a collection of facts & feelings: june

Today I’m linking up with my sweet and wonderful friend Joelle over at Where We Love is Home for Happy Hour (because it’s 5 o’clock somewhere, thank God). And all I’m going to say on that note is:

a. you should really take a gander at her blog because it’s adorable, and so is Joelle
b. this weekend (when not working) I feel like I’ll be drinking one thousand cocktails and beers and bottles of wine – whatever, just bring on the booze; it’s been a hell of a week





Anyway.

Moving on.

It’s been an interesting week, my first as a summer camp counselor at the Grapevine Rec and so far I’d say the best (read: most awkward) part is working with a guy I graduated high school with because neither of us have acknowledged it. Neat-o!

I’ve been invited to zero weddings this summer. Am I really that unpopular? Well, all right.

A couple weeks ago Mitch’s mom threw him a grad party which basically meant that I ignored most people and played Presidents & Assholes on the couch the entire time (but not alone, it’s fine) while drinking twelve-ish beers. That’s a good way to feel bloated for two days, in case y’all were wondering.

Mitch's stupid eyes ruin everything.

And on that note, I know I said Apples to Apples is the greatest game of all time (and it is), but it should also be said that Presidents & Assholes is the greatest DRINKING game of all time (and it is). Seriously, have you ever played? Do it. It reminds me of summertime, which is wonderful, but it specifically reminds me of last summer, ie. The Summer We Played Presidents & Assholes Absolutely Everywhere To The Point That We Started Carrying Decks of Cards on Us at All Times I’m Not Kidding. We played with friends. We played at family gatherings. We played at The Chicken. We played at weddings. I can only hope that Summer 2011 is as President-y & Asshole-y.

In a nutshell.

Once again, moving on.

Midnight is Paris (starring Owen Wilson, Rachel McAdams, and a shit-ton of other people) is fantastic and totally worth seeing in theaters. I highly recommend it.

I’ve been seeing this app for awhile and, y’all, I think it’s getting pretty serious. I’d like to take this moment to profess publically: I love you, Instagram. Will you marry me and be my favorite app forever? (update: it said yes!)

Pete has gone an entire month without eating my clothes (knock on wood). I feel like this would be cause for celebration, except he’s actually just moved on to things like stairs and electrical wires.

Sidenote: besides chewing shit up, his new favorite hobby is chasing butterflies. CHASING BUTTERFLIES. I’ll try to take a video.

Not liking iced tea makes me feel absolutely positively un-southern, not to mention un-Texan. This is only amplified in the summer months. Ugh. What is wrong with me?

Not recommended: bursting into tears when your dental hygienist innocently & cheerfully asks how you're doing. She'll get really uncomfortable. And so will you. (update: seriously, I'm fine, it was just a bad day and, surprise!, I'm not great at controlling my emotions)

Also not recommended: eating two-day old chocolate chip cookies found on the bathroom counter when you wake up at 1am and can't go back to sleep. It won't cure your insomnia, but it will make you feel like a fatass.

And I just noticed how many browser tabs I have open right now. It drives Mitch crazy when I have up more than four (why? I don't know), but whatever because I'm sitting at thirteen right now.

YOU'RE MIND JUST GOT BLOWN, MITCH BAKER.


Happy freakin' weekend, y'all! I hope everyone has some really exciting plans to blow off steam from the week. Me? I'll be working, but that doesn't mean I won't have a little time off to go see a band play in Dallas on Saturday night with my main squeeze. Other than that, it's back to the grind until Tuesday (my first day off in eleven days! whoooooop!).

can't stop, won't stop: june (featuring the music of summer 2009)

In honor of summer (SUMMER!!), I decided to break from my normal format and instead do a flashback can’t stop/won’t stop featuring my favorite playlists of summers past. I’m also just feeling nostalgic (summer always has that affect on me) and wanted to indulge myself in a walk down memory lane.


First up, I present to you my Summer of 2009 Playlist:

• Love Game by Lady Gaga
• 3OH!3’s entire album, Want (but specifically Don’t Trust Me, I’m Not Your Boyfriend, Baby, and Richman*)
• Fireflies by Owl City (and, in fact, all of Owl City's Ocean Eyes album...IT'S FINE)
• Digital by T-Pain (“I don’t even care that he lives in a voicebox!”- Mitch Baker)
• Waking Up in Vegas by Katy Perry
• Hotel Room Service by Pitbull
• Birthday Sex by Jeremih (in honor of Mitch’s 21st, ie. a mostly-hilarious night for everyone involved, but less so for me as I was busy cleaning up vomit and assuring Mitch that he “didn’t do a bad job on his birthday” while he kept screaming, WHO DID THIS TO ME?!) (and later, very sadly, “…I did this to me…”)
• Sweet Pea by Amos Lee
• I Gotta Feeling by The Black Eyed Peas (ughhhh I HATE this song now)
• Fire Burning by Sean Kingston (this is shameful, but true)
• Punk Goes Pop volume 2 (specifically Breathe Carolina’s cover of See You Again and The Cab’s cover of Disturbia)
  

Post-one million shots, pre-vomit.

Summer 2009 was a big one for me. It was my last summer as a college student, the summer I got Clark Kent, the summer I ran and didn’t hate it, the summer I drove down to Nacogdoches every other weekend, the summer I drove all the way to Arkansas just to see finally Relient K live, the summer of Daisy Dukes and dollar drinks and drunk make outs BECAUSE it was my last summer as a college student. It was the first summer Mitch and I spent together, the first time we drove to Houston for Free Press Summer Fest, the first time I really like-liked someone after thinking I’d never like-like anyone ever again.

PUPPY! :)

It’s the summer I came back to life.

