Spring fever? I think so.

This is a friend of mine so obsessed with spring he's taking a picture of a tree.

How amazing is this weather?

Okay so, the weather is only really amazing if you live in the Northeast. We were plagued with a winter from hell and now we are running around outside like crazy people in bathing suits while the weatherman tells us it is 65 degrees outside. We’re deprived. I view living in New England similarly to what I imagine childbirth must be like. I will explain. OBVIOUSLY giving birth is awful. Placenta, blood, tearing, poop. See? I didn’t even have to describe what it is like, just throw a few choice words out, and you’re already grossed out. Still, despite the grossness or the immense pain, women keep reproducing. As much as I can figure it is because they suffer from memory loss. During pregnancy women are usually miserable, during the actual birthing process they are psychotically regretful, but once they have the adorable, gurgling baby they instantly forget the hellsauce [not a word] of a road they traveled to get the child that will someday be responsible for all the grey hairs. As New Englanders we go through similar motions. At the beginning of winter we are all instantly miserable as we schlep through the slush and the flurries. During the middle of winter when feet upon feet of devil flakes are piling up we get a little psycho and start looking up houses in southern California. But then our baby, Spring, is born. We pretend 50 degrees means tshirt and shorts weather and we welcome the sounds of birds chirping in the morning. We marvel at late sunsets and spring showers. Eventually we are skipping through the streets smelling the flowers and wearing flip flops thinking that there will never be a more perfect place to live. It happens every single year, yet we are always surprised when winter owns our asses. When will we learn friends? WHEN WILL WE LEARN?


ps…..this kid is my hero



#1. Follow us on twitter please. Sometimes we are entertaining, I promise.

#2. Read THIS article and take some notes on how to be a good friend.

#3. Head over to your local Starbucks and pick up one of these babies, you can thank me later.

#4. Made this cake last night for my Dad’s BDay, and it was delightful. Try it out, Easter maybe?

#5. This is my new favorite blog. She has pictures of cute stuff and food…what more could you ask for?


I believe that children are our future. Teach them well and let them lead the way

Why can’t we get pre-Bobby Brown Whitney back? I miss her.

Regardless of the awesomeness that was (is?) Whitney Houston, this post is about children. In particular, my sister.

Now circa 1990’s, Kasey was definitely the more creative one of the family. While we both sang, swam, did gymnastics, she also drew beautiful pictures, played the piano, painted things, wrote poems and witty stories. My extra hobby was probably sitting in a corner and picking my nose (joking?). Well Circa 2000’s nothing has really changed. I am still active and play sports (Yes, kickball is a sport. Just look at that headband. And that’s a pic post kickball domination game. Team name? 99 Problems but a Pitch Ain’t One. You know you love it) and Kasey is still the more hippie/artsy oriented one (No, those aren’t her sandals and socks. She’s artsy, not a tourist). Though we obviously are still the same, we have to take some credit to evolving. I mean I have tweaked the artistic abilities, ie. stick figures CAN be considered art, and one could say that Kasey’s nose has never been more boogerless (still joking?).

But one thing will forever be evolveless (word? just made it one, if not). That being the witty stories/letters/writing of my dear sister. All of this was confirmed a couple weeks ago when our friend since kindgeraten Sarah (aka Kasey’s biffle, and different than Avalon’s friend Sarah) came over to our house with a GEM of an artifact from our youth. I knew my life would never be the same when she breaks out a letter written on none other than Kirsten (as in, Kirsten the AMERICAN GIRL) stationary.




I then open up the letter and note that this was dated June 4, 1998, making Kasey a ripe age of 8 and 11/12 months (exact ages were a big deal for us). I then go on to read the letter, written in typical little kid fashion of adorable meets sloppy. The letter went a little bit (see: exactly) like this:

Dear Sarah,

I really miss you. I hope I see you soon. Guess what! You MIGHT get to sleep over in the summer around my b-day! If you do we might get to do a movie! I wrote the script (of course.) Your sister can come too (Taryn invited her.) Well, I’ll send you a copy of the script. I’m going to be a alien. You can be a alien too. Taryn is going to be a plain girl. Emily can be one too. My name is Oido in the script. Your name is Onadon. Taryn’s is Ruby. Emily’s is Garnet. My dad is in it too. His name is Dr. Silver. Well gotta go. I’ll write some more.

