Nothing like a small heart attack to start the morning right.

Goodbye Kitty,see you soon! Love you forever. 

Sometimes I don't think I'm cut out for adulthood. This morning was one of those times. Imagine if you will, a slumbering redhead laying on a pile of unfolded clothes she has yet to pack for her 7 am flight. The original plan was to pack the night before but beer and boys got in the way of that and like a predictable teen movie she had blown off responsiblility  in favour of a good time. Now as her alarm clock abused the airwaves in her peacefully quiet apartment she was slowly realizing what a terrible idea that was. 

I'm so predictable, it is almost comical how late I leave almost everything. With my car arriving at 6 am, I swear my last item wasn't packed until at least 6:05 and it wasn't until my cab was zooming towards JFK that I had a second to process how tired I really was (A large family is now currently staring at me so I'm sure I look as exhausted as I truly am). Now I must point out, although I appear to have no problem leaving things until the last minute, in all actuality it gives me large amounts of anxiety. I can't even tell you how many times I googled how many ounces of liquids I was allowed before checking the label on every single bottle I own (followed by a mini heart attack…what if they confiscated my Burberry London!?!? That was $100 bucks, maybe I should leave it behind…I even thought about spraying it pump by pump it into a smaller bottle) it isn't until I'm happily through security that I can truly breath again (although apparently they actually give zero fucks because you don't even have to take you laptop out anymore!). You would honestly think it was my first flight the level of anxiety and number of triple checks I make, the one thing I didn't happen to check? What airport I was flying out of!

It was honestly a scene out of Friends….oh wait that is because that was EXACTLY WHAT IT WAS (see: Friends Finale!) I wandered in to the airport and dragged my little bag (perfectly within airline regulation size!) over to the self service check in. After entering my flight number 45 times, I finally decided I should probably pull up my email to double check the flight number, that was when I finally saw the giant LGA next to my flight. I reopened the page, that is how sure I was that my eyes were just overtired.

"Excuse me can you confirm that this says LaGuardia and I am officially the stupidest person alive?" The American Airlines worker patrolling the kiosks assured me that I am the biggest idiot alive and within two seconds I was running out of the airport as fast as my little heels could take me. 

Nice to meet you, I'm the worst.

Thankfully for me, my anxious nature also makes me habitually early for everything so I can thankfully say that I made my flight in time. In fact I am currently sitting at my gate surrounded by screaming children certain that if they are sitting near me on the flight I may murder one…or seven of them by the end of this flight. 

Airport thoughts-

• Fly by Sugar ray was in my head all morning, what a tune. 

• The lady lint rolling her pants next to me knows how to do life, bringing a lint roller on a flight? WHO THINKS OF THIS SHIT.

• I love now children have no sense of social awkwardness and will stare at you dead on for ten minutes….and by that I mean, stop looking at me kid your scaring me.

• I. need. a . bagel. right. now.

• The lamest guy is sitting next to me talking way too loudly on the phone. He has called three different people so far and told them all the same damn story whilst using words like dealio and "give you a jingle". staaaaaahp.

• The other day my Dad sent me a selfie so I sent him a selfie back and he told me I had developed wrinkles that I didn't have in my teen's....How Rude!

If anybody needs me I'll be over here being old. 

• (I am posting this from Texas because these assholes don't block their wifi like stingy New Yorkers do!)\

Oh....another list...

I have become so lazy with this blog that all I can ever think of doing is writing a list about the bullshit thoughts that happen in my twisted mind. But hey! I already told you I was a sucker for tradition so why change that now...


In the last 24 hours...

• Today on the subway I kept looking at the people around me and imagining them as skeletons. Have you ever thought about how weird that is? Look at a person and imagine if all their skin just melted off and it was just these weird yellowy bone faces staring at you....side note: don't do drugs kids. 

• This morning my best friend and I sat in bed for 2 hours passing a 2 litre bottle of coke back and forth whilst scrolling through her tumblr and hysterically dying of laughter. 

My personal favourites-

• I have decided that the movie based on my life will start with Neil Armstrong stepping foot on to the moon, and then the camera will zoom off over to earth and do that cliche movie thing where it rapidly zooms in, down on to North America, then New York weaving through the streets and right into my bedroom window to find me lying in bed watching Netflix and eating a burrito. Just so the audience is immediately aware of how much I have achieved in the first 20 years of my life.  

• Last night my friends and I went to a going away party where we knew a total of two people....

       Gal Pal: Ugh ok so what now?
       Me: Let's Fla-mingle....
       Dude Sitting Next to us: *Reaches hand out for a high five* Mad props for that one.
       Me: Thanks I saw it on a napkin once...


AND PEOPLE THAT IS HOW YOU MAKE FRIENDS!

Quickie catch-up

Too busy glowing, no time to blog.

