I Wore Yoga Pants to Work: May 2013

Friday, May 31, 2013

Sweet Made Sweeter

Hey there. Guess who's back, back again? No, it's not Shady, just me.

Why am I back, you ask? Well, I just had an experience I need to share.

You see, I'm not the biggest fast food person in the world. Do I love it? Heck yes I do. There's no question about it. However, when I've got myself a little bit of the drunchies (drunk munchies), it's nearly impossible for me to stay away from the drive thru of, say, Wendy's. Same goes for the day after a night of drinking. I'm a firm believer that there's not a hangover that stands a chance against a cheeseburger with fries and a fountain Dr. Pepper.

Todayyyy, however, today that changed.

After a long day at work, my best friend Kelly and I are headed to catch a 7:30 showing of the Hangover 3 tonight (so excited, by the way). We had to get ourselves a dinner we knew would be quick and delicious... and light on the wallet since it's costs a first born child to go to the movies these days.

We chose Wendy's because, really, all I wanted for dinner was to dip their fries in a Frosty.
And that's exactly what I did. Only I got a little crazier and tried out their new Frosty Waffle Cone. Deeelish.

You know, I kind of love these days.

Shout out to you Wendy's, thanks a bunch for making the end of my day sweeter.

*This is a sponsored post by Wendy's but all opinions and calories gained are mine.

Not So Vital Things I Learned From My Exes

Let's all just take a moment and start this post out by dancing because guess what? IT'S FRIDAY! I don't care if it was a short week or not, Friday is Friday and that is always damn exciting.

So, yesterday a few of you continued to tell and/or lecture me on how I shouldn't give my exes so much credit on my blog. While I do stand by what I posted yesterday, I do think a lot of you were on to something.

Today I give you the not so vital things I've learned from my exes.
Or maybe they're actually very vital... you decide.

Mr. Just Plain Wrong

He taught me that if you just flat out don't connect with someone, everything will appear wrong. Always. I probably realized this was happening somewhere around when even the way he laughed was obnoxious to me. Worse than nails on a chalkboard, for sure. There was really nothing totally wrong with Mr. Just Plain Wrong... Unless you're me, that is.

Mr. Personality

He taught me that even though you may really enjoy someone's personality, if you aren't physically attracted to them it's not going to end well. And I know, I know, that makes me sound horrible but when you're hanging out with someone a lot and all you can do is think about how not attracted to them you are, it's never going to work. I like to think the silver lining on this one is that if you're truly attracted to someone's personality, you will be attracted to them physically. Obviously Mr. Personality wasn't quite the one for me.

Mr. D Bag

Oh, oh, where to begin with this one? Well, for starters... NEVER date a Gator when you are a 'Nole. It'll never work, not just for your love for dueling teams, but for reasons much deeper. This one taught me a lot. Mostly, if someone disrespects you from the start, they'll do it forever and it will continue to get worse. And worse. And worse. Also, don't ever let someone take you away from your friends. They'll be the ones to pick you back up when Mr. D Bag brings you down to points in your life you never want to be apart of ever again.

Don't let anyone ever dull your sparkle.

Sir Bangs A Lot

Yeah, I went there. This one is pretty simple and it goes a little something like this... Once a cheater, always a cheater. No matter how many times they deny it, you just listen to that gut feeling you've got going on. It's right, 99.9999% of the time. Yep. Yup. Done son. Bye.

Mr. Mama's Boy

Dating a mama's boy might have been one of the hardest relationships of my life. I say "here's some Tylenol for your headache", he says "my mom says Advil is better".... COOL. This one taught me that even the ingredients in your chili will suck if they aren't exactly like mama's. Holy turn off McGee.

And that wraps up my week of talking exes... which I didn't actually intend on doing but I blame today on those of you from yesterday who wanted me to elaborate on the douchery and not the good. Isn't that the fun of having a public blog, after all? haaa!

Ok, ok... Let's back our azz's up, shall we?

This week I'm taking it a little electric dance for you because I can't get enough of this jam! Enjoy.

It's #backthatazzup Friday!

The purpose: To start our weekend with some fantastic jams.

The station that inspired it: "Back That Azz Up" on Pandora Radio.

The rules: Link your jams up and have a jam sesh with all of us!

Happy Friday!
Grab a button, pick your jam, link up and let's get this weekend started off on the right foot!

Thursday, May 30, 2013

Vital Things I Learned From My Exes

So, here's the deal about today.

Today I have another post that I have to post but being the overly prepared and organized blogger we all know that I am, I seem to have forgotten to take photos for said post and now it will have to wait to go live until I can get off work and do the damn thing. I'm still going to write a post anyways though... because it's what I love to do.

And also, I miss my readers. Is that weird? Probably.

Maybe this is why I shouldn't let my Erin Condren planner continue to collect dust. What would the fun in that be though? None, that's what.

Moving on, I was doing a little blog reading yesterday (weird, right?) and I stumbled across a post that I just couldn't help but to love. Like, love love. It was pretty clever and now I'm stealing it but please promise you'll go visit the mastermind behind it, Tami from Friday Morning Buzz, and say hello to her. She's really awesome and she's letting me be a copycat so that makes her even awesomer. (yes, that's a word.)

As we all know, I'm rocking the single life like it's nobody's biznass. I've got it pretty much down to a Science and it's actually pretty fun at this point. Which is actually a weird thing for me to say because I've been tied to different serious relationships for what feels like since 2nd grade.

That brings me to today's post.
Let's talk about some vital things I've learned from some of the asshats I've dated.

