Mi padre.

Daddy was going through some old boxes last night and came across some cards and things that I had made for him as a child.

Apparently, I made him a "book" of my four favorite letters: O, Y, A, and C.  Mommy Dearest is a pharmacist so we have several drug pads/pens/mugs around the house.

Please note the spelling of "yellow" as "yella."  I told you I was a redneck child.  This is further proof.

Back in 1992, Daddy got sick and had to go to the hospital for treatment.  He was supposed to be given antibiotics and be sent home.  They gave him Penicillin, only to discover he was deathly allergic.  He ended up spending a week in the hospital.  This means he missed my birthday and his.  I was a loving and thoughtful child, so I decided to make him a Happy Birthday + Get Well card.  I even drew him a picture.

Pretty good for a 6 year old.

 Can we just pause for a second and discuss something about this drawing?  I'm sure you've noticed and are curious.  What is on that nurse's dress?  Did I give her a penis?  Is that a baby in her belly?  The answer will forever be a mystery, but please submit your guesses!


In conclusion, today is Daddy's 55th birthday.  Happy Birthday Daddy!

Peace out,
A

Blasts from the Past

I came across another stack of pictures last night.  Let's relive the glory days, shall we?

This is proof that I was never serious as a child.  Or as an adult, for that matter.

And yes, Mommy Dearest and I had matching dresses.  My aunt made them for us.  There were several more.

Toddlers and Tiaras: 1987.  Mommy Dearest entered me in and 18 and under beauty pageant and I won every category.  And then I ate my crown.

Holy fanny pack Batman!

The first day of 3rd grade, and I'm definitely wearing a plaid jumpsuit.  Hand-me-downs are awesome.

I was a pretty pretty princess.

Sorry that I don't have more to say right now.  I'm working on planning my Halloween costume.  If I can pull it off and find all of the parts and pieces, it will be amazeballs.  Keep your fingers crossed.

Hugs,

A

I hope Jesus brought His pillow.

I know that Easter was yesterday, but humor me.

When I was growing up, my absolute favorite hymn was the Easter hymn, Up from the Grave He Arose.  Here is a link to the lyrics, in case you aren't familiar with it.

And here is the most adorable video you've ever seen.


I've always been a talker.  I know everyone is shocked to hear that.  When I was a wee one on car trips with Daddy, I was rarely quiet.  We would go through the list of normal sing-along songs and occasionally I would request something a little different.  On one particular occasion, I requested that we sing the Great Heroes song.  Daddy was puzzled.

Moi:  You know...[singing] Up from the great heroes!
Daddy:  Ohhhh. Up from the grave He arose...
[We continue to sing the song and then sit in silence for a bit.]
Moi:  Did Jesus get wet?
Daddy: Get wet?  I don't think I know what you mean.
Moi:  You know...when the saints rained. ["And He lives forever with His saints to reign..."]


I also was very concerned as to whether or not Jesus had a pillow when he was in the tomb.  I didn't want Jesus to be uncomfortable.

Wasn't I precious?  The correct answer is "yes."


Jelly bean kisses and Peep hugs,
A

I ain't telling you nushin'.

I was a cute kid. I'm not afraid to admit that. Not quite sure what happened as I grew older, but I digress. Both of my parents have always worked full-time jobs. When Mommy Dearest's maternity leave was up, she had to arrange somewhere for me to go while she and Daddy were at work. Mommy Dearest is the youngest of nine children (but two of them died as children). When I was an infant, my Aunt Patty lived relatively close to us, which was about 30 minutes away, but the closest of any relatives. Aunt Patty kept me until I was old enough to go to school. She even kept me on afternoons after preschool until Mommy Dearest got off work. One particular day, I got in some trouble at preschool. (This was clearly not a one time thing, and I don't even know what I'd done to get myself into said trouble.) after hearing the report from my teacher, my Uncle David asked me about it and asked me what I was going to tell Mommy Dearest when she picked me up. My response? "I ain't gonna tell her nushin'." I was obviously a smart child. And obviously, the word nushin' has become a part of my family's vocabulary.

My Uncle David used to make my me and my cousins play the "quiet game" on long car rides. He had a different, and perhaps more accurate name for the game. He called it "1-2-3 shut mouth." I always lost. I know you're shocked.

In addition to. Ring a cute kid, I was also wise beyond my years. As I've mentioned before, I am an only child. Mommy Dearest dint have the easiest pregnancy and truth be told, I was a bit of a handful at times. In a good way. Let's pretend that's possible. My Aunt Patty took me shopping with her one day. Being an only child, I was used to having to entertain myself. I would talk to anyone/thing. I never met a stranger. (Probably not safe in retrospect, but I turned out ok and was never abducted. No harm, no foul.) somehow, I struck up conversation with an older man. Clearly, that was the normal thing for a 4-year-old to do.
Old Man: Do you have any brothers or sisters?
Moi: No sir.
Old Man: Well, why not?
Moi: Because my Aunt Patty is too old, my Momma is too weak, and my Daddy is too bald-headed.

