The first thing I saw when I pulled up my Twitter account today was a quote tweeted by this smarty pants that read:
“You know your DREAM IS REAL if you can’t go a day without thinking about.”
This coincides perfectly with what I have been itching to write about today. You guessed it, my current dream. You see, before I started this blog I had an epiphany of sorts. I am young, single, child free, and at least smarter than a fourth grader (those fifth graders are tough to beat). Why am I still twiddling my thumbs in the same spot I’ve been twiddling for 23 years? Boom. The drive to explore new places hatched, and my wheels began turning at dangerous speeds… at least during the honeymoon stage of this epiphany. After the initial excitement of the eureka wore off a bit, I really logically asked myself that same question. No, really why not yet? Here is how I worked it out in my head: Read the rest of this entry
When I am not intimidating big burly off-shore men as safety personnel by day, or out getting my billiards on at night, you can usually find me at home. More specifically in these two places:
I have composed a short list of things I do when I am at my pad: (Note: all of these activities are performed while listening to the radio, my Ipod, or Pandora and usually a combination of all three. There are many pirouettes, hair whips, and running sock slides accompanying these activities as well. I have all wooden floors, so it’s only fair to use them.)
1. Read, write, Reddit, Chive, Facebook, Twitter, etc. Basically I do the Internet.
2. Cook… or pull out every snack item I own in attempts to put together a quasi-meal instead of cooking. The majority of the time I actually do cook, but come on, even award winning chefs get lazy right?
3. Sit on my balcony drinking wine while on the phone for extended periods of time, usually with Booger. You see, all of my friends decided to abandon me simultaneously, like I am the riot gun and they are the rubber bullets, so the phone time is essential .
5. Chase around this ferocious and boisterous beast that refuses to accept that my kitchen counters are not his personal play towers.
There is more, but those are the main events at club Becca. What’s the point in me telling you this? Read the rest of this entry
Yet another one of my dearest friends is moving this weekend. My oldest and best guy friend, Z, will be moving to Baton Rouge for work. I tried to hold a grudge against him for leaving me here with no one to split pitchers of beer and shoot pool with. It didn’t last too long, and I doubt he was even aware I was holding one. I am too soft some times. I agreed to let him adopt my old smokey grill. I’ve used it all of two whopping times, and I can’t grill on the balcony of my third story apartment anyhow. So, we met at the bar to have a beer and a smoke for the last time in probably a while. After I handed over the grill, he left. I decided to hang around. Half Pint’s father died unexpectedly yesterday postponing our Tampa trip. Being restless and disappointed I needed a little distraction. Bad news never has good timing.
Almost simultaneously as Z exited the building, two gentlemen claimed the two seats to the left of me. *Cue accent that was not coon-ass* “Ello there”. I greeted them with half a grin and a hello. As conversation ensued, I was patting myself on the back for deciding to stay for a while. My new friends, Steve and Matt, were in town for business both working for the same company as submarine engineers. They coined themselves oil field trash. Hardly. Maybe it was just my swooning over their accents, but these fellas were polite, handsome, and interesting to converse with. Steve was from Scotland, 37 but looked about 31, and was kind enough to keep stocking me up on smokes all night like they were bar snacks. Matt was from Australia, 31 but looked 37, and had me imagining a romance like out of Findingravity’s series of blog posts entitled Not Another Love Story!.
Naturally I was like a fervent puppy chatting them both up about all the places they have traveled. Where they have been, what they saw, how they got there, and a million other questions. Read the rest of this entry