These are a few of my favorite things

If you’re new here, HI! If you’re a repeat customer, DOUBLE HI! Now that we’re all acquainted, I want to share something with you. I’m a dog person. That is also an extreme understatement, but I'll let the following story explain...

So it’s December, and we’re moving into our new house. Yay! WEEE!! SO EXCITED. But wait…I hate packing. And moving. And unpacking. So as you can imagine I was just a peach to deal with at the time. Which is probably why I found myself in a truck, full of our crap, driving to Fort Worth, at night, all.by.my.self. (cue Celine Dion, because I know for a fact you just hummed that song to yourself).

Something else you should know about me, besides the dog person thing, is that I require an abnormal amount of “adult” supervision for someone who is technically a grown up. That’s pretty much the main reason I got married. I digress. So I’m driving a truck full of stuff, and have almost successfully made it back to the house without incident or injury…and that’s when I see it.

THE MOST HORRIBLE THING I’VE EVER WITNESSED.

Ya’ll. This guy is walking down the street, and has an adorable little pitbull trotting along behind him. For a split second I assumed this was the man’s dog, until he (and I’m not even a LITTLE bit joking) turns around and roundhouse kicks this dog in the face.

I’m gonna let that shock sink in for a minute.

Seeing red? Because I had murder written all over my face. So, being a “dog person”, I roll down the window and scream at the guy. Turns out I’m a bad ass (just let me) because he ran off. So I pull into the parking lot nearest to the dog and as soon as I get out of the truck he runs up to me. THE sweetest. And since it is cold, I decide I’m gonna bring him home for the night and deal with the consequences of the previously mentioned grown up I live with later. Ask forgiveness, not permission. DUH.

I get homeless dog in the truck, and am about to climb in after him when some moron lays on their horn. This scares the already terrified pup and he jumps out of the truck and runs straight into the intersection.

Yes. I flipped out. Yes. I jumped in the truck and followed him…into a not so nice neighborhood. Sketch would be putting it nicely.

And here goes round 2 of saving this dog. I know, I'm the nicest, right? Remember that...

I park the truck, jump out (leaving the door open) and start walkin in the dog’s direction when I hear this guy laughing. I look up, and he’s standing in the doorway of his lair, cackling. Thinking maybe this is his dog I’m chasing, I ask. He says no. Indignant, I ask what the hell is so funny…and he just gives me one of those head jerks toward somewhere behind me. So, naturally, I turn around…and quickly see what he finds so damn amusing.

My truck? The one with half our belongings in it? Is steadily BACKING ITSELF STRAIGHT INTO THE STREET. I have to sprint, SPRINT to catch it, jump inside and slam on the e-brake to make it stop. Which it does…literally 15 feet shy of hitting the building across the road. Turns out I didn't put it in park, so much as I did reverse.

OH and you’ll love this. The dog? It followed my stupid running ass, so when I slammed on the brake, the door, which was STILL open, nails the him right in the face as it swings closed. So…yeah. He’s not exactly speaking to me.

EPIC. FAIL. Level: I almost wiped out an entire neighborhood.

Moral of the story is I didn’t save the dog, but the ice cream I rewarded myself with for not killing anyone was delish.

Oh right, I’m also an ice cream person. Dogs and ice cream. Just a few of my favorite things.

Always,

L

Midnight Rooftop Adventures

Alternately titled: Reason number 5,362 that my husband should never be left unsupervised. Especially at night.

What up moonpies!? Certainly nothing since I last blogged, right? Honestly, what could possibly go down in a measly four months? Maybe your life is different, but mine has been super uneventful. Just: closing on our first house, Thanksgiving, unexpected two week hospital stay, moving into aforementioned new house (with as much grace as a pack of blind/deaf sled dogs), Christmas, Yanke visit, New Year, Valentines, and Saint Patty's.

Happy 2013 Y'all. I suck. Whatever.

How about I make it up to you with an awesome story about my careless husband and his special needs dog, mkay??