Key West is an absolute booze fest.
Seriously though, I thought I was actually going to die. I had a hangover that caused me to take about a month of drinking absolutely anything alcoholic off. It's a great time but just be careful with those Fat Tuesday frozen drinks of death. They'll getcha.

Electronic dance music is the shit.
Prior to one of the idiots I dated, I never really listened or got into dubstep and all of that beat dropping everyone was all pumped up about. Now? Now it's pretty much my go-to when I'm getting ready to go out. Well, right behind #backthatazzup... of course.

Side note: This picture makes me laugh out loud every time I look at it.

What actually happens during a football game.
I know, I know, it's slightly horrifying to think about but I used to have no clue what was happening or what anything meant during a football game. When I was up at Florida State, I pretty much just went to the games because that's what everyone did after the tailgate happened. Then I dated a football player and figured it all out. Can I get an amen?

Delirium is delicious beer.
And it get's you pretty buzzed nice and quickly because it's high in alcohol content. That's really all I have to say about this one.

Chips with cheese is the greatest bachelor food ever.
I once had an ex who called this his "specialty", which is laughable considering it doesn't exactly take a damn rocket scientist to figure out how to make it. You literally lay out some tortilla chips on a plate, sprinkle a shit ton of shredded cheese on top and then nuke it in the microwave for about 30 seconds. Sometimes though, it just hits the spot. De-lish-us.

Use some Pam on your key if your lock is stuck.
One time I had a lock on my house that would literally take me 5 damn minutes to get my key into because it was so stuck. Then I started dating some idiot and he told me to get the Pam out... which was about the time I looked at him like he was about to try some really weird shit, if you catch my drift. Turns out, all you have to do is spray a little on your key and wha-bam, key fits in it's hole again (that's what she said).

Entourage is a seriously amazefest show.
I could watch Entourage for hours and hours and then some more hours. Whyyy did it have to go away? Can. Not. WAIT for the movie. Who's with me?

Last but not least,
Don't let anyone ever dull your sparkle.
I don't know if this one technically counts but it needs to be said. Boom done.

Yoga pants over and out.
Well, at least until later tonight. No one tell the one-post-a-day police on me.

Wednesday, May 29, 2013

Elevator Small Talk

Lord help me, I've got a slight rant today.

What had happened was, a couple of months ago at work my office went from being in a little historic house to a high rise tower in the heart of Downtown. At first I thought this was pretty cool but that feeling faded faster than my sobriety on my 21st birthday did.
The sole reason for this decrease in feelings towards my fancy high rise office?

Elevator small talk.

Hate. Loathe. Despise. Chris Brown.

Honestly, I'm a friendly person, at least I am on most days, but there is absolutely nothing about uncomfortable small talk with a stranger at 8am that I want to be apart of. Ever. Unless you're an attractive male... but that doesn't happen too often. Unfortunately.

Plus, the attractive ones don't want to participate in the small talk either. No, it's the old men who wear way too much cologne, have creepy mustaches, and probably drive an unmarked white van with no back windows. Those are the ones who want to talk about coffee consumption and the weather while you're just trying to chug down your coffee and shake off your hangover.

The worst part of it all is that you're just stuck and confined in those 4 walls, watching the numbers rise and rise, wishing your office wasn't so damn high up in the tower. You can sit there and pretend you're playing on your phone all you want but we all know phones don't work in the elevator, so now you're just the asshole avoiding everyone.

I digress.

Luckily on most days, the creepers in suits look at me like I'm an alien because, well, we all know what my typical work attire consists of (hint: the name of this blog). Those judgers keep to themselves and that's my idea of a great day... but that's another story for another time.

Time for me to go catch up on this pile of work stacked on my desk.
Here's to hoping I can avoid the classic end of the day small talk... which I usually avoid anyways once I throw the old "is it happy hour yet?" awkwardness out there.

Which reminds me... is it happy hour yet?

Tuesday, May 28, 2013

Class is back in session.

Oh, hey there. It's good to see you, blog.
It's also good to see that I'm not the only one who decided to take the day off from blogging yesterday. I would have felt pretty guilty about it if everyone else showed up for class while I was busy pool side with a frosty Shocktop in hand.

My weekend was pretty much everything I wanted it to be and then some, which brings me to the misery that is being in my desk chair instead of a pool chair today. Really though, do any of you plan on being productive today? Just writing this post today is about as productive as it's going to get for this girl today, count on it.

I wasn't even a good blogger over the 3 day weekend which makes today's post about eleventy bazillion times harder because I don't have much to bring to show and tell today. Faily, fail, fail, I know. Here's all I took photos of this weekend:

Well, I had one more but it's of Ella humping a neck pillow and I didn't really think that needed to make it's way on my blog. It's bad enough that it made it to . For that, I apologize. Really.

Basically, there was a whole lot of pool action, a little bit of boozing, and as much relaxation as humanly possible. Which is probably why I am the head pilot of the struggle bus today. Small details. I don't think I'm alone on said bus of struggle today, that's the good news.

Anywhoodlums, I'm failing pretty miserably at making sense out of a post today. What's new? I suppose I should now go off now and attempt to at least pretend I'm productive. Wish me luck.

And also blame Sami for her awesome damn link up and the reason I just published such a pointless post. Yep, it's all her fault. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

See ya tomorrow. Hopefully I have something better to feast your brains with. I make no promises though.

Oh, oh! PS. Big shout out to all who serve and have served for this awesome country. You're the bombdiggity. Yes, I went there.

Friday, May 24, 2013

Happy #backthatazzup Friday!

Let's make today short and simple. For the sake of what seemed like the longest week ever and also for a 3 day weekend. Can I get a hallelujah?!