• The other night I kissed a lovely boy. Turns out he knows a boy I used to kiss a lot last year (I awkwardly texted said boy to verify this fact)....I think this is a sign this city is officially too small and I should leave and never come back

• I ate way too many Veggie straws this afternoon.....ugh

• Somedays I want to move home to Australia but then I remember they don't have Netflix there and I laugh at myself for being so ridiculous

• I lose my phone about 232 times a week. I'm almost 99% sure I drunkenly hide it to avoid embarrassing myself with drunken texts. This morning it showed up in a shoe at my friends place....pesky little bugger.

• I'm writing this from a restaurant on my phone due to the fact that I find it very hard to blog on the weekends and I don't want my mother to think I died.

Still alive homie!

In the last 24 hours...

...I scampered around in a coral covered mini dress in the pouring rain- 

...I met the rudest lady in New York City-

"MOVE IN! MOVE YOUR ASSES IN" The train fell silent as the boom box pushed her way onto the crowded 6 train. If there is one thing I hate, it's miserable people who go about their day smashing flowers and growling at babies, this is what this woman was.

It was rush hour on a rainy day in New York, at a time when, get this, the MTA was experiencing some delay (shocking) so the trains were slightly overcrowded. Everybody had a soured expression plastered on there face but at the end of the day we all knew we were in this mess together.Not this woman though, she seemed to think she was the only person experiencing any kind of inconvenience. 

"GET OUT!" She would yell at the lovely Swedish (honestly they could have been from Uzbekistan for all I know) tourists as they politely bobbed and weaved out of the train. My blood was honestly boiling, the act of being a complete and utter misery to people who have done absolutely nothing to deserve it is pathetic. This lady was just asking to be slapped and I swear if it wasn't for the many pairs of rolling eyes reassuring me that we all wanted the same common goal, I may have done it myself.

"Excuse me, can you be quiet?" She spat at an older gentleman pointing out a destination to his wife on the hanging map of Manhattan. 

I had reached my limit. I got up and weaved towards the lady as she slumped against the doors and... I walked right past her, because anybody this depressing deserved absolutely zero seconds of my time. 

...I did that lame white girl thing where we start a juice cleanse, and then swiftly break that juice cleanse-

...I drove around in circles for an hour because my roommate's the worst (But I love him!)- 

I am a terrible driver. This little fact is not a secret so when my roommate asked me to help him move his car I was a little worried about how many of us would make it out of this alive, but being the amazingly loving and perfect roommate I am, I agreed.

Little did I know that casually moving a car in order to obey street cleaning rules very swiftly turned in to driving up and down the same blocks over and over again for two hours at 11pm searching aimlessly for a spot whilst my roommate sat next to me tapping away on Instagram and listened to The Pixies. 

As I slowly approached my breaking point and after Kevin had yelled, "THERE'S ONE!" to an empty park on the complete wrong side of the street for about the 100th time, we finally found one that I managed to poorly roll on in to and then book it out of there before anybody noticed I was at least 2 feet away from the curb.

...I spent some time with Marilyn- 

...My friend bought me Spree-

I have an amazing memory, in fact my best friend always tells me the only reason we are friends is because she knows I will remember her life for her once we are old and grey, she's super charming as you can tell. If I am told something once, I generally remember it no matter how insignificant said fact may be. Because of this I have learned to accept that I will generally know more about my friends. and the things they love, then they know about me. 

Today on my way uptown I had to make a quick stop off at my friends apartment to pick up my wallet that I casually just leave everywhere apparently. After being let in by his roommate I ran in to his room to find not only my wallet by also a box of Spree. 

I love Spree. They make my mouth tingle in all the right ways and although I know how much I love them, I didn't think anybody else did! I was apparently wrong because on the back of the box was a post it, 

"Saw these. Thought of you!" 

It's always lovely to be thought of, even if it's only for a split second whilst in a dirty bodega surrounded by old ramen and a few stray cats.

...my Dad kept it real (sucks to suck boys!)-

Dear Future Employers- DON'T READ THIS... (You to Dad!)

Today whilst in a job interview for a Social Media position, the interviewer asked me what I blog about.

"Uhm...mainly food and my drunken escapades...." Actually, It now suddenly makes complete sense why I will not be employed there.

Then whilst waiting on the subway, ready to head home for a hot and heavy night of washing my clothes and cleaning out my nasty fridge, I found this article!

And I realized...hey! That is what everybody blogs about, and if you can't beat em' join em' So I present to you, a small excerpt of the much bigger novel, "Jordyn: I think I drink too much"


That time we broke into a strangers mansion to throw a party
(Techincally I was sober when we made the mistake....but I wasn't so sober when I sloshed the Grey Goose I stole from their fridge all over the white carpet...so it counts)

I grew up in a town covered in summer homes on the lake that lay vacant 99.4% of the year. The best thing about huge empty mansions? You can party in them and nobody will ever know! So that's what we did. It was the smartest decision my best friend and I ever made. We invited everyone we knew, and then we realized we lived in a town of 100 people...so we just invited strangers. The night was filled with way too much beer pong, spanking my friends sister way too many times, royally cock blocking my friend (Sorry Homie) and a lovely gentleman who could pull his front teeth out and would keep them in a used Vicodin bottle he carried around with him. Nobody would have suspected a thing either...if someone hadn't throw up inside a hand towel and then hang it up for an unsuspecting home owner.