The first thing you need to know is that Nate has the most obnoxious work schedule ever. He never works more than TWO days in a row, before he gets a day off. Ass hole corporate America goon. This really isn't important, except that it irritates the ever loving fire out of me that he gets to stay up late/sleep in EVERY Wednesday and Thursday. Rude.

Moving right along. Cue Wednesday night. Mr. "ha ha it's my Saturday and I'm gonna stay up late and play video gamesssss" is doing a stupid happy dance as I drag my butt to bed. Annoyed.

Ya'll, what happened that night, I couldn't make up even if I day drank tequilla and did a head stand. He calls me FRANTIC the next morning on my way to work. Heavy breathing and all. And this is the story he tells me:

"So I was playing Xbox. And Lady had to pee. And I didn't want to go alllll the way downstairs (*insert eye roll here*) so I just let her out on the rooftop deck. Anyway, there was this zombie I was killing and all the sudden I heard something above my head. I thought it was just the surround sound so I ignored it. Then I remembered about the dog, so I opened the door to let her in...and she was GONE.

*heart stops* *I envision mass paranoia as I report to the authorites that my handicapped, common sense impared pitbull is now on the loose*

Nate continues: So I walk all the way to the edge of the railing, and turn back towards the house, and I find her... ON THE ROOF. And I quote, "like the SANTA part of it!!!" (translation: the very top).

THE ROOF YA'LL. Dog. On the roof. Husband. In his underwear, yelling at said dog. At midnight.

Me? Laughing so hard invisioning all of this that I choke on my chocolate milk. Don't start with me. 26 year olds can drink chocolate milk for breakfast. It's very hipster. Now pay attention!

Ridiculous story short, he climbed over the railing, picked her up, and carried her back to the safety of the deck. The dog and my half naked husband both survived with no injuries. Except to their pride, because I obviously ridiculed him to no end, and then blogged about it. Wife of the year, I know.

Marriage is awesome. I can't wait to embarass our future children together.

Always,

L

P.S. Dear neighbors: relax. We will get the hang of this grown up thing one day or another. We're here to help God teach you patience. You're welcome.

JOHNNY FREAKING FOOTBALL

Go ahead and roll your eyes if you must (since the Crimson Tide wasn't able to)...if you know me, you HAD to know this post was coming.

I BLEED MAROON!

And none of this band wagon, t-shirt fan nonsense. I root for my boys every year. And for as many seasons as I can remember, all I catch from people is crap.Why? Because our team hasn't been a winning one in a very long time. But we hold on hope because, well, it's in our blood. WE are the 12th man...and we will take the heart ache, because we are just that loyal. For those of you who don't know, Texas A&M left the Big 12 in a history making move and joined the SEC. A winning conference. THE conference by many people's standards. And Lord have mercy did we hear it all. "A&M will never make it in the SEC", "Y'all are going to have your maroon asses handed to you all season", "The Aggies are going to be the joke of the conference" and blah, blah, blah, blah, blahhhh.

Personally? I wasn't surprised by any of those comments. Yes, we made a big move. Yes, we have a new coach, and if history serves as any reminder, odds are we aren't going to bring much to the table. So I kept my trash talking mouth closed, my hopes high, and held my breath every Saturday since the season started...and prayed for a miracle.

And it worked. We've lost 2 games, but they were anything but a beating. We stepped up, and we started WINNING. And then we got to this Satruday. Texas A&M vs. Alabama, the defending Naional Champions and #1 team in the country. Everyone was expecting a masacre. There was NO WAY the Ags, even with an on the road winning streak, stood a snowball's chance in hell against the Crimson Tide.

And then came Johnny Football. By the end of the first quarter we were up 20-0 and my heart was racing faster than I can ever remember. The game was EPIC. Alabama came back with a vengeance, but in the end, my Aggies won the game. Dethroned the #1 team and walked away with a 29-24 victory. (I literally just got chills typing that...not even sorry!)