Here's a list of the jams I can't get enough of lately. Listen, enjoy, and most of all jam out!

This song talks about Fireball whiskey at one point, an obvious favorite.

I heard this song a few weeks back and went on a search for it for what felt like forever. I finally found it this week and I'm hooked.

I've recently decided that I'm in love with Kip Moore. This song has a lot to do with it.

And last, but not least, this song has apparently been around forever and I'm just now getting around to it. Either way, I'm all about it. Listen to it on a nice day, while driving with your windows down. It's purely blissful.

Clearly my music taste makes about as much sense as I do on most days. My playlists are all very much a smorgasbord of music, I like to keep things interesting.

It's #backthatazzup Friday!

The purpose: To start our weekend with some fantastic jams.

The station that inspired it: "Back That Azz Up" on Pandora Radio.

The rules: Link your jams up and have a jam sesh with all of us!

Happy Friday!
Grab a button, pick your jam, link up and let's get this weekend started off on the right foot!

Thursday, May 23, 2013

5 Things Frowned Upon in Real Life That Are Acceptable in Blogging

Hey there, blog. Today is Thursday, AKA Friday eve, and if that alone isn't enough to put me in a good mood, the fact that I got NINE solid hours of sleep last night does. I don't think I've slept that well since I was a small baby. Can I get an amen?

Even better than all of that is that I came up with a post topic while driving to work this morning, which usually never happens because I'm always foggy brained. Not today. No, nope, nada!

I was listening to my morning radio show and there was a commercial with one of the radio personalities promoting Steak and Shake like they had just introduced her to a calorie free burger. I mean, she was really getting into it and how amazefest Steak and Shake is.

And this is where I almost started judging her but then I realized something...
As a blogger, I have absolutely no grounds to judge such a thing. I do it. Most of my blog friends do it. I mean, getting offered things in exchange for your opinion is pretty cool and slightly flattering, as far as I'm concerned.

Unless said product you're given to review is natural rodent repellent. Yes, you read that right. I was given the grand opportunity to review rodent repellant. Don't worry, I respectfully declined that one.

Anyways, my point. I have one, I promise.

Blogging has made me look at a few things differently. Things like...

1. Size matters.

Come on, I know you all hear people throw that term "big blogger" around all of the time. Everyone wants to be big. Just like in real life, only it's typically the male species who are wishing for this one. Ain't no shame, in the land o' blog it's usually the ladies who want to be bigger.

2. It's okay to have a high number.

Even if people try to tell you it doesn't, when your blog stats are high, it's exciting to see big numbers. The best part about this one is that when your count is big in land o' blog you're not considered a ho bag. Or maybe you are. Whatevs.

3. Go be a whore.

Tweet it, Instagram it, Google+ it, Facebook it, whatever it. You go do it and you do it without shame because it's blogging and it's totally acceptable to be a big whore in the name of seeking exposure for your blog.

4. If ya feeling like a pimp, go'on brush ya shoulders off.

Pimping is also acceptable in the land o' blog and you can't even get arrested for it. How magical? Pimp your friends, pimp your sponsors, pimp your favorite posts. And then go brush ya shoulders off, you blogging gangsta.

5. Give it up.

In the land o' blog you can giveaway all of your goodies and people will do all kinds of things for said goodies. How great is that? You want your Facebook page's number to get higher? You better start scheming and give those goodies away. Goodies for everyone, go give it up!

And that, my friends, is a short list of some things you can do in the land o' blog that you can't necessarily do in real life. Or maybe you can but I'm not sure it's technically recommended.

I'll let you decide that one.

**As always, this post is meant to be read in a sarcastic tone. Please don't be offended or look to far into what I've written. It's all in good fun, I promise.**

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

Things I May Never Learn

While brainstorming for something to post here today I rubbed my eyeball, causing my contact to fold up like a paper airplane and dry out just enough to annoy me for the remainder of this work day.

And then I decided it was probably time for another edition of shit I haven't learned in nearly 26 years.

Nearly 26 years and I still haven't learned...

Rubbing your eyeball, which has a contact chilling in it, will cause you misery for the rest of your day. Cut it out, homie. XOXO, your left eyeball.

Sleeping in your makeup is never, ever a good idea. Ever. And you'll always regret it when you wake up the next morning. Especially when you wake up looking like someone tried to induct you into the band Kiss in your sleep. Not a good look.

Putting multiple cuss words together in a sentence that makes little to no sense is always a great way to look like a crazy person. Even if it does relieve stress.

Going back to an ex is pretty much always a horrible idea. There's a reason they're an ex. Set it and forget it!

Picking up a $3 bottle of wine from Walgreens almost always means you will feel an immense amount of pain and regret the following day. Light on the wallet, heavy on the angoverhay.

Oversleeping never ends well. The dogs still need to go out, your boss is probably waiting for you, and you look like hell. Just wake up when your alarm goes off and get over it, sister.

There will always be someone who wants to bring you down but you can never let them succeed. You just have to let the negative Nancy's go off and continue to suck the fun out of life in their own corner of the world.

Playing the same song on repeat will eventually get very, very old. Enjoy it when it comes on but let's trying not to repeat it 10 times at a time.
Except for Wagon Wheel... that's the exception, always.

You should always go potty before you paint your nails. Without fail, every single time your nails are wet you've probably got to pee.

When Aaron Carter follows you on and then tweets you twice, you should not get ecstatic and tell the entire world. Because you are not 12 anymore.

No matter how hard you try to be a rockstar blogger who plans and schedules posts, you just can't do it. You're a roll with the punches, wait until your contact folds up in your eyeball kind of girl. That's all there is to it.

