Happy Mondayyyyy! I actually don't mind that it's the beginning of a new week... I'm done with school, and my shift at work isn't much to complain about. Plus, this weekend has so many fun things to look forward to! Like, my graduation on Friday... My graduation lunch/dinner that afternoon/evening... I'm being so vague about that because my family loves to make plans, then change them, and forget to tell anyone else that they've changed the time/location... Oh, and Cinco de Mayo is Saturday. It will be the very last Cinco de Mayo I can celebrate for probably the next 6 years. (I'll hopefully have a big girl job, where it's unacceptable to get drunk off margaritas on a Tuesday). I'm on the hunt for moustaches and sombreros this week!
I spent this past weekend relaxing and celebrating being done with my finals, forever! (Okay, until grad school.) Saturday, my boyfriend and I went to the beach, where I decided an entire bottle of champagne was a great way to celebrate.
We also ate lunch at this fresh fish market/cafe we discovered the last time we went, Jazzy's Mainly Lobster. They have the most amazing tartar sauce I've ever eaten and you can tell it's all super fresh. I love eating on the little patio. So far, the only thing we've tried is the clam strips, which were huge, but I've got my eye on a grouper sandwich the next time I'm around there. (They're such a dive they don't even have a website for me to link to, but you can Google it.) I'm telling you, I love hole-in-the-wall places, especially when they are as delicious as that place is. Everyone was so friendly, too. And then, my favorite part of the weekend...
We were walking back to the car, down a side street near condos and what-not, and we came across this little house. It's pretty normal for small businesses to renovate old beach houses, but this wasn't just any old business. It was a microbrewery! Beer! Yummmm! The boy decided we needed to stop inside. (Okay, so I didn't take much convincing...) The Cocoa Beach Brewing Company reminded me of a cute coffee shop, with big comfy chairs, a giant table in the middle, and a little bar in the corner... except instead of cappuccinos, they were brewing up beer! There were maybe 5 other people in the place, and everyone acted like they all knew each other, even though I'm pretty sure they had all just met. I tried the Cocoa Beach Pale Ale, which is similar to an IPA. I love IPAs. When I ask bartenders for a beer recommendation, I usually get told to try the Seadog Blueberry or a cider beer. You know, because I'm a girl. The bartender actually asked me what I usually like, and the whole place (so what if it was just five people) gave me their approval when I responded that I like IPAs. Apparently, that's a "manly beer."
I bought two bottles of the Pale Ale before we left, to bring home, but one of them shattered across my kitchen floor in a tragic accident involving me carrying way too much heaped in my arms. Such a sad ending to a great day.
And, for the record, no one at the brewery or the fish market knows who the hell I am, or is compensating me in any way for writing about them. I just love great little places that serve good beer and good food.
Love,
N
Monday, April 30, 2012
Friday, April 27, 2012
Toolbags in Their Natural Habitat
Sorry for not posting for a while. I'm finally done with exams, and school, and homework, and studying, and tests... forever. Or, at least until I decide to go to grad school. But, basically, forever. I spent today by the pool. I'm slightly burnt, but the people watching made it all worthwhile. I felt like Steve Irwin, just instead of crocodiles, I was observing douche bags in their natural habitats. Funny thing is, all winter, I never really see the hair-gel-faux-hawk-hairstyle-huge-tattooed-arms-diamond-earring guys around. Then pool season hits, and boom, there they are. In flocks. Do they migrate south for the summer? You now who I'm talking about, too, so don't even act like I'm exaggerating here. If I wanted to talk to one of them, I wouldn't even have to ask his name, it's tattooed across his shoulders...
At one point, I overheard this conversation:
Bro 1: "Just chicken and rice, bro, no tomatoes, no cheese, just chicken and rice, that's it."
Bro 2: "I don't know, bro, that's too complicated, text me bro."
You're kidding me, right? You can't remember his two ingredient Chipotle order? To top it all off, when Bro 2 brought the Chipotle back to the pool, I witnessed feeding time at the guido zoo. Ravenous bros shoveling burrito bowls in their mouths hunched over a deck table covered in crushed beer cans in a scene I would only imagine took place in a movie. Except it was real life. After feeding time, they returned to the pool, not waiting a half hour before swimming. I was skeptical about going into the water myself, worried that the douchebaggery was contagious and I would emerge with a tribal arm band tattoo. In the pool, the tool bags flirted with girls who looked like relaxing by the pool on a cloudless day was torture. Seriously, they were drinking beer and looked miserable. Pretty sure if they pushed their boobs any further out of their triangle bikini tops, their nipples would be floating around in the deep end.