I’ve mentioned before that I had a particularly difficult time after a break up, way back in the spring of 2009. Truth be told, it’s probably the lowest I’ve ever been in my entire life, and God, I hope the lowest I’ll ever feel. I definitely don’t want to go back to that place. Anyone who suffers from depression can attest to how hopeless you feel, like you will literally never be able to crawl out of bed, like you’ll never be happy again. I had stopped going to work. I dropped two classes and failed one. I no longer answered my phone. I regularly slept fifteen hours at a time. I spent every second possible in the solace of my room, feeling lost and inconsolable.

When I did go out, I tried to prove to myself and everyone else that I was fine by laughing too loud, drinking too much and generally pretending I didn’t give a shit about anything, least of all my broken heart.

I was, in a word, a mess.

But with summer came sunshine and a new beginning.

July 4th, 2009. Go Rangers!

It brought my friend Mitch who emailed me daily with work-out regimes and words of encouragement. It brought Clark, the world’s sweetest puppy, who gave me something to look after and someone to come home to. Summer brought a new will to live and the realization that this sorrow wouldn’t be forever. Summer brought a time of tentative happiness as I slowly but surely crawled out of my cave and faced the real world again, this time stronger and more self-assured than before. It wasn’t instant, but it was lasting.

I was back, baby.

Thank you, summer 2009. Thank you to the friends and wonderful times that made it what it was. It’s a time I always treasure, and I’m so grateful I lived to see that.

Impromptu library workers party. We like books!

Join me next month for can’t stop, won’t stop: july where I’ll feature my summer 2010 playlist. Whoop! :)



*Richman is one of my favorite songs of all time. IT GOES SO HARD. Listen to it now, please & thanks.

doneskies

He did it, y’all.

Five years and countless beers later, Mitch finally walked across that stage, shook hands with the dean, and graduated (diploma to be mailed at a later date…LAME). The ceremony was long and I guarantee there’s not a slower speaker to be found than the man who gave the commencement address this past Saturday. Kuykendall arrived early, three shotguns in and ready to do the damn thing (typical). Hogan, Mario and Trevor came still rocking the night before’s duds (typical). I was cranky because I was running late (atypical). The coliseum was a madhouse of family, friends and various other loved ones, and if there’s one thing I hate, it’s fighting my way through a crowd. By the time the last empty diploma tube had been handed out and the last hand shook, the alma mater sung and the caps tossed, everyone was ready to get the hell outta dodge.

But I couldn’t be more proud.

The new best picture of us because I can actually stand myself in it. I'm going to be cramming this down everyone's throats.
It’s true that I had a couple selfish, ridiculous reasons for being excited about Mitch graduating (ie. our age difference is now less creepy and I can stop saying my boyfriend is in college while feeling like a pedophile...holla!), but honestly I’m just happy for him and beyond impressed by everything he’s accomplished. I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again, you’ll never meet a harder worker than Mitch Baker. There’s never been a doubt in my mind that he’d finish school or anything like that, but regardless, Saturday was one of the most special days I’ve ever been a part of. And I’m just so thrilled. :)

Congratulations to Mitch and all the other spring graduates! You did it!

Forneytown. And Tommy.

one through honorable mention

Welp, my sweet friend Heather over at Blonde Undercover Blonde tagged me in her 10 Favorite Things post, which was just so thoughtful of her. :) And so here ten of my favorite things:


1. The World Adult Kickball Association (WAKA) and my incredibly fun kickball team, the Bad Decision Bears.
This gets a huge shout-out since we finally had our first game last night and, okay, we lost, but it was a blast! I'm so excited for the season to really get underway and to spend even more time with my new friends & teammates. Also, flip cup and karaoke follow games (which are every Tuesday night)... Yes, please!

Hangover Wednesdays on the other hand? No, thank you. Ugh.

Christina, Kelsey and I show off our little teeny bear ears with pride.

2. New planners
I have a not-so-secret love for all things organizational, especially planners. I buy a new one every eight months or so simply because I get excited and CANNOT HELP MYSELF OH MY GOD LOOK HOW CLEAN AND NEAT THE PAGES ARE!!!!!! See what I mean? I bought myself a new one this past Sunday and relish in slowly writing in my plans. It makes me feel so orderly and in control.

Wow, that wasn't uncomfortable at all.

Please keep reading my blog.


3. Naps
If I could nap every single day (guilt-free), I absolutely would. Why? Because my bed is one of my favorite places in the world. It's soft, cozy and full of pillows just the way I like it. Laying in bed, drifting off to sleep in the afternoontime is relaxation at its finest.


4. Live music
The past two summers Mitch and I had made it a point to go to a lot of live shows and we were loving it. However, somehow in 2011 that has falled to the wayside and, well, we are not fans of that. We finally went to our first concert in nine months a few weeks ago, on a Wednesday night in Deep Ellum. We saw Freelance Whales play in such a sweet, intimate setting and we were in heaven, pure & simple.

I'm not going to shut up about Freelance Whales until everyone loves them as much as I do.

Sidenote: Driving out on a Wednesday night to see a band we both love made us more anxious than ever to get jobs and move out to Dallas for real. As we walked down Lamar to our parked cars, we daydreamed about what it would be like one day when we live just down the street and, for that matter, can drive home together without having to say goodbye. Ever. And then Mitch peed on a tree next to my car.

End sidenote.


5. Taco Bueno party burritos.
The flame has been reignited, y'all, and I am once again helpless to my addiction.


6. Rainy days
Mostly I love rainstorms and cloudy days because they give me an excuse to do nothing. Plus, they go great with Favorite Thing #3.

Double plus that when it rains in Grapevine, my backyard looks like this.


7. Mitchell Stanley
Besides being my boyfriend and, thus, an automatic favorite, Mitchell Stanley is pretty much the bee's knees. He's funny, adorable, and kind enough to jog four feet in front of me for over half of Warrior Dash because I refused to run anymore and was totally being a puss about everything, but when I pouted and yelled JUST LEAVE ME OKAY I'M HOLDING YOU BACK GOSH WHATEVER, he just kept slowly trotting along and told me, "Nope, no man left behind." Thanks, dude. :)

Nothing says love and respect like a backdrop of day-glo orange port-o-potties. Romantic.

