This is crap.

You know that feeling when your anxiously awaiting something in the mail?  Like when you've ordered something online and you check fedex.com approximately 3452033048 times a day?  Maybe I'm the only weirdo that does that.  I've been like that with my email.

About a month ago, I was ready Jenni's blog, Story of My Life, and came across this post.  I immediately wanted one.  Here is what I submitted:

I'm Allison and my best friend is Claire.  She is a tall brunette and I'm an average blonde.  We both love our cats (her cat Milo is an orange tabby and my cat Princess Fiona is a black/tan Maine Coon).  We've partied with Kenny Chesney on his tour bus.  She recently got engaged.  We love playing Name That Tune.  I'm an only child, so I consider her my sister.  We like wine and getting into trouble.  After we graduated high school, we flew by ourselves to San Francisco for a week...and we survived.  She plays the harp and I play my iPod.  I'd like to give her this portrait as an engagement present, because I'm classy like that.


And here are the pictures:

And here is the final masterpiece:

I can't stop laughing.  Everyone needs to drop what they're doing and go to www.freecrappyportraits.com.  GO!


Giggles,
A

What we have here is a failure to communicate.

There seems to be a common theme running through my life lately.  That theme is miscommunication.  Come to think of it, it's not just lately.

Gather 'round children, while I tell you an awkward story from my past.

When I was a sophomore in college, I took a class for Interim (the school's January term) with my core group of friends.  We went to Italy for 19 days to study art history.  Totally my jam.  We started our trip in Rome, made our way through Tuscany to Florence, and ended our trip in Venice.  I didn't speak a lick of Italian.  I also tend to have a thick southern accent (especially when I've consumed alcohol or when I'm sleepy).  One night, we were at a bar in Venice.  It was super late and we hadn't slept much that trip.  Who wants to sleep when you are in Italy?!  I moseyed on up to the bar and--in my best broken Italian--asked the bartender where the toilets were located.  (They don't use polite phrases like "restroom" or "bathroom" so you have to be direct.)  The bartender winked at me and handed me a shot.  Well that's odd.  I didn't order a shot...  I decided that maybe he just didn't understand me and was trying to flirt with the American girl.  But I had to pee.  I went back up to the bar a few minutes later and the scenario repeated itself.  I asked for the toilet and he winked and gave me a shot.  I was extremely confused but I took my shot and walked away.  Then I really had to pee.  Remember that scene at the beginning of Austin Powers where he pees for like 8 minutes straight?  It was like that.  I walked back up to the bar in a final attempt to ask for directions/key to the toilet.  I saw the all-too-familiar scenario happening again but I was powerless to stop it.  I had pretty much decided I'd end up peeing myself.  Out of the blue, emerged an intoxicate angel.
Drunk angel: What do you want?
Moi:  I have to pee!  I keep asking him where the toilet is and he keeps giving me more to drink and OMGIMGONNAWETMYPANTSNOW!
DA:  That's not what you're asking him.
Moi:  Of course it is!  Wait...what do you mean?
DA:  You should be saying "Dove toletta?"
Moi:  Yea, that's what I said...
DA:  No, you said "Dove tu letto?"  That's definitely not the same.
Moi:  Big whoop.  What's the difference?
DA:  You meant to ask "Where is the toilet?" but you really asked "Where is your bed?"


No wonder he was so friendly.  Sheesh.

You're welcome.

Awkward hugs,
A

Today is a milestone.

Mark your calendars because today is an important day.  This here blog turns 1!

I know I've neglected it lately, and I am going to work on being better.  Thanks to the handful of you that still read this.  Spread the word.  I'm more likely to be diligent about writing if I know people are really ready.  Maybe one day I will make it to 10 followers?!  Well, that means I only need one more.  I'll aim for 20.  Gotta have high hopes.

In other news, I need to be more observant about my pants.  Last week, I went to the mall after work.  I was wearing stretchy capri-like pants (no buttons or zippers).  I tried on some tops and didn't buy anything.  Later that night when I was at home, I used the restroom and realized something really embarrassing.  I'd had my pants on backwards.  All day.  And I didn't even notice.  Yikes.  I also realized last night that the dress pants I'd worn all day had a hole in the back seam.  Really?!  Who does stuff like that?  Maybe that means I need to go pants shopping.  I think I'd rather have a root canal and a pap smear done.  At the same time.  I don't like pants.  And it's not because I'm a prissy girl or anything.  Pants just fit awkwardly, so I prefer dresses.  Or skirts.  The only pants I really like are sweatpants and yoga pants.  And those aren't all that professional.  Unless you're a yoga instructor, which I am not.  Sorry for those of you who just wasted 2 minutes of your life reading about my pants drama.

Happy 1st birthday, blog! {Technically this is a picture of Princess Fiona on her 1st birthday, but it cracks me up so I thought I'd share it again.  You're welcome.}

Exes and Ohs,
A

This is why I am not allowed to date.

Gather 'round, children.  I want to tell you a story.  It is a cautionary tale of bad blind dates and it is why I haven't had cheese dip in weeks.

Mommy Dearest and I went on a dinner date a few weeks ago to our favorite Mexican restaurant.  The same restaurant we eat at several times a month, and have been frequenting for over 10 years.  Needless to say, we know the wait staff very well.  We usually end up with Juan.  He's very pleasant and likes to talk about life.  He typically asks me if I have a boyfriend, and my answer is generally "no".  He never asked in a creepy way, just in a curious way.  The same way in which he asks about our friends that moved to France--just looking for updates.  Back to this dinner date with Mommy Dearest...Juan was our waiter and he asked me the usual dating question and my answer was, as usual, "no".  He then told me that he was single as well, and he was just looking for someone nice to go to dinner with and see a movie.  Here's where things get awkward.  Mommy Dearest suggests that we hang out.  Oh, dear God.  He gets excited and proceeds to ask me out.  In front of my mother.  And he still hasn't brought us our food.  He says he'd like to take me to dinner, if my mother approves.  Of course she says "yes," so I'm going to look like an ass-hat if I decline.  I reluctantly accept, because I really want my quesadilla to remain spit-free.  And because I get flustered in awkward situations like this.
He asks me to meet him at Red Lobster on Monday night.  Dinner was...nice?  I guess you can call Red Lobster nice.  Although I did find a sticker in my shrimp.  Not so bueno.  Conversation was awkward.  This man has been bringing me cheese dip for 14 years.  I don't even know his last name.  We exchanged life stories over fried shrimp.  He speaks English fairly well, but he has a really thick accent so I kept having to ask him to repeat himself.  Awkward.  And let me interject an important fact: I am NOT racist in any way.  After dinner, we went to the movies and saw "Our Idiot Brother."  It was so-so.  He kept leaning towards me and I leaned away.  I wasn't trying to be rude, but this was quickly moving from the friendly dinner boat to the oh-God-someone-throw-me-overboard-so-I-can-escape-the-awkwardness boat.  Abandon ship.
Throughout the evening, I mentioned repeatedly that work keeps me super busy and I don't ever go out anymore.  Not totally true, but not really a lie either.  He keeps texting me and calling me to go out again.  But I can't ever understand his messages because he speaks so quickly.  And he doesn't seem to understand me when I say I'm sorry but I'm not interested.  Help?

To make a long and awkward story short, I will cut a bitch for some cheese dip right about now.  Anyone know any good Mexican restaurants in my area?

All In My Twenties

The lovely Kristen has a fantastic giveaway going on over at her blog.  You should check her out because she is so funny and has the best stories.  And don't be jealous of me when I win. ;-)