Ya'll? Saturday was the best gameday of my Aggie life. I sports cried. Judge me if you will, but I know I wasn't the only one. Everybody loves an underdog story, and for those of us who stand by our team, win or lose, this weekend was worth any disapointment in the past, or in the future. This weekend the AGGIES were on top, and I was on cloud nine.



Way to go Ags. I couldn't be MORE proud to be a part of such an indescribable community. My Aggie ring is shining a little brighter, and I'll be wearing maroon every day for the rest of the season.

A&M! GIVE US ROOM!

WHOOP!!!!!!

Always,

L
Proudest Member of the Fightin' Texas Aggie Class of 2009!

A lesson in domestic violence

People fight. Married people? They are no exception. And any married person who tells you otherwise, is a big fat liar....or, has their life much more together than me and the hubs do. Either way, I'm here to tell you that sharing your life with a boy ain't no picnick, and some days...you just want to punch them.

Cue Thursday. I got home from work, and captain bossy is all, "hurry up, lets go, we're gonna be late, blah blah blah". Let me back up a minute. Did I mention that he was off work ALL day...just chilling at home on the couch eating cheetos? And I was getting home from the world's longest day at the office, literally still climbing out of the car when he started all this nonesense? I think it goes without saying that I was grouchy. I was even more annoyed with the fact that we've been at this for ELEVEN years. You'd think by now this kid would know how NOT to push my buttons and turn me voilent.

Anyway, we were headed out to eat with his parents for my birthday and he was so sure we were gonna be late. And that my tardiness was super rude. Did I mention it was also ONLY 5:15? *insert eye roll here*

So we're bickering. And I'm getting more stabby by the second. Fast forward 30 minutes and I'm practically planning out where to bury his lifeless body, and he's still all, "yap yap yap you're inconsiderate". As we get closer to the house, he's tells me he doesn't want me to ruin dinner with my bad attitude. I beg your freaking pardon?! I politely informed him it was MY birhtday dinner and I'd be as hostile as I felt like...and he could bite me.

Now he's begging me to, "get in a better mood" and all I can say through my gritted teeth is how very much I would like to punch him. In the face. Twice.

What happened next, I never saw coming. Like, at all. He stops the car. He looks at me and asks, "if you punch me, can we be done and have a good time tonight?". My face must've been screaming YES, because before I could answer, he grabs my already balled up fist, and knocks himself upside the head with it. HARD. As in, his glasses fell off his face.

And y'all? I was INSTANTLY in a fabulous mood. All my frustration was gone. And as I sat there and stared at him, we both just erupted into laughter. I felt better. He was happy because I wasn't grumpy. And although it might have been the most disfuncntional fight we've had to date...I've never loved him more. We had an awesome time at dinner, and I was given the best blog material in marriage history. Gateway domestic violence for the win.

Hot mess, party of two? Your table is now available.

Always,

L

Happy Birthday

There were a lot of things I missed out on blogging about when I went on my hiatus. None of them were more final than the loss of the greatest man I've ever known. Today is his birthday, and this is for him.

"See You Again"
Carrie Underwood



Said goodbye, turned around, and you were gone, gone, gone. Faded into the setting sun. Slipped away.


But I won't cry cause I know, I'll never be lonely. For you are the stars to me. You are the light I follow.


I will see you again. This is not where it ends. I will carry, you with me. Till I see you again.


I can hear those, echoes in the wind at night. Calling me back in time. Back to you.


In a place far away, where the water meets the sky. The thought of it makes me smile. You are my tomorrow.


I will see you again. This is not where it ends. I will carry, you with me. Till I see you again.


Sometimes, I feel my heart is breaking. But I stay strong, and I hold on...cause I know.


I will see you again.


Until then, all my love.

Always,

L

I went to jail

In keeping with my robber theme, I thought I'd share an extremely unpleasant experience I had last week. One where I literally went to jail. Well, chicken jail. 

