We are WINNING

In other news, I’m kind of a big deal.

That’s my cryptic way of telling you I have some news to share soon.

On to bigger and better things. So, I might as well warn you now dear reader, this entry is going to be extremely petty. If that seems like it might offend you, go read something else.

Breakups suck, we all know this. They are usually difficult, uncomfortable, and in the worst cases; they are sad. Breakup aftermath is just bananas. For girls, [I might be letting the cat out of the bag here] it becomes a silent competition. It is IMPERATIVE that girls feel like they are better off and doing bigger things than their ex boyfriend. This crazy town logic is especially true if your ex is an asshole.

A little background.

My ex boyfriend was a huge jerk. We dated for way way way too long, he was rude, possibly an alcoholic, and kinda dumb. He was mean, insecure, and so so so very needy. Because I am a good girlfriend [see: I was an idiot] I was very attentive and catered to his ridiculous personality despite what my parents and friends tried to tell me. Eventually I snapped out of it and moved on, but not without carrying resentment for my wasted years [right Liz?].

Taryn’s ex boyfriend [yes, I am speaking for her] was ALSO a huge jerk. They also dated for way too long. He was also rude and kinda dumb. He was also mean and insecure and worst of all he thought he was funny. Because Taryn is a good girlfriend [see: she was being an idiot] she stuck around for awhile hoping that maybe he would get his head out of his ass and realize what a catch she was. They eventually broke up, and Taryn carried this same resentment.

Okay. Now you’re caught up.

Currently:

I am a college grad with a legit job and I am engaged.

Taryn is a college grad with a grown up job, an awesome kickball team, and guys are literally blowing up her phone so much she needs to have it on silent.

And…

My ex took 5 years to finish college and just acquired his third DUI.

Taryn’s ex is possibly still in his undergrad at 24 and tried to tell her he drove a Range Rover. He lied.

We won.

You can win too.

-A

Advertisements

Hi. I Like to Cry.

I’ve mentioned this on the blog before, but I seriously have a crying problem. If you met me you would never think, ‘oh wow, I think that girl cries like 8 times a day’. I am sarcastic and often walk around with a stone cold heart. My real life hardly ever makes me cry. In fights I don’t cry, I yell. At work I don’t cry, I get even. With my friends I don’t cry, because I have the best friends ever and they would never do that to me.

Television. Television makes me cry.

1. I guess it’s always good to start with the lamest one in hopes that by the time you have finished the list you will have forgotten how ridiculous I am. The first time I saw this COFFEE commercial I cried. I seriously need to get it together. I can watch it now without crying, but I was a sucker for the awful jingle and preposterous acting/plot line the first time.

 

2. We all know how much I love Casey Abrams on American Idol. Too much. I think he is INCREDIBLY talented and a little bit adorable all rolled up into one. A few weeks ago he received the least amount of votes and was going to end up going home, but the judges used their ONLY season save to save him from this unfair fate. Crying ensued. By me. And a little by Casey.

 

3. I also cry at adorableness. I stumbled upon this video on someone’s blog/facebook/whatever and watched it laughing with tears streaming down my face like the craziest person on the face of the planet.

 

4. I found this website and sometimes when I feel like I need to fit in one more cry for the day I visit it. Sometimes I get the feeling the little anecdotes are fake or made up, but I don’t really care. I don’t discriminate when it comes to my tears.

 

5. The other day I decided to watch the first episode of the new show Mobbed. I basically started crying immediate just because I could feel what was coming. In this show a guy loves his jealous girlfriend so much that he decides to plan [with the help of Howie Mendel] an elaborate proposal. The whole event starts with her being jealous of some skanky actress playing a lost connection of her boyfriend, and ends with tears, singing, and more tears. Most of the tears were from me. WHAT IS MY PROBLEM.

Happy crying!

-A

“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).

-T

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.

Sippin’ on Gin and Juice….

Just now I was perusing the interwebs when I can came across a featured blog on the WordPress homepage. Entitled “What Was Your First Cocktail”, the article quickly had me reminiscing to a time where I drank cocktails and not just my now commonplace flat diet sprite [<worst thing ever]. Because the author is classy, he lets you know immediately that his first cocktail was a martini. Well, excuse me Sir-Class-A-Lot. I would also like to point out that during the time of his first Shaken not Stirred, the author was also married. YOUTH THESE DAYS.