My friend and I finally had to leave when the guidos ran out of beer and a steroid-fueled riot seemed to be on the near horizon. We wanted to avoid the stampede as the male douche bags headed to the gym to lift weights, bro, and the females went to add another layer of make-up before reuniting at the trashiest bar to get obscenely drunk and practice repopulating the douche species.
Hope you're enjoying the start of summer weather!
Love,
N
At one point, I overheard this conversation:
Bro 1: "Just chicken and rice, bro, no tomatoes, no cheese, just chicken and rice, that's it."
Bro 2: "I don't know, bro, that's too complicated, text me bro."
You're kidding me, right? You can't remember his two ingredient Chipotle order? To top it all off, when Bro 2 brought the Chipotle back to the pool, I witnessed feeding time at the guido zoo. Ravenous bros shoveling burrito bowls in their mouths hunched over a deck table covered in crushed beer cans in a scene I would only imagine took place in a movie. Except it was real life. After feeding time, they returned to the pool, not waiting a half hour before swimming. I was skeptical about going into the water myself, worried that the douchebaggery was contagious and I would emerge with a tribal arm band tattoo. In the pool, the tool bags flirted with girls who looked like relaxing by the pool on a cloudless day was torture. Seriously, they were drinking beer and looked miserable. Pretty sure if they pushed their boobs any further out of their triangle bikini tops, their nipples would be floating around in the deep end.
My friend and I finally had to leave when the guidos ran out of beer and a steroid-fueled riot seemed to be on the near horizon. We wanted to avoid the stampede as the male douche bags headed to the gym to lift weights, bro, and the females went to add another layer of make-up before reuniting at the trashiest bar to get obscenely drunk and practice repopulating the douche species.
Hope you're enjoying the start of summer weather!
Love,
N
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Ice Age, Minus the Mammoth
I just have to say one thing. What the hell, Florida? I'm starting to think the world really is ending this year. It's 53 degrees out in April. April! For crying out loud, I wore my NorthFace to work today. Something is terribly, horribly, incredibly wrong for it to be this cold in April in Florida. I could understand this weather in the awful state of Ohio. The only thing good in that state is Swenson's drive up burger chain. I couldn't justify wearing boots in April, so my little feet are freezing inside my lace Tom's slip ons. I'm also wearing leggings as pants... and an over sized long-sleeve tee... I'm runway ready, let me tell ya. Maybe if the runway was a street corner and I was modeling for homeless people.
I'm also freezing at work, because the AC stays on arctic blast all the time. It's 50 degrees out... excuse me, but why is it also set to 50 degrees inside? And would it technically be "turning the air conditioner up" or "turning it down" to make it warmer? Does anyone even know the proper terminology? In my mind, they both kind of make sense. Turning it up could mean making the temperature warmer in the room, or it could mean turning up the cooling power. Turning it down could mean less cooling power, aka a warmer room, but it could also mean setting it to cool to a lower temperature. Am I the only crazy person to actually wonder about this? Whatever the wordology, it needs to get warmer in here, and in Florida, ASAP.
I am dreading picking up my cap and gown today. The downside of going to one of the largest universities in the nation? There's about 20,000 other students attempting to pick up their cap and gown, too. Cool, the bookstore sorted them by college, so I just have to join the 7,000 business majors in line. What would happen if I don't pick it up? It cost $80 just to rent the damn thing, and I have to wear it to walk... guess I'm standing in line for an hour today. Which brings me to the question of: what am I going to decorate my hat with? Obviously sparkles and glitter and bedazzles, but I'm torn between a dinosaur, an Italian flag, or my sorority symbol. For those of you who have no clue what I'm talking about, it's a tradition for (mainly girls) to decorate the top of their graduation cap, so that your parents and friends can recognize you in the giant sea of graduates on stage. We're technically not allowed to throw our caps, but I'd imagine it'd make getting your own back much easier if you did. We're also not allowed to go into the reflection fountain, but I'm going to pretend I never heard that at freshman orientation when I take my graduation photos. Oopsie.
