Savor the Flavor.

Full of Thanks For…

Late nights filled with laughter & pancakes with my girls.

Bike rides at twilight.

Cute little boys in hats and presh old men in crew neck sweaters.

Being a woman.

Chipotle chicken burrito bowls with guac.

Mascara & chapstick. Otherwise I’d look like an infant with crusty lips.

Diva moments.

The smell of new shoes in my closet.

The city of Chicago.

Day trips into the mountains/desert armed with a camera and a BFF.

People who don’t dress well. You make me laugh even on the worst of days.

Ex boyfriends who date unfortunate girls after me.

Awkward moments when you run into people you haven’t seen in a really long time. You’re not sure whether to say hello or turn around and act like you never saw them. Happens to me every time I go home to Chicago, and I absolutely love it.

My mother. She’s my bff for life and always has been.

Advent calendars. You are garunteed a piece of chocolate everyday of December. How could I not love that?

Facebook stalking.

Orlando Bloom. Even though he is know married to that beautiful trick of a model, I know he’ll still call me one day.

Only one more semester of college.

Rain boots.

Travel size deodorant.

Hotties with bodies.

Breaking in newly fallen snow.

Bubble baths with my rubber duckies.

Here I Am.

I’m horrible at math but I know how to subtract really well because of having to calculate my purchases from my bank account.

“I hate working for the general public.” – close friend S.

Nostalgic of my childhood with the Mad Labs app on the iPhone.  “There is another building where a spotted African dog with big tits is so fast it can out run a Sasquatch.”

Shorts and Uggs should not be worn in combination. EVER. I beg you ladies, please stop.

You know you’re broke when mornings are spent going through magazines looking for fragrance adds with the folded sample attached to rub on yourself.

Got spit on by a rapper at a hiphop club. Nast.

Some chic was dancing all up on us at the club so I hair whipped really big to smack her with my curls.

Spent my early Saturday morning elbowing tricks at H&M for Lanvin dresses for my mother. They were too expensive for me but so worth the lack of sleep and death stares to a screaming child from my mother.

Saturday night drinking game: drink every time you see someone tragic. You’ll be wasted very quickly. Trust.

My nail tech got fired for baking weed brownies. Cool? My nails don’t think so.

Got caught lip syncing to a Lady Gaga song as I was waiting for the elevator. I swear I saw the cute guy giggle. It was an awkward ride down.

Currently accepting sugar daddy applications. Please email them to DesperateForASugaDaddy@ineedmoney.com.

Spent class at the bar of a restaurant with my classmates and teacher discussing photography and art over happy hour drinks and food. Sometimes it pays off to be an art student.

Talking about past relationship songs with best friend M. She said listening to them “Brings tears to my eyes and resentment to my soul”.

The number on the top of the Cash Cab is 7N78. I spent all summer in NYC praying I’d hail it and win big money.

Growing up playing Scrabble finally payed off. I beat a friend by 109 points. There may be hope for me in this world.

Corner of Your Heart.

 

Right Window. 2010.

Left Window. 2010.

A Girl Can Dream.

In another life I’d…

…have six European buff half naked man servants to service my every need…
1. Ralph: The driver of my super luxurious black Aston Martin.
2. Stefano: The cook who makes healthy yet delish meals and always has an iced non fat latte ready for me round the clock because I’m addicted to coffee and it tastes better than water.
3. Franz: A fabulous gay man to do my hair, makeup, nails and to consult me on my outfits for all and every occasion.
4. Walter: Who cleans my entire house and keeps it sparkling so I won’t ever have to touch a single cleaning product or sponge.
5. Scotty: Who does my laundry and picks up my dry cleaning and freshly pressed gowns.
6. Bernard: Whose only job is to tell me I’m a fierce betch.

…have an obscene amount of…
1. Birkin bags.
2. Christian Louboutin shoes.
3. Cuddly precious kittens.
4. Anything and everything you could think of thats delish that can be eaten and covered in chocolate.
5. Photography equipment that me and my friends can use for our epic photo adventures around the world.
6. King sized beds with satin sheets on my private jet named Air Boo.
7. Hot foreign men’s phone numbers.
8. Beach front properties on several coasts around the world.
9. Bottles and bottles of expensive Pinot Grigio.
10. Hilarious and entertaning tweets about my fabulous life on my twitter account named YoureJealObvz.
11. “Friends” on facebook who are jealous of me.
12. Fun and interesting things I find from my exotic travels to fill the walls and rooms of my many houses.
13. Plates of fresh baked cookies. The ones that are still warm and soft in the middle.

And So It Is.

