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.


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.


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.



Bridezilla, say whaaat?!

If you all haven’t gotten the hint at her not-very-subtle attempts, Avalonasaurus is engaged! And yours truly is the MoH (Maid of Honor). But that’s besides the point (for now).

For about 3-6 business days, Avalon and I have been crazily tracking the bridesmaid dress, thanks to UPS.com. I saw the request leave Florida, then go to like KANSAS (what), then go to Jacksonville, then finally its final leg in the journey..my front door. Yep, yesterday we (well I) got the bridesmaid dress in the mail. I WAS SO EXCITED. I stripped off my work clothes and got in it and took the most horribly blurry picture to send to Avalon (I was so excited, did I say this?).

Anyway, here is the dress.

 Ooh and ahhs, people. I EXPECT OOHS AND AAHS.

I tried it on; it was BEAUTIFUL. Avalon and I shared a moment on the phone, no big deal. So now the next step in the planning, obvi, is shoe shopping. WHICH is my second most favorite thing to do in the world (besides blog, of course). At this point, I am really feeling DSW is the place to shop. And as I am saying this I am remembering…it’s not my wedding. For those future MoH’s reading, it can be easy to get ahead of yourself, let me tell you (LOLZ). Noooow this brings me to my post.

For the most part, I don’t remember my dreams. I know I have them, but I just don’t recall any of it the next morning. There are the few (good ones), however, that are embedded in my brain. One of my favorites was when I was younger and I dreamed my mom had a mini van (she didn’t, thank goodness) and it flew and it pulled behind it a magic carpet. We “drove” it right next to the Courtney Campbell. Uhhhm that’s a bridge. AKA over water. AKA what were we thinking?!

Another favorite, already, being last nights.

It begins with Avalon and Laurel visiting me, for what appears to be some sort of bridesmaid extravaganza weekend. We have our dresses, well Laurel and I do, and we are about to go shoe shopping. YES. So far so good, for this dream. Then, out of nowhere I start crying. Like, my face is puffy, I start to look kind of round (from crying?) and mascara is all amess on my face. OUT OF NOWHERE. So we are getting ready to go, and I am taking forever to get ready (probably because I can’t see through the tears). Laurel is trying to be supportive saying, “it’s shoes, it’ll be fun! Come on shoes are fun!”. While Avalon is turning into Brideszilla and saying, “HURRY UP, OR WE’LL BE LATE TO BUY SOME SHOES”. Uhm, okay shoe police! So I get myself together, and before we are out the door I say I need to grab some shoes (should’ve thought of that earlier, dream Taryn). I must’ve taken too long because both Avalon and Laurel come up to get me, where they find me in my closet. Sleeping. In my laundry basket.

Then I woke up.

I am not a dream analyzer, but I am curious to know:

1. Am I secretly, deep down, starting to hate buying shoes? If so, how long until that happens?…I need to stock up.

2. Am I going to cry at Avalon’s wedding? If so, I’ll need to buy waterproof mascara. And tissues.

3. Is Avalon going to be a brideszilla? If so, alert TLC. It should be a good one.


BTW here is a video on how I feel on the subject of being MoH.

We’re normal.

Avalon:  I’m going to barf on you
Taryn:  lol please don’t, I’m going to barf on myself
Avalon: I’m going to barf, in a bag, and send it to you
Taryn:  I will throw up in a bag and send it to myself

How Else to Commemorate Freshman Year? Marriage, You Say?

If you totally skipped the post below this (read it), I revealed that Avalon and I are married.


Four years ago TODAY Avalon and I decided it was time to shit or get off the pot (that’s just gross). Either way, we were married by a bona fide Greek Orthodox minister and is legitimized on a bona fide piece of paper, straight from Greece…

Well, straight from the kids who were assigned Greece for their Global Issues class. We were given Egypt. How was that fair?

Nonetheless it was a beautiful ceremony, and we were surrounded by lovely (ha) people from different countries around the world. There were ring pops (WHAT, I know. How jealous are you?). And weird veils. It was magical.

Anyway, to make this post even MORE creepy there are pictures (ceremony, post marriage bliss). In the second picture please note the guy walking behind us…Don’t tell Avalon’s roommate (see: fiance), but she had a huge crush on him freshman year.

Okay, okay. Even I can’t say that with a straight face…I am lying, ha. He is one of the few (ahem, many) people Avalon and I refused to take seriously whilest at University of Tampa (see: entire Global Issues class). And I can make fun in confidence, cause he (or any of them) will probably never look on this site. Hilarious.

Anyway. HAPPY ANNIVERSARY TO THE BESTEST FRIEND EVER (AVALON, if y’all were confused)!!! We shall be reunited in less than a month, ahhhhh!