(Sorry 'bout it)

That time I scaled a fire escape and almost fell to my death. 

 The night started like any other, at our local bar full of familiar faces and a little too much alcohol. One thing lead to another and before I knew it the bar did that annoying thing it does and closed! So we took the gathering swiftly back to the apartment....except oh no! Every single person who lived there at the time had forgotten their keys (or at least that is what they told me)! How were we going to get back to the millions of cupcakes locked just a few floors up? That was all the inspiration I needed,

"I got this! GIVE ME A BOOST!" I then proceeded to climb four stories, in five inch heels and a mini dress (that had wiggled it's way up and was basically just a shirt at this point). Luckily for me, a kind (see: tired and furiously angry) stranger let me in through her window and allowed me access to the hallway, where I swiftly met up with my laughing friends who "suddenly found their key"....reflecting back I think I forgave them a little too quickly for ALMOST KILLING ME!



That time I knocked myself out. 

I told my roommates they could throw a party (I'm not some kind of overlord...my name is just on the lease) with one condition, that nobody got too rowdy. Thankfully 99% of the party guests respected our apartment and kept it somewhat tame, except for one guest, aaaaand yeah you're looking at her. In my defense, I had spent the whole day drinking Margaritas on my friends roof, before coming home for my roommates little shindig. I had also failed to realize that I didn't actually eat a thing before drinking 45 flamingoes (yep, flamingoes) full of Whiskey. I don't remember much of the event but the small snippets I do remember involve me swan diving onto my bed, smashing the side of my head on a widow aaaaand knocking myself the fuck out. Don't drink and dive kids (HAH got myself a little there).

(Sorry 'bout it)

That time I got rowdy with total strangers....well one of the times. 

A few years ago I liked to drag a friend of mine through hell. I would basically just get wasted and prance around on the lawn in front of his building, crying and cock blocking him for my sheer enjoyment (I had a very valid reason for distress but would poorly drown this reason in alcohol and alas, annoyance). One night though, he had enough and did what he should have done the first time this happened and went the fuck to bed (forgot to mention this tended to happen at 4 am). So I went out to find someone else to annoy. I didn't have to look far though because like clockwork a group of college kids came rolling in to go have some extreme flip cup showdown in the same building! The stars aligned and a few minutes later I was a few floors up flippin' mad cups, sinkin' mad brewskis, bro'ing down with strangers. Long Story short: I never saw them again.


That time I fell in love with a homeless man. 

In one of my great drunken disappearing acts (just scroll down a few posts, it's there), I met the love of my life; A jolly old homeless man sitting around the corner from the bar mumbling away to himself.

"Hello!"

"Hello pretty young thing," Shucks dude, give a woman some warning. 

"Are you ok down there?"  Our little chat went on for a good 15 minutes, he even offered me a corner of his cardboard box....I declined. My drunken heart felt quite sorry for the old gentleman, a veteran he told me (Reflecting back, that was most likely bullshit) so I did what any unsuspecting 18 year old would do, I gave him all the money I had on me ($23...big spender). But then I took it one step further,

"Be right back Joe!" I yelled before dashing past the bouncer (obviously doing a terrible job, I'M 18 DUDE) and over to my group of friends.

"Sam I need cash, do you have any?" My friend pulled out his wallet and offered me the crisp $50 and I was off again like Joe's little bitch doing his dirty work for him. He was overjoyed with my findings, Sam? Not so much.

I'm almost 100% sure I missed my calling in life.

The other day at work I was casually hanging and steaming some dresses, going about my merry business when I was interrupted by my lovely coworker.

"Are you singing over there?"

"I'm humming....Spoonful of Sugar from Mary Poppins to be exact!"

"Oh god you really are a Disney Princess...."

Suddenly, the world aligned and it all made sense....



#1: Let's just take it back to a few blog posts ago....

#2: Sometimes I have full blown conversations with animals. Kitty Meows is quite the character, now if  I could only get her to dress me in the morning and brush my hair I would be all set!

#3: I like to blast this song whilst I clean my apartment. Although instead of a ball gown, I like to do it in my underwear....and this is why I am always hated by all roommates. Oh and I haven't trained my pigeons to pitch in yet....lazy!

(Why yes that is my very own dead bird next to a nest of other birds right outside my window...thank you for noticing)

#4: I'm naturally attracted to misogynistic assholes, and if that isn't the key to any true Disney plot I don't know what is!

#5: I have to use every ounce of will power I have to refrain from singing A Whole New World whilst taking my friends somewhere for the first time. Just last week I tried it on Tori's first trip to Sweet Revenge and she very swiftly shut that down. hater.