Alright, time to stop rambling and go... study for finals? Meh, the issue with contracting senioritis is that I don't really care to study. I'll go beat my high score on Temple Run... that sounds more productive!
Love,
N
I'm also freezing at work, because the AC stays on arctic blast all the time. It's 50 degrees out... excuse me, but why is it also set to 50 degrees inside? And would it technically be "turning the air conditioner up" or "turning it down" to make it warmer? Does anyone even know the proper terminology? In my mind, they both kind of make sense. Turning it up could mean making the temperature warmer in the room, or it could mean turning up the cooling power. Turning it down could mean less cooling power, aka a warmer room, but it could also mean setting it to cool to a lower temperature. Am I the only crazy person to actually wonder about this? Whatever the wordology, it needs to get warmer in here, and in Florida, ASAP.
I am dreading picking up my cap and gown today. The downside of going to one of the largest universities in the nation? There's about 20,000 other students attempting to pick up their cap and gown, too. Cool, the bookstore sorted them by college, so I just have to join the 7,000 business majors in line. What would happen if I don't pick it up? It cost $80 just to rent the damn thing, and I have to wear it to walk... guess I'm standing in line for an hour today. Which brings me to the question of: what am I going to decorate my hat with? Obviously sparkles and glitter and bedazzles, but I'm torn between a dinosaur, an Italian flag, or my sorority symbol. For those of you who have no clue what I'm talking about, it's a tradition for (mainly girls) to decorate the top of their graduation cap, so that your parents and friends can recognize you in the giant sea of graduates on stage. We're technically not allowed to throw our caps, but I'd imagine it'd make getting your own back much easier if you did. We're also not allowed to go into the reflection fountain, but I'm going to pretend I never heard that at freshman orientation when I take my graduation photos. Oopsie.
Alright, time to stop rambling and go... study for finals? Meh, the issue with contracting senioritis is that I don't really care to study. I'll go beat my high score on Temple Run... that sounds more productive!
Love,
N
Monday, April 23, 2012
Tourism and Life Quotes
Today, I attended the last class of my entire undergraduate college career. Everyone keeps asking me if I'm excited for graduation. It hasn't hit me yet, to be honest. Nothing feels monumental or different or strange. Oh, I'm sure it will eventually, but right now, everything is just typical, tedious, the same.
My weekend wasn't nearly as raging as I had originally planned. Florida was covered in rainy, cloudy, muggy, overcast, gross weather. We got one good half-day at the pool out of it. I also did some shopping at the outlet malls. Did I mention I despise the outlet malls in Orlando? Sales people asked if my friends and I were from a tour bus. No. I live here. This is my place of residence. I am not a tourist. Do I look like a loud, obnoxious, clueless, non-English-speaking, walks-into-people, breast-feeds-a-baby-in-public tourist? Absofreakinglutely NOT.
I cleaned out my craft bin yesterday. No lie, I had an entire under-bed Rubbermaid tub full of scrap booking and crafting supplies. Let me tell you how ecstatic I am to go through all of the rest of the junk I've collected over the years and throw it away. My moving motto is if I don't need it, aren't currently using it, and can't sell it, donate it or throw it away. Half of me feels guilty getting rid of things people have given me, but a bigger half of me feels rejuvenated and free. My craft bucket is being donated to my sorority; they'll definitely get more use out of it than I will.
Oh, yeah, and Thursday evening, after margaritas, we ended up back at a friends house to hang out. He had these canvas paintings in the living room, and I immediately became nostalgic and slightly obsessed.
He painted a Hunter S. Thompson quote on them, which may not seem like any huge deal to you, but it was like a breath of fresh air to me. Confused? Yeah, I figured. Ever heard of the movie Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas? With Johnny Depp? Yeah, well, Hunter S. Thompson wrote the original book. He wrote a lot of other awesome things, too. Mr. Thompson, along with Mario Puzo, were probably my two most favorite authors growing up. Weird, since most other girls my age were reading the Gossip Girl series before it became a television show. Oh, you have no idea who Mario Puzo is? It's because my generation, sadly, knows all these great literary works by the feature films they were made into. (Mario Puzo wrote The Godfather. Yeah, it was a book first, kids.) Anyways, seeing this quote the other night made me remember why I loved writing so much. It reminded me of my early inspirations to tell the world as I see it, to try and capture otherwise speechless moments in words. And, I guess I could say this was a great reminder for me to enjoy life while I can. Young, wild, and free.