8. My homies. 'Nough said.


9. This blog.
More specifically, having the freedom and platform to say what I want to say is one of my favorite things, without a doubt. And while at times it may feel overwhelming, I'm so lucky to have a place that's mine and people who give enough shits to read my words. Wow. How amazing is that?


10. Clark & Pete
You knew these were coming. I would be a terrible owner if they didn't make it onto every single Favorite Things list I ever make. And while Pete has moved on from my underwear to the crotches of my Nike running shorts, I try to love him. It goes without saying that Clark is as perfect as always. :)

Whatta bastard.

Honorable Mention: summer, mix CDs, nostalgia, disposable cameras, my mom's chicken & rice casserole, and 4 Lokos.
Seriously, one time Mitch and I ate an entire double batch of my mom's chicken & rice casserole and we were sick for two days. Gluttony, anyone?

Also, yes, 4 Lokos.

And I am of course referencing the original recipe.

Thanks so much, Heather, for thinking of me when you posted! It was fun to do the same. And in keeping with the pattern, I would like to tag the following to share with us ten of their favorite things:


Joelle of Where We Love Is Home (because she is my most honest friend)

Jennie of Well, Shut The Front Door! (because she is my funniest friend)

Hannah of heart to heart (because she is my sweetest friend)

Hugs, kisses and rainbows to everyone. And hey, it's almost Thursday which means it's almost Friday which means it's almost SATURDAY MORNING AT 9:30AM WHICH MEANS IT'S ALMOST TIME FOR MITCH TO GRADUATE.

Hell.

Yes.

No apologies for the all-caps. :)

shit-talking up all night

Lately this blog must give the impression that my life is completely devoid of anything even remotely interesting or fun. If it was otherwise, I'd be writing about all the cool things I do, right? RIGHT?! Y'all, I promise I do cool things. Maybe not all the time and okay, yea, I STILL LIVE WITH MY PARENTS which is the opposite of awesome but hey, just last week I saw a quality community theatre production of Bat Boy: The Musical and if that's not cool, I just don't know what is.

Things have just been busy and I've been all sneezy and do you know how bothersome it is to write when every six seconds you're recuperating from the Mother of All Sneezes?

Answer: extremely.

And while that's really just a ridiculous excuse, the truth of the matter is that I've been so consumed with subbing and looking for a Real Teaching Job and freaking out about looking for a Real Teaching Job that all the fun, cool things I do (and want to write about) fall by the wayside (much to my own personal disappointment). On top of it all, I had (have?) become a bit overwhelmed by this whole blogging universe. As much as I once enjoyed reading posts every day, it started to feel more like a chore and GOD FORBID IF I FELL BEHIND BY A DAY because I just felt like I was drowning in words and holy shit I'm such a failure if I don't catch up, like, yesterday.

Can you tell I suffer from anxiety? More specifically, anxiety over meaningless things which in turn turns them into personal failures that I'll never recover from?

I repeat: anxiety.

Let's not pull at that thread.

Mitch and I were driving back from a quick jaunt over to Nacogdoches a couple Friday afternoons ago, talking & bopping along to the radio when a song came on that we both stopped and really listened to. The words felt so applicable to both of us and the place we're in in our lives, a place of complete uncertainty with a side of Fear of the Unknown. Something about the lyrics gave me peace because they mean that other people in the world have navigated these same waters and you know what, I bet they made it out just fine. So we will too. And even though we're facing huge obstacles (the education job market, bills that have to get paid, skyrocketing gas prices, and very little money in our pockets to boot), it's okay because this is what our twenties are for: figuring this shit out one day at a time, occasionally with the help of a cheap bottle of wine.

But until we get back to our regularly scheduled programming, please enjoy this picture Mitch and I's matching watches we bought on completely different days at completely different Wal-Marts (cha-ching!) and completely by accident.

Yea, it's love.

she's all laid up in bed with a broken heart
while i'm drinking Jack while alone in my local bar
and we don't know how, how we got into this mad situation
only doing things out of frustration
trying to make it work but, man, these times are hard

she needs me now but i can't seem to find the time
i got a new job now on the unemployment line
and we don't know how, how we got into this mess
is it God's test?
someone helps us 'cause we're doing our best
we're trying to make it work but, man, these times are hard

but we're going to start by drinking on cheap bottles of wine
shit-talking up all night, saying things we've haven't for awhile
we're smiling, but we're close to tears
even after all these years we just now got the feeling that we're meeting for the first time

she's in line at the DOLE with her head held high
while i just lost my job but didn't lose my pride
but we both know how, how we're gonna make it work when it hurts
when you pick yourself up, you get kicked in the dirt
trying to make it work but, man, these times are hard

oh, these times are hard
yea, they're making us crazy
don't give up on me, baby

prom-allama-ding-dong

“You know, that’s the first dance I’ve been to in a long time and there were no slow songs. When are you supposed to get close to your woman? And I mean in a loving way, not just in a I-wanna-put-my-dick-on-you way.”
-Mitch Baker

Even if I tried, I’m not sure I could have come up with a better quote to sum up Prom 2011.

And yes, you read correctly.

Prom.

Ta-da!

Mitch and I went to prom, and not just because we’re a. creepers or b. super-creepers, but because c. I was there professionally as the photographer. Which means that actually Mitch was there for reasons a. and b. Oops.


Mitch, my mom and I getting ready for THE SINGLE GREATEST NIGHT OF OUR LIVES.

We were both really excited about it. Probably too excited. But, y’all, prom as an adult (and I use the term adult loosely, for obvious reasons) isn’t that awesome. Although, to be honest, even when I was in high school I thought prom was a total drag, but that’s probably because, as you may recall, I was a loser with bad hair, and Prom 2005: Here’s to the Night was no exception.