This was one of those "if it can go wrong, it will" kind of mondays. And all I wanted to do was go home, watch trash television, eat fried chicken, and color with my new glitter crayons in my Lisa Frank coloring book. In that order. Incredibly mature, I know. Just let me.

So, on my way home from the longest day EVER, I stopped at the Golden Chick. And this is the series of events that followed...

Unless you live under a rock, or are really in to some fad diet, you are familiar with standard drive through establishment etiquette. You pull forward, you order, you drive past the 1st window (because apparently there is some kind of fast food inside joke that I'm missing) and pay/get your food at the second window. 

WRONG. Enter bitch on wheels. 22 inch platinum wheels to be more precise. Oh and a spare. On the back of her not SUV. This woman, bless her heart, almost made me kill her. And let me just say this...I would have been applauded by everyone else at Golden Chick that day. 

She pulls forward. She orders. She pulls forward. She REVERSES. She hangs out the widow with her phone. She orders some more. She pulls forward. And I shit you not, she reverses and adds to her order AGAIN. 

You know that big nasty vein that always shows ups on a murders forehead right before they snap and kill everyone? Mine was clearly visible. Throbbing in fact. Oh but don't worry. This story gets way better. 

So now it's finally (15 minutes later mind you) my turn to order. Here is where things just get asinine. The people tell me they are out of chicken. I did mention this is a CHICKEN place, right? So, I decide this is just not gonna happen for me. I can't wait another 15 minutes for you to cook more. I'm over this day and most certainly over this food chain. So I decide to leave. I look  behind me...

This is when I realize that I am literally TRAPPED. With 3 cars in front of me and 2 behind me...who all have NO problem with spending the remainder of their evening at the Chick. No path of escape is available aside from abandoning redcar and walking home. So, there I sat. For the next 30 minutes. THIRTY.MINUTES. 

And you want to know how they assured me they were sorry for my wait? A free dinner? Negative. One extra roll. ONE. 

Worst.Apology.Ever. 

The moral of the story? I got fresh, hot, fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, colored the most fabulous rainbow leopard this side of a gay pride parade and I only had to serve an hour in chicken jail. 

Hashtag lifefail. 

Always,

L

For catchy title see below

(**EDIT: it has been brought to my attention that I should clarify that I am, in fact, a responsible adult. I am NOT a bank robber. I am a productive, working member of society, perfectly capable of borrowing/paying a mortgage loan from any financial institution generous enough to lend it. I should also state that the title and contents of this post are completely, 100% an exaggerated attempt at satire. Oh, and Im not really a witch either. End edit***).

Balls. Being a grown up requires more thinking before blogging than I'm used to.

*insert eye roll here*

Original post:

"I robbed a bank"

Oh hi. You like how just lured you in with a flashy title while simultaneously glossing over my multi-month absence from the blogosphere? Me too. Suffice it to say that my new life as a burglar has kept me busy.

Ok. I didn't rob a bank. But I did buy a house, which is practically the same thing. I mean, seriously!? Who in their right mind would lend me a stupid amount of money for a house?! And not just any house. A magical house. FULL of whimsy. And awesome. Nobody, thats who. Therefore I must be a bank robber. Or...stop. A WITCH. Go with me on this. Two weeks ago, my nephew informed me that my eyelashes were spiders (hey lash blast, thanks for nothing), AND I saw an owl one morning on my way to work. Combine that with the voodoo I pulled on the bank and the fact that it's October...my letter from Hogwarts should be arriving any day. It's totally ok to be jealous.

But for real, we did buy a house. And I'm so in love with it, it should be illegal. We will be closing in a few weeks, and I'm so excited! I don't want to jinx anything so these few pictures will have to hold you over until everything is official official. And yes I meant to say it twice.




I know what you're thinking, and I can assure you, that IS a spiral staircase. And original, 1940's hardwood floors. I die.

Peace, love, and pumpkins!

Always,

L


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