#6: I often find myself exclaiming "Oh Sugar Biscuits!"

(Although this may have less to do with my Disney destiny and more to do with the fact that I once worked at a day care and it was strongly frowned upon to call your baby toe a cunt after smashing it on a stray toy truck.)

#7: I fall in love too hard, too fast and way too often...even if sometimes it is with food.

Still my Prince Charming

#8: Uhm have you seen how I dress?

You are what you eat.....and I eat a lot of cupcakes.

The most stable relationship I've ever had.

I had a bad day.

Nothing exceptionally traumatic happened, it was just simply one of those days where I rush home in a blur of constant bitch face, counting down the seconds before I can rip my clothes off, eat too much ice-cream and watch the Real Housewives of New Jersey.

(It's cute that you thought I was kidding)

But no matter how bad my day was, I can always count on one shining star. One person who no matter how much everybody else thinks I suck, loves me relentlessly. My little Dominican Dynamo, my Hot Tamale.... my Bodega guy.

He has seen me at my worst. Whether it's after a long day of pointless work and even more pointless exams, or stumbling in with a skirt as long as a snickers bar, smelling of gin and regret, heels the size of a small child, yet he still loves me.  He still tells me I'm beautiful as he crams my 23 bags of chips into a shopping bag, he still asks about my nonexistent modeling career as he hands me my $6 "wine product", he constantly asks where my boyfriend is as he ignores the fact this is my second pint of ice-cream in three days and he has even met my mother.

Nothing can destroy our love. The other day he even defended my honor by yelling at a 12 year old for calling me Snow White...I thought I died and went to heaven. I hope one day you find a love like ours but until then I hope this little tale of love, lust and the blending of races gives you hope in your quest.

I think I'm chocolate wasted.

My mind is full of questions.

#1: Today I met a lovely fellow by the name of Tom (because we share a mutual friend and found ourself at breakfast together). So there we sat, eating away and whilst my two breakfast companions chatted away about god knows what, I sat there quietly eating my hash brown and pondering the same thought over and over again. It wasn't until the conversation hit a pause and two pairs of eyes were locked on me that I finally realized my turmoil....

"Tom is a weird name. I mean really....say it a few times. Isn't it weird that you respond to such a word but if someone yelled it on the street I wouldn't even blink?"

crickets.

#2: I wish my Monday started with mini cupcakes like my Sunday did!

#3: *Whilst staring at a sleeping gentleman on the subway* Isn't sleeping utterly bizarre? We literally just disappear for a few hours whilst the world scurries on around us. Our mind drifts off to a place where we can no longer feel the presence of those around us, yet the nosy red head on the opposite bench staring at me is still very much there.

#4: Life would be a lot easier if I didn't have to take the Subway everywhere, and instead got to drive around in say....a Lily Jeep!

#5: I'm very jealous my coworker gets to drive around in a Lilly jeep!

#6: I should move back to Australia....I should move to Nashville...I should move to London.....I should move to Washington....I should move to Australia.....I should move to California....I should stay in New York forever....I should move to Guam....

#7: *Whilst watching a waspy gentleman walk his bulldog this morning* I'm still forever confused by the fact that humans like to hang out with beasts. What in the world possessed someone to look at a dog and say, "Hmm....I should put this thing on a rope, drag it around the town and let it sleep in my bed." While another man looked at a pig and thought, "Hmm...I should kill this, and use its meat for a delicious breakfast food!" The world baffles me.

#8: I should probably blog today or mum will be very upset. What should I write about? Shit. Think of something....God thinking is weird, it's like a conversation with yourself that lasts forever...AHA!

Side note: My Mum texted me this photo today of myself looking like a right little gremlin. Fun fact though, I essentially have no chin which was even more evident whilst I was in gremlin form and I have slept in the exact same position pretty much my entire life....

p.s. Sleeping is weird.

Drunk Runner.

(Nothing to do with the tale, simply what I'm looking at as I write this....needed picture of something,Terrible blogger!)

I am constantly baffled by the things I do. I ask too many stupid questions, constantly pick the more treacherous path and oh, when I drink even slightly, I get destructive, annoying (see: That time in high school I repeatedly threw oversized jello shots at my friend until he got so mad he left) and turn into Usain Bolt.

Take last night for example, I had plans with a guy I barely knew and whilst I was eager to hang out with him, I couldn't let him think it was a legitimate date, so like any terrible human, I invited all my alcoholic friends and turned it into a night of binge drinking. One thing lead to the next and plot twist- wasted. It was nearing the time when my best friend/strung-out bartender (not a plot twist- We hung out one night, drugs on drugs on drugs) was about to cut me off due to my desire to lick any cheek I could find, and like clock work I ran away,giggling like a little school girl at how blatantly un-sneaky I was being. Like usual, I didn't get far before I saw my overzealous date behind me, so I did the next best thing. I hid.

