Sigalert

A creamy and a southern hog(nicer than pig, but still a pig) later, I am single once again. Here is the good news, I am single and will be FORCED to mingle, ready or not here very shortly.

As my dear southern hog dropped my grad school apps into the mail months ago and stated, "I hope you don't get in here," because he was trying to be an asshole cute, I thought, he's right I should stay in Texas.
But the ways of the world knew different and now I am off to Cali with a clean slate(or plate- very active tectonic ones at that) to enjoy the hella cool, SoCal men.

I will be moving to the location labeled on the map as "sigalert." Which I had to google, "A Sig Alert is defined by the California Highway Patrol (CHP) as "any unplanned event that causes the closing of one lane of traffic for 30 minutes or more."

Here's all I have to say about that, hopefully this girl will be stopping traffic with her Texas spice on the reg. 

***That last comment sounds extremely sassy and confident. Let it be known that I am truly terrifed...I mean who wouldn't be...check out that map, it's a hot bed of natural disaters. 

Calling All Creamies!

STOP!! Some of you maybe be like my friend hipster skipper and have your head in the gutter. Not that kind of creamie-geez pull it together.

A creamie is the not so politically correct word that I use for mixed races. Yes, all mixed races because they usually have a creamy (beautiful) color for their skin tone. Those of you close to me know that this is by no means a derogatory term for multiracial people, but instead a term of endearment.

Due to my coke bottle figure, outlandish personality and all the comments/attention I have received over the years I think it is safe to say that I attract men of a different race. Though, they may be attracted to me I haven’t seemed to be attracted to them. But a creamie, I could work with-even more actually desire.

Asian+white=creamie (of the vanilla flavoring)                

Black+white=creamie (of the mocha flavoring)

Latino+white=creamie (of the lighter mocha flavoring)

I have dated boys in 2 of the above mixtures, but I am still looking for the perfect creamie on the reg. Mostly so my kids will have a little extra flavor.

***See picture above if you don’t believe in all things amazing that are creamie.

stomach bug vs. love bug

Over the past 5 years, I have had many self-inflicted illness‘ mostly pertaining to being over served on the previous evening. However, yesterday that was not the case. I picked up a stomach bug(most likely from the munchkins at school-thanks kids) and it was the worst.

Want to know what made it worse?

A boy.

Clearly the stomach bug and the love bug are not friends. Yes, I was supposed to go on a date last night and yes, I have blown this guy off before. But I was not excited to receive this snappy text:

Call me Ms. Predictable, because thanks to your attitude you should not be surprised by the fact that I don't ever want to go out with you now. Dear future husband, if I am puking, don’t give me ‘tude. Give me flowers and Gatorade just as those who love me did yesterday:

 

Wedding Ring Experiance:TRUDE

As a single "young desirable woman," as one of my good friends would say, I have just caught myself as a member of a whole group of women that I was sure I wouldnt jump into until later in life. No not menopause, but it does cause hot flashes. 

This stage of life is called the Wedding Ring Experience. Though Freud didn't put this stage in his developmental theory, I am sure he would agree that it is certainly a stage that all 20 somethings go through while searching to find a mate, but are shut down by a tiny symbol of "everlasting love."

So, here is how I knew I made it to this stage: As I was gallivanting through the airport on my way to surprise a friend on a 23rd birthday, it happened. I saw a Ryan Reynolds (purely by by stature), James Franco (purely by style) combination in line at Mickey D's preparing to order his food in line. Don't worry, I'm sure, that just like P90Xs own Tony Horton, he will work his meal off later.

Just as I was prepared to hop into like to order my happy meal, soley so that I could snag a chance to meet my special someone, there it was, that twinkling reminder brushing back  his beautiful wavey but tame locks, a wedding ring. The one symbol on a man that screams...TAKEN. A headline only worthy of the subtile "Trude." Trude (which ironically autocorrrects to tried) by definition means, that something or a situation is not only rude but it's also true. In the Wedding Ring Experience the subtitle is :"Trude" because it means that not only is it true, that this amazing creation will never be mine, but it is the rude awakening that one more man is off the market.

So for all you 20-something married men out there, it's about time for you to let yourselves go, so single girls like me can no longer be left in line with a not so happy meal and the desire to snag a married man on the reg.

Annieb to "Miss"

I’MMMMMMMM BBBBAAAACCCCCCCKKKK!

First, I would like to apologize for my long hiatus on the blogosphere, I know, all of you were very worried. We have almost made it a year without reconnecting and for that my friends, I am very sorry. Here is a time-line of what has happened since you last heard from me, touching on only the important events of course…

June 2011

I finished out my Eurotrip2k11 travels, here is the cliff notes version of the trip:

·         Paris: where a special surprise that a good friend from TCU coming along too, the Parisian ghetto and searching for wi-fi made it an adventure.

·       Switzerland: where thanks to Prince Oliver, Nadal, a king-size bed of mountain hiking strangers at a fly infested hostel and a large pot of melted cheese fondue made for a wonderful experience.

·          South of France: where without Wayne’s (World), Aussie Gods, broken luggage and beautiful beaches it wouldn’t have been the same.

·         Barcelona: where the Barcelona Babe in Liz found true love, in a 5 story night clubs, a man named Wolfgang and memories of wandering a beautiful city with nude beaches will never be forgotten.

·       London: where Uncle Sam is actually a Brit and we remembered to thank our lucky stars that we had parents that loved us!

