybe keep an extra eye on the road if possible.... you never know when I might come barreling out of nowhere now that I legally can.

The 500. What do I have to say about that?

(My biggest anniversary yet).

I realized this morning that the next post I have, will make 500. Seriously, 500 posts that I've rambled and let lay my sarcasm upon. It's almost weird. Usually I lose interest in things fairly quickly, but writing has never been one of those things. At least, not when I'm writing about the things that I want to be. I think that's why my posts are usually all over the place. They range from my family to movies and everything else in between.

In order to celebrate my "500 posts" I wanted to do a lengthy post consisting of all of my favorites from this time period, and then it hit me. What hit me? The fact that I would have to start in April 2013 and work my way up to June 2016, that's what. I would have to go through over three years of my own rambling, and my inherent laziness overcame me. I know, I'm ridiculous. And I'm good with it.

So, instead of a long ass post consisting of ones that already exist (you can read through them all, if you would like to), I figured I would commemorate it by acknowledging the fact that it's the 500th and share a picture. Because pictures make everything better. Usually. As you can tell, Tayder was extremely focused on being happy for me. He's a real gem that one. Hopefully, I'll have another 500 and many more after that. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some celebrating to do.

Where's my cake?!

Because we were in cahoots.

(This happened the day before New Years Eve and I'm just now getting around to tell you about it..... Oops?!).

Remember when I told you that my cousin Ashley wanted to set me up on a date with a guy that she worked with? And my reaction was all- "hell no, you're smoking crack rock and there's nothing that you can say or do to make me change my mind." Yeah well, cut to a week later with round the clock incessant bothering and I finally caved and was like- "I'll go if you agree to never talk to me again."

We decided that it would be a double date since neither of us had ever met each other (and I'm convinced that everybody is a secret serial killer). The good news is me and dude liked each other enough to be friendly, but not enough to actually date. Plus, I got pizza, onion rings and beer, so all is fair in love and war..... Right?!

His opinion on me: "She's cute and very sweet..... And also, VERY opinionated." Why yes dude, I am very opinionated. Thank you so much for noticing. It just comes naturally to me.

My opinion on him: "He's nice and has pretty teeth..... And also, I think he would rather have a boyfriend." Which is completely and 100% fine, I just think it's sad that there are still so many people that are hateful out there that people feel like they have to hide their true selves.

Now I know that I hate dating for a fact (I was pretty sure that I did, but needed to confirm it) and Ashley leaves us both alone. All in all, I think dude and I totally win. Here's looking at you, kid.

On the last day of November.

(Because I couldn't think of a different title).

I can't believe that it's already that time of year to send out Christmas cards. And yes, I am very "old schooled" like that and feel the need to send out Christmas cards. I just think that it's a little something nice to do to let people know that you are in fact thinking about them (even the ones that you might not like that much). I only send cards to those I love the most (plus one or two, because I feel obligated now).

I'm trying to feel very optimistic for this coming year. Afterall, I'm not getting any younger (here comes 26..... oh, 25..... we barely knew one another.....) and I've always been a fairly optimistic person in the first place. Even when things are completely horrible, I try to find a silver lining. It's both a curse and enlightening.

But, not to jump too far ahead of myself (I've had a bit too much sugar for this early in the day- you think that my body would just be used to it by now). We're one day away from December 2015 and I'm just now having to wear my heavy coat outside (I leave for work at 6:00 am- it's real cold then!). Not to mention that I'm in a good mood today. I don't have a reason for it, I just am. I'm both happy and suspicious of it..... it happens that way alot for me.

What can we expect in December? Who in the hell knows. I myself am no psychic and I kind of like "flying by the seat of my pants" or however that saying goes. But I think we should all make a list of "maybes" that might happen in December (and follow into the new year).

