Friday, September 13, 2013

Some Things

Happy Friday the 13th. I don't have a complex against this date, especially since it's about 11 o'clock here in Florida and so far nothing horrible has happened to me, I didn't even wake up with a hangover. Winning.

I'm going to make today short and sweet because I just attempted to write four different posts and ended up deleting every single one. So, let's do a brain dump and then get to backing our azz's up.

One. Erin and her hunkfest will be here on Wednesday night and I can't even wait. This trip also happens to be a little bit of the reason why both of us finally came clean about our bears and hunkfests this week. Kind of insane how much has changed since her last trip here three months ago but I couldn't be more excited for all of the double date activities we get to do this time around.

Two. Speaking of the last time Erin was here, she must be good luck. I say this because during her trip here last time, three months ago, was when I built up the courage to text my bear to hang out for the first time in a little while. That text started it all. Yessss!

Three. My writer's block today is killer and I really don't enjoy it. Not one bit.

Four. Nothing really makes you feel like an old woman quite like having to monitor your blood pressure. When the hell did I get old enough for shit like that to be an issue? Not cool.

Five. Sometimes when I roam Pinterest I feel really bad for dudes today. I mean, these chicks pinning diamond rings that only a Kardashian could afford really just seems like setting your man up for instant failure right off the bat. Bitches be cray.

Six. I'm buying lottery tickets after work today, so if you don't hear from me next week just go ahead and pop some champagne in my honor. Thanks in advance.

Seven. The bear and I have been watching Orange Is The New Black on Netflix and I am obsessed. Such a good friggen show.

Eight. I'm tired of writing today.

Nine. Is it 4:30 yet?


I've been all about this Keith Urban song lately. Bump that volume up, roll the windows down... ah, so good. Have a great weekend!!

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!

Click here for a tutorial on how to embed a song in your post.

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

Thursday, September 12, 2013

Hangover Remedy Fails

Yesterday was quite possibly the greatest blogging day I have ever had, which I realize sounds pretty freaking lame if you're not a blogger but whatever. Let's roll with it because, let me tell you, 160 comments, 5,100+ pageviews, and countless supportive texts, emails, and tweets is exciting as mother effing hell. Not to mention, that boyfriend (woah, weird word alert.) guy I was writing about read the post and really, really loved it, which pretty much blew my mind because I am so used to stuffing this blog under the rug and 110% denying it to the real world. Crazy.

If you're new here, let me just go ahead and fill you in on a little something. When I have a really, really good day, I like to celebrate. And by celebrate I mean guzzle down about 5 shots of Fireball and a few pitchers of Miller Lite. Quite honestly, I had no intention of going that hard last night, but I guess with all of the excitement surrounding me that changed real fast. Insert nonexistent hungover emoji here.

Hangover aside, we had a blast last night. Blog, say hi to my bear. Hi bear. Clearly, I am miserable.

So, today I've been painfully wandering my hungover ass around the office trying to figure out how to get over the hangover and after a little chat with Sarah about what I should blog about I decided to take her idea and spin it around a little bit.

Allow me to introduce you to the hangover "remedies" that are about as useful as trying to buy a bottle of wine with pesos in America (Very unsuccessful, for the record.)

Greasy food.
The last thing I wanted to do when I woke up this morning was eat, let alone shovel a McD's sausage muff in my beer catcher, but I did it and then I regretted it worse than the time I left a vodka soda on my nightstand and woke up in the middle of the night thinking it was water. (#vomit) As if my protruding belly full of beer and Fireball remnants wasn't uncomfortable on it's own, adding in some grade D greasy sausage really topped me off and prepped me for the nap I didn't get to take. Horrible, just no.

I set my Keurig to brew me a fresh cup of Joe while I was walking the fluff monsters this morning. When I walked back into my apartment I nearly lost my cookies all over two little white dogs because the smell of the coffee was so horrid. That was about as far as I got with the coffee trial, the full mug has been chillen in my fridge all day. On the positive side, I have iced coffee for tomorrow morning so, there's that.

Gatorade and water.
I've flooded my insides with more of these two things today than I flooded them with le booze last night and let me tell you something, I still feel like shit. I'm so over Gatorade right now, I think I'd rather go thirsty than take another sip of it. It's not you, it's me, Red G-rade.

Ok, I don't think my 4 block walk to lunch really counts as exercise but that walk was rough and, if anything, it made me hurt worse. It's hot outside, so #beersweat was in full force, all of the water and Gatorade I consumed was sloshing around in my hungover belly, and basically I wanted to hop on the back of the Jimmy John guy's bike and have him take me straight home so I could nap. Just say no to hungover exercising.