Tuesday, May 21, 2013

Living the moments you want to be nostalgic about.

Nostalgia is a crazy thing, you know?
I can hear a song and instantly be brought back to an exact time in my life. Usually they're times I would give anything to go back to.

This happened to me recently while I was listening to the Morning Glory album by Oasis. I was drowning in every song, wishing I could go back to my senior year of high school when things were so simple and easy. When "I like you" really meant "I like you". When asking your parents for $20 was acceptable. When the thought of drinking beer was disgusting.
Ok, not the last part. You know that was a lie.

It's funny though, this song used to be suicidal to my heart for so many years, after the great fall of my ever so serious high school relationship. Now? Now I can hear it and smile. I smile because it's almost enjoyable to be able to think back on the roller coaster of emotions one song has made me feel over the course of 10 years.

Woah, 10 years. That's crazy.

Really though, there was a time when that song instantly brought on t-rex sized butterflies and there was a time when it brought on instant ugly girl cries. Obviously I'm a very stable person, as we all know.

So, while I was thinking through all of these feelings, as some of my old school favorites were flooding my ears, it kind of hit me... Those were great times, yes, but I'm still living my great times. I love my life right now and even though things might be completely different, a ~~shit ton~~ bit harder, and slightly (ha) more complicated, I've got a lot to be happy about.

There will be songs from right now that will effect me in 5 years when I'll look back and reminisce on today and I know that I'll feel equally as nostalgic as that Oasis album makes me feel in this moment.

I guess, really, that's what it's all about.
Living the moments you want to be nostalgic about later in your life.
Not letting time get the best of you, but getting the best of your time.

And that's the end of today's Whitney brain vomit. Over and out.

Monday, May 20, 2013

A weekend for the blogs.

Oh, Monday. Once again you come along like a level 4 hurricane and I should have boarded up my windows but of course I forgot.

I blame this weekend, it was a good one.

One for the books, or blog, that's for sure.

Friday night my bestie slash neighbor slash sister from another mister and I ventured into the heart of downtown for some bad decisions, as per usual.

If you were around the somewhere during the hour of 10pm, I'm sure you got a gist of the type of night I had.

And then something magical happened and I ran into Kendahl and Emma while frolicking through my Friday night! Love those two something serious and it's always a good time when they're around.

Happy hour soon, ladies?

As you can see, I was feeling pretty sassy on Friday night with my leopard shirt... I even had heels on. The hooker kind of heels that clumsy people like me should never attempt to wear.

Because they usually mean you will end up in the bushes at some point during your night.

And maybe even find some leftover mulch in your hair when you wake up the next day.

Not that I know from experience or anything...

Saturday I was woken up to the bestie banging on my door with a bottle of Andre, or breakfast as she called it, in her hand. The rest of our day was spent by the pool and it was simply everything gorgeous Saturdays are made for.

Bathing suit: Victoria's Secret | Sunglasses: 5 dollas on Canal St. in NYC

Fireball Whiskey & Coors Light: ABC Liquor

Sunday I woke up feeling a little fuzzy, if you catch my drift. Luckily I have some kick ass neighbors who know the true way to my hungover heart.... aka a big ass fountain Dr. Pepper delivered right to my door. Ah, I'm a lucky gal. Things like that also make me want to live in my current complex for.ev.errrr.

I was flipping through the TV and soon after found myself knee deep in a Sex and the City marathon which, somehow, inspired me to get out some arts and crafts and play Martha Stewart.

My supplies are very profesh, if you can't tell from the Miller Lite coaster paint palette.

First I made myself a quote canvas with my favorite quotes from a movie/book ever, Perks of Being a Wallflower.

Then a couple of hours later I got more inspiration thanks to a lady you all may know as Erin.

And that's a wrap on Whitney's Craft Hour.

I have a feeling this week is going to drag on, mostly because there's a 3-day weekend coming my way and I always anticipate those a little earlier than I should. Either way, if I'm not living in a bikini the entire 3 days, I'm going to consider it a huge fail. Come to mama, Memorial Day!

Have a fab Monday... if there's such a thing as that.

I'm out!

Friday, May 17, 2013

Spotify the Snitch

Now that I'm into this blogging thing and I've got my groove going on with it, I just really can't help but love when ridiculous things happen to me because it means I have more material. More material = more blogging. More blogging = more happy readers. More happy readers = euphoria.

Ok, maybe that was slightly dramatic but you get it.
Or maybe you don't.

Anyways, on Wednesday night I walked my happy ass over to the bar I frequent to meet one of my guy friends to play darts and have a few drinks.
Drinks were flowing, I was kicking some ass in darts (or maybe I wasn't... who knows?) and I was having a great time, as usual. No big deal.

Out of nowhere, my friend decides to blast me about a little song choice I made on Spotify earlier that day. He said to me, "Why the (insert explicative here) were you listening to Ashlee Simpson today?".
Here is where I almost broke up with Spotify.

And then I freeze.
Mostly because all of the people I typically hang out with at said bar heard and I knew it was definite means for some serious judgement.
Insert bright red, tomato-like, Whit face here.

Well, one thing that we always do when we go to bars is bust out our TouchTunes app and get some good jams going on the jukebox.
What do you think happened next?

Pieces of Me by Ashlee Simpson streaming through all of the speakers of the bar that I frequent at least 2-4 times a week.
Great.
The death stares, questions, and accusations start as if it was the most offensive thing ever.
Which it very well might have been, if we're being honest here.