Your friend,


P.S. My b-day is July 27th

P.S.S. Call me my number is 960-0138

First thoughts:

1. Kasey’s grammar has grown significantly (“a alien”=not grammatically correct. It’s okay, Kase. Those were tough)

2. OF COURSE she wrote the script, DUH Sarah. Why get Spielberg when you have Kasey? Also, who saw it going in that direction? I didn’t. “Might get to do a movie” screams go watch one. But 8 year old Kasey said, NAY. NAY to those petty theaters. The art’s demand actors and actresses and scripts made of their own! (I said this in my best old fashion hollywood voice, British and slightly pretentious. Try it, it’s fun)

3. Why am I a plain girl? Did she really not think my acting abilities could handle extra terrestrial life?

4. Oido and Onadon. There’s just no words to explain how happy I was to read alien names my sister made up. NEVER LIVING IT DOWN.

5. My dad will no longer be referred to as dad or daddio, but as Dr. Silver.  I also now picture my dad, I mean Dr. Silver, to look like this. And he is bald, so it works.

It took me about 10 minutes to get through the whole letter. Needless to say, my makeup had come off in the process. Tears of pure joy and happiness streamed down. Then, as the topping on my sundae of happiness, I find another folded up piece of paper in the envelope. What was it you ask? It was only a drawing, done by Kasey, thanks to the swirl feature found in Paint on the computer. 

O. M. G.

Now if my makeup wasn’t completely gone already, there was definitely no hope for the remaining bits of mascara. I was going to attach said picture, for comedic purposes, but alas I forgot my camera at home. Please, someone remind me later. It’s so amazingly great, I want everyone to laugh/cry.

So, to end in the words of a great artist turned alien writer “Well gotta go. I’ll write some more”.


P.S.S. (also a hard one to remember, 8 year old Kasey) We are in search for the said alien script. I’ll keep y’all posted. I am hoping drawings are attached, that look something like this… Just a thought, Oido.

A Visit to a Foreign Land

Over the weekend I decided I would treat myself to some much needed R&R. Mostly my coworkers should be thanking me, because without a mini vacation I would have probably murdered them all come the beginning of the workweek. Not a big deal.

After much debate [see: none at all] I decided to visit the love of my life, Laurel. I’ve spoken of Laurel here quite a few times because she was my usual movie date, before she broke my heart and moved four hours away. Laurel got a real job, and needed to move to upstate New York in order to be an adult. I’m not saying I hate the state of New York for stealing my date but….I hate the state of New York.

Let’s just say that it is the longest weirdest drive ever.

Yes, that is dirt on the windshield.

Also, I will just apologize for my photography skills or lack thereof, because I took these with an ipod touch…high tech.

Laurel lives in this adorable little town where dreams come true. Just one family’s dreams. A long time ago this strange family moved to this secluded area and decided to start a village on the land the found [see: stole from the Native Americans]. The family built up this village and inserted their hobbies throughout [art, farms, etc]. Today there is one living member of this family and she has bought up all the land around the “village” to ensure it retains its quaintness [see: isolation] forever. Weird, right? It’s like something out of Lost.

While this corner looks semi-abandoned it was not. There are a handful of adorable restaurants and delis as well as a picturesque lake off in the distance. Covered with snow. Alas, it will be summer someday, right?

This photo is the adorableness known as Laurel’s street. Although she is moving in .5 seconds, we can just love this road anyways. This is how all the residential streets in Laurel’s town look, very New England-y with the random outside flags to match. In true New England fashion all the houses are beautifully antique and very squished together with an old money feel. Oh, and as soon as we arrived in New York it snowed, obviously. On the first day of spring. Cool.

Laurel and the roommate fiancée conquering New Zealand…


All in all it was a relaxing and beautiful. I am anxious to see this adorable little town in its full blown summer glory with the expansive lake and the charming flower lined houses!


Lent: A Hypothetical

As I am sure you are fully aware [or not], Lent began yesterday on Ash Wednesday [duh]. My parents grew up very very Catholic and brought us up half-ass Catholic bordering on who-cares. We celebrate Christmas with presents and mass, Easter with candy, and Ash Wednesday with…well… no recognition whatsoever.