All that said, I continued on back to America loveless. But, don’t worry friends, I didn’t come home completely empty handed, there were plenty of lbs (thank you delicious bread, beer and cheese) to keep me comforted on my long travels home.  

July 2011

Back to America! I ventured across country starting in Ft. Worth, TX, ending in the Outer Banks, NC. I was set out to finish my summer with love, tears fell in the Music City when an old flame fizzled, but then I was greeted by the masculine, buzz cuts of Richmond, VA who made me feel beautiful again.

*Something to note about traveling and visiting friends in their home towns, it doesn’t matter if you put on a few lbs in Europe and don't resemble Zooey Deschanel in the slightest, in a new city, you are always prettier because you are the NEW girl.

August 2011-May 2012

My life stopped as I knew it.

No more kebabs at 5am on the streets of Nice, France. No more hung-over My Best Friend’s Wedding viewings. No more taking the #senioroption.  No more gallivanting around with boys like Cappie in the show Greek.

I officially became a full-fledged ADULT.

With this came, arm-wrestling 6^th graders at lunch, tears over students getting kicked out of school due to drug use, a 9:30pm bedtime followed by a 4:45am alarm, 7^th grade volleyball games, smeared poop across bathroom walls, co-worker love followed by awkward high-five’s in the teacher’s lounge, smiling faces waiting for me in the gym at 7am, Harvard and MiT acceptance letters and four-square tournaments. Most of all, being an adult means a pure love and fulltime commitment that I never thought I would have without having my own kiddos.

Obviously, there is many a story with each of those things,  but I thought I could give you just the highlights. This all being said, my social life and hilarious stories have changed a bit. I still have some crazy Friday nights and insight into being single in a crazy world, but most of my attention is held by a real life combo of “Twilight” (minus the vampires), “The Hunger Games”(minus the reaping) and Dawson's Creek(minus the white people).

I promise I will start sharing my stories again, but for now, I will be swimming in teen angst on the reg.

lonely hearts club goes global

Have you ever tried to escape the real world? Because I have a case of the real world blues. Well, I had them them. Bad. So, instead of turning to hard drugs like the other blues brothers (John Belushi rest in peace) I decided to take a trip.

I am venturing around Europe in 34 days mostly because looking for love in all the wrong places seems to be way more fun then looking for love in the easy places (fraternity houses, bars, work, even church). All of the men listed in the previous places were either Good time Gary’s with no commitment (or other issues-if you know what I mean close friends) or Holier than now Hanks *names changed for sake of good interest). No what I am looking for! So I’m ready for the foreign love bug to jump up and bit me!

I am 15 days in and here is what I have found:

The Greek Island slogan is Open Your Hearts, which is exactly what I did, but falling in love on a donkey isn’t graceful. But, somehow I managed, Aussie men seem to love girls from Texas.(much more than texas men love girls from texas) The boisterous tour guide found himself loosing at a bar game to yours truly and loosing in the battle against love. He was swept away by my Coors “liiiight” y’all twang and seemingly blonder hair(thanks to our trips to the beach).

I broke his heart at the Sunset at Oia when an American accent of a Colombia Co-ed caught my ear and my heart. A good looking, smart, financial assistant in New York….yes please. Later to realize at the bar that he had dance moves of a baby giraffe.

I left Greece empty handed, headed for Istanbul in hopes of love.
So far all I have met are hairy men looking to “practice their english,” and have continued to find myself as a card carrying member of the lonely hearts club on the reg.

Ps. Don’t fret! I still have 19 days to find love!

Natural Disaster: Growing Up

Have you ever felt like the whole world was crumbling beneath you? I have, it happened on May 9, 2011. You may be thinking, ok she’s not from one of the multiple cities that has been crushed my these natural disaters(which is true) but I have faced a natural disaster of my own. Growing up. Yes, it’s natural, and Yes, at the moment it is a disaster. Or at least it seems to be a devastating as one.

May 9, 2011 was the day I left some of the best friends I could imagine. The day I said good bye to keg stands, bouncing, the student section tottys, and late-nighting(ok, maybe not but a girl can dream.) This was also the day that I said hello to, serving time on Albans(living with my parents), picking out dental insurance, considering a retirement plan, and receiving emails from my boss.

This day is a realization of bad timing, Realizing that maybe I should have given that (big) guy sophomore year a chance. (As he saunters across the stage with honors and a much slimmer physique) or worse starting to date a new boy (when he shows up to your graduation party with 20 of his closest family and friends that came in for graduation and having to meet them all.)

It seems from this bad timing that nothing good comes from this day. This day will forever be remembered as the worst natural disaster ever. The step into the real world.

Ok ok, I know im being a Debbie downer. Maybe I should look at the rainbow after the rain….so let’s give it a try: Realizing that I have laughed harder in the past 4 years than I knew was possible (also a plus that same laughter burned tons of latenight cals off). Realizing that through all of the bad break ups, hookups, and stupid fights there is always someone there to sit on the couch with and spoon feed my moral hang over with the typical “he’s not worth it,” “you are so much preitter than her,” or my favorite “I’ve done worse!” lines that are always soothing. Realizing that no matter where I am (Istanbul, dallas, new york, or Houston) there is always going to be that someone that needs meand knows me better than anyone else.

So now that I am sitting here thinking about the #realworldblues they don’t actually seem to be that bad. Hey, people always call me a natural disater and they always seem to come back for more. So as for the natural disaster of growing up, hit me with your best shot! I’ll be waiting to see what you can bring on because I know that even if that levee breaks there will be someone to pick me up on the reg.