Anyway.

Moving on.

On the ride up to McKinney, Mitch and I took turns guessing which songs the DJ would play. We figured this would be a piece of cake because we’re young, hip and fun. We listen to not only 106.1 and 93.3, but also 97.9 AND 104.5. We know what’s going on with the music of today. Or so we thought. Can I just tell y’all that we made a list of 34 songs (and the official rules of this challenge stated that for every song you picked that was played, the other person had to buy you a drink, obvi), and out of those 34 young, hip, fun songs, only six were played. SIX. I don’t even need to tell you that out of those six, only one was mine, although I guess I just did. So not only was the playlist shit, but now I owe Mitch five beers and I have, like, four dollars, so I guess we’re keepin’ it classy with Keystone.

Unbelievable.

I blame the 6/35 on the DJ, a man who can truly be described as the real OG (here meaning the Original Guido). His excessively-bronzed skin overly accentuated his electric-white teeth, both of which I would have been willingly to overlook all that if the man would have at least played Britney Spears’ Till the World Ends as opposed to, oh, I don’t know, a techno remix of Hey, Soul Sister by Train.

Ummmmmm...

What are you doing, sir?

Look at your life. Look at your choices.

By the time the night was over and we were finally able to make the hour drive home, we were so burned out on BOOOooomOOOOooom BOOM BOOMBOOM BOOM CHIKITAH CHIKITAHCHIKITAH THUNDA THUNDA THUNDA that we just couldn’t handle anything on the radio.

So we turned on 98.7 for some golden oldies, ie. music that didn’t make me feel like I was inside a woofer. Or a strobe light.

And as we drove home, listening to the ever smooth King of Motown, we bitched about kids these days and their damn music, how it’s so loud and just a lot of noise, if you ask me, and so on and so on and so on.

Then it hit me.

We’re old.

Not old-old. Just older, I guess. What I mean is we’re not eighteen anymore, and while it’s the bitter in bittersweet to recognize the loss of (some of) my youth, I gotta tell ya, the sweet part is not only the knowledge and maturity that comes with age, but the confidence that, hell, I’m better than all those young punks.

Suckers.




*A kachillion thanks to Mitchell S. Baker for being a stellar prom date. As always, I was so proud to have you by my side.

You're pretty.

willhoite's (where, for a good time, call jessica)

Two Fridays ago Kelsey called and invited Mitch and I to go scout a band with her & Harrison that they were thinking of booking for their wedding. As it turned out, the band was playing in Grapevine (holla!) that night at a restaurant slash biker bar called Willhoite’s.

I love Willhoite's.

Why?

For a million reasons, but mostly because they have a kickass lunch buffet that my friend Sarah and I like to hit up on a regular basis, but also because it’s a great place to people-watch. And by people-watch, I mean stare at hot-mess townies. Unfortunately the buffett and hot-mess townies don’t overlap as there aren’t too many drunks roaming Main Street on Tuesday afternoons. Go figure.

Sidenote: I was briefly friends with a guy who told me that he once went home with a woman he picked up at Willhoite’s. She turned out to be forty-four and a mother to three kids, two of which were teenagers. My friend was twenty-six. Classic.

End sidenote.

Anyway, I readily agreed to join them and while the band was fun but (at times) talentless (seriously, their cover of Purple Rain?), Willhoite’s did not disappoint.

And it’s all thanks to Jessica.

Things that make this picture awesome: the angle, as I was shooting from the balcony above, and the fact that the thing semi-obstructing the view is a set of mounted antlers.

To be honest, we really have no idea what her name was, but the four of us took turns coming up with possible monikers because we got tired of saying things like, Hey, look, the drunk girl’s back! Tagging a name to a sloppy face was much easier, not to mention much more amusing. The point is that this woman was the embodiment of DTF (and if you don’t know what that is…look it up). She was the personification of not giving a damn, the ghost of every drunken hook-up ever to take place in the history of the world.

In a word, Jessica was fun.

Jessica took to the dance floor with wild, reckless abandon, continually coming back with different men and progressively giving fewer & fewer shits as the night went on. It’s hard to say if the rest of the bar viewed her as much of a joke as we did. I’d like to think everyone else was in on it as well, and that the dudes romantically banging against her were aware that on the balcony above sat four incredibly entertained twenty-somethings watching their every move (and, sure, at times cheering them on).

Two-thumbs up to each and every townie with the balls to behave this way.

Bringing the evening to a brilliant crescendo, Jessica brought one lucky lad over to the enormous fireplace that made up one complete wall surrounding the dance floor and straddled him while, I shit you not, gyrating on beat to the band’s rendition of Play That Funky Music, White Boy. Between the humping and the forced chest-grabbing (girlfriend was not afraid to let everyone know exactly what she wanted), Jessica was a sight to behold.

Bless her heart.

I watched this for over an hour. That's not creepy.

I was more than happy urging Mitch to ask her for a dance –- it was the night before our anniversary, and really, what could be a better gift?

Sadly, he declined, possibly out of fear of molestation.

Prude.

Proof that Willhoite's brings out the absolute best in everyone. And, Kelsey, you requested that I take this picture. I think it came out excellently.

Eventually, Harrison, Kelsey and Mitch were forced to drag me away from the train wreck with which I’d become obsessed. And sure, a little part of me feels sorry for Jessica – who knows what’s actually going on in her life? Maybe she just lost her job or is in the middle of a nasty divorce with her husband over an illicit affair involving one or more of the bartenders? It’s hard to say, but maybe she needed the magic that only Willhoite’s and embarrassing amounts of sloppy public make-outs can bring to shine a little light back into her life.

If that’s the case then I say, you play that funky music, Jessica. You play that funky music right.

And party on.

one year or two? it's hard to say, but i love you.

Happy anniversary to myself and one helluva guy, Mitchell S. Baker.