Love,
N
My weekend wasn't nearly as raging as I had originally planned. Florida was covered in rainy, cloudy, muggy, overcast, gross weather. We got one good half-day at the pool out of it. I also did some shopping at the outlet malls. Did I mention I despise the outlet malls in Orlando? Sales people asked if my friends and I were from a tour bus. No. I live here. This is my place of residence. I am not a tourist. Do I look like a loud, obnoxious, clueless, non-English-speaking, walks-into-people, breast-feeds-a-baby-in-public tourist? Absofreakinglutely NOT.
I cleaned out my craft bin yesterday. No lie, I had an entire under-bed Rubbermaid tub full of scrap booking and crafting supplies. Let me tell you how ecstatic I am to go through all of the rest of the junk I've collected over the years and throw it away. My moving motto is if I don't need it, aren't currently using it, and can't sell it, donate it or throw it away. Half of me feels guilty getting rid of things people have given me, but a bigger half of me feels rejuvenated and free. My craft bucket is being donated to my sorority; they'll definitely get more use out of it than I will.
Oh, yeah, and Thursday evening, after margaritas, we ended up back at a friends house to hang out. He had these canvas paintings in the living room, and I immediately became nostalgic and slightly obsessed.
Love,
N
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Margaritas and Sisterhood
And, again, I missed posting. I know you're devastated, but please try to understand that yesterday was spent trying to finish the-paper-from-hell that I was supposed to finish Monday. Today I have another paper to write, comparing and contrasting political ideologies, and tracing the modern-day views back to the traditional ones. Sounds super exciting, I know. Good thing I don't mind writing papers.
I'm trying to plow through these papers so that I can enjoy my weekend with my friends. Finals are technically next week, so everyone will be bogged down, so this weekend is everyone's last chance to get a little crazy before summer. Sure, we can get crazy a lot over summer but that's besides the point. I think ever since it's started to dawn on me that big-girl-world is hurling my way, I have an intense urge to party as often as possible. Probably immature, but I have the rest of my life for maturity, right? And, in my defense, I'm not going back to my freshman year of college where I'm pretty sure I attended every Thursday morning class still drunk from the night before. It's more like... grown-up-I'm-old-and-know-my-limits-and-hate-hangovers partying. Some guy invited me to a FourLoko party at his university-affiliated apartment this weekend. It took everything in me to keep from physically cringing at the thought of playing beer pong in an apartment with an RA down the hall and a line for the bathroom 6 hours long because a freshman is occupying it to puke. I'll take some margaritas at the Mexican restaurant, instead, thanks.
My friends and I all have senioritis at this point. We're all light-hearted and giddy about graduating in May or August. We all want to have a grand ole jolly time before the real world comes pounding on our door at 8am and we can't roll over and say "eh I'll text that fraternity boy for notes later." If you have no clue what I'm talking about, bookmark this post and re-read it when you're about to graduate.
I don't write about my sorority much in this blog because, day in and day out, it's easy to get bogged down in Greek life drama and petty annoyances. My Greek experience wasn't all rainbows and butterflies. In fact, my Recruitment week, it hurricaned for 5 days straight. (That's not my exaggeration of a rain storm. I'm talking hurricane Fay, all up in my freshly straightened hair.) In part, I think the trials and tribulations are what made these past four years so worthwhile and rewarding. My chapter has, at times, been through hell, but at the same time, we held hands through it all. These girls encouraged me to be a stronger person, and pushed me to be the best version of myself. I've gained a lot of character. I've learned a lot about who I am. I couldn't be more grateful for my chapter and my sisterhood, even if it didn't always seem like that on a daily basis. Our standards chair and I giggled about all the trouble I got into during my final meeting where I received my alumni status. That's what a sister is; someone who can tell you when you're being an asshat, and then turn it into a great story to tell later on. Graduating and leaving and growing up really puts the past 4 years into perspective.