See? Told you I was cute.

(In case you were wondering about the nostalgia...my Aunt and Uncle are in town.)

Snuggles,
A

Like It's Her Birthday!

"Drinking champagne, going insane...like it's her birthday!"

Cardiology by Good Charlotte {here}

Today is officially my last day being 23.  What better way to celebrate myself than to relive all of the "awesome" moments from the past year!  Shall we?  We shall.

1.  I was the bridesmaid (yes, the only one) in my cousin's Halloween wedding.  I can't make this stuff up.  She met her husband online.  "Oh, that's perfectly normal," you say.  I say you haven't heard the rest of the story.  They met online playing World of Warcraft.  My cousin has always been a fan of Halloween, vampires, witches, and general spookiness.  She went through a very long goth phase in her life.  I'm totally okay with that.  It wasn't a huge shocker when she picked Halloween as her wedding day.  It was a surprise when, after 5 years of us not hanging out, she texts me and asks me to be in her wedding.  Do I get to wear a costume?!?!?!

They got married in my Aunt's front yard.  And yes, he did wear those sunglasses and that hat during the ceremony.

We don't look too scary.  And I made her bouquet.

2.  I lost my job in December.  Ten days before Christmas.  It was traumatic, but one of the best things to ever happen to me.  I'm thankful to be out of that toxic environment.  That's a story for another time.

3.  I awkwardly dated English Teacher.  English Teacher is a guy I went to college with.  We had Wellness Class together our first semester of freshman year, and remained friends ever since.  Since graduation, he has gone on to be a high school English teacher, hence the nickname.  Somehow we ended up deciding that we needed to go to dinner together.  And then somehow we decided that we should kiss.  And thus, the awkward "relationship" ensued.  He's a great guy, but it just wasn't a great fit.  Our second "date" was a group thing for New Year's Eve.  English Teacher invited me to go out with some friends, including our mutual friend, Redneck Photographer.  Redneck Photographer's birthday happens to be NYE, so it was a joint celebration.  The party guests included myself, English Teacher, Redneck Photographer, and 2 other guys.  Where did we go for NYE?  A strip club.  See why all of this is awkward?  Anyway, over the next few months, English Teacher and I went on some dates, and then he fell off the face of the earth.  The End. 

4.  Mommy Dearest and I decided to go on vacation to London and Dublin.  It was great, and lasted much longer than expected because we got stuck over there when the volcano erupted.  

On Westminster Bridge, in front of the Houses of Parliament.

Dublin was pretty and green.

5.  I went on the worst date in the history of dates.  I'm really not kidding.  I think I'm going to recount that magical nightmare-ish night for you now.  One day, I got a text from a guy that I've known (through mutual friends) since college.  We're going to call him Mr. Pretentious.  We chatted and he suggested that we meet up for dinner one night and catch up.  I say yes, because it would be nice to catch up with someone I haven't seen in a long time.  He asks where I want to eat downtown, and I suggest Wild Wings or Mexican or something of that variety.  He insists the we go somewhere nicer and says it's his treat.  In my mind, that does not mean that it's a date.  On dates, you don't specify that you're treating.  Am I wrong in this thought process???  I decided that we should meet downtown at the restaurant (so I could escape if things got weird).  He picked a fancy Italian restaurant that had a pricey menu, but lacked authenticity.  (Yes, I do get to critique Italian restaurants because I lived in Italy for 4 months.  Shut up.)  I arrive first, but they can't seat me until my whole party is there, so I'm forced to wait outside on a bench in the cold.  He calls and tells me that he's stuck at the bank because he went to get cash for dinner and his card didn't work because he'd spent too much money at the bars last night.  Strike 1.  He showed up not long after and we finally got to sit down and eat.  Mr. Pretentious keeps asking if I want a drink, to which I say no (against my better judgement) because I'm afraid that his card won't be working and I will get stuck with the bill.  He orders his "drink of choice" (that's seriously what he calls it) and dares me to guess what it is.  What was it?  An effing double screwdriver.  I don't even drink screwdrivers because I feel like a little girl doing so.  If there is going to be alcohol in my OJ, it's going to be champagne and it's going to be in a nice glass.  Strike 2.  I finally cave and order a glass of wine to calm my nerves.  Mr. Pretentious talks about himself all through dinner, telling stories and bragging about how exciting his life is.  His life is not exciting.  (See, I have a very exciting life and that's why I blog.  See the difference?  Shut up.)  He brags that he dropped out of college because he was lazy.  Strike 3.  He brags that he smoked pot in high school when he was on a Drama Club trip to NYC.  Strike 4.  He brags that his parents think he's an alcoholic.  Strike 5.  He brags that he has 2 jobs just to support his drinking habit (how responsible...).  Strike 6.  His roommate is the most obnoxious and crude DJ in town.  Strike 7.  He had a dog but gave it away because pets are too big of a responsibility.  Strike 8.  He bragged that he is a Gamer.  He legit called himself that.

