Time is money....Time is of the essence....Time is drunk and needs to take a seat.

I'm forever jealous of those people surfing through their early 20's with ease. Who are you mutants? Where did you come from? Are they accepting new applicants? I would love to apply to whatever cult it was, I will gladly drink that Koolaid.

I just realized that I've started to wander down a path in the this blog post I don't want to go down. A path that leads to a 500 word ramble about confusion and direction, when in all actuality I have plenty of one and not much of the other and for once the scale tips in my favour. I am currently confusion-less (actually that is a lie, I am still very confused as to how boys wear skinny jeans without their boxer/briefs/mankini getting all bundled up, but that is for a different post). I know what I want, or at least I know the correct route to take.

If you are an avid reader (aka if you are my mum) you will know I had planned on being in Los Angeles by this point in time, instead I am writing this from sweltering New York City and for once I can say this is out of choice (and let's be honest there are worse places to be.) The Dordyline of yesteryear (ok, yesterday) would have wrote a scathing rant on the perils of being stagnant. The new and improved self is looking at the glass half full of opportunity (and Pinot Grigio.)

Over the last few weeks, I have learned to accept that time is not flying by as fast as I may feel sometimes, yet it is not frozen like it can seem. I can't let it pass me by, but I can't hyperventilate my way through it either. Things happen when they happen, that great opportunity left to make way for something better and hustling is paramount to success.

I will make things happen and that I'm sure of, but they wouldn't happen in the next three seconds no matter how hard I click my heels and this is the most refreshing epiphany I've had in a long time. 

Tune in next time for another episode of You've got this Girl written by a tipsy 22 year old who is really good at stumbling in the right direction. Now if you would please excuse me I have apples to smother in peanut butter and apartments to google. 

Cheap wiiiiine and three day....s worth of vegetables

Cold Chisel anyone? No? I'll see myself out. 

 My joints are really sore....is this an age thing? a weather thing? a not taking care of my body for 20+ years thing? Either way stairs are hard....and also typing is hard...life is hard.

So today....or...err yesterday? Whatever the 8th was Queen Mumpets birthday. Happy Birthday Queen Mumpet.

 I'm not sober right now....which is making stringing a sentence together very difficult. I'm not sure why exactly I'm even writing something....but alas here I am.

Oh actually, snaps for me for something. I haven't spent a single penny in 1 whole week (I almost had to pay for my drinks last night...but then I remembered I have boobs....I half hate myself, half love myself....) Two weeks ago I did something I never do aka bought groceries aka what up adulthood! This was the brain child of realization after I had added up how much money I spent on going out to eat....let's just say it wasn't pretty especially since I am desperately trying to save money and seem to be spending hours staring at my bank balance with a look of sheer bewilderment at where exactly my money went (#girlzjustwannahavefundz.) I still can't cook though so I have been living off 3 dollar wine, avocado and ham sandwiches and huge bowls of lettuce and broccoli smothered in balsamic (aka the gods nectar....aka it's literally my favorite flavor....aka shower me in it). I've also noticed that my body is liking me more (except my old man joints). It's less bloated due to the whole no artificial-what-have-you I normally inject straight into my blood stream and I don't constantly want to kill myself due to constant food coma....well I mean I did eat a whole french baguette yesterday and felt my heart slow down but that's beside the point.

I've reached that point in my life that my diet actually effects how I feel. I've never really been too self conscious about my weight- I have big boobs, big thighs, a smaller waist and a weird little baby bump of chub that likes the hang out on my lower stomach sometimes and that was just kind of that. Some days I would feel chubby and crappy but it was never a massive deal to me honestly, so I just ate what I wanted and went on my merry way. But now I actually feel my body reacting to food. It kind of blows. I have always loved vegetables, hell I used to hoard heads of lettuce under my bed as a child and constantly gobbled up cucumbers and tomatoes much to the annoyance of my mother who planned on using them for dinner. But I also have a major sweet tooth...and a bread tooth....and a bacon tooth...where was I going with this?

Oh yeah! Australian bacon is so much better than American bacon (that definitely wasn't where I was going with that...but hey man, a fact is a fact.)

I would just like to apologize for wasting 5 minutes of your time, I'm going to be honest I'm not even going to reread and edit because I'm way to sleepy and isn't there a rule about writing drunk and editing sober?

See you when I'm sober I guess.

Time to go nap nap.

Dead, dying and dripping in vomit.

I haven't been blogging....

Because I haven't been doing anything...

Well besides dying.

*Enter lengthy rant bout how sick I have been* 

Luckily for me I'm beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel...and by that I mean I no longer have a million degree fever, although I do still have this intense, 50 packs of cigarettes a day cough... You know the kind of cough where people wince and look over at you just to check and make sure that your lung didn't come hurtling out of your esophagus....it's honestly a giant party.

But apart from death, life has been tame.....with a side of boob castles...but tame none the less. 

Boob......castle....

Oh wait silly me, something super exciting did happen today.... I stepped in two different piles of vomit on my walk home tonight (aka why couldn't you all just barf into your purse like that strung out blond girl on the N train?) New York on a Saturday night is an ever classy location. A man even ran up behind me to inform me that I had in fact stepped in vomit, as if me yelling for the world to fuck me again wasn't clue enough that I understood what was happening. Actually, I think it is actually programmed deep within us to inform someone whenever you are aware that they in fact have another persons regurgitated lasagna on their person. A fact I learned a few years ago when a friend and I were walking home from the bar and he very gracefully penny boarded back first into a stray pile of chunky street potatoes and a car full of hyped up dudes pulled over to mock his misfortune....to be fair he did just kind of lay there for a minute and splashed about in his puddle of love....he kind of deserved it. 

Speaking of deserving it (boom segway), can we all take a minute to appreciate the fact that my little brother deserves a kick in the nads? Why is that? I hear the crowds bellow....please see below visual representation...

Never have I ever been more disrespected! 

I guess this is probably payback for all those times I used to beat the crap out of him until he told me I was God...and perfect....and beautiful...and....

I pity the man who marries me.

Oh and I cut all my hair off.....

Also, I'm going to really need someone to inform me how to properly face, because I haven't mastered it yet. 

Tuesday Dudesday: A saga

Honey Bunches of Good Choices.

I left the bar early because it is a Wednesday night and I am a grown ass adult with morals, a schedule and self restraint! Now, If anybody needs me, I'll be watching cartoons and drunk eating cereal out of a tupperware container from my bed.

Grown Ass Adult!

Girl.. I know you want this dickkkkk.

It was my last night in Arizona and I realized I had zero blog footage....this ensued. Also, I'm quite intoxicated and would love to order food right now but guess what, ARIZONA SUCKS. I JUST WANT PIZZA. THIS IS SO DEPRESSING.

We burned shit.

At one point in the night, Tums were passed around like Candy....Arizonians are odd.

Finding Shit to Burn 101

Bass mouth...apparently it's a thing

Sparklers? Don't mind if  I do...ever. 

Finding Flamable shit is surprisingly hard!

"I have a topless picture of your girlfriend I wouldn't upload it."

Brother: "Fuck it, why not!" 

Side note: Sam doubted her ability to the burn shit lifestyle....homie tore of her shirt and burned it....I'm her fan 100% because of that. 

Word Bird.

I'm drunk and hungry and so disappointed in the Tucson's ability to deliver me drunk shit.

NOT SORRY 'BOUT IT!

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.