Sisters are girls who will only look down on you to pick you up off the bar floor. A sister is someone who signs you up for an embarrassing contest at a redneck bar, and buys you a beer to help you gain the courage to go through with it. A sister is someone who will lay in bed with you for hours on a lazy day, watching trashy People's Court TV. A sister is someone who knows your deepest, darkest moments, but sees the best in you, anyways. Just like my biological sister, my sorority sisters and I have fought, yelled, screamed, shoved each other. We've disagreed, rolled our eyes, called each other names, and fought over boys. But just like my biological sister, my sorority sisters are always there for each other. We hold each other up. We rally together, supporting one another. We each have our own strengths and weaknesses, but it's not until we are bonded together that we can share these strengths, build one another up, and work together to overcome vices. We know that we are all part of something bigger, better, greater than just ourselves, and that the small disputes are insignificant when we think about how much we can accomplish as sisters. And, now that all of this is coming into perspective for us, we can't wait to celebrate with each other. Celebrate our shenanigans, our accomplishments, our promising futures... and most importantly, celebrate the fact that our days as active members may end, but our sisterhood never will, regardless of how corny and Hallmark-card-esque it all sounds.
Love,
N
I'm trying to plow through these papers so that I can enjoy my weekend with my friends. Finals are technically next week, so everyone will be bogged down, so this weekend is everyone's last chance to get a little crazy before summer. Sure, we can get crazy a lot over summer but that's besides the point. I think ever since it's started to dawn on me that big-girl-world is hurling my way, I have an intense urge to party as often as possible. Probably immature, but I have the rest of my life for maturity, right? And, in my defense, I'm not going back to my freshman year of college where I'm pretty sure I attended every Thursday morning class still drunk from the night before. It's more like... grown-up-I'm-old-and-know-my-limits-and-hate-hangovers partying. Some guy invited me to a FourLoko party at his university-affiliated apartment this weekend. It took everything in me to keep from physically cringing at the thought of playing beer pong in an apartment with an RA down the hall and a line for the bathroom 6 hours long because a freshman is occupying it to puke. I'll take some margaritas at the Mexican restaurant, instead, thanks.
My friends and I all have senioritis at this point. We're all light-hearted and giddy about graduating in May or August. We all want to have a grand ole jolly time before the real world comes pounding on our door at 8am and we can't roll over and say "eh I'll text that fraternity boy for notes later." If you have no clue what I'm talking about, bookmark this post and re-read it when you're about to graduate.
I don't write about my sorority much in this blog because, day in and day out, it's easy to get bogged down in Greek life drama and petty annoyances. My Greek experience wasn't all rainbows and butterflies. In fact, my Recruitment week, it hurricaned for 5 days straight. (That's not my exaggeration of a rain storm. I'm talking hurricane Fay, all up in my freshly straightened hair.) In part, I think the trials and tribulations are what made these past four years so worthwhile and rewarding. My chapter has, at times, been through hell, but at the same time, we held hands through it all. These girls encouraged me to be a stronger person, and pushed me to be the best version of myself. I've gained a lot of character. I've learned a lot about who I am. I couldn't be more grateful for my chapter and my sisterhood, even if it didn't always seem like that on a daily basis. Our standards chair and I giggled about all the trouble I got into during my final meeting where I received my alumni status. That's what a sister is; someone who can tell you when you're being an asshat, and then turn it into a great story to tell later on. Graduating and leaving and growing up really puts the past 4 years into perspective.
Sisters are girls who will only look down on you to pick you up off the bar floor. A sister is someone who signs you up for an embarrassing contest at a redneck bar, and buys you a beer to help you gain the courage to go through with it. A sister is someone who will lay in bed with you for hours on a lazy day, watching trashy People's Court TV. A sister is someone who knows your deepest, darkest moments, but sees the best in you, anyways. Just like my biological sister, my sorority sisters and I have fought, yelled, screamed, shoved each other. We've disagreed, rolled our eyes, called each other names, and fought over boys. But just like my biological sister, my sorority sisters are always there for each other. We hold each other up. We rally together, supporting one another. We each have our own strengths and weaknesses, but it's not until we are bonded together that we can share these strengths, build one another up, and work together to overcome vices. We know that we are all part of something bigger, better, greater than just ourselves, and that the small disputes are insignificant when we think about how much we can accomplish as sisters. And, now that all of this is coming into perspective for us, we can't wait to celebrate with each other. Celebrate our shenanigans, our accomplishments, our promising futures... and most importantly, celebrate the fact that our days as active members may end, but our sisterhood never will, regardless of how corny and Hallmark-card-esque it all sounds.