• Maybe: you'll finally put up that pesky Christmas tree that they've been bugging you about (but you'll probably be drunk for it, because that's the only way to decorate)
• Maybe: you'll look that guy up on social media, because you think he may no longer be a psycho (he's probably still a psycho, but- YOLO)
• Maybe: you'll finally lose that extra pesky 45-60 pounds that you've just been keeping out of pure laziness (or maybe you'll decide to keep them for warmth and your inherent laziness- whatevs, they're not that bad)
• Maybe: you'll finally wear something besides sweats on the weekends (most definitely not, because you love them and they understand you, why mess with a great thing?)
• Maybe: you'll get your Christmas cards sent out on time, so they are delivered before Valentines Day (but then again, you always start out with the best of intentions)

See how I kid? I really just wanted an excuse to write something today, anything really. I could write about a million things, but honestly, none of them really stood out to me like I wanted them to. There were things to write about in my personal life (nothing juicy, so don't be too sad) and we all know that there are many things happening out in the world to talk about (but I do not want to get into the battle of politics, religious views, vaccination protocols, etc.), I just didn't know where to start, so I started from the place that I always start-

RAMBLING. 
Here's hoping I make it through the rest of this Monday.

Call me the crazy cat lady.

(And if you're wondering, the other half of this picture had a dog in it).

When most people think of a "crazy cat lady" their mind immediately goes to some old lady with her gray hair in a bun, glasses pulled down on her face and she's the proud owner of about thirteen cats whom are her only company.

I have a dog. (And he's the absolute best).

But don't count me out as a "crazy cat lady" just yet. You see, not only do people think of "little gray haired ladies" as the "crazy cat ladies", but it's also used to describe single gals. I.e. Me.

It's a running joke, but I'm pretty sure that it's one of those jokes that people repeat all in good humor, but there's also a lot of merit behind it. The saying goes- "I'm single forever, I might as well go adopt a bunch of cats".

For one, if that's your mentality then I assume you think you suck, so if no one else wants to spend time with you, why would you make a poor/defenseless animal do it against its will? Rude.

Secondly, think a little bit more of yourself. Chances are you're a great lady that just hasn't found your compatible counter part. Why should that be considered a bad thing? Personally, I've been single for around three years (taboo for a 25 year old woman) and I couldn't be happier.

Are there times that I think it would be nice to have a significant other to cuddle with and share my thoughts and feelings?

Eh, I'm not really good with the whole "sharing" thing. Can I offer you a sarcastic comment instead? Those I have.

I just don't feel like you have to have a significant other in your life to define and fully appreciate yourself. I guess, I just don't require that kind of validation. Don't get me wrong, we all like attention and to feel "wanted" on occasion, but I like to do things when, how and with whom I want. I like having the "freedom" of it all.

A random cat showed up at our house over the past weekend. It appears to be a house cat that someone has randomly dropped off (P.s. whomever you guys are that did that- you're assholes). Everybody immediately took to it, but it seems to only want affection and/or attention from me.

I couldn't figure out why. I don't "hate" cats or anything, but I've always been a consistent dog kind of gal. Probably because dogs are more cuddly and I'm allergic to cats. But this cat has been on it when it comes to capturing my attention. It has even gone so far as to climb atop our handrails to peer into our house.

My brothers girlfriend decided to make the wise crack to me- "It probably wants all of your attention, because it can see your future. You're going to be a crazy cat lady!! (Insert laughter from her here)".

First things first, shut up.

Second, if you think that I'm going to be insulted by what you just implied, you are mistaken. I hear women in my everyday life, whether it be in person, social media, radio, or somewhere else on the internet complaining about their significant others. (And no, it's not just females complaining, but males to. I don't think that "all men are assholes" and it's "us" against "them" or something. No. Because we all know that there are plenty of females that suck to).

And since I like being single and all that it implies (I've never wanted to be married or have kids, nothing against those who do, it's just not for me), I don't find it offensive at all. In fact, I think of it this way:

Either I can have a significant other who's an asshole (and no, I'm not saying that everyone is, I'm not that jaded, but obviously if you know anything about my track record you know that I seem to have a type..... And that type always seems to land on asshole) and make myself unhappy.

Or, I can adopt a random cat, keep living for myself instead of others and let people think what they will about it (along with all of the other decisions in my life that they feel they should have an opinion on). I think I'm going to take the cat. I'll just keep feeding it dog food and giving it bowls of milk to drink. Crazy cat lady?

Bring it.