I might as well let you know right off the bat that I have NEVER ordered a martini in my life. Mostly I am afraid to because the bar tender will immediately rigidly point at me like in Invasion of the Body Snatchers [the 70s version] to make sure everyone knows that I am not really and adult or prestigious enough to order such a drink. I am an impostor.

According to the Miriam-Webster dictionary the definition of cocktail is as follows: an iced drink of wine or distilled liquor mixed with flavoring ingredients.

I was under the impression that to actually classify as a cocktail it needed some sort of specific ingredient like vodka or gin or something. Who am I to argue with the dictionary.

Based on this definition my first cocktail happened before I could order it at a bar like a classy person. Now, in all honesty I don’t really remember what my first cocktail was. Despite what you may be thinking, this is not because I instantly got sooo wasted that I promptly forgot. It’s more like I try and erase bad tastes from my memory so I never have to conjure them up when people mention them in the future. Unless you are this swanky martini guy, your first drink probably wasn’t the tastiest thing your buds have ever experienced. Given these weird circumstances there are a few possible “cocktails” that may have easily taken my “first-time” spot.

Contenders:

1. Rum and Coke

2. White Russian

3. Vodka Soda

Mostly all disgusting, I know. Rum and Coke? What am I fifteen? But seriously. The first time you want to drink something you really do think about commercials you have seen on television for direction in what to purchase; ie Bacardi. Let me just tell you, Bacardi is disgusting in all forms but especially in the RAZZ form. Avoid at all costs. White Russians? Yes. Keeping in Klassy. Like a 75 year old. Last but not least, the tried and true, Vodka Soda. I still drink this, that’s how you know it’s good. I’m hoping my first cocktail was a V.Soda so I can hold on to my dignity and pretend that even as a first time drinker I was savvy. Unfortunately I think that the more likely first drink was a rum and coke, heavy on the RAZZ.

What was your first cocktail?!

-A

P.S. Writing this in the morning is making me want to throw up.

 

If You’re a Bird….

HUGE ANNOUNCEMENT ALL OF YOU [4] READERS!

Can’t get enough of our banter and useless information?

Well now you can get even more of our one liners.

140 characters to be exact!

That’s right, We Love Ourselves is now on Twitter! Please follow us so we don’t spin into a dark place because we have no friends.

Follow us!!

-A

Business Trip Anecdote Edition: Day 1

Hola mis amigos! Although we are in the heart of busy season (see: me crying almost daily), it is necessary for me to drop in with a little anecdote to keep your love for me (please at least pretend this is true) growing strong.

To preface my story, there are a couple of facts to get y’all up to speed:

  1. I am on a business trip to Jacksonville.
  2. I am still the only girl at my job.
  3. We got in at 11:30 last night.
  4. I like to get AT LEAST 8 hours of sleep.
  5. I am tan (not important, but I is so excite).

Anyway, I enjoy business trips. I love free food and a room to myself. However, this particular business has already started off in a fashion I am not too hip with. For starters, we didn’t leave Clearwater until 7 o clock. We didn’t get out of familiar territory until around 8:30. Uhm. I can do the math and know that we won’t get to Jax anytime before 11 at this point. AND we hadn’t stopped to get dinner. Fabulous. I am already late for my bedtime, which is precisely 10 o clock. Thankfully I am not the one driving but I am in the backseat FREEZING. I didn’t even see a vent aimed at me and I asked the co worker to move it and I swear even when he shut them, I felt the blast even more. I was trapped in an igloo, without food and water and a pillow. Huge nightmare, in my opinion. Regardless, we keep driving.

Now, for those of you who haven’t travelled in Florida, there’s nothing to see on the interstates. To the right we have farms and desolation. And to the left we have farms and desolation. Oh wait! I think I see a restaurant! Nope, that’s just an old bait shop. It’s truly a boring drive. Naturally we weren’t hungry when we crossed through actual civilization and our only hopes at food after that were gas stations (Fresh Fried Chicken and Hot Dogs, uhm I’ll pass) and a random Hardees (in the words of my coworker, “I think I just vomited in my mouth. I’d rather starve”).  So we kept trucking.