I'm not totally sure how many years we're celebrating today since it took us (read: me) a year to settle down, but meh, who's counting anyway? The point is April 2nd is a pretty special day. It was April 2nd of 2009 that we went to a Rangers Game together and hung out for the first time since meeting at that party, and it was on April 2, 2010, at the Deep Ellum Arts festival in Dallas that you asked me to be your girlfriend and I finally said yes, giving in and acknowledging everything that had already been going on for over a year. My b.

Mitch, I love you. And not just because we do fun things like take roadtrips to New Orleans or assert our dominance as Best Couple at other people's weddings, but also in spite of things like being younger than me and occasionally dressing like a lesbian. You're kind, funny, and hard working, and even though you looked like this in high school, you've somehow managed to blossom into a total stud (and you're even studlier now that you have a sweet beard).

To quote something I wrote last summer (that still rings true and is almost too sickeningly sweet):

Mitchell, this has not been the easiest year and some odd months. In particular the last couple weeks have been trying, and you have, through it all, been steadfast. I love that you cry just as much as I do even though I tease you mercilessly for it. I love your beard and your blue eyes and your Finley nose. I love your laugh. I love how excited Clark gets when she sees you. I love the way you dance, in the car and anywhere else. You are the true definition of an optimist. You have the sunniest, happiest personality, and everyone who meets you falls instantly under a spell you don't even realize you're casting.

You remind me that I don't have to do it all alone and that I don't always have to be in control. You work alongside me because you want to, not because you have to. My parents and friends love you possibly even more than I do. I love that sometimes you get so excited for me to visit that you even vacuum. I love you for coaching tennis for six-year olds. I love your friends. I even love your mother. I love your desire to work hard. You are ambitious in your own right, tackling endeavour after endeavour with too much humility to ever brag. I'm proud of you for starting the club team and then your own business. I'm proud of you for paying your way through school. I'm proud of you for keeping your closet clean after you let me organize it. And, Mitch, I'm not sorry it took us a year to settle down. I love our story exactly the way it is. I love the way we've turned out and I love us.

You are all of our good and I am all of our bad, I know, but thank you for loving me all the same.


Happy anniversary. :)

or you ain't never gonna shake this sense of sadness

I like to be real so I'll say it hasn't been a great past several days. And I have a ton of hard ones ahead of me as it stands right now. Sometimes people need breaks. Sometimes people need break-ups.

Gah, I hate adult problems.

But once upon a time, years ago, Mitch and I were tipsy and he played Ray LaMontagne's Hold You In My Arms on his iPod. We wore headphones. We slow danced. And swaying back & forth in the dark, I knew we were falling in love.

We're still in love.

But people change. People struggle. People regress. And like I said, sometimes people need breaks, need break-ups.

I hope for a brighter tomorrow, and I know that with God people can progress. People don't have to struggle. And people change, but in a great way. It may be hard to see the good through the grief, but here's to trusting God with my life, love, and happiness.

In the meantime I can be found on my couch, eating an entire bag of mini Chips Ahoy chocolate chip cookies.

unacceptable

This is the face of a pervert.

Today I came home to find that Pete had eaten and/or destroyed six pairs of my underwear. Ahem, my DIRTY underwear. Perv- to the -ERT, dude. Apparently while I was off working like a chump so I can afford to feed that ungrateful little bastard, he was busy rummaging through my laundry and chomping on my delicates, proving once again that he is interested in very little other than a. food and b. my underwear.

So, basically Mitch in dog-form.

Sorry, Mitchell.

EVERYONE WAS ALREADY THINKING IT.

Mitch in high school/ohmygod you're disgustingggg.

i'm alive, i swear: post-birthday edition

Let me just start off by saying that between substitute teaching, living in Forney during the week and my birthday festivities, I have spent only two nights in my own bed over the course of the past three weeks. Say what??

Things have been crazy, y'all, but crazy-good.

I had so enjoyed getting into the practice of writing nearly every day and, let's face it, as a writer, that's beyond important, but with everything that's been going on, I've found literally no time to even check anyone else's blogs let alone post on my own. I don't care if it's weird, but that's been tough. Anyway...

This will just be a mishmash post since a lot has happened during my brief hiatus. Let's get on with it:


Substitute Teaching...
...is a total dream. I love it. The more I sub the more I'm convinced I'm supposed to be a teacher...but the less I'm convinced I'm supposed to work for a district. What I mean is I've started worrying over the past three weeks that maybe I'm too out there to be a regular ol' teacher. I definitely don't like being put into a box, wading through red tape, etc. I just want to be able to do what I want when I want and blahblahblah I'm apparently a rebellious sixteen-year old all over again and YOU'RE NOT MY REAL MOM SO JUST LEAVE ME ALONE OKAY GOSH. Being a substitute teacher is so freeing because I don't have to be regular; I can let the kids sit on the floor while they work. I can hug them when the day is over (okay, I'm technically not allowed to do that, but when a sweet kid runs at me full-force and throws their arms around me, I'm not going to push them away, duh). I can say "suck it" in casual conversation. I can have a tattoo. Okay, so, again, technically maybe I'm not allowed to do any of those things either, but I do and the kids love me. And the other teachers love me. And I'm doing a great job. No, Mom, that's not me being full of myself; that's recognizing when I'm good at something, which is rare, so let me have my moment. Jeeeeeez.

I could honestly go on and on and on about all this (seriously, ask any of my annoyed friends), but I'll save it for another day. Besides, I can already feel myself getting all worked up and it's too early in the morning for a stress rash.


Obedience School...
...is over! And, yes, Pete graduated! So what if it was a pity, you-paid-the-money-so-I-guess-we'll-pass-him kind of graduation, it still counts. And he even wore one of those totally lame and adorable mortar boards. Duh, I took a bazillion pictures. Way to go, Pete! You can roll over, but you still swipe food off the kitchen counters and rip my mom's plants out of the ground.