Anyways, moral of this story is be careful what you play on Spotify.
Because Spotify is like the snitch in class who always told on you for forgetting to bring your textbook to class.

I digress.

Let's get this party started.

I just can not get enough of this song right now.

Judge me if you would like, it's just pure party in a song.

It's #backthatazzup Friday!

The purpose: To start our weekend with some fantastic jams.

The station that inspired it: "Back That Azz Up" on Pandora Radio.

The rules: Link your jams up and have a jam sesh with all of us!

Happy Friday!
Grab a button, pick your jam, link up and let's get this weekend started off on the right foot!

Thursday, May 16, 2013

The Tank Top Confession

Today we just have to dive right in to my story because it's one of those days where I'm about to write about something that deserves to be judged on multiple levels.

Which is probably why I'm writing about it.

I'm over here alone in my little corner of the world, judging myself. I need some friends to just go ahead and judge with me. You know, so I'm not alone.

Remember that time I spilled the beans about the whole being engaged debacle that happened somewhere around my 23rd year of life?

Well, around that same time there happened to be gifts given to me on different occasions, for whatever reason. You know, the kind of gifts you would only receive if you were going to get married, or something crazy like that.

One of these gifts I got was from the infamous Sexy Little Bride collection from Victoria's Secret. It was a tank top.

This one, to be exact.

Come to find out, this little devil of a tank top is pretty much the greatest tank top in the world. Bold statement, I know, but it really is great. You know the type. The tanks you can throw on under shirts that don't hang low enough or the kind that give you the perfect layer effect. This is that tank.

Only problem with it is, well, it says BRIDE. Obviously I can't just rock such a shirt, we all know I'm far from that nasty B word I don't really like to discuss.

Here's where the confession, and reason for such a pointless post, comes in.

I still wear it all the time. Except I turn it inside out...

Because I'm an unstable human.

I tried to break up with my bride tank but I just can't. We're not ready to go our separate ways yet.

It's complicated, I know.

Why don't I just buy another black tank top, right?

NO, nope, not happening. None compare to this guy.

Actually, I have about eleventy hundred black tanks, if we're being honest here. Bride wins, every time.

How depressing.

So, the moral of this story is... if you see me strolling down the street and I appear to be rocking something that resembles a inside out tank top, think nothing of it. Because I definitely am. And that's that.

Yoga pants and inside out tank tops.

It's real tough to be this fashionable, I'll tell you what.

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

Because growing up should be fun!

Ok, so here's the deal, friends.
I'm typically not one to just throw a full guest post on my blog unless you're someone pretty damn awesome. Before you get your eyes all rolled in the back of your head, hear me out.

You see, I was originally excited about this blogger because she shares the same name as my mama does and, well, that just automatically means you're pretty damn awesome. Then I started reading her blog and came to find that she has some really ridiculous stories, much like myself. Before I knew it, I was hooked and if any of you don't read her blog, you've gotta go check her out.

Not now. Read her guest post first... then go check her out.

Enough of my blab blab blab, this blogger really needs no introduction, I'm just honored she wanted to post here on this yoga pants blog.

Ready, set, take it away Bon Bon...

It was when I was examining the contents of my closet and realized I own more than a dozen pairs of yoga pants that I knew I just had to find a way to get on Whitney's blog. Homegirl and I both share that avid appreciation of yoga pants and when you have something that deep you gotta roll with it, you know?

Oh. My name is Bonnie. And I blog at The Life of Bon. I am a high school English teacher by profession, and let me tell you, those kids can say some pretty stupid things. So stupid you can't help but laugh and laugh and then wonder if America's future is totally doomed. I figured it's my job to share them with you because that's the loving kind of gal I am!

This is me wearing a bunch of shirts and pants to work. Very original, I know.

STUPID QUESTIONS:

Student: "Mrs. Larsen? What do we do if we can't find what page we're on?"
My reply: "Uh... find the page you're on..."

Student, immediately after having received a graded final test back: "Is this test going to go on our grade?"
My reply: "Of course not. Why would I put a final test on your grade?"

Student: "I left my homework at home and can't hand it in until tomorrow. Does that mean it's going to be late?"
My reply: "Nope. When you hand your work in a day late, I actually count it as early."

Student, six weeks after school has been in session: "What time does school let out?"
My reply: "Seven o'clock."

Student: "Do we answer both of these questions for this essay?"
My reply: "Read what is written. See that first sentence? Where it says "Answer one of the following questions"?
Student: "So... we only answer one of them?"

Student, referring to a 50-something-year-old male teacher who has just walked out of the room: "Is that your husband?"
My reply: "You people are sick."

Student: "Do you wish you got paid more money?"
My reply: "No. If anything teachers are overpaid

Student: "Did we do anything in class yesterday?"
My reply: "Nope. We all just sat here and stared at each other."

Student: "When you were in high school were computers invented yet?"
My reply: "I went to high school seven years ago."
Student: "So were they invented yet?"
My reply: "No, not yet. The world was a very primitive place seven years ago. I had to use a type writer for all my assignments. Cars weren't invented either so I had to walk to school. In the snow. Uphill. Barefoot. Because shoes also were not yet invented."

Student: Are you sure that voluptuous doesn't have an 'm' in it?

My reply: Oh, you're right! It does! It's silent and it comes right before the v.

Student: What does whores mean? Is that like a horse?

My reply: Yep. You nailed it.

Student: What was Shakespeare's first name? Was it just Shakespeare?
My reply: Yes. His name was Shakespeare Shakesepare.
Student: How weird!

Student: What's a character list? Is that like... a list of characters?

