Just shut up. I officially am done. You have a job to do. One that you chose and that treats you very well. You were gifted by God with an ability that few others were blessed with and for that I am eternally grateful. I am a movie junkie and you so wonderfully feed my… Continue reading No one asked you, so shut up.
I guess it’s that time. Time for the obligatory New Year’s post. But, on the other hand, it has been since May that I posted anything! It would be great if I could say that it was due to some some Earth changing activities I have been involved with that kept me too busy to… Continue reading The Purge: A Kitchen Story
I was recently contacted by Bellamonte at collerfornia and asked if I would be willing to accept a Liebster Award nomination. After looking up what in the heck that was, I gladly accepted. What a serendipitous event that she stumbled across a post of mine she liked and clicked around on my blog! I love… Continue reading Loving my Liebster!
Being the only sober one in a sea of inebriation sucks. And a possibly unflattering window into my world of parties past. Now, I have never been hanging from chandeliers or initiating mindless pranks and skinny dips, but I have thoroughly enjoyed myself at gatherings. Ahh the stories of the inebriated… Where the most mundane… Continue reading Under the influence and on the dance floor
I am intimidating, unapproachable even. Or so I have been told. People that take the chance to actually get to know me learn quickly that my pensive stare and sometimes overly boisterous rants are just but two of my many lovable quirks. There might be many reasons why you might not like me at first. But given the… Continue reading Hmph, not what you thought, huh?
As you get deeper, they get shorter. And smaller. The clothes in my closet. Its like some weird Alice in Wonderland thing. Once you get to the back of my closet, the dresses are oddly small and scandalously short. When the hell did my clothes get so much bigger? Gone are the days of parking… Continue reading Walking in my mom jeans
The story writes itself. It isn’t made up. It happens exactly as the words explain. But every day, the ending changes. It is always uncertain. Never quite becoming the thing I fear, dread, or even long for. I’m not looking forward to the story having an ending because I hate that it might. The solitude he… Continue reading This boy.