The thing I intend on doing lots of as soon as I get home from work and I just can't even contain my excitement to see that bed of mine when I walk into my bedroom. While I sure would have loved to sleep in a bit later this morning, I can guaran-damn-tee you it wouldn't have made any difference unless I could have laid in bed the entire day. Which, lezbirealhonest, just isn't a possibility on a rando Thursday.

You know what wouldn't have been a remedy fail?
A mimosa. Hair of the dog works every time.
Well, it does until you wake up the next day in more pain than you were initially in and then you have to restart this process all over again. Exhausting, really.

I will now go stare blankly into space, willing the clock to move it's little ass along, and prepare for the greatest nap my world has ever known.

Wednesday, September 11, 2013

The Exception

For as long as I can remember, I've always been the girl who expects the fairytale ending. Yes, it's just as obnoxious as it sounds and I'm sure if you were to interview an ex or two of mine, they'd be happy to moan and groan about my expectations and how I approach relationships. I believe the words "Real relationships aren't like the fucking movies, Whitney." were said to me somewhere around a year ago and while I do understand that things get stretched quite a bit (see also: a shit ton) in movies, I don't think I'll ever stop expecting that type of romance. #sorryimnotsorry

In high school I used to watch all of these happy couples roam the hallways, hand-in-hand, leaving notes in each others lockers and going to dances together. I never really had anything like that in high school, partially because the only boyfriend I had growing up went to a different school, but mostly because I wasn't exactly what you'd define as a "catch". So, I got to stand on the sidelines and watch as, what seemed like, everyone was finding their first loves and falling harder than Romo did when he got sacked last Sunday night (insert evil laugh here).

I clearly remember Valentine's Day being one of the most difficult of the high school days for me to endure because it was the day where all of the girls got to carry around bouquets of roses, balloons, cards, the whole nine, while it was just a normal, lonely day for me. Four of those lonely high school Valentine's Days and for some reason I still love the manmade holiday. Hashtag hopeless romantic.

Fast forward to the days of college, the days of house parties, the days of cheap well liquor drinks at bars that could never quite kick that stench of stale vomit. Some of my most favorite memories live in those days, but one thing was still missing and it was that passionate, crazy, head over heels, out of this world love that I so badly wanted to experience. I suppose that's just it, I probably wanted it too badly and clung to anything that could have possibly filled that void.

I guess this is where I get slightly creepy so feel free to imagine me sitting in an unmarked white van, with a creeper stashe on, for the remainder of this.

One of my very best friends, he was always adored by every girl who came in contact with him. Really, not just girls, everyone seemed to adore him, myself included. I was always on the sidelines, doing the best bud thing, watching while he dated these gorgeous girls with perfect bodies, perfect hair, perfect everything. I'd see exchanges on MySpace (ha!), I'd watch from the corner of the parties while he'd kiss them, I'd see them leave together, and the entire time I just wished it was me he was holding. It was never me though, I was just the best bud and I eventually decided that I was ok with it because I would have rather been the best bud than no one to him at all.

This was always the song I related to him.

I remember we'd get home from school and video chat on AIM for hours on end, taking quick breaks for dinner, and then resuming until one of us would inevitably fall asleep at the computer. Countless jokes and laughs were passed back and forth and I'm pretty sure I'll never forget those days. Even if I wasn't the one who got to leave those parties with him, I got to be the one he laughed with and that was more than enough for me.

Somewhere along the years, thanks to a truly heinous bitch, he became a runner and refused to let anyone in. I saw it coming, I knew exactly what happened, I was there for him when it went down. He had his mind set that relationships weren't for him and he was officially off the market, indefinitely. And not off the market for someone else, his heart was simply off the market for anyone to touch. Bolder women than I tried their hardest to shimmy their way in and as soon as they thought they were there, poof he was gone. Secretly, I liked that part. Ok, I usually didn't make it much of a secret.

For about ten years, through failed relationships on both sides, him and I never seemed to be able to stay away from each other. There was always something about him I just couldn't shake, there was always something about him that made me completely weak, there was always something about him that made me continue to initiate us hanging out. I have always held him to a standard not many can reach, let alone surpass, and I've always known that if I had to just be the best bud that's what I was going to be, even if it meant yearning to be more every single minute we'd spend together.

About three months ago I decided to text him because I wanted to hang out with him, I missed him and just needed to be in his presence. I knew it was slightly dangerous considering I've always gotten in some strange coma state once I'd leave him and I've also always known of his running tendencies. I was in a different place this time though, my heart was off the market for anyone to touch this time. I was the one who was prepared to run for the hills if anyone were to try and tie this sister down. We were going to hang out and it was going to be casual and fun, just like the old days, except this time I knew I'd be just fine if he were to run.