This is me and my students. We're having a funeral for Jay Gatsby. I'm the idiot making the peace signs in the front. I can't help it. Everytime there's a camera I whip out the peace signs. It's a disease.

STUPID ANSWERS:
Me: When did Shakespeare live?

Student: 1940s!

Me: No! That would have meant he was alive during World War II!

Student: He wasn't?

Me: What did Shakespeare write?

Student 1: Macbeth!

Student 2: Romeo and Juliet!

Student 3: The one with the little dude that spins the stuff into gold!

Me: Rumpelistiltskin?

Student: Yah!

STUPID STATEMENTS:

As the first line of an essay on Les Mis: SEX! Well, now that I got your attention you little pervert I am going to tell you about Les Mis, a very long book about a bunch of people who like to feel sorry for themselves.

Explaining his hatred of the book to me: I hate this book so bad. I would burn it if I didn't have to give it back to you. I'd really do it too but then you'd give me a fine and I couldn't get my yearbook.

On an essay about Ender's Game and lost childhood: In conclusion, when you're a child you're supposed to be a kid, get durty, burp, and fart in public.

On an essay about the characters in Midsummer Night's Dream: Now I know these people didn't have Nascar or Football or video games but seriously, do something with your lives and get over yourselves!

Explaining her pet peeves to me: I just hate it when people ask me for gum! Gum is getting really expensive nowadays! (Oh, I know! It's up to a buck 29! Who can afford that?!? THE OUTRAGE!)

On an essay on gender roles: Women get smarter and smarter by watching what their husbands do.

In all seriousness, I really do love these tikes and all the crazy crap that comes flying out of their mouth at a million miles an hour. Of course if you want to hear more you can always visit Life of Bon. I also write about going to the gyno, stealing underwear from Victoria's Secret and other totally legit stuff like that. It's always a party. And because it's almost the end of the school year and the end of the school year means freedom and happiness and all things lovely, I am going to share that with you today. In the form of a $50 gift certificate to Target. Admit it- there ain't no better way to start your summer!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Tuesday, May 14, 2013

Don't be a creeper.

Oh, hey. Remember when I just decided that posting on Monday wasn't going to be a thing?
My bad.

Sometimes that just happens, you know.
Like playing hookie in school, I suppose you can do it in blog too. Or maybe you can't, but I did and I hope no one sends me to the principal's office.

Today I come to you with a short story about what not to do if you are a single male.
If you aren't a single male (you know, because so many come here and read.) I like to think you can still relate this to your life. Or maybe not, I don't know.

You see, as a single lady, I tend to go out a little more these days which means I get the pleasure of running into some very interesting people on occasion.
And by interesting I mean completely bizarre and off the wall.

A few weeks back I was at my local dive bar when I was approached by a guy, probably in his 40's. He starts telling me about how he just moved in my apartment complex and he's seen me walking my "two little white dogs" before.
He also apologized for his "Pods", which sat outside the backdoor of my apartment for what seemed like 2 weeks.

If you're getting a creepy vibe, you're correct.

Then this creeper proceeds to show me photos of his Labradoodle, declaring that she is the "main lady" in his life.

At this point I didn't know if I should drink faster or run.
I opted for drinking faster. Much faster.

And then the creepiest part of the whole night happened.
Creep Nasty comes back from the bathroom and grabs my foot as he walks by.

No, just no.

The moral of this story is, don't grab other people's extremities if you don't know them.
Or tell them about your "main lady", aka your Labradoodle.
Or creep them out, just in general.

And that's all I've got for you today.
Over and out.

Friday, May 10, 2013

10 Things Bloggers Should Never Do

Before we back our azzes up today, I've put together a list of things bloggers should never do. Take with a grain of salt, or a bag or salt, whichever you prefer.

Also, I feel like I should add that, really, this could be for everyday life, too. Not just for bloggers.
I'm looking at you, Non-Blogging Blog Readers.

like, ever.

1. Don't be an assface.
You once had 1 follower, too. Just stop being an assface, k?
Capiche? Capiche.

2. Don't be a party pooper.
Someone else gets retwitted by someone cool, someone else hits 500 followers, someone else's post goes viral... WOOH! You go celebrate with them because celebrating is F-U-N fun!

3. Don't bite the hand that feeds you.
If someone does something nice for you, be nice to them.
Hashtag rocket science.

4. Quit judging people by their blog's outfit.
Most of us all had one of those pre-made blog designs at one point. Let it go.
They can always change their clothes tomorrow.

5. Don't beg for attention.
Just don't. Pretty please, with a cherry on top.
Unless you post a photo of yourself with a sign clearly begging for something. That would be pretty funny.

6. Don't be afraid to par-tay!
If something exciting happens to you, throw a damn party. Why the hell not?
There are some really exciting things that can happen for bloggers. It's ok to be excited!

7. Don't throw away failed DIY project posts.
Nothing says "post win!" quite like a wreath that fell apart before you took pictures for the blog.
Personally, I love seeing a good fail.

8. Don't get too big for your blog's britches.
We're bloggers not royalty. Remember it, write it on your hand if you have to.

9. Don't be afraid to dance it out.
Or whatever it is that you feel like doing/writing. Go for it.
Be one with your freak flag and let it fly high.

10. Don't be a Catfish.
Really, not a good look for the blogging community.
Or any community, in general. Well, unless you live in water. Then I guess it's ok to be a catfish.

11. Don't participate in #backthatazzupfriday
Kidding, obviously, you should always back that azz up.
Let's do this thing!

This week's song is just a classic and I can't help but feel like a real gangsta every time I listen to it.

#backthatazzup Friday!

The purpose: To start our weekend with some fantastic jams.