We just really wanted to make this whole get-a-picture-while-Pete's-wearing-a-graduation-cap thing work.

Awkward.

What an adorable family pic, complete with what appears to be Clark Kent having a goddamn seizure. Way to ruin it, CLARK.

MATTHEW BRODERICK TRAINER! Thanks, Scott, for indulging our creepiness and taking a picture with us.

Oh yea, and a picture of the infamous Mia. Bitch.


My Birthday...
...was last Wednesday, the 16th, and I am officially (not) old. What up, 24! Show me what you've got! No, but seriously, so far being twenty-four is all right. The weekend before, a bunch of my friends got together for an impromptu house party which made us all feel like we were in college again, followed by (even more?) drinks and karaoke. I'd never realized I actually knew all the words to If You Wanna Be My Lover until we sang it because, let's face it, the Spicegirls are total crowd-pleasers. Then later I fell off a curb by a valet stand and into a muddy ditch. Mature. This past weekend, however, I trekked down to visit my best friends in Austin for a little post-birthday celebration. That's what happens when your actual birth day falls on a shitty Wednesday -- you get two birthday weekends. Anyway, it was pretty chill, but we did venture out to West 6th Street on Saturday night where I only spent eight dollars because some thirty-two year old Persian dudes came out of nowhere and bought us shots. One of them's birthday was the day after mine and he only hit on me a little, so I felt like it was okay to hang with them. No worries, Mitch has been informed and dare I say he's proud of me? Later while stopped at a red light we screamed out the car windows at an awkward couple until they made out. I repeat: mature.

And since I am still camera-less (read: DEPRESSED), I have no pictures from this past weekend. Instead please enjoy this throwback picture of my BFFs and I from our graduation night, December 2009:

We only deceptively have our shit together.

So, in a nutshell, that's what's been going down in Texas, y'all.

Howdy. I'm Andrea. I'm a twenty-four year old substitute teacher in Dallas, girlfriend to a man who should never under any circumstances be left alone with hair clippers as he will forget to leave himself sideburns, friend to bangin' yet equally immature twenty-somethings, and mother to two of the world's most thieving, conniving dogs.

And this is my universe.

you want your dog to become an addict, you know, like gamblers

This pearl of wisdom was shared with us by none other than Matthew Broderick, aka. our Matthew Broderick lookalike dog trainer. Same diff.

We had our third obedience class this past Monday and unfortunately it wasn't near as interesting as the first two times except for the fact that I spent the first ten minutes trying to take a picture of Mia with my iPhone. I was basically unsuccessful, which is weird because I wasn't trying to be subtle at all. Huh. Anyway, this is the best I could do:

So...basically just a picture of our trainer's ass. My bad.
Sidenote: Mitch has forbidden me to tell Scott (our trainer's actual name) that he looks like Matthew Broderick because Mitch is convinced he hears this all the time and I'll just annoy him. Okay, so that's probably true, but for some reason I feel like if I don't tell him, I'LL EXPLODE.

End sidenote.

So, class was whatev and the only semi-exciting thing that happened was when Charlie (one of the dogs) threw up for seemingly no reason. Mitch felt bad and was all, "Awwww, Charlie, are you okay?" and then whispered to me, I wish Charlie would've thrown up on that bitch Mia. Sweet, right?

For those not in the know, we hate Mia.

And just for gigs, here is a picture I took when we were supposed to be teaching Pete how to walk on a leash but did this instead:

That's probably not correct leash handling.

PS: In totally unrelated (but totally exciting) news, tomorrow I have my first substitute teaching orientation! HEY-OH! That's right, y'all, after over a year of applying to sub absolutely everywhere, I finally heard back from a district that's crazy enough to give me a shot. Subbing, at least. Am I thrilled it's all the way out in Forney and an hour away from home? God. No. But at this point, I'll take what I can get AND it means I get to stay the night at Mitch's tonight. Score. Keep y'all's fingers crossed that after I'm finally in the system I'll actually get called to sub! :)

that's what's up

Mitch Baker has a million jobs.

Of course there are the standards such as being a wonderful son, friend, boyfriend, etc, but on top of it all he’s also a dedicated student. Oh, and he coaches private tennis lessons because he’s awesome. Then last week he started another job as a math tutor in Dallas the three days a week he’s not already someone's private math tutor. And did I mention that TODAY he starts student teaching full-time?

Right. Now I may not be as smart as Mitch, but all these jobs + the number of available hours in a day… Something about that math just doesn’t add up.

HOW DOES HE DO IT?

It’s not that shocking, really. Me? I’ll admit I’m…lazy. Okay, I said it. Ouch. But Mitch is hands down the most ambitious, hardworking person you’ll ever meet. Isn’t that sexy? No, seriously, isn’t it? ‘Cause I think so. Back in the day when we were first hanging out, before I, you know, fell all in love with him and stuff, I remember telling everyone (ie. my parents, friends, strangers who had only politely asked if I was seeing someone, etc.) that I could easily marry Mitch Baker and have the happiest life ever because, dude, have you seen how hard he works? He would always take care of us and protect us and do whatever it took to provide for us. Damn. Then, of course, I did fall all in love with him and stuff, and the thought of marrying him got even more awesome. Who’d a thunk it?

HEY-OH!
So, today’s post is for you, Mitch. Your first day as Mr. Baker, Super Student Teacher Specializing in 7th Grade Math, has just begun and I know you’re more excited than you even realize. And yes, your schedule is going to be crazy over the next thirteen weeks as you tackle absolutely everything in front of you (with an ever-present smile and cheery attitude), but I just wanted to say I’m so proud of you.

To Mr. Baker!

PS: It’s weird to say that and not think of your dad slash your dad’s mustache. Hey, remember that time you told me your dad was a cowboy? And how sad I was when I finally met him and he DIDN’T have a handlebar mustache and WASN’T wearing chaps?

a collection of facts & feelings

If I lived alone, I'd probably spend less time wearing pants.