Baths and naps are my daily saviors. Without them I crumble into a cranky hot mess.

I can’t handle the opening credits to Dexter. The combo of sounds and visuals erks me and I skip it when I watch the episodes online.

Having full frontal bangs allows for me to forget a day of tweezing my eye brows and no one noticing. Win.

I’m just gonna say it… Don’t you love it when your ex dates someone not so attractive after you? Come on, I know you do, don’t lie.

Sixteen more credit and I’m done with college. EEEEEEEEEEE!

Stop looking at me weird when I roll up my right pant leg. I’m either on my bike or about to ride it. It’s for the safety of not getting your pants stuck in your bike and having to stop in the middle of campus and try to yank your pants out by furiously shaking your leg and then ripping them in the process. Just me? Cool.

I wrote you off as a fail of a friend awhile ago and you have yet to prove me wrong.

Is it really that hard to understand the word trim? You’d think that if you are a liscened hair stylist, one of the basics, is how to do a bang trim, right? Well, apparently it’s not. How do you cut my bangs EXACTLY how I want them a few weeks ago and then COMPLETELY fuck them up weeks later when I ask for a simple trim? Why would you go from thick, blunt straight across bangs to thin, wispy bangs? THAT DOES NOT EQUAL A TRIM. Either get your ears fixed or rethink your life and find a new career.

Thank god hair grows, otherwise I’d unleash my mother on you: “Well, give me her home address, where she parks her car when she’s at work, the names and schools of her children.  Houses can burn, cars can burn, children can disappear.”

Britney Spears blasting in my room is a great way that I calm myself from my rage.

Just because the new high in AZ is 72 degrees doesn’t mean you can wear gloves out and about.

Don’t think I won’t call your ass out for texting me at midnight looking to hangout. Thats a booty call, technically a booty text, and it ain’t gonna work on me boo.

I use to sign off at the end of my xanga (like a live journal and kind of my first blog back in high school) posts with “you know you love me”. I was on the Gossip Girl train way before y’all. Get it right.

Karma will find you. XOXO.

Playground Love

West Village, New York City. 2010.

West Village, New York City. 2010.

Central Park, New York City. 2010.

Cuz Baby, You’re A Firework

 

ignite the light

In dedication to my new obsession with Katy Perry’s new song, Firework, these are some of my photos from this past Four of July in New York City. We had a front row veiw of the Hudson River, where the firework show took place. I’ve always loved fireworks and they are my favorite thing on the fourth. (Okay, besides a freshly grilled hotdog, obvi.)

Heres Katy Perry’s Firework music video.

Lets just say, having fireworks shoot from my breasts is now on my life goals list.

 

let your colors burst

ps – Don’t forget to make em go “ah, ah ahhhh!”

Really? Ha!

If you’re gonna wear heals or wedges on campus (which I don’t condone, you just look stupid) please for the love of God, learn how to walk in them correctly. It brings pain to my eyes to see you strugg on your way to class.

Halloween is over. Take off your cat eared headband.

You de-tagged yourself in photos of us together but left the ones I took of just you, tagged.

You understand that garbage goes into the trash can, but that when the trash can is full, not to keep stuffing garbage on top and cause a nasty overflow.

You’re mean and condescending and then have the balls to question why you’re not being welcomed with big open arms.

I like tomatoes but not ketup. I like salads but not salad dressing.

Don’t suddenly come to an abrupt stop on your bike and not expect me to crash into you. (Sorry, again, for then losing my balance and falling on top of you and your bike, making a tragic mess on the concrete.)

You know that girl in every pack of girls that has the hardest time walking in heals, and is always about five steps behind the group? She’s my fav and I thank you for making me laugh when I’m having a bad day.

I wait until the last pair of clean underwear to do laundry.

Creeper on Mill Ave: Don’t ask me for money, say you can’t see all of my legs (I was wearing boots) but you like what you can see, show me your split tongue and then ask for money. Sorryboutcha boo, but that ain’t gonna work on me.

I can hear my downstair neighbor’s cell phone vibrate if its super quiet. I wonder what he can hear?

Stop letting your children run free like a fucking wild animal. We work in retail not the babysitters club.

Who goes shopping at 8:45pm? READ THE SIGN. We close in fifteen minutes. Re-evaluate your life and please leave.

When you are awkward it makes me awkward. Stop. Rewind. Fix your shit. Play. Its a win win. Trust.

Size Doesn’t Matter.

Upstate New York, 2010.

This reminds me of crisp beautiful autumn. Which is non existent in this desert and horrible place called Arizona where the high is 86 degrees in November. Not cool.