Me: "So what do you like to do in your spare time, when you're not working?"

Mr. Pretentious: "Ummm, hello?  I'm a Gamer!"

Me: [awkwardly] "So what do you like to play?"

Mr. P: "Call of Duty!  Ha, like there's any other game.  Listen to yourself.  I've got a headset and everything.  It's pretty awesome."

Me: "I got a Wii for Christmas.  I play it sometimes..." [awkward]

Strike 9.  My dinner was mediocre, at best.  We finished eating around 8:00pm and went to the bar next door for a drink.  I had tried to bail but it was too early to go home and say that I was going to bed, and let's be honest, I needed a drink.  I order my standard Jack D drink, and he of course orders another screwdriver.  I had the brilliant plan to start talking about The Ex and make him think that I still wasn't over him.  Didn't work.  

Mr. P: "You're lucky, ya know?  I only date girls that are older than 22."

Me: "Did I say I was 23?  I mean't 21.  My bad..."

Mr. P: "Wanna know why?"

Me: "No..."

Mr. P:  "Because girls younger than 22 only want to do one thing: party.  That's all they ever think about."

Me:  "Umm...not me.  I don't really ever think about partying.  I've moved past that stage in my life."

Mr. P:  "You're wrong.  Trust me...I know what I'm talking about."

Me:  "Ahh, yes.  You know because you're a 22 year-old female.  I forgot.  What was I thinking?"

Strike 10.  Around 9:00pm I pretend that I'm exhausted and tell him that I'm going to head home and go to bed because I'm an old lady.  It's raining at this point, but I didn't care.  I was parked in the garage that was literally a block away.  He wouldn't let me walk.  He called a rickshaw to come pick us up and drive me a block to my car.  I was so embarrassed and the rickshaw driver was pissed.  Strike 11.  We get to the garage and I get out to walk to my car.  Mr. Pretentious follows me!  The rickshaw driver saw his chance and escaped.  Mr. Pretentious tries to convince me to go down to a different bar to hang out with his friend who is DJing.  [Sidenote: This "friend" is a guy I used to date.  The same guy that introduced me to Mr. P.]  Why the hell would I want to hang out with both of them at the same time?!  To quote Whitney Houston, "Crack is whack! Hell to the no!"  After I convince him that I am not coming out with him and that I'm going to bed, I head home.  Here is the text message exchange that followed.

Mr. P: I had an awesome time 2nite.

Me: I made it home.  Goodnight.

Mr. P: Y dont u grab a bottle and come over 2 watch a movie?

Mr. P: bottle of wine*

[He's trying to impress me by acting like he likes wine since I had a glass at dinner.  It's not working.]

Me:  Already in bed.  Goodnight.

Mr. P:  Thats ok if u want to pass out. i know how 2 keep u up ;)

Mr. P:  Wanna play truth or dare???

Me:  Truth: going to bed.  GOODNIGHT

Mr. P:  Wats my most attractive feature?

WTF, people?  No sir.  Strike 264684354984634687.  He's out.

6.  I got a new job!

7.  I started my own copper jewelry business.

These are monogrammed necklaces that I made as bridesmaid gifts for someone.

8.  I broke my foot.  Lame.

9.  I'm still pretty awesome, but only on days that end in "y."

10.  If you made it through this long and drawn out post, here is your reward.

Here I am (age 5) being awesome.  Happy (almost) birthday to me!

Snuggles and candy corn kisses,

A

Whip My Hair

"Don't let haters keep me off my grind,

Keep my head up, I know I'll be fine,

Keep fighting until I get there"

Whip My Hair by Willow Smith {here}

Alright, peeps.  I have a very important announcement.  I was getting my daily dose of Deals, Steals, and Heels and discovered something magical.  I don't know how long this song has been out, but I'm OBSESSED.  I want to whip my hair back and forth, too!  Don't blame me if you waste the rest of your day with this jam on repeat.

I'm a little concericus that there is paint coming out of her weave, but I can put that aside, I guess.  As long as I don't have to clean that mess up, I don't care.  She's a pretty rad 9-year-old.  Then again, her dad is The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air.  She's royalty.  But who is the Fresh King of Bel-Air?  Is The Honorable Uncle Phillip Banks the King?  I digress...

And for all of my fellow guido-lovers out there, check this out: Jersey Circus.  Family Circus comments + Jersey Shore quotes = fits of laughter.  Am I just easily amused??

I know you're dying to hear more stories about how adorable I was as a child, so I guess I will provide you with some afternoon delight humor.