"What the heck are you doing?" He asked as I giggled from my terrible hiding spot behind a large smoking gentleman who gladly concealed me.

"Jordyn?"

"SHE DOES THIS!" My friend yelled as she jumped into a cab in the direction of her bed for the night,

"Just ignore her a second, she will come back."

So he did. Leaning on the roller door of an adjacent bodega, he bummed a light and stood his post waiting for me to appear. Whenever I do manage to appear after my Houdini act it's always the same, like an annoying joke that nobody finds hilarious; we give each other the customary annoyed nod, thank the lord I'm not crying and head off.

The moral of this story is: never date me, never get me drunk and if you do decide to forgo my previous warnings, never let me out of your site.

Now if you don't mind I am going to go and drown in the soup I have been craving for days! P-A-R-T-Y.

I'd rather be naked.

I'm kind of a nudist. If I don't have anywhere to be, 9 times out of 10 I'm naked. Right now...naked. Just ask my roommate who the other week waltzed in to my room at 1am to find me well...lying there naked (he has now learned his lesson!) I just hate wearing clothes, I think they are frustrating, rambling now. Moving on.

It's a weird little quirk I have, a quirk made extremely difficult by the fact that I live inside a glass tank (not really obviously, but I have a lot of windows, follow along). Last night for example, I came home early due to the unfortunate event of casually dumping almost an entire margarita down the front of my dress (blatantly a sign I should be leaving then anyway). After jumping immediately in the shower, I dashed back to my room and went about my business of flittering around, watching Netflix you know, normal naked business. 

It was after a good ten minutes of pure nudity that I looked out of the window. Five dudes, count them....one, two, three, four, five, where sitting in the window directly next to mine, staring at me. I immediately hit the deck, and began wrapping myself in any available fabric before popping my head up in hopes they had left....nope. Still there, still looking.

I didn't know what to do, I don't have curtains (well I do...but they are sheer....poor choices) so I did what any normal person would do....I turned off the lights and lay quietly on the floor waiting for them to leave.

Socially inept party of 1. I'm a riot at parties you should see (blantanty a lie).

Another quirk of mine is having so many things to do today and slowly canceling them all in favour of Netflix in bed. It's fine, I can do my laundry at midnight and my friends are kind of used to the flakiness....I am a rubbish human being. 

Happy.

I am a product of my environment. When I am around negativity, I sink and when I am around people who are at the core of it all amazing people, I sail. As I've grown (although yesterday I was told that I was born 40...potentially insulting?) I've really come to understand what and who I need in my life. It's cliche and overdone, but when I'm in a bad mood 9 times out of 10 it is because I was around someone who was in a bad mood, and when I'm happy it was because I was in the presence of someone who put me there. It is almost scary to put that much power in to another's hands, but it helps to be surrounded by some glorious people.

Today for example I had lunch with someone who I consider an old friend. A person who has been in my life for only two years now, yet has somehow made it seem like forever. He is the only person I have found who will stay up all night watching 7th Heaven with me, he saw me through one of my darkest times and he is someone I would love to know, even if not closely, forever. Life and the happenings of a busy city caused us to drift apart but within a second of being around him today I was reminded of why I keep him so close to my heart.

People like Calvin are the people who matter to me. People who are loved by all those around them, not because of what they have or do, but because they are just internally nice. They care about other people, and are wholeheartedly interested in others happiness. They're people who make me want to go out and be happy, do things I want to do, eat a freakin' vitamin! Anything that is intrinsically good, they make me want it.

I'm obviously rambling now, I just feel obnoxiously excited for life. I'm excited for new opportunities gurgling on down the pipe, I'm excited for everything and being around someone who is such a pumpkin has only pumped me up that much more.

Oh and whilst I wrote this I ate a muffin! Muffins make me happy too!

Other things that make me happy-

Yellow Tea Cups- I don't remember how it came about. But I specifically remember going in to great detail about how much I love them to my stepmother one afternoon. They just make me oddly happy. 

Tulips- They remind me of my Grandma and the time in my life where we went to the Botanic Garden all the time just to see them. One of my first memories, and possibly one of my best.

Musicals- I've been a musical lover since before I could talk, much to the utter hatred of my older brother. In addition to this....watching Western Musicals with my Dad is also on the list.

Tradition- Just ask any of the friends I have dragged to Old Orchard Beach every year, I'm a complete sucker for it. You will thank me when we are 80!

The Shaytards- A Mormon family who have video blogged every single day of their lives for the past 4 years now. I watch them every single day without fail, my mother and most friends find this hysterical.  www.youtube.com/user/SHAYTARDS

Things my dad did to mentally scar me as a child #326: Halloween 2004.