The station that inspired it: "Back That Azz Up" on Pandora Radio.

The rules: Link your jams up and have a jam sesh with all of us!

Happy Friday!
Grab a button, pick your jam, link up and let's get this weekend started off on the right foot!

Thursday, May 9, 2013

An Ode to Non-Blogging Blog Readers

What I'm about to write is going to sound like a completely fabricated story and if I read this on anyone else's blog, there's a good chance I'd call bullshit on it. I only had 2 glasses of wine last night, so I can assure you this was real life and not a wine/melatonin induced dream.

Last night, around 9:30, I took a break from watching The Voice and doing a wedding edit, and I stepped out my backdoor to let the dogs do their nightly business. I'm not really doing the normal leash and walk around thing right now, because of Ella, so it's kind of a free for all slash chaotic 10 minutes of trying to get the two dogs to go in a 6x6 patch of partially dead grass.

Sebby decided he wanted to greet the dog walking towards him. I scooped Ella up so she wouldn't get too excited and then explained to the other dog's human that I was sorry for my crazy dog and that the one in my arms just had surgery.

This is where my mind goes KABOOSH...

The dog's human looks at me and stops for a second. Then she says the words that I literally just got done explaining made me blush in public in yesterday's post.

She said, "This is going to sound really weird but... do you... blog?".

I was all... *head scratch* *look down at Ella* *weird pee pee dance (me not Ella)* "Yeaah... kind of...".

And then she said, "You're the yoga pants blog, I don't blog but I read you every day!".

(I had to pop Ella's head back down to a size that would fit through our door, ~~or maybe that was my head~~.)

And just like that, I realized something crazypants. There are people who read blogs who don't blog.

Who knew? I didn't. Maybe you did, and if you did congratulations to you.

So, today I give you,

An Ode to Non-Blogging Blog Readers

Hey there, non-blogging blog reader, you sneaky little minx.

You report to class daily but you stay in the shadows of the classroom.

You get the pleasure of reading without the pressure of commenting or responding to comments.

Shoot, you might not even know how to comment and that's totally cool!

You read these posts about blogging craziness and/or drama and you just get to watch from the outside.

You've got the right idea, non-blogging blog reader.

You get the latest scoop on the newest crazes without the burden of coming up with a witty post for them or getting criticized for doing yet another product review.

You don't really know what a link-up is or how to do one, which is okay because you don't have to!

You have more recipes saved in your archives than Rachel Ray and you've got more DIY craft ideas than Martha Stewart.

You don't have to take photos of your completed crafts or figure out how to make a stuffed pepper look fancy and appealing.

And by being on the sidelines you've saved more money than you know.

Go ahead and trust me on this one.

Just know that because you report to class every day, you give us bloggers the push to keep going.

We see you even if you don't think we do. Kind of like Santa Claus but less creepy, I promise.

Mostly because we check our stats an unhealthy amount.

Consider that another perk of being on the outside, by the way.

Most of all, what you may not know is that those of us who are bloggers couldn't do what we do without you, non-blogging blog reader.

Thank you for being you, Non-Blogging Blog Reader!

Wednesday, May 8, 2013

I enjoy thinking no one reads my blog.

Well, once again the blog world has blown me the hell away.
Yesterday's post received over 150 comments, which is just incredible. Also incredible is the countless emails, tweets, Instagram comments, texts, gchat messages, etc, etc I got from people who just genuinely care. Wow. I'm honestly in awe.

I mean, I see the numbers, the stats, the pageviews. Each and every day I see them, more times than I should ever admit to anyone. But to actually see that those numbers are so much more than numbers, those numbers are people who genuinely care, well, it's just amazing. I am so beyond lucky.

THANK YOU to each and every single one of you. I'm just... I'm overwhelmed with the support I have in this blogging community. I never could have predicted any of this but I'm so grateful.

For those wondering, Ella is here at work with me today. She's still not really thrilled with the idea of walking but I'm happy she's right next to me so I can keep an eye on her throughout the day. Makes my heart hurt a little less.

____

Anyways, it's funny, I hide this blog from approximately 96% (real accurate stat right there) of my "real life". Aside from my parents, no one in my family knows about this space - not even my brother and sister - and I'm not even sure my parents actually read, they just know I write here every once in a while.
This is probably for the best as I'm not sure they'd still take credit for me if they did read this blog regularly.

Aside from about 4-5 of my close friends, none of my friends know about this space.
I don't think...
When the Washington Post quoted me, I posted a blurb on my personal Facebook and I almost had a heart attack. Not because I was excited (which I really, really, was.) but because I was hoping most people who saw it would be completely clueless as to what "I Wore Yoga Pants to Work" was. I still like to think most of the people who saw it scrolled right passed it.

Why do I hide it?

I guess I hide it because I like being unfiltered.
I like not knowing who's reading this and I like being naive about it when I write.

If I pretend no one is reading, I get to just be me.
Once the ~~cat~~ blog is out of the bag I might not feel that way anymore. I'm afraid I'd be more sensored which would pretty much ruin everything I love about blogging in the first place.

I enjoy thinking no one reads my blog.

It's not because I'm ashamed of anything I write here, or that anyone would be surprised by what they read here, I'm the same person on this blog as I am in real life.
Well, minus the total computer nerd part, I don't think many of my friends really know how deep that part of me goes.
I'm totally fine with that little secret, for the record.

I think of it like .

On Instagram there's that number of followers up there where I can see the names and faces of people I've known for 10+ years, who can clearly see everything I'm posting with one touch of their fingers.
This makes me a hell of a lot more cautious about what I post there.

