Buy Drinks Not Cookbooks

Thursday, 18 July 2013

Today my bestie is hosting a linkup over on her bliggity bloggity and since it's about one of my favorite damn topics, I'm in like Flynn.

Dating.
Hooooboy, here we go.

So, I've always been sort of what you would call a "relationship person". Actually, right now is the longest I've been absolutely single ever in life, I think. I'm the girl all of my friends use the "maybe you should, like, just be single..." line on after every breakup and then I get annoyed and instantly offended but really I know it's true.

Looking back now, I'm a damn idiot for jumping into all of those shitty relationships, typically for the wrong reasons. The reason being comfort, or at least that's what the little therapist inside of my head tells me it was. Either way, that shit's whack and it took me 25 years to realize that being single aint so bad after all. But that's not the point of this post. This post is about dating disasters and I've got enough to fill this blog with posts for at least two weeks.

I have this really, really awkward habit of dating people with the same names. The name Nick, for instance, I've dated three. Freaking three. The name Casey? Two of them. These two names, I straight take off and bolt at the mention of them these days. Seriously though, don't come near me if your name is Nick or Casey unless you have every intention of legally changing your name and never speaking of that name you were given at birth again.

Anyways, back on track here. So, Nick number three was the second craziest of the Nicks. We wont even scratch the surface on Nick number two because, well, homie is fit for a god damn straight jacket. Nick number three liked to take me out to hibachi dinners and foot the bill on getting your girl nice and wastey pants. Clearly I'm ok with such activities because, well, I'm a damn lush and anytime I have the opportunity to get nice and hammered on someone else's tab I'm going to do it.

I should also note that my reasoning for even approaching Nick number three was to piss off Nick number two because they were buddies and I knew Nick number three had no concept of bro code and I could easily pull such piss off-ery off. Worked like a charm, by the way. #winning

Things were actually going pretty well with Nick number three, despite my questionable intentions. We were showing up around our mutual friends together, we were going to the dog park together, we were getting hammered together. Shit was fine and dandy.

And then he bought me a cookbook. A cookbook with recipes to bake Christmas cookies and shit.
What in the actual fuq, bro? Get outta here with that and don't even look me in the eyes right now.

Soon after the cookbook came the conversation where he cornered me into the "exclusive" talk. Aka not the talk I ever wanted to have with Nick number three. I mean, let's not forget why I started this little escapade in the first place. So I'm squirming, trying my hardest to change the subject, insisting we go do some day drinking because I was way too damn sober for this kid to try and wife my shit up. Just no.

This was all 21 year old Whitney was really interested in committing to. 

Only problem was, Nick number three wasn't having it. He wanted to slap that title on me like he slapped that cookbook on my counter the week prior. I had nowhere to run so I just had to come out with it and let homeslice know that I was just having fun and didn't actually want anything serious to do with him.

He didn't like that, to say the least.

Before I know it, Nick number three is storming out of my house like a toddler throwing a fit because his mom wouldn't let him play with the marbles in the glass bowl on the coffee table. He ended up going straight home to do what any other normal, level headed person would do. He deleted me from Facebook. Haaaa. haha. Way to stick it to me, dude. That cut me deep, real real deep.

Except not at all.

So then he ends up going out and getting hammered and starts texting me some nonsense I didn't like. This is the part of my story where drunk Whitney showed her crazy just a little bit. Drunk Whitney decides to convince her roommate to drive her to Nick number three's apartment so she can drop off the infamous Christmas cookie cookbook at his door with a note that read "on to the next one".

My bad. Not my proudest moment, but I was 21 at the time and it just seemed like a real top notch idea.


Moral of this story, buy drinks not cookbooks.

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Blue Ridge Mountains

A last few random pictures from our vacation 2 weeks ago. We had a wonderful time staying up in the Blue Ridge Mountains in Sapphire, NC and being able to travel throughout the area there.

Mining for gems...
 



Some of the wildlife we found during our stay. Actually, on one of our drives I did spot a small black bear on the side of the road. I think I might have just freaked everyone out a little bit when I started yelling, "A bear! A bear! There's a BEAR right there! Look! On the side of the road!! Joe turned around so I could try and get a picture of it, but a truck coming the other direction scared it further back into the forest. It was still pretty neat to see!







They enjoyed being able to climb on this old train, pull the bell, and holler out "All aboard!"





Lucas found a hiking stick, and Kayla found a leaf as big as her face.

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When Twitter Writes Your Post For You

Wednesday, 17 July 2013

Remember that time I completely blanked on something to blog about so I turned to Twitter? No? Well, ok, so it happened today and I'm guessing it has something to do with a little too much frolicking and Miller Lite last night. You know I tend to make bad decisions on Tuesday nights... I blame the food trucks, obviously. Tuesday nights are just meant for fun. Or maybe they're not, but if you ask my friends and I, they totally are.

And maybe we're a little different but that's just how I like it.

So, back to the Twitter thing, now that I've gotten the obligatory photo-in-my-post thing out of the way...

Here's what I asked.
And here's what I got.

@WhitneyEllen how to lose a guy in 10 days!
— Sarah Webb (@iamsarahwebb) July 17, 2013

Well Sarah, I assume it goes a little something like this:

1. Be a clinger and don't ever leave him alone.
2. Talk about your ex a lot.
3. Don't let him touch you or kiss you.
4. Get blacked out drunk and puke all over his shoes.
5. Tell his friends you're his girlfriend.
6. Insist you two go on "date night" on Friday when he wants to go play darts with his boys.
7. Tell him you love him on day 9.
8. Talk about feelings and emotions nonstop.
9. Show up at his local hangout uninvited.
10. If all else fails, hit on his friends.