In our Kindergarten play, I was picked for the best part: The Statue of Liberty.  Our class each had a line to say about freedom and out great nation (I said something about ponies running wild in a field or something equally awesome), and then we sang the 2nd most patriotic song of all time...Lee Greenwood's God Bless the USA.

"Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free... your candy.

In Kindergarten, I didn't take any lip from anyone.  I wasn't into boys, because they always smelled like farts and had boogers on their faces.  Not my thing.  When we played "house," I had an agenda.  I was always 17 and I always had a 19-year-old boyfriend.  That's how I rolled at age 4.  I don't know the reasoning behind this, but just smile and nod.  A boy named Chase (I'm not going to protect his identity because I don't care enough) always slept on the mat below mine at nap time.  I was a smart cookie and I knew that he was doing this so that he could look up my dress.  Easy solution: kick him in the face.  Problem solved.  Chase eventually learned to nap elsewhere.  I also bit him once, but I don't recall why.  He def deserved it, whatever the reason.  There was also a boy named J.C. in my class.  (No, that didn't stand for Jesus Christ.  In fact, I think his actual real name was J.C.)  He wasn't exactly the sharpest crayon in the box.  He would always stick blue (never any other color) Play-Doh up his nose, pull it out, and eat it.  Boys are nasty.  I also thought it was funny to draw pictures of butts on the chalkboard and blame it on the boys.  What did these butts look like?

A very accurate drawing of a butt.

That's about all I have for today.  I'll leave you with a picture of Princess Fiona in her Halloween hat.

Eff you, Mom.

Snuggles,

A

Airstream

"Sometimes I wish I lived in an Airstream,

Homemade curtains, lived just like a gypsy.

Break a heart, roll out of town,

Because gypsies never get tied down."

Revolution by Miranda Lambert {here}

Last night, I went on a search for the finishing touches for my Lady Gaga Halloween costume.  Something really uncool happened to me.  I was searching through the masses of wigs are the Halloween store, and I caught a whiff of something extremely unpleasant.  Someone had "secretly" farted and walked away like nothing had happened!  Here is a little love note to the culprit:

Dear Wind-Breaker/Cheese-Cutter/Gas-Passer,

To quote Stephanie Tanner, how rude!!  I may have been the one who smelt it, but I was certainly not the one who dealt it.  I know you think that you were so sneaky, but a smell like that does not escape your nether-regions without notice.  What did you eat?!  Rotting carcasses stuffed with cabbages and dirty socks?  Not cool.  The only place that the "Toot and Scoot" maneuver is acceptable is in the Great Outdoors, and certainly never around a large crowd of people.  And definitely not near anyone with their mouth open.  That's just plain gross.  Grow up and/or get some Gas-X.

Sincerely,

A

In case you didn't know or haven't noticed, my birthday is this month.  Birthdays are one of my favorite things in the world.  In honor or this momentous occasion, I've decided that until the big day, I will be sharing stories of my life.  I know both all of you are intrigued, so I hope you enjoy.  

Allow me to transport you back in time...

The year was 1989.  I was 3 years old, and I was the definition of adorable and country.  I was wearing the following outfit (and yes, I do remember this accurately):

Although I'm pretty sure my shirt said, "Lean, Mean, Green, Pizza-Eating Machines" on the front as well.  {here}

A ruffled denim skirt was a staple in my wardrobe.  Duh.  {here}

I definitely had a giant bow in my hair.  {here}

And to complete the ensemble...cowgirl boots.  {here}

[Continuing, since you have a lovely mental image of how cute I was at age 3...]

I was playing on the swing set in my Aunt P's front yard.  She left me in the swing to entertain myself as she walked up the driveway to check the mail.  (Aunt P and Uncle D lived out in the country, so this was perfectly legit and safe.)  On her walk back from the mailbox, she saw that the neighbor's dog had wandered up and I had started up what looked like a riveting conversation with the 4-legged creature.  Seems logical.  At that age, I would have probably talked to the grass and encouraged it to grow.  I was not a shy child.  When Aunt P reached the swing set, the dog wandered back home.  She asked me what I had been doing: (Read with a strong [strawn-guh] Southern accent.)

Aunt P: Was that the neighbor's dog over here?

Moi: Yes ma'am.  He's my friend.  I like him.

Aunt P: [Slightly perplexed}] Were you talkin' to him?

Moi: Yes ma'am.  [Um..duh.  Why wouldn't I talk to him. I already told you he's my friend.]

Aunt P:  Well, darlin', what did you say to him?

Moi: I asked him to push me in the swang swing.

Aunt P: [Stifles laughter] And what did he say to that?

Moi: He said, "I can't...I ain't got no hands."

Aunt P: [Laughter]

That's a perfectly reasonable conversation for a 3-year-old to have with a dog.  Don't judge me.

Hot pink sparkly hearts, 

A