Weeks continued to pass by, we continued hanging out more and more frequently, but I was holding on strong - not falling in too deep, not expecting anything more than whatever was going on at the time. We were having fun, I was getting to spend a lot of time with my best friend, everything was pretty much what I always wanted with him. It was weird but I didn't question it, I just road the wave, continuing to remind myself that I was the one who didn't want anything serious this time around.

Fourth of July happened and he asked me to hang out. At this point, it wasn't really surprising to me because we had been hanging out more consistently around that time and I just figured we'd toss back a few beers, like always, and maybe hit up the bar once we were sick of sitting around. Except when I got there, he told me we were going to our mutual friend's huge fireworks show that just about every person we went to high school with was attending. This was when I started to feel things changing but I kept it locked away because surely I was going insane. Impossible. Can't be. So I shook those thoughts right out of my head and kept my cool, just like I had been the entire time.

Then his birthday rolled around. I was the one he wanted next to him at midnight to ring in his celebration with. I was the one he wanted to take Fireball shots with that night. It was surreal, to say the very least. But, again, he's not a relationship guy and I'm the best bud. I reminded myself this a few times throughout the night, throughout the next few days, and I shook the crazy out of my head once again.

My birthday rolls around, 15 days after his birthday, and he's the one ringing in my birthday with me. Only this time, he was the one who wanted to be there as my guy on my birthday. I was still convincing myself I had dreamed all of this up in my head, even though every single girlfriend of mine was telling me it was different this time, I continued to deny it. It was impossible. There was just no way he was finally mine.

Fourteen days after my birthday he called me something I had wanted to hear him call me for over ten years. Fourteen days after my birthday he called me "girlfriend". I wasn't bud or buddy, I was girlfriend and I was on cloud 9,000.

I'm the exception this time.

Tuesday, September 10, 2013

The Dating Game

As a mid twenty-something, I've had my share of time playing the dating game as well as many friends who either are playing or have played said game. My friends and I are no exception to the female rule and we tend to share our stories, no matter how humiliating, amazing, mortifying, or life changing they may be. With that in mind, today I'm compiling a list of ways and places it seems to me that people are meeting these days and how I view them as far as success rates go. Let's take a looksie.

Let's start with the classic:
The Bar Scene -

I have had many personal experiences in meeting dudes in the bar scene. Whether it's bars I frequent or bars I've only been to once, I can say I've certainly put my time and effort into this aspect of the dating game.

The Pros -  Chances are this person you meet will be all about having fun and living up the nightlife with you, if that's something that's important to you. This person is likely to have an extensive group of friends who also enjoys doing the same and will probably enjoy closing down the bar with multiple shots of Fireball with you.

The Cons - From my experience, these people can also be too much fun and have little interest in taking things much further than the club and bedroom. Another con is that typically when meeting someone at a bar, alcohol is involved which introduces beer googles into the mix right off the bat. This can be an issue once you wake up the next morning and realize that Casanova is really a deadbeat, retired frat bro who's just looking to get laid.

The way I see it - Choose your bar scene dates wisely. Be smart. Follow your gut. Don't be a one night stand... Unless that's all you want, then you go for it and tell me your crazy story the next day. Oh, and don't date anyone from your regular bar. Once that shit goes sour, things could get awkward. (Obviously I imagine that to be the case. I don't know from experience or anything...)

Online Dating

This one's probably the most popular here amongst my girls lately. I guess in today's world this one isn't unheard of anymore but it's still one of the ones I have the least experience in... which could, quite possibly, be from my experience in the whole bar scene thing I talked about above.

The Pros - At the very least, there's a good chance you'll get free drinks and food out of the bastard. Also, you don't have to exert too much energy trying to find someone to go on a date with because you have a plethora of candidates available at your fingertips.

The Cons - It's been said that there are many of these sites out there that are flooded with sexually frustrated, single bachelors who are just trying to get their manbits fondled. This isn't necessarily a con for all people in the dating pool, but I assume if you're a female wandering into this field of dating you are probably looking for a little something deeper. (I think there's a that's what she said somewhere in that last part.)

The way I see it - Throw back a glass or three of Chard before your date, bring pepper spray, keep your standards high, get your free meal, get your free buzz, and wish for the best.

The Gym Scene -

If your name is Yoga Pants Whitney this one will most likely never relate to you, pretty much because you don't frequent the gym and when you do your face looks like a freshly watered tomato. Really though, I've heard that the gym is a pretty promising place to meet someone from the opposite sex.

