How do non-religious folk pray?

Let's talk about life for just a second.

Tomorrow morning at approximately the ass-crack-of-god-damn I'm running my first half marathon.

I'm not going to lie and act all tough and prepared and ready.... I'M BATSHIT SCARED.

I kind of trained. Sort of.

I gave it my all up until I came down with a cold.

My brain is currently swimming in cold medicine and all I want is jammies and my bed.

And whiskey.

Things have been super stressful here at my big girl job. It always seems like every time I get super duper ooper stressed and worn ragged here at work I get sick.

Weird.

Tonight I'm having family over for a huge ol' spaghetti dinner.

I plan on gorging myself in garlic bread, pasta and tylenol cold and then saying my final goodbyes to everyone.

To all of my readers, don't be too eager to watch for my next post. This blog may not exist after tomorrow morning.



Godspead yall.

I'm pretty much the hooker in red lipstick standing on the corner in a matching track suit

A couple days ago a good friend of mine sent me a text message.
It read: "I bought you something today. When I saw it I just knew you had to have it. It's sooo you!"
This spiked my curiosity. What even IS me?

She knew I liked anything leopard print, shot glasses and sweats.
Other than that, I don't really convey A style, if you will.

Monday through Friday I dress like a corporate mother. Button ups, slacks and heals. THIS is totally not me. It makes me feel old and icky. Not to mention collars and cuffs are entirely too binding.

Saturday nights when I bar tend I'm almost ALWAYS in a black Tshirt of some sort and jeans. I don't wear any other color because when a keg blows all over you or you get grenadine on your shirt, you can kiss it goodbye. Black hides everything. It's just easier.

By the time Sunday rolls around I feel too chewed up and spit out to fathom wearing anything other than baggy man sweats.

When the occasion presents itself to go out on the town or to a party of some sort I always feel stuck.

Am I tough girl? Am I girly girl? Am I bohemian-shabby-chic? (Certainly not the last one. I don't even know what the fuck that means)

Another dear friend of mine recently introduced me to pinterest. And for this she must die. And be completely responsible for my lack of productivity. And social skills when my smart phone is in my clenches.

On this devil website I've stumbled upon really cute outfit ideas. None of which are me.

The outfits are always accessorized with matching rings, necklaces, purses, shoes etc.
I wear the same damn black heals nearly every day to big girl work. I pick my rings by their ability to keep their form after weightlifting, And nothing can fall out or snap off in case I decide to punch something/one. I carry a wallet only, a purse is way too much baggage. Unless I need to smuggle booze in somewhere. Then I totally have backup purses. But it's for their functionality, not coordinating with my outfit.

I know I love black. I feel pretty in anything that looks tough. I dig red lipstick. I like my nails painted. I gravitate to anything leopard print. I have a sick hoodie fetish and I like to be comfortable.

But not so comfortable that you're that girl who's "really let herself go since High school"

Oh, and what my friend bought me that was so me? An antique Jim Beam bottle. It fits perfectly.

I suppose it's time to update my eulogy.

Did I mention I have a half marathon approaching in T-minus 25 days?

Have I mentioned that I am in no way, shape or form ready for said half marathon?

A HALF MARATHOOOOOOOON.

Too bad there isn't such a thing as a menstruation marathon.

I'd totally dominate that bitch.