In the forty days between Ash Wednesday and Easter a good Catholic decides on a unnecessary/extravagant part of their life they could probably do without, i.e. bacon. The idea is a fast or a sacrifice to prepare spiritually for Easter. So I should be preparing spiritually for eating too much candy my mother still buys me even though I am twenty-three years old.

Not a big deal.

But I digress. The purpose of this post is so I can divulge my hypothetical lent possibilities. Things I would sacrifice for 40 days if I were better at my religion:

#1. Girl Scout cookies:

Seriously. I need to stop. Or I need an intervention. Yesterday I think I ate 11 girl scout cookies. I wish I was lying. I ate them spread out throughout the day so I could easily lie to myself and pretend I only had two. Sadly, not the case. It is so hard to not eat the Thin Mints calling my name from the freezer. Yes, TRY THEM FROZEN.

#2. Snacking:

If snacking were an occupation, I would be a CEO. I eat breakfast, drive to work, and immediately need a snack. I eat something every 2 hours at work so I don’t die. I go home and eat a snack while I am making dinner [lots of snacks mixed together]. I love snacks. It is amazing that I am not a million pounds.

#3. Facebook:

I am the worst Facebook user on the face of the planet. I have like 2 pictures, no wall, and I am impossible to search for. I login and I just stare at my news feed. Over time I have ‘hid’ all the people on my news feed that annoy me. This annoy list ranges from my cousin [because he’s related to me] all the way to some random guy I only met once on vacation [because he keeps promoting night clubs]. Because I have ‘hid’ so many people, there are only around 4 left to even see on my actual news feed. Basically Facebook is now pointless for me, yet somehow it is still sucking my brain out daily.

#4. Television:

I watch AWFUL television. To my defense I do watch a few recognized and acclaimed shows like Big Love, Dexter, and The Office. To my downfall, I will admit that I also watch all the Real Housewives, Jersey Shore, and Grey’s Anatomy [STILL! I know, it isn’t even good anymore….]. I’m sure my mind could really use a good television cleanse…

#5. Shopping:

I love to shop. I sit at a computer for eight hours a day, and online shopping has become a bit of a problem. Last week I bought two new books, a craft hole puncher, and striped bakers twine. I know. All necessities. My account would love if I decided to give up shopping for 40 days. Sadly, that’s not going to happen.

And there you have it folks, my hypothetical Lent list. Sadly I ate a cookie for breakfast, I packed a lunch bag full of snacks, I’ve already logged on to Facebook today, I watched Ellen this morning, and I have 2 items in my Amazon.com shopping cart.

Le Sigh.


“I like my bologna like a martini…with an olive.”

Per the request of my beloved friend/author, Avalon, I am here talking about ALCOHOL. More importantly, my first cocktail I had the joy (was it though) of drinking.

To begin, I’d like to state that I didn’t have A SIP of anything alcoholic until the end of the fall semester of my freshman year at college. I was/is what you call a goody-two-shoes. Nonetheless I ventured to a party and had my first sip(s) of Natty Light. Gross. I still don’t like beer. Unless I am at a sporting event, or someone tricked me into playing flip cup.

As Avalon pointed out, though, beer is not a cocktail. Lucky for me I remember EXACTLY what my first cocktail was. It is the biggest joke of a “cocktail”, and I am ashamed…

Raspberry Smirnoff Malt Beverage

It’s been 4 years since my first cocktail and I wish I could say that I have become more sophisticated and classy, although that would be a lie. Sometimes I have a liquor store meltdown and don’t know what to get, so I get what I think is “ole reliable”. Then I drink all 6 and feel like dying for days and wish that my 19 year old self would’ve spoken up and said, “NO NO, PUT IT AWAY”. I never put it away. I always think it’s gotten better. It hasn’t.

I’d really love for someone else to write what their first cocktail was. I’m hoping someone’s was Green Apple Smirnoff. Because honestly, those are disgusting and make my raspberry cocktail seem like an amaretto sour (love).


P.S. Yes that’s a Jim Gaffigan quote for my title. And I too have never had a martini. Mostly because I’d want to order both an onion and an olive, and I know people would judge. I can’t handle that judgement.