When I go for the occasional selfie, I instantly feel a little bit shameful. Why? Because I'm just plain ridiculous like that. Either way, ridiculous or not, I never want to feel like that about anything I put here on my blog.

And now I'm just on a blab blab blab rampage and can't stop.
Someone get the cane and drag this girl off stage.

I guess what I'm saying is that I don't hold on to this alter ego, if you will, because I'm ashamed or embarrassed. Because, really, I'm not. I'm proud to be a blogger, I'm proud to be apart of such a huge community of amazing and brilliant people.

What I enjoy more than being a blogger, though, is being able to have somewhere to let my freak flag fly, as mai Ty would put it, without feeling like I need to filter myself in any way.

This yoga pants blog place is where I get to just be me.

Tuesday, May 7, 2013

My Real Life Nightmare

Well, I'm currently typing this post exactly 24 hours after my life really took an interesting turn.

Interesting in the way that breaks your heart and makes you so scared you can't even think straight.

If you're not an animal person, well, I guess this post will mean little to you. For that I say, this dog has literally licked an uncountable array of tears from my cheeks and has snuggled me at my very lowest times. She is my family. She is apart of who I am. She's even been greatly therapeutic to my grandmother who suffers from a serious case of dementia.

My heart is heavy and I'm still entirely too shaken up to even fathom writing about anything else. I know it isn't my normal light hearted post but I just can't. I'm hurting and I'm hurting badly.

I hope you all can stick with me through this as I try to put in words what happened.

I was spending my Cinco de Mayo Sunday at the pool when I came home to a very different dog. A dog I've never met before. A dog who was shaking and panting, as opposed to a dog who was chanting in excitement at my entrance into the one bedroom apartment we reside in together. A dog who was backing herself into a corner and wouldn't touch her favorite treats.

I knew something was wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong.

This was a fear that flooded my every thought and emotion and it was like nothing I've ever experienced.

My baby, my first born, the one thing that kept me from feeling homesick when I was 4 hours away in my first years of college... she was sick. Very sick. And it wasn't the type of sick I could cure with snuggles like in the past.

Before I knew it, I was driving straight towards my worst nightmare.

Panting, shaking, Ella in my lap, en route to the emergency vet. A place I'd never wish upon my worst enemies. A place you only have to visit if one of the greatest friends in your life is truly ill.

I could hardly see through the flood of saltwater streaming through my contacts but I knew I had to try my best to stay strong for the 7 pound ball of terrified, white, fluff I had laying nearly limp in my arms.

Somewhere along the lines the nurse asked me to take Ella outside and try to get a urine sample from her, when I got said nearly impossible sample it was red. Blood red.

My soul died.

My heart started beating faster than I could keep track of and I was positive I was about to fall head first into that cold, hard surface they asked me to place my terrified and sick baby on.

Before I knew it, strangers in navy blue scrubs were scooping up my sweet, innocent, sick baby girl in their hands and taking her back into the depths of their office for further tests and X-rays.

Really, I had no idea what to expect.

My gut told me that my baby girl wasn't doing well and it was going to be a very, very long night.

After what felt like an eternity, I was taken into a back room and being introduced to an X-ray of my helpless seven pound Maltese who appeared to have a bladder overtaken by stones.

Cold, hard, unforgiving stones. Stones on a mission to block my baby's kidneys to the point of no return.

I never knew. I never suspected. I never thought my baby girl was anything other than healthy. Her behavior never, ever said anything out of the ordinary.

I was so, so wrong. These stones had been building for months and months... and MONTHS.

The next 10 minutes were, sort of, a blur for me.

All I know is that I was told the stones needed to come out FAST and I could either opt for that moment or get them taken out the next morning.

I opted for that moment. Because I wanted those disgusting stones to stop hurting my girl as soon as fucking possible. If I could have removed them with my own two hands I would have.

Surgery happened that night. Sunday night.

Somewhere around 3am in the morning my baby got cut open and within that hour around 30 stones were removed from her tiny, little bladder.

When they told me this, approximately 3 hours after the stones were removed, I threw up 3 inches from the nurse's shoes and was fed sugar water because the pale white color of my face convinced them I was about to faint.

I was pretty sure I was about to faint, if I'm being honest here.
I'm a pretty balanced person like that, I guess.

Once I came back to life, the cold sweats subsided, and the room stopped spinning, it sunk in that my girl was ok. The stones were all gone, she was in recovery, and two weeks from now she will be like new.

At this moment, I'm just thankful.

I'm thankful that my girl is so strong and was able to make it through such a procedure.

I am BEYOND lucky that this baby girl is still awake, alive, and in my life today.

I am BEYOND lucky that I can look over to my right and hear the soft sighs, and little grunts, of my little fighter as her tiny body heals while she sleeps.

She's healing and she's healing peacefully, on my watch.

Thank God for that.

For now, well, I just hope no one else asks me how I'm doing while roaming the ice cream isle of Publix for some frozen sugar to cushion the pain I'm feeling.

I suppose I should also express my apologies to that innocent stranger who was just trying to be kind.

He got an ear full, to say the least. My bad. Don't ask a girl wearing yoga pants and a baggy t-shirt, who has bags the size of Texas under her eyes, how she's doing. Moral of that story.

Like I said, I'm a very balanced person. Obviously.

Anyways, go snuggle your babies extra tight today. You just never know what could happen.

Huge thanks to all of the well wishes and those of you who have been checking on Ella and I. Really, I can't express how thankful I am to have such an amazing support system to help my Ella girl and I get through this nightmare.

And to Ricci, you have no idea how much this touched me. Thank you so much!

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