My Face Says Hi

When I was little I didn’t understand the concept of Wisdom Teeth.  I thought they were a good thing. Why do people want to get them out? More teeth means better chewing, right?…then I turned 20. And realized THEY SUCKED SO BAD.

They did not make me wiser.

They did not make chewing better.

What they DID do was shift my teeth every so slightly, thus forever messing up my retainers. Oh and of course I had the joy of random tooth aches, followed by throbbing head aches. All in all, wisdom teeth WERE THE DEVIL.

It wasn’t until last year that I got those bad boys out of my life, forever. I was one of the lucky ones who went under while they scraped and beat and picked and cut and did whatever they have to do to get four (yeah, I got all four out like a champ) humongous teeth.

Now, for those of you who have ever “been under”, it is such  A CRAZY EXPERIENCE. You think things that are just weird, and instead of keeping the craziness inside, the medicine makes you VERBALIZE THEM. It’s essentially vodka…just in gas form.

My sister, Kasey, got hers out a couple weeks before me and after hearing her stories (ie she told everyone in the room she hated Tracy Chapman) I was SO WORRIED I’d embarrass myself.

I didn’t.

Thank goodness. I did, however, express to everyone my need for chapstick (or so I remember, Mom correct me if I am wrong). I ALSO drooled like I was a crazy person. My mom did take advantage of my state of mind and took pictures…I may share. We’ll see how  I feel.

ANYWAY. Avalon got her’s out today. She was texting me throughout the medicine kicking in process. (she unfortunately didn’t get to “go under”. Numbing medicine clearly makes you silly too). HILARIOUS.

It started off her being nervous about the procedure. Then followed by her saying she couldn’t feel the bottom half of her jaw (Avalon, please enlighten us later on this sensation. I’m curious). Then that escalated to her not wanting to swallow her tongue. Then as she was saying she had to go, she left me with this gem of a message…

“My face says hi”.

I apologize to both Kasey and Avalon (and Tracy Chapman, Kasey didn’t mean it) for telling their stories. I’m even more sorry for uploading your pics later on today.

Feel better Av!


How do we get down from here?

Now as my partner in crime so gracefully put it, we are in fact the two best friends that anyone could have. Although the song is THREE best friends, our bond is so vast and strong it cannot be contained in only two forms. If I am going for jokes here, our friendship needs its own area code. Heyyyooo! Hopefully you catch my drift.  If you don’t, then appease me and laugh. And keep reading.  So for MY first post I decided to share our best friend awesomeness and give everyone a taste of our everyday life…..buckle up.

So. Avsy and I are constantly complaining talking. Wake up, we text. Get to work, we g chat. Leave work, we text. And then there’s the times where we desperately need to talk. Voice to voice communication…text just doesn’t get the job done.

ANYWAY. 9 times out of 10 the first thing that is brought up is a problem (or a crisis, cause we’re extreme like that). This is when Av and I (mainly her) created the metaphor, “The Crazy Tree”. Whatever the problem may be, (Avalon didn’t get enough at amateur night-ps last stripper joke),  we have to “talk each other down”. As in, get each other out of the tree that is consumed with CRAZY.

To make this metaphor even more interesting/absurd, every time a new problem comes along we add to the “tree”. Last we checked (yesterday), we have a house. Complete with a couch and curtains. It is quite cozy in the crazy tree, and sometimes I/we live there. Initially we can be talked down. However, like many things in life, problems resurface. Don’t ask Avalon how many times I’ve had to be talked out of the tree based on the dumbest things (boys). Seriously. Don’t ask. But without fail Avsy-Poo, being the bestest friend ever, notices I have been too comfortable in the tree (ie the new tupperware set I bought. Every house needs storage!) and comes to my rescue and talks me down.

Luckily we built a ladder.


Oh Hayyy

This is a welcome entry as well as a stepping stone because seriously, who the EFF knows how to design a blog!?

Not me.

I just spent 2 paid hours at work figuring out how to change the color of the header font.  Time well spent, clearly.  I might as well get a disclaimer out there from the get go: this blog is going to be a mixed bag of entertaining and boring.  Entertaining for us, boring for you [See: every conversation we’ve ever had].

Taryn and I are the two best friends that anybody could have, like this:

But better.

Recently Taryn and I have grown up and gotten ourselves jobs in the grown up world.  She does something to do with numbers and money and I nerd it up around computers and crazy people.  This translates roughly into reading blogs for hours. HOURS PEOPLE. And we get paid.  Boo ya kasha.  We’ve become avid blog readers with some ups:


(I could maybe live my life by this blog.)

And some downs:


Irregardless, we amuse each other on a daily basis and have for years.  Due to this constant amusement and the classic narcissists that we are, we decided to write a blog with the hilarious assumption that anyone cares what we think.

In closing, enjoy and try not to die.