Love,
N
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
The Weekend Everything Happened
Happy Tuesday! Sorry I didn't post yesterday, I basically took Monday off to lay in bed and do nothing. And by nothing, I mean I beat my high score in Temple Run. That's productive, right? Yep, thought so. I had a very long and busy and fun-filled weekend, and I just needed a day to relax before I started all my finals studying and papers this week. Plus, I had my very last chapter meeting last night, and it ran late. Oh, and I made my very first roasted chicken for dinner last night. I make a mean roast chicken, if I do say so myself. The leftovers are in a sandwich for my lunch today and the bones will be made into soup later this week. Ew gross bones in soup? Yes, in fact, contrary to what my boyfriend thinks, "making soup" does not actually involve a can opener. Trust me on this one.
Anyways, I know you're dying to hear about my crazy busy fun-filled extravaganza of a weekend. Well, I won't bore you with a 6-paragraph long post of the details, but it all started once upon a Thursday... One of my best friends and I decided to stop by a congratulations-on-getting-a-real-world-job-party at the World of Beer around here. Well, last minute, the guy with the real-world-job changed plans, but we still wanted a beer. If you haven't been to a World of Beer bar, I highly suggest it. It's the perfect place I could think of for Happy Hour or a relaxing catch-up session. They have something like 6 billion beers. It's great. Anyways, to make this long story short, grabbing-a-beer-to-celebrate-our-big-weekend turned into running-int-old-friends-and-strangers-who-bought-us-beers-and-closing-down-the-place-and-getting-a-ride-home-from-my-boyfriend. Thursday night: success.
Friday involved 20 girls on an adventure downtown for a bar-crawl. As in, 20 girls started at my house. The cab company screwed us over. As in, I had made reservations two weeks prior to reserve taxi-vans, and hour after our scheduled pick-up time, the dispatcher told me if I called again, he would block my number, because he was too busy to send anyone out. (Seriously, never use Orlando Cab company. I know the number is easy to memorize, but they are some serious ass-hats up in that place. I have zero shame exploiting terrible business on social media, as I've mentioned before.) Anyways, back to the fun. After my good friend from the World Of Beer night saved the day by finding us some alternative transportation downtown, probably 14 girls successfully walked into the first bar. Two more were promptly taken home in cabs that were suddenly available. Every bar after that, girls were dropping like flies. As in, everyone was having way too much fun. Free VIP and bottle service and the fact that we pretended it was a bachelorette party can do that to you. Seven of us made it to the end of the night, and toasted to our success with street-vendor hot dogs. It was perfect.
Saturday was my sorority formal. I don't know if I've mentioned this before, but I've only every been on one other formal for my sorority, and that was my freshman year. Sure, I'd been on fraternity formals and plenty of date parties, but formal with all of your sisters is just... special. Yeah, that's corny, whatever. It's an excuse to get the perfect dress and shoes and get all done up like you're going to prom. Except, it's not prom, so your principle isn't DJing, and you're 21 so you don't have to sneak shot of Malibu rum that you snuck from your parents' liquor cabinet before. I finally got to take my boyfriend as my date, which may sound weird if you haven't already read about it here. We went to a ball room at Sea World, which was so cute. It was well worth the 2-year wait. And, a Coffee and Dinosaurs first!!! A photo from the evening that sums up the entire weekend!
Sunday morning was rough, I'm not gonna lie. The past 3 days were running on minimal sleep and a bit of alcohol, so making it to senior sendoff banquet for my sorority was touch-and-go for a bit. Good think my hair still looked perfect from formal. (Thanks, 2 cans of hairspray.) Normally, everyone ends up sobbing at sendoff and seniors read their well-thought-out and sentimental letters to the chapter. This year, though, my pledge class obviously spiced things up. While the emotions were felt all around, it just wouldn't be us if we didn't impose lots of humor and obnoxiousness.
Are you bored yet? Yeah, I don't know why you actually believed me when I said I wasn't going to bog you down with all the nitty-gritty details. Sorry. Normally nothing interesting happens in my life, and this weekend it seemed like everything happened. I already told you last night was my very last chapter as an active member of my sorority, and I may or may not have cried when I received my stole to wear at graduation. So, this long, super busy post with a picture will hopefully make up for the lack of you reading this for the past 5 days in whatever voice you imagine me having.