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@WhitneyEllen pizza rolls vs bagel bites! Whoop whoop! 😉
— Kayla @ lovelucygirl (@lovelucygirlxo) July 17, 2013

This one's easy. When pizza's on a bagel, you can eat pizza anytime.
Bagel Bites win. Always. Toss some Chardonnay back with them and you've got yourself a damn feast fit for a queen.
And now I know what I'm having for dinner tonight. Score.

Side note: SEE GUYS, I NEEDED this picture from months ago in my camera roll! 

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@whitneyellen 99 problems and whether or not a bitch is or is not one.
— Lindsey B (@FollowtheRuels) July 17, 2013

I've certainly got problems, but I'm not sure 99 is really an accurate number. However, currently, a bitch is not one of my problems. Mostly because I tend to stay away from bitches. Ain't nobody got time for them bitches, ya heard?

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I mean, this one is pretty easy. Have you read my bestie's blog? She's the friggen kitty cat's pajamas and obviously she sets the bar for said name very high. My Erin standards are very high and, well, you have my bestie to blame for that.

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And that's going to do it for today's worst blog post ever in life.

Sorry about this, hope you didn't waste too much of your time here today.

I need a cheeseburger.

And more red Gatorade.

Over and out.

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True Life: I'm a Photo Hoarder

Tuesday, 16 July 2013

Today let's just go ahead and have a little chat about my iPhone and a little issue I've got with it. My phone, also known as my life, is a standard white iPhone 5 that has 15 GB of memory. Or so they said when I purchased this sucker that never leaves my sight. This baby is my fifth iPhone since the first generation iPhones were born and my third one to have a sassy power button that decided to shit out on me after a few months of use.

Since I've been a loyal iPhone addict since the beginning of time, I've carried over all of my memory from phone to phone, causing those 15 GB's of memory to clog right up five phones later to the point where this damn phone wont even let me take a friggen Snap Chat without deleting something.

My problem? Well, my problem is this:

I'm Whitney and I'm a photo hoarder. 

Hi, Whitney.

It's out of control, to say the least.
Do I really need 346 screenshots of conversations and such? Abso-friggen-lutely not. But what if I want to show someone this one really funny conversation in 6 months?

No. Just no, I certainly do not need to be sacrificing updating my apps for said screenshots.


And then we have the duplicates. Enter: Instagram.
Is it really necessary to have two of every single photo I Instagram?

I'm gonna go with what is no, again, Trebeck. One of these bestie pics will suffice, I think.
Yet here I am, hoarding both, because it's not like I can't find one of them conveniently plastered all over the interwebz.
Oh wait...


Moving on to the most shameful of my photo hoarding problem. I present to you, selfies, in all of their stretched arm glory.
Half of which I only use for the purpose of blogging and never actually use anywhere else.

Stop. The. Madness.
I'm pretty sure I'd rather have 400 sext photos on my phone than the abundance of ridiculous selfies I've got wasting GBs on this iPhone of mine. Well, I guess depending on who the sexts are from... Jay kay.


And then there's the dogs. Oh, the dog photos I have on this phone probably give even the duplicates a run for their money.

But sometimes to get the perfect dog portrait you have to snap eleventy photos.
And then never, ever delete the rejects. You know, because you're definitely going to need the rejects.
One day.


You know what else I need 1,000 photos of on my phone?
Artistic alcohol photos, that's what.

Because 6 months from now, I'm definitely going to need to show someone a photo of that sangria I drank in NYC. Definitely going to need that. And all of the others. Serious stuff.


The moral of this story is, there is no reason why anyone needs 4,768 photos on their phone and I have a serious problem.
Can I just blame this on blogging?

So, I guess I'm off to go delete thousands selfies, drink photos, dog photos, and textversation screenshots. You know, so I can take more selfies, drink photos, dog photos and textversation screenshots.

Yoga pants out.

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Double Digits

Monday, 15 July 2013

Yes, today we have reached double digits in the age of one of my children.

Kayla has reached her first decade. That magical age when you can say you're TEN! and it sounds so much older. Is this the official age of the 'tween'? Do I really have a 'tween' now?

Ten pictures from Kayla's first year ... along with hopes, dreams, and wishes.

 I don't know what the future holds, but I hope it's bright and full of adventure.

I hope you know how very much you are loved by your family and feel their presence surrounding you ... even those family members who are no longer with us.

I hope you forgive me for my faults and mistakes that I have made, and will make, as a mother. Parenting is hard and it's a constant and changing learning experience. But I wish for you to know that I'm always trying my best and how very much I love you.

I hope you know you will always be the apple in your dad's eye and realize how much he loves you and will always protect 'his baby girl.'

I dream that you will find your passion in something you love and you will pursue it with all of your heart.

I hope you grow up with a positive self-awareness and acceptance about who you are and love yourself. 

I dream that you will be an outgoing self-advocate, speaking up for yourself and others. I dream that you will be self-confident, brave, kind, happy, and caring.

I hope that along the way you will be surrounded by true friends who will help you grow, and guide you. I dream that you will find acceptance amongst your peers.

I wish for you to grow up not knowing hate, or ugliness, or prejudices, or discrimination. That is probably unlikely though. You will encounter difficult situations and people. That's part of life. But I wish for you to handle adversity with your shoulders back, head high, and a smile on your face.

My dream is that you will follow your dreams and that we can help you be successful in your endeavours. My dream is that you will be happy in life and enjoy all life has to offer. I hope you reach for the moon, because even if you miss, you will still be amongst the stars.

 Happy birthday my beautiful ten year old!

 

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