The Pros - Working out gives you endorphins, endorphins make people happy, happy people don't just go around killing their husband. Kidding, kind of. Really though, there's a good chance your perspective date has a bangin bod and is conscience about looking and feeling good.

The Cons - You might be sucking down a protein shake instead of a whiskey ginger so prep your liver for the letdown accordingly. Also, there's a good chance your prospect could be way more into himself than he is into you. AKA there's a good chance he's a meat head and we all know how dangerous those are.

The way I see it - Meeting someone at the gym could be pretty good for your motivation. Much like meeting someone at your regular bar, this could get slightly fuzzy if things went sour which is pretty complicated seeing as it's already a pain in the ass to get your ass to the gym in the first place. Trade in your whiskey for protein, it's time to get your date on.

Kickin' It Old School -

You know, the one who's always been there but it's just never worked? So, you go ahead and you, once again, test out the waters. Maybe your intentions aren't long term, maybe they are, but you know you're in good company and you know you'll have a great time without any awkward pauses or moments of embarrassment.

The Pros - Aside from the comfort, there's a sense of excitement that comes from the thought of finally figuring it all out and seeing the pieces fall into place. You know everything about each other and you know what the other likes. This is a pro in many aspects of kickin' it old school, if you catch my drift.

The Cons - There's always the question "why didn't it ever work before" that you'll have to get passed before you can move forward. There's also the chance that the two of you will always just be stuck in between that place of single and together, which could get confusing for at least one of you.

The way I see it - Unless you want to look back and say "what if" ten years from now when you run into each other at your twentieth high school reunion, you've got to jump. Go for it. What do you have to lose? You've known each other forever and you know how to get over the other person already. Most of all, you know there's a glimpse of a chance that this time might just be the time.

Now, obviously there are many other places to meet people but, like I said, these just seem to be the popular ones amongst my friends and peers lately.

Be sure to visit me at today while I Instagram my way through the day.

Peace out, Girl Scout.

Monday, September 9, 2013


I realize the thing to do on Mondays is to write about my weekend, but my weekend was pretty short and sweet so I don't have much to report on aside from the worst hangover I've had in years, which occurred Saturday and absolutely wrecked my life for 24 hours solid. If it weren't for that amazing Gator loss, Saturday would have been a total waste so thanks for that, Canes.

Anywho, aside from a few drink/food pics, I've really got nothing from my weekend to share so I figured I'd do a little post that's been brewing in the old noggin for a few weeks.

1. 3+ posts in a row.
Say it with me, is not . Nothing convinces me to unfollow someone on Instagram faster than scrolling through my feed and seeing 6 back-to-back photos of the same child eating spagetti with sauce all over their dirty little monster faces. Just stop.

This one alone has caused me to have an irrational fear of posting any sort of nonsense on Instagram. I'm constantly paranoid with my Instagram decisions.

2. Hashtag abuse.
This is a very serious condition and it absolutely has got to stop. If you're using more than 3 hashtags, in a serious maner, you need to go seek help and find a cure for this disease fast because it's making you look pretty silly and as your friend I'm trying to break that news to you easily.

If you fall victim to this one, it's not too late to turn the bus around. Trust me, people are judging you.

3. Unrelated photo to caption. 
If you post a selfie which is clearly showing off, oh let's just say, your lady lumps yet your caption says something like "Oh, it's a beautiful Monday!", we're on to you. Why don't you just go ahead and caption it upfront and forward? You might as well let us all know you're loving how your funbags are looking today, at least you'll get a laugh with that bag of judgement people are packing for you.

"Hey everyone, come check out how good my tits look today! #bigtittyho"

4. Pitty seekers. 
Nothing gives my eyes the pleasure of rolling quite like a picture of a leg with a bandage on it or a sad faced selfie because you're "zomgzz so sick". I don't care if you filter said photos with every filter Instagram has to offer, it's still going to be pretty freaking pointless.

Perhaps instead of these photos, just go ahead and post a photo of your meds with the caption, "The goods. #turntup". Then we can all be jealous you're on that level and we're just over here sipping coffee at work.

5. Selfie abuse.
What would a post about Instagram fails be without the most commonly offensive fail of them all be? Oh, selfie abuse, let me count the ways. If, in one single day, you decide it's fit to post 6 selfies, all explaining what you're currently doing, you should just go and delete your Instagram now because everyone is going to unfollow you if you keep that shit up.