Have a fabulous Tuesday!
Love,
N
Anyways, I know you're dying to hear about my crazy busy fun-filled extravaganza of a weekend. Well, I won't bore you with a 6-paragraph long post of the details, but it all started once upon a Thursday... One of my best friends and I decided to stop by a congratulations-on-getting-a-real-world-job-party at the World of Beer around here. Well, last minute, the guy with the real-world-job changed plans, but we still wanted a beer. If you haven't been to a World of Beer bar, I highly suggest it. It's the perfect place I could think of for Happy Hour or a relaxing catch-up session. They have something like 6 billion beers. It's great. Anyways, to make this long story short, grabbing-a-beer-to-celebrate-our-big-weekend turned into running-int-old-friends-and-strangers-who-bought-us-beers-and-closing-down-the-place-and-getting-a-ride-home-from-my-boyfriend. Thursday night: success.
Friday involved 20 girls on an adventure downtown for a bar-crawl. As in, 20 girls started at my house. The cab company screwed us over. As in, I had made reservations two weeks prior to reserve taxi-vans, and hour after our scheduled pick-up time, the dispatcher told me if I called again, he would block my number, because he was too busy to send anyone out. (Seriously, never use Orlando Cab company. I know the number is easy to memorize, but they are some serious ass-hats up in that place. I have zero shame exploiting terrible business on social media, as I've mentioned before.) Anyways, back to the fun. After my good friend from the World Of Beer night saved the day by finding us some alternative transportation downtown, probably 14 girls successfully walked into the first bar. Two more were promptly taken home in cabs that were suddenly available. Every bar after that, girls were dropping like flies. As in, everyone was having way too much fun. Free VIP and bottle service and the fact that we pretended it was a bachelorette party can do that to you. Seven of us made it to the end of the night, and toasted to our success with street-vendor hot dogs. It was perfect.
Saturday was my sorority formal. I don't know if I've mentioned this before, but I've only every been on one other formal for my sorority, and that was my freshman year. Sure, I'd been on fraternity formals and plenty of date parties, but formal with all of your sisters is just... special. Yeah, that's corny, whatever. It's an excuse to get the perfect dress and shoes and get all done up like you're going to prom. Except, it's not prom, so your principle isn't DJing, and you're 21 so you don't have to sneak shot of Malibu rum that you snuck from your parents' liquor cabinet before. I finally got to take my boyfriend as my date, which may sound weird if you haven't already read about it here. We went to a ball room at Sea World, which was so cute. It was well worth the 2-year wait. And, a Coffee and Dinosaurs first!!! A photo from the evening that sums up the entire weekend!
And, yes, I know my formal dress isn't very, well, formal, but whatever. I looked great.
Are you bored yet? Yeah, I don't know why you actually believed me when I said I wasn't going to bog you down with all the nitty-gritty details. Sorry. Normally nothing interesting happens in my life, and this weekend it seemed like everything happened. I already told you last night was my very last chapter as an active member of my sorority, and I may or may not have cried when I received my stole to wear at graduation. So, this long, super busy post with a picture will hopefully make up for the lack of you reading this for the past 5 days in whatever voice you imagine me having.
Have a fabulous Tuesday!
Love,
N
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Clearance Candy and Taco Bell
Happy Thursday! Yay it's my weekend! I have high hopes of being productive all morning with this paper, making some phone calls I haven't had time for all week, powering through class, bronzing, getting new shoes at Macy's, working out, getting a spray tan for this weekend... high hopes. I'm chugging coffee now.
I've mentioned before in a few posts that I've been in a funk lately. This whole graduation-and-moving-and-finding-a-real-job-and-growing-up-and-the-real-world thing is hitting me hard. And I'm not handling it with as much grace as I would like. As in, I ate Taco Bell for dinner last night (sober) and drove around aimlessly listening to sad country songs, and then bought Easter clearance candy with the intentions of laying in bed and eating it all. (I fell asleep before I could chomp the ears off a Reester Bunny... cute name, Reeses.) I know, I'm such a mess. Did I mention that I ran into a friend while buying said sale candy, and our "catch up" conversation was all about our plans for the "real world?" Yeah, well, I did. And while it was nice to see him again and great to hear that he's doing well, he also asked the infamous question that hits me like a warm shot of tequila on a hungover morning. "You're just, moving up there? With no job? Just... moving?" Sigh. Yes, people, for the bazillionth time, I am. Call me crazy. Shake your head when we part ways. Give me that quizzical look. I'm not doing it for you, I'm doing it for me.