I am on a weird schedule with my personal health, and once it hits 9 o clock I try not to eat anything; so of course tonight I was famished. Even a Hardees meal sounded delicious (gross).  As we are FINALLY (see: 2 whole Ludacris albums and 1 Jay-Z album…we got’s the beats) getting into Jacksonville, we notice there are a PLETHORA of places still open at 10:30. Taco Bell was thrown out (I think as a joke, although I don’t joke about the Bell), along with Wendy’s. Then, as if by fate, we see a glowing red sign that read, “Steak N’Shake”. Bingo. We were sold.

We go in, and sit. At this point in the evening I am particularly giddy and giggly. I can’t help thinking that people around us (yes, there were other patrons at this horrible hour) think that I am drunk. I don’t know that I care.

We get our SOFT SPOKEN waiter, Armando (see: scrawny 16 year old). Seriously he mumbled. It was distracting. I order my CHILI CHEESE DOG, small STRAWBERRY MILKSHAKE, and FRIES. I know. I broke a cardinal rule in my book. Not only am I about to give myself an early heart attack, but it’s WAY PAST my eating hour. At this point in the night though, I really just don’t care.

Dinner recap:

Chili cheese dog? Good. Milkshake? Delicious. Fries? Perfect.

My one co worker does the smart thing and also orders a milkshake at dinner. The other one gets a COKE. Boring. But is like, I’ll get one later and bring it back. So as we are getting up to pay, my other co worker asks the cashier about making a to-go milkshake. My first impression of this girl is, wow she looks tired. Which I don’t blame her. I probably looked the same. Then she goes on with her spiel of, “well since it’s late we only have so many people waiting on tables, doing cashier, doing drive thru…” (aka, no you won’t be getting a milkshake right now). So my co worker is like, oh that’s alright! Then the cashier says, and I kid you not, “You wouldn’t want me to make your milkshake anyway. I just puked haa”.

UHM WHAT? Why are you sharing that? More importantly, why are you laughing about it? Go home!

We pay and get out of there. It was the weirdest thing ever. I am glad she didn’t say any of this before we ate/glad she wasn’t our waitress. Although maybe it would’ve made me eat a little slower and not stuff a whole handful of fries in my mouth at a time…oh well.

I’m hoping the way this business trip started doesn’t filter through the whole week. That’d be a hoot. It’d also be quite fattening.

-T

5 minutes and 20 seconds

What’s funny is that my previous novel post wasn’t supposed to be about that Clayton story at all. I got sidetracked. NO SURPRISE THERE.

My post ACTUALLY was supposed to be about what happened the other night. He doesn’t know this happened, which makes me SCREAM with laughter.

You see, Clayton and I have a funny relationship. It is essentially made up of phone tag and long endearing voicemail messages. Well, the other night was no different. It was 5:48 on Tuesday, and I was still at work when he called. I let it go to voicemail cause my boss was still there, HA. It wasn’t until I was going to bed when I listened to it.

It was a butt dial.

I was about to delete, when I started hearing singing. I was like, what is going on?? As I keep listening I realize he butt dialed me while in his car and he was flipping through the radio. I would be a liar if I said I didn’t listen to the whole thing. Which, “the whole thing” in this case is 5 MINUTES AND 20 SECONDS. I just couldn’t get myself to get off of the phone. I justt HAD to hear what song he stopped on and sang for a verse or two. It was a like a game. Immediately after listening, I wrote down all the songs. Because I knew he’d get a kick out it. So, in order, I give to you Clayton’s radio selections along with my commentary:

1. Back to December- Taylor Swift (for only a line or two)

Good vocals. Really showed some emotion to T. Swifts lyrics “And I go back to December all the time”.

2. What’s My Name- Rihanna (maybe 30 seconds)

Couldn’t help but laugh when it was the part ” Hey boy I really wanna see, if you can go downtown with a girl like me”. Once again, great vocals. Rihanna would’ve been proud.

3. Hard- Ke$ha (not gonna lie, this was the longest standing song. Clayton is very flippy I realized)

I sang along, with Clayton. We sound good together by the way. Possibly duet at Avalon’s wedding?? Think about it.

4. Undo It- Carrie Underwood

“I wanna uh-uh-uh-uh-uh-uh-undo it”. LOVED. IT. Stellar. Carrie ain’t got nothing on you.

I sorry, but not sorry I didn’t answer your call, Clayton. I was a little disappointed that our girl Mawiah didn’t make a cameo…perhaps next time.

I can’t wait until I butt dial someone and they hear my Celine Dion blasting…let’s just say, I can’t hit the high notes. But I sure do try. Loudly.

 

-T

Previous Older Entries