Being a middle school photographer makes me feel like a rockstar when the kids are excited to see me and remember my name.

I wish I could eat Taco Bueno party burritos like, all day, every day.

This absolutely cracks me up.

Sometimes I resent my dogs. And by my dogs, I mostly mean Pete. And that makes me feel like a bad person.

I like that I like beer.

To paraphrase Mandy Moore in License to Wed, I'd marry Mitch Baker tomorrow in a potato sack dress in the middle of a rainstorm if it meant spending the rest of my life with him.

And on that note, I have an inexplicable fascination with all things Mandy Moore.

I really believe in this.

If there's a Law & Order SVU marathon on somewhere, I can kiss all thoughts of productivity goodbye.

Yum. To both.

I wish I took myself more seriously and gave myself more credit.

I waste a lot of time here. And here. And here. And I never get tired of reading this.

My friends are so effortlessly cool and hot at the same time that it makes me feel a lot cooler and hotter just being known and loved by them. Not that looks are the most important thing in the world; I just happen to have really bangin' friends.

Briarwood. My bad for ruining this picture.

Which reminds me of the time in ninth grade athletics that our teacher asked us what was the most important thing to look for in friends and I answered ummmm...they have to be good looking? No one laughed and I was sent to the principal's office. I went to private school where no one was funny. IT WAS A JOKE, BITCHES. Whatev. I'm over it.

Anyway, it's Tuesday. I love Tuesdays. Happy Tuesday, y'all.

mishmash: january

While this was one of the most fun and relaxing weekends I've had in idon'tknowhowlong, I find that I don't have a ton to say about it. Ha.

Mitch ended up spending the weekend in Grapevine with me (yay!), which involved a lot of snacking, movie-watching, and napping. On Saturday afternoon we saw Black Swan (wtf...) and were forever scarred. And then Saturday night we went out with friends to a place in Dallas called Barcadia. Have y'all ever heard of it? Basically it's this neat bar that's filled with old school arcade games like Miss Pac Man, Donkey Kong Jr., Centipede, etc. They also have a giant version on Jenga out on their patio (which the boys apparently played without us).

via

It was insanely crowded, but I really liked it.

So...ummmm...yea. That's really all. It's not even noon on a Monday and I'm sitting in my pajamas watching Knocked Up on E!. Great omen for a great week ahead?

can't stop, won't stop: january

Presenting the first can't stop/won't stop of 2011, y'all: songs I can't and won't stop listening to on repeat as of late. Holla!

• Yeah 3x by Chris Brown (Oh, Chris Brown, my love for you is eternal)
• Dog Days are Over by Florence + the Machine
• Rocketeer by Far East Movement
• 3x5 by John Mayer
• Enchanted by Taylor Swift

...

there i was again tonight
forcing laughter, faking smiles
same ol' tired lonely place

walls of insincerity, shifting eyes and
vacancy vanished when i saw your face
all i can say is it was enchanting to meet you

I remember the first time I ever saw Mitch. It was at a party in Nacogdoches; I was visiting an old friend for the weekend, sitting around someone's coffee table when he walked in. He was wearing a long-sleeved, oatmeal-colored shirt and faded jeans that were ripped up at the knees. I remember staring at him and his mesmerizing smile before immediately texting my friend across the room, Who is that guy? What can I say? I just had to know.

December 2008, the first night we met. YIKES.
And yes, it was a bit scandalous on my part since my boyfriend at the time was also at this party. Don't worry - nothing happened that night (or any night for that matter while I was still with said boyfriend, I swear), but that didn't stop me from being curious about the sweet boy at Jordan's party, the boy who made me laugh and asked me to play beer pong with him (against my aforementioned boyfriend...oops?).

your eyes whispered, have we met?
across the room your silhouette starts to make its way to me
the playful conversation starts,
counter all your quick remarkslike passing notes in secrecy
and it was enchanting to meet you
all i can say is i was enchanted to meet you
I realize the beginning sounds a bit sketch, and maybe it is, but every time Mitch walks into the room, I'm enchanted just as I was two years ago when he walked through that apartment door and unsuspectingly into my life. I love that we had no idea what would become of us when he innocently asked for my number. I love that there were too many times I blew him off, pushed him out of my mind as some silly boy with some silly crush on me, and all the while this was the future God had in store.

I love our story, totally & absolutely.

this night is [flawless]
don't you let it go
i'm wonderstruck, blushing all the way home
i'll spend forever wondering if you knew i was enchanted to meet you

...

the obedience school hierarchy

A few weeks ago I introduced y’all to the latest addition to the family, Pete, and mentioned we’d be starting training classes this January. Well, it’s January and Pete likes to eat my favorite pair of earrings, so as of last night, classes have commenced. Thank God.

Now, I don’t mean to be a snob, but as soon as we walked in the door it was glaringly apparent that we were the best ones. Our classmates include a girl (woman?) about my age and her adorably huge and furry puppy named Charlie; an older woman and her elderly mother with their fuzzy Pomeranian, Coco; a lady recently moved to Dallas from Boston and aqua colored parka-wearing Chihuahua, Duke; and a woman with her two young daughters and two annoying miniature Huskies, Rocky and Mia.

Mia is a bitch.

NO.

Mitch and I want to start the We Hate Mia Club and pass out membership cards to everyone in our class because, seriously, fuck that dog.

Sidebar: did you know that a miniature Husky is actually an Alaskan Klee Kai? This woman was real impressed with herself for raising (the world’s most annoying) Alaskan Klee Kais but, lady, no one gives a shit.

End sidebar.

The point is that this dog, Mia, did not stop yapping/SCREAMING for nearly sixty minutes straight. At one point, my ears started ringing and it was hard to understand our Matthew-Broderick-lookalike-trainer.

I work the nightshift at Petsmart.