Anyways, this whole weird-mood thing I've been in has me obnoxiously emotional. The Taco Bell drive through woman was extra nice to me? Insanely happy. My burrito falls out of my makeshit burrito-holder in my car? In tears. (And by burrito-holder, I mean I re-purposed my cup holder. Failure.) Someone, give me a Xanax, A.S.A.P. I seriously almost added two-for-ten-dollar chardonnay to my cart last night, but I figured the single Lean Cuisine and chocolate was pathetic enough. Something made me feel better, though. I was in such a grouchy, terrible, no good, pout-until-16-airplanes-could-land-on-my-bottom-lip mood, and my boyfriend was busy studying, and I just wanted attention and comfort, and I wasn't getting it. So, instead of whining about it (okay, so I whined for approximately 34 minutes about it), I decided to do something nice for my boyfriend. I went and bought him study break snacks and dropped them by his house. And, I felt a little better.
I went home and talked to my roommate. She graduated last year and has decided to move away the same time I will this summer. For similar reasons. I felt a lot better after having someone relate to me. I realized that when I feel like I'm not getting enough love, or when I feel alone and hurt, sometimes it just takes a sad country song and a change of perspective to help things get better. We are not as alone as we think. We are not as different as we feel. And sometimes, when we want love the most, that is the best time to give love.
Sorry for getting all mushy-gushy on you today. I'm definitely the "before" part of a Midol commercial this week.
Love,
N
I've mentioned before in a few posts that I've been in a funk lately. This whole graduation-and-moving-and-finding-a-real-job-and-growing-up-and-the-real-world thing is hitting me hard. And I'm not handling it with as much grace as I would like. As in, I ate Taco Bell for dinner last night (sober) and drove around aimlessly listening to sad country songs, and then bought Easter clearance candy with the intentions of laying in bed and eating it all. (I fell asleep before I could chomp the ears off a Reester Bunny... cute name, Reeses.) I know, I'm such a mess. Did I mention that I ran into a friend while buying said sale candy, and our "catch up" conversation was all about our plans for the "real world?" Yeah, well, I did. And while it was nice to see him again and great to hear that he's doing well, he also asked the infamous question that hits me like a warm shot of tequila on a hungover morning. "You're just, moving up there? With no job? Just... moving?" Sigh. Yes, people, for the bazillionth time, I am. Call me crazy. Shake your head when we part ways. Give me that quizzical look. I'm not doing it for you, I'm doing it for me.
Anyways, this whole weird-mood thing I've been in has me obnoxiously emotional. The Taco Bell drive through woman was extra nice to me? Insanely happy. My burrito falls out of my makeshit burrito-holder in my car? In tears. (And by burrito-holder, I mean I re-purposed my cup holder. Failure.) Someone, give me a Xanax, A.S.A.P. I seriously almost added two-for-ten-dollar chardonnay to my cart last night, but I figured the single Lean Cuisine and chocolate was pathetic enough. Something made me feel better, though. I was in such a grouchy, terrible, no good, pout-until-16-airplanes-could-land-on-my-bottom-lip mood, and my boyfriend was busy studying, and I just wanted attention and comfort, and I wasn't getting it. So, instead of whining about it (okay, so I whined for approximately 34 minutes about it), I decided to do something nice for my boyfriend. I went and bought him study break snacks and dropped them by his house. And, I felt a little better.
I went home and talked to my roommate. She graduated last year and has decided to move away the same time I will this summer. For similar reasons. I felt a lot better after having someone relate to me. I realized that when I feel like I'm not getting enough love, or when I feel alone and hurt, sometimes it just takes a sad country song and a change of perspective to help things get better. We are not as alone as we think. We are not as different as we feel. And sometimes, when we want love the most, that is the best time to give love.
Sorry for getting all mushy-gushy on you today. I'm definitely the "before" part of a Midol commercial this week.
Love,
N
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