P.P.S. That picture is of me on my 21st birthday. I have documented proof that the first drink I ordered legally was a rum and coke. Hilarious.

Oh, uhm that’s my sister…

Kasey and I enjoy sports. There was one summer we watched Sportscenter ALL DAY….oh the days when I could sit and watch tv, and not worry about being productive. Ahh. Anyways, back to reality.

We love sports. More importantly, we love TAMPA sports. Rays, Bolts, Bucs. Love them all (well, as of recent I feel as if the Bucs don’t deserve fans. Alas, I can’t ever go against my home teams). Thankfully we have friends who share our passion with Tampa teams and we make outings to go watch games. Lucky for us we still look like we are in college, so we get student discounts. Frugal high five, whoop whoop!

Our maine (state shout out) teams are the Rays and Lightning. They have our love and loyalty. We know (sometimes pretend) all of their names and positions, and talk about them as if we were their friends. “Omg, did you see Evan‘s (Longoria- Rays) new hair cut? David (Price- Rays) is looking pretty fly tonight (idk I find that picture hilarious). Do you think Ryan (Malone- Lightning) is dating anyone? OMG RYAN (MALONE) HAS A WIFE AND 2 KIDS…NOW I CAN’T BE A HOCKEY WIFE”. Sometimes I worry we act too attached. Then I decide, I don’t care because in the back of my mind I am like, “we’re never going to see them anyway”.

Oh. Was I wrong.

It was about 9:30 pm last Friday night that (Kasey, Erica, myself and Marissa-pictured to the left-.Aka the girls) were out at a local bar that we frequent all too frequently. Kasey walks up to us and is like, “I think Lightning players are here”. Now if you know me, you know I can be two things:

1. Shy (for the most part)

2. Star crazy

Guess which one won in this battle.

Yep. Star crazy.

When I see a celeb/athlete/reality star (let’s face it, they’re not celebs) I forget ALL ABOUT being shy. ESPECIALLY if I have had anything to drink. And (sorry to say it, mom) I had a drink or two.

So there we see Steven Stamkos (Lightning, also the leading goal scorer in NHL right now. Nbd) along with Ryan Malone and two other guys (once I saw Ryan Malone, all other guys ceased to exist). I don’t say anything because who wants to be bombarded right when you walk in? Not me. So I go to the bathroom, just to walk out and see them standing RIGHT THERE. Here’s when the ballsy Taryn steps up and is like, “Oh hey guys, I see you’ve migrated to the inside of the bar?” (who says this). To which Ryan Malone answers something cute back. Well, I can only assume it was cute because I CAN’T REMEMBER WHAT HE SAID. He was just so massive and attractive, I couldn’t focus. Then I bounce back to my friends outside. I tell them about my “encounter” and we then decide by the end of the night we are talking to them again.

To me “by the end of the night” meant 15 minutes later..when Erica and I (Marissa and Kasey were too embarrassed) walked back into the bar and I go, “Just so ya know, I love the Lighting..I knew y’all were players earlier, but I felt dumb”–Why Taryn. Why.

Steven Stamkos is now the one I am conversing with and says, “Oh yeah? Are you going to the game tomorrow night?”

And I am like, “Ah no! I have been in Jacksonville all week and didn’t realize there was a game!…But seriously. I’ve been a fan since ’94”.

Stamkos laughs and is like, “Ahh gotcha. But great you like us!”

Then I am like, “Yep…Welp, good luck tomorrow!”

Then we cheers our beers and I walk away feeling quite proud of myself, until the whole conversation sinks in…

1. I couldn’t have given it an hour in between my conversations? Talk about crazy.

2. None of those guys were a part of the Lightning in 1994. Why would they care I am a fan?

3. If I’ve been a fan since 1994, then shouldn’t I know when they are playing? REGARDLESS of being elsewhere the whole week?

4. Why didn’t Ryan Malone buy me a drink?- Ha. But seriously.

If this story didn’t get anymore funny, the next night we saw Stamkos out again and while my back was turned he goes to Kasey, “Did you know that she has been a fan since ’94?”. To which Kasey replies, “Oh uhm that’s my sister…”


Glad my loyalty made an impression.


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