In Australia, Halloween isn't a thing. I mean sure, we know it exists and once you reach high school it is the perfect excuse to get drunk on a casual weekend in October (as if any Australian really needs an excuse). But if you ever planned on Trick or Treating you generally received a couple of apples, possibly a few dollars and if you were lucky a bag of chips once allotted for a child's school lunch box. All in all, it's a pretty boring affair.

One year though, my father decided to spice it up a little.

This particular year Halloween fell on an unusually grey day. The clouds were almost smokey and as the sun began to set they threw their dull light at the perfect angle for creepy, yellow shadows to slither across the bricks.

That was when my Dad lost his damn mind.

 Harbouring a sheet, and the cackle of a crazy person he hid behind the tallest trees in our front garden, creepily running past the windows with his veil flowing out behind him. In a bitter attempt to keep him away, my brothers and I locked all the doors and as he crept around the house banging on windows from all angles and making odd noises, I was an inch away from tears (I'm a giant baby, this isn't a surprising part of the story). I looked to my family for comfort but soon learned I was the only one even mildly concerned as my stepmother went about her dinner making and my older brother flicked through the channels, it was as if there wasn't a murderer on the loose!

My only hope was my younger brothers so in a last ditch attempt to not be the weakest link I went about scaring the living shit out of them. After telling them every creepy tale I could and throwing as much fear from my being to theres... nothing! My brothers of a mere two and four years old didn't even flinch as they giggled at the Halloween happenings. I was left to drown in my own solo pool of fear.

Then, in a stroke of genius, he switched off the power.

It was at that moment I was 100% certain my dad had gone mental and was now going to hack myself and every single member of my family to death.

Eventually dinner time approached and just like Robin Williams after he eats a Snickers (We will win this for Mother Russia!....anybody? nope? Watch a TV ever once in a while god), he shrunk back down into my harmless old dad, who falls asleep at the drop of a hat and prioritizes playing golf over the birth of his own son.

Thanks for knocking 13 years off of my life Dad. Appreciate it.

P.S. I vaguely remember a chainsaw being brought in to play, but I think my mind may have added that in during the post production in an attempt to justify my fear. Whatever, imagine there was a chainsaw! NOW DO YOU UNDERSTAND?

So wake me up when it's all over.

Dear Subway Preachers,

I hate your stinking guts. I actually enjoy my morning train ride, it is the perfect time for me to jam out in my head to that overplayed Avicii song, go through my grocery list, plan my wedding... you know, normal girl things. So if you would kindly not shove your opinions down my throat that would be glorious. I have no problem with religion, I think it's a wonderful thing to have if it truly means something to you, but you must realize it means something to you...not me. Your experience isn't my experience, just like my experience is not the same as the elderly gentleman resting against the bench across from me, whose views then differ from that of the drunken frat boy listlessly cracking a 40 in the corner. I'm sorry 6 train messiah that you almost got crushed and you broke your head, your back, your legs....but I can't hear your story of enlightenment one more time without wanting to physically smash my head against the obnoxious Zip Car poster and hope to god the blow finishes me off. I just want the jolly old man with his walking stick to sing me Under the Boardwalk, ask for a penny and move on because at least he makes me smile. Do you know God? Did he personally speak the words you are quoting him for?

Sincerely,

CITE YOU SOURCES OR GTFO.

Sidenote: Tonight I almost kicked my roommate to death when he tried to take my potato chips....it's been one of those days. 

Eat Cake for Breakfast.

I feel like most people hate their drunk alter egos. They are either too slutty or too obnoxious or in the case of my friend Tori, too likely to punch you in the face for no reason (She thinks it's hilarious). I on the other hand love my drunk self, aside from occasionally knocking herself out via blow to the head or getting a little bit too promiscuous, she is kind of the man.

 This morning was a perfect example.

The sun had just finished it's journey through my curtains and directly into my cornea when I first noticed it, daintily placed on the bed beside me.

A random piece of Red Velvet Cake, not exactly what I expected but then again not exactly the worst site to wake to. Naturally, I had no idea how this ginger delight ended up spooning with me, but was I going to complain?

Obviously not! After devouring my snuggle buddy, I decided I should probably find out where this delightful Sunday morning wake up had come from because a) It means a complete stranger had been in my bedroom whilst I was asleep.....b) I have a ghost....or perhaps the most worrying of all c) I got so drunk that I forgot what happened between the hours of 1am-3am.....

It was the third. Yep, black-out-and-devour-all-the-food-Turner is back in business.

P.S. I didn't want Chocolate Croissant to think I was cheating on it....so I sat on a stoop and ate one of him for breakfast too....then washed it down with a brownie....follow my health and fitness blog www.obviouslynotarealthing.com 

Saturday's.

For the past month my Saturday's have been freakishly identical. They start with a fury as my brain convulses and withers from alcohol induced dehydration. I then proceed to make an inner pact to never, ever drink again. This pact is then swiftly broken by a walk of shame to my favorite brunch spot for Mimosa's and Red Velvet Waffles (aka my everything) with my favorite gals to recap on what the hell happened last night.  I then resist the urge to throw up as I come home to lay on my roof for approximately two hours, by then a sufficient amount of time has passed for me to devour more food.