I would have felt sorry for Mia’s owner had she not been so aloof about the whole thing, but my god, she just sat there and DID ABSOLUTELY NOTHING ABOUT IT. Didn’t even try. Just said, Mia’s a fussy one, hehehe, like that was supposed to make us all go, OHHHHHH, she’s just FUSSY! I don’t mind the incessant yipping now!

Whatever.

There’s just a clear hierarchy in our group, even after the first class. I mean, let’s be serious, Pete is number one, a fact Mitch and I found shocking since he frequently pees on my comforter, knocks over my glass of orange juice, and swipes pie off my plate all before 11am on a Sunday. I guess this means he’s smart but a dick. Cool. Anyway, being the super-nerds that we are, Mitch and I (seriously, just HAPPENED) to sit in the front of the classroom, so Pete was used in most of the demonstrations (well, whenever Matthew Broderick wasn’t trying to choke out Mia, that is). I’m almost embarrassed by how nervous and excited Mitch and I would get every time Pete was acting as the example. Our faces would turn red, we would grasp hands and, okay, possibly even SQUEAL.

Judge us.

I had to keep reminding us both that Pete is a DOG. A DOG.

Needless to say, when Pete repeatedly aced every drill, we clapped and cheered annoyingly loud while all the other dogs and their owners watched us with varying degrees of envy and hatred, except for the old ladies and Coco. We might actually be making friends with them because Pete and Coco seem to want to date. Or get it on. It’s hard to tell.

So, the obedience school hierarchy, when broken down, looks a little something like this (and, YES, I immediately typed this into a note on my iPhone last night as soon as class was over):


Pete (SUCK IT, BITCHES)
Charlie
Coco
Duke (Sorry your mom seems like a total airhead AND dresses you like a girl)
Rocky (I’m not as annoying as Mia, but close!)




MIA (.............)

We’re obviously really excited for the next five weeks. Oh, and I won’t even go into how superior I felt to all the other owners since I’m awesome and brought my own clicker AND knew all about Pavlov’s dogs & classical conditioning (pysch minor shoutout!).

My mom was all, it’s not a competition, it’s just obedience class. And she’s right: it’s not a competition because have you SEEN what we’re up against? Team Townsend-Baker for the win!

things i need to get better at in 2011

It’s a new year which means there’s no excuse to not at least make an attempt to revamp myself, right?

No, but seriously, I’ve never really been one to make resolutions (probably because I know I don’t stick with anything longer than a couple weeks…hey, at least I’m honest). Of course this is the year I want to be a runner, fifteen pounds thinner and overall a healthier version of myself. However, I have a borderline codependent relationship with Mexican food (it needs me, too), so the chances of a thinner/healthier me? Slim to none.

Acceptance, y’all.

And as far as running goes, I unfortunately associate running with punishment and, therefore, loathe it with every particle of my being. Thanks, junior high (TOWNSEND, TAKE A LAP.).

Nevertheless, in the spirit of embracing new beginnings, I came up with a list of things I need to get better at this year. Presenting:

Things I Need to Get Better at in 2011

1. Hiding my tattoo from my grandmother

Okay, this one is actually null and void now that my mother’s let the cat out of the bag. One of my parents’ conditions to not disowning me for getting a tattoo was to never, under any circumstances, let my grandmother see it. She’s old-fashioned, which is really just a nice way of saying incredibly uptight and judgmental. Sorry, Grandma. Anyway, I have gone to great lengths to always be wearing long sleeves or a bracelet that I have taken the time to TAPE INTO PLACE ON MY WRIST so as to not upset the delicate balance that is my family life, all to have this ruined on Christmas, when my mother loudly announced SHOW HER, ANDREA. SHOW YOUR GRANDMOTHER WHAT YOU’VE DONE. The she laughed at me. She may or may not have also called me white trash (and may or may not have been kidding). Well, you know what, Mom? Jokes on you ‘cause Grandma didn’t even care. SO SUCK ON THAT.


2. Managing my money

This’ll be short and sweet, lest I begin weeping at the thought of my financial state. I’m horrible with money (admittedly, it’s probably by choice…) and therefore end up spending money on things like beer and Whataburger at 2am as opposed to, oh, you know, gas and dog food. There comes a point every month where I literally find myself crying in Walmart because I’m broke and know I can’t buy that bag of Cheetos. Props to Mitch for always listening to the conversations that begin with OH MY GOD MY LIFE IS OVER OH MY GODDD. I’m a real treat.


3. Texting back

When it comes to communication, I’m the kind of person I love to hate on: I suck at answering calls, listening to voicemails and even taking the time to text someone the hell back. I KNOW. It’s awful. I really don’t even know why I do it. What makes it even worse is that nothing bothers me more than when someone doesn’t answer MY call or text. I’m all WHAT THE HELL, DUDE. Hypocrite, I am. So, to all my lovely friends, consider this my formal apology for sucking so bad AND my formal promise to rectify my wretchedness in 2011.


There you have it, y’all. I’m just going to do my damndest to be better this year at a lot of things that kind of matter.

Oh, and in case anyone was wondering, my only New Years resolution is to try everything on Taco Bueno’s menu. I decided that today when Mitch and I were at lunch (guess where) and he wasn’t terribly impressed. Weird.

twenty-ten, over & out

Two thousand and ten, you were quite the challenge when it came to life post-grad. I turned 23, fell in love, tried my hand at accounting (wtf?), dealt with unemployment, terrible employment, and unemployment once again, spent a lot of money enjoying a summer I didn't expect to have, thankfully attended more weddings than funerals, got a tattoo, watched too much Jersey Shore while drinking too much wine, made new friendships while rekindling the old, became the proud mother of two (count 'em, TWO) dogs and kissed my sanity goodbye.

Thanks for the ups, let's forget the downs, and here's to a fantastic year ahead of us all!

BRING IT ON, 2011.