While we all realize that waking up very early for work is a most unenjoyable task, no one needs to see your pout face because of it. Maybe go ahead and tweet about it, then get on with your day because we would much rather see you looking all hot and stuff later in that one selfie you take before going out for happy hour.

Just a thought.

And that's going to do it for today's dose of sass.

One last thing dealing with Instagram.
A genius by the name of Mason has started a new project for Bloggers on Instagram called "The Blog Baton" where, basically, one blogger gets to take over Instagram account for one day and document their day. When Mason emailed me explaining the idea behind the project I knew that I instantly (see what I did there?) wanted to do it and before I knew it I was signed up and in line to be the second blogger to participate, which means tomorrow is my day to hold the blog baton.

This means everyone should go ahead and go follow  on Instagram and gear up for my day via Instagram tomorrow. Mostly because I have an irrational fear of getting zero likes all day and I just need at least a few of you to come give a sister a reason to keep up with my project tomorrow.

Click here to learn more about The Blog Baton and click here to follow on Instagram so you can follow along with me tomorrow. I promise at least one PBR and a pair of yoga pants being sported.

See ya on the flip side, blog land.

Friday, September 6, 2013

What I'm Backing My Azz Up To

Hi friends.

My apologies for being missing in action this week. It seems the whole labor day thing has continued to run through me for the majority of the week. My bad. Also sorry for the massively late Friday post, but it's more so Grooveshark's fault for being a bastard all morning. Womp.

Anywho, I'm going to take the easy road today, for the sake of not prolonging this linkup any longer.

Let's take a look at my current playlist and songs I can't get enough of.

If I'm being honest here, I'm real late to hopping aboard the Ellie Goulding train but damn, I love this bitch. So. Good.

I also realize this song has been out for about eleventy years but this Bassnectar version is my shit.

This song is filthy and raunchy and I friggen love it. Bruno, you dirty little minx, do what you do.

This remix is the jam diggity and Lana Del Rey is a freaking goddess. Love. Just love.

John Mayer. Katy Perry. Love song. I mean, does it get any better? The answer to that would be "hell no it doesn't". When Katy giggles at the end, I just swoon all over the place.

And that's all I've got for you today. How long until Erin texts me that this is a bullshit post? 3...2...1...

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!

Click here for a tutorial on how to embed a song in your post.

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

Wednesday, September 4, 2013

The Cute Factor

Pretty much my entire life I've been referred to as "cute" and/or "adorable", thus making both terms offensive in my overly sensitive and twisted woman brain. I don't know if it's the fact that every time I type in "cute" in Pinterest shit like this pops up, but I'm thinking it has a lot to do with my association of said word.

Cool. Awesome. I'm the equivalent to puppies and kittens. While I love a fresh little fuzz ball, I can't help but to feel like I might as well just shove a bow on top of my head and wear baby pink sundresses for the rest of eternity.

While I was really contemplating all of this, struggling to figure out why I was letting a compliment bother me, I not only realized I'm an absolute crazy person (Hey, what's new?) but I'm also over thinking this whole thing. Maybe I blame Britney Spears a little bit. She busted out Baby One More Time and instantly the "cute factor" was gone faster than her hair in 2007. Meanwhile, all I wanted was to be her and all I got out of it was the cute little blonde in pigtails and a failed attempt at acting like a ho. Womp.

So I decided to go consult my dear friend Google to see what he had to say about the word cute. Here's what I got:

A cute fucking kitten. Thanks a ton, Google, I owe ya one.

Then I searched through some photos of myself in attempts to squish this bug once and for all, so I can be Victoria's Secret status as opposed to sweet, little kitten status. Unfortunately for me, the photo search didn't do anything for me. Allow me to explain.

Straddling things should be sexy.

Ice skating can be magical and impressive.

Trying to Vanna White a bottle of wine should be hott.

Pirate hookers are hott... unless you're me. 

So, I guess I'll just stick with posing with kittens...

And being the cutest damn Whitopotamus I can be.

Tuesday, September 3, 2013

Where's Waldo?

It's the day after Labor day, for those of you who are too hungover to process that quite yet, and I'm just sitting here wishing it didn't go by so friggen fast. Time flies when you're consistently liquored up in good company, I suppose.

Speaking of my weekend, here's a compilation of photos I managed to remember to take.

Catch anything in those photos that looks a little different from the norm up there?
No? Nope. That's what I thought.
Just this:

Anyhoodlums, my weekend consisted of pooling, beaching, awesome friends, drinking and drinking some more. I'm paying for it today... both physically and financially but, hey, you know what they say... YOLO.

I'm off to try and get through these last few hours of my work day.
Stay classy, yo.

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