See: Dordy's beer belly is hungry. 

Never leave my alone.

I then Netflix for a few (see: Five) hours, before getting ready and doing it all over again. It's a glorious little tradition I have started with myself and aside from the unfortunate fact that I have to work next Saturday (….what is this bullshit?!?!!) I never want it to end. 

Side note:

Kitty has developed a weird habit of sneaking up on me. Exhibit A: Peeing.

Add this to her little freak list of hobbies next to Nipple Licking...

I kill things #2112: The time I killed a mouse with my bare hands.

Disclaimer: I stole this from my old blog I started because it's Friday night, I'm a couple margarita's deep and I'm not writing a blog on a Friday night! 

The day started somewhere between regular and way too early and as I woke to the sound of Jonathan (Ex-Roomie #1) drowning his hangover with a 6am shower, I was pretty content with the day off before me. After spending the next few (or 90) minutes dramatically dancing to some 90′s pop radio and waiting for my roommates to wander off to live in the world of retail for the next few hours, I decided it was my turn to be productive,so I grabbed my hair-dye stained towel (whoops.) and “hit the showers”. Scrubbing and shampooing occurred yaddayadda anyway, now I’m clean and my mop-esque hair has resolved it’s issues and just like any regular day I collected all my belongings to make the naked dash to get dressed in my glass box of a bedroom (Honestly, I don’t even want to know how many innocent bystanders have seen me naked). But unfortunately I had to make a quick stop on my journey in order to squeeze in a little morning murder.

Now firstly, some back story. My apartment is clean, and by clean I mean spotless, and by spotless I mean we own like two pieces of furniture so it is very difficult for our apartment to get dirty. But alas, one night a couple of months back whilst Jess (Ex-Roomie #2) and I were in the kitchen making/watching her make pasta (she never makes pasta, it was a real treat for her) we were joined by what can only be described as a mouse….because that’s what it was, we have mice. Now after very sensibly assessing the situation (aka using heavy duty duct tape to very carefully seal every single entrance in to our bedrooms to avoid spooning with a rodent hmmm Jessica?) we went trap crazy. Sticky traps, snap traps, little torture chamber traps? We got you covered.

traps'r'us

We were equipped to kill, but still we had found zero mice in our 456 traps. It’s some form of black magic, I have stopped trying to understand it and honestly, I just kind of accepted our tiny roommates. I never saw them, they never left their things lying around, it was a lovely relationship.
Now back to present day Brooklyn and me dancing across the living room when suddenly BOOM! speed racer comes out of nowhere scurrying across the living room as if he’s late, he’s late for a very important date (wrong animal but for stories sake he was wearing a waistcoat and carrying a watch). Now I don’t know about you but I hate a lot of things, and by a lot of things I mean animals. Every single one, except puppies and things under the genus adorable, but mice are NOT adorable, they are small and creepy and when they run near my feet I hit elephant mode and freak my shit….and throw lotion bottles at them apparently. Yes that is right, the most nonathletic (UNATHLETIC ISN’T A WORD! That’s lame) clumsy mess with zero aim managed to throw a half empty bottle of freakin’ coco butter over my shoulder and hit a three inch sliver of speed dead on. Part of me was proud, astonished even,part of me wanted to cry and the most overbearing part wipped out a camera to snap a picture to prove that I am an evil genius.

deadmau5

This is my house bitch.

The gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam...

New York in theory is ginormous. Millions of people milling around, never reconnecting, it seems daunting, lonely. But I've found this to not be the case...

I can't seem to go a day without seeing someone I know, or someone I think I know, or a friend of a friend, or that dude I once made out with in the back of Lolita and vaguely recognize. I swear it's the smallest, big city in the world.

Although sometimes, that isn't always a bad thing.

A few weeks ago, there I was casually smushed against the door of the train as it repeatedly jolted against my skull (aka a typical morning), Completely content in my mind. Suddenly I felt a tug on my headphones at the hand of a waspy suit and removed a bud in an act of over-exaggerated annoyance.

"Pardon?"

"What are you listening to?" Confusion. Did this asshole really make me unmangle myself from my stoically perfect don't-fucking-touch-me pose for this? Realization. Oh my god are my headphones not plugged in all the way? Am I that asshole spewing my own music all over the general public! Embarrassment. Am I listening to Disney songs again?

Yes, Yes I was. 

"Uhm...Sleeping Beauty...Once Upon a Dream." 

An Awkward silence (well as silent as the 6 train can possible be) settled over us and after a good ten seconds he smirked,

"That's awesome." Then he left the train.

Cock blocked by Disney. 

Now I didn't plan on seeing this man again so I quickly pushed him out of my mind in a flurry of 456 new MTA riders smashing me further into the door. 

This morning though, he appeared, settling down next to me and tugging on my headphones.

"Another bright dress, another Disney song?" I glanced down, Kanye West. 

"Yep!" 

"Here..." He pushed his phone into my hand with the name Subway Princess all ready for me to tap in my number...

"Smooth."

Within a few minutes he was off bounding up the stairs, and I was back in my mind shuffling shit around.

For now I was a princess, well in this complete strangers phone at least!

The Dude List.

I am a bonafide frat boy. My girlfriends are always commenting on my need to call everybody, "my dude" and the number of times I manage to slip the word bro into conversation is kind of nauseating. I don't even know where it started from but my love of all things "dude" dates back pre-high school at least. I loved dudes so much I actually have an on going list of the dudest dudes in town.

I remember explaining this to my mother one night, a lady who has put up with me enthusiastically describing how I was once her womb tenant and lived next to her spleen or constantly asking the question,

"What would you do if I just died right now?"

She understands my quirks, therefore I knew she would understand the dude list!

The Dude List is essentially an ever growing list of people I believe have all the traits of a true dude, they're effortless cool and you just want to either a) be there best friend, b)love of them or c) just be somewhat in their general vicinity. 

It's not a long list due to the fact that it is a very exclusive, I'm sure David Beckham is crying right now about how his voice leaves him eternally black listed from such a prestigious title. 

As of today, August 7th 2013, this list is as follows...

Jay Z

The originator of the dude list. Anybody who knows me, knows that Big L is my favorite rapper so this title has nothing to do with my love for his music. I just think Jay Z is literally the coolest person in the world. point blank. moving on. 

Jeremy Clarkson

 Top Gear is one of my favorite TV shows (British version only!…obviously) but it has nothing to do with my deep love of cars. Heck, I've had one car in my life….A light green Ford Taurus I loving named Ronald for his old man-ish qualities ("Mum, look at Ronald, doesn't he look like he should have a mustache!"….told you she understand my quirks!) I love it for one reason, Jeremy Clarkson. 

Rod Stewart

Dudes a pimp, pimps are dudes. follow along. 

George Clooney

I don't even know how he ended up here it just seemed wrong to not include him....plus he had a pet pig. Duuude.

Paul Rodriquez

He made the dude list by default. It honestly has less to do with how dudey he is and more to do with the fact that I'm madly in love with him….

Uncle Jesse

Full House is a great fucking show, and I'm sorry but I would have loved an Uncle Jesse in my life….except not my Uncle because that would make my constant desire to make out with him a little weird….I just wanted a  bud die, Jesse….who I could make out with…obviously

Pharrell

The Highlight of my entire existance to date was the weekend I spent with Pharrell in Miami. If you can think of anybody smoother than this dude I would give you my first born....or a dollar....

My homie, Kirill

kirillwashere.com . And that is all I have to say on that matter.

My youngest brother- Declan

swag. 

Jerk kitties and wasted ice-cream

My Name is Belle. I'm hear to fuck up your day. 

I swear whenever I start a blog, my life falls apart. It's like the world knows my life isn't interesting enough to keep people entertained, so it throws me some curve balls. Gigantic, infuriating curveballs.

Tonights curveball had me locked outside of my apartment for four hours....phone-less, money-less and most annoyingly key-less. There I was getting ready to go out for dinner, in my usual at home attire aka 99.9% naked when a text came through from a friend asking me to bring his hoodie down to him. After begrudgingly hunting for clothes, I grabbed the hoodie off my bed and was halfway down the stairs when I remembered that due to adventurous Kitty McNuggets roaming around my life I had to shut the door (an odd site in this apartment).

It was when I tried to open said door that I realized how much I just fucked up my night!

After pulling and tugging relentlessly at the annoyingly stable door, I ended up finding a discarded kitchen knife left over from a BBQ and spent approximately 25 minutes jamming it in and out of the lock whilst heaving my body into the door with as much force as I could muster. Nothing.

To make matters worse, I could hear Meow Mix rolling around on the other side, pushing her little firework (yes, literal fire work) around and essentially laughing in my face that she was not the dumb ass who locked herself out!

One hours passed.

No sign of any other life forms (except for the sounds of asshole Kitty loving her love)

Two hours.

I remembered I had a five dollar bill in my back pocket....bought ice-cream (of course)...poor choice, no spoon.

I then proceeded to spend the next fifteen minutes using my index finger as a spoon whilst glancing over at the security camera as if I could actually see the people judging me from the other side ...1 girl 1 pint.

Forced to discard remaining ice-cream due to lack of freezing device...devastated.

Three hours.

Mind lost.

Rolling around on the dirty floor, done giving a fuck, hating Kitty.

Eventually my two tiny blond guardian angels appeared to finally allow me access to my own home!

Frenemies.

I imagine this is how Tom Hank's character felt when he finally got off that damn island in Castaway except that instead of pining for Wilson, I was pining for Ben....and Jerry.