One to Nothin'

Swap me, maybe?

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My sponsor page is up and running again. Check it out here. I’d love to snuggle you on my sidebar if you’re into it –the promo is MACK. Or if you want some serious spooning action, get in there with a Big Lebowski spot. I’ll pour you up a stiff lactose-free White Russian. I’ll pimp you out Snoop Lion style. I’ll put a baby in you like Juicy J. I’ll shut you down like the government (wait, what?). Okay, I’m done. That’s all I’ve got today. A pathetic call for bloggie friends. It is what it is. DUECES.

Thoughts on time

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Have you ever listened to Van Morrison on your porch at night when no one else was around? If not, I think maybe you should. I haven’t been on much of an inspiration spree around here. I’ve been finding myself grasping for topics around 8-10pm and then dreading writing anything that actually takes thought knowing how late it will keep me up. Last night I got to writing about costumes because I was stalking my own Facebook profile feeling pretty damn nostalgic about college. Which made me think about my college self versus my current self. A few differences come to mind. 
I look pretty similar. I may pull out more gray hairs than I’d like now and I really should replace my jeans because there’s definitely a hole in the butt pocket region and people are probably going to notice it soon, but they do still fit. Physically I feel just as capable as I did in college. I probably run more and perhaps more responsibly (read: not drunk running home from bars) now. My heart is certainly more calloused than my former self’s but it’s strong and I’m aware of its resiliency now. I’m just as sensitive as I’ve always been and I’m just as bad at doing laundry. I have more responsibilities now, I guess, but not really. 
The biggest difference is the way I think about time. I’m living in the most exciting stage of my life since starting college right now. I thought it was just the shock of moving to a foreign land that was making me feel like I was dreaming, but it’s been five months. Almost half a year that I’ve been living on the West coast. I’ve accomplished a lot: job, apartment, furniture, concerts, festivals, hikes and wonderful adventures, but it all seems to be going too fast. Remember that emotaling word? It’s kind of like this never ending circle where I know I want to live in the present because time is going to go by regardless of whether I’m ready for it or think it’s moving too quickly for me. And obsessing over it is just a waste of time anyway because it means I’m not present during that thought process. So then the obsessing over that wasted time starts and continues until I trip on the sidewalk and start bleeding everywhere.
This has been a constant struggle lately. I know everyone feels it to some extent. We’re not psyched out of our minds about getting our driver’s license, moving out of the house for the first time or turning 21, so we just want time to chill the eff out. But I’m getting to a point where I’m trying so hard to turn these thoughts off that I get irrationally angry at people at the water cooler who are all, “Man, where did September go?! Time is just flying by!” Yes, it is. Thanks for reminding me, d-bag.
I know there is so much to look forward to in life. I haven’t even fallen in love with the one yet, or bawled my eyes out over that perfect ring, or danced with my dad at my reception, or told my mom that I’m pregnant or seen my baby’s perfect little face. Shoot, I haven’t even hit 1,000 blog followers yet.
I’m in no rush to get there, but I’m definitely stoked out of my mind for all of those things.
I guess I’ve some how tricked myself into thinking that if I obsess over making things last and worrying when they don’t, that I’m not taking anything for granted. Maybe suffering a little makes me feel like it’ll stick around a little longer. But I took everything for granted in college. Sure, it’s gone now, but it would be either way, and now I get to look back at those so called care-free years (which were actually pretty stressful at times) and feel happy about the memories I made. The memories that weren’t clouded by anxiety that was completely unfounded.
Maybe not taking something for granted just means enjoying it, appreciating it and loving it without considering how long you have with it.
I’m still young. I’m still having fun. I still have so much to look forward to. And there’s no reason why I shouldn’t just be okay with the way time works. I don’t want to be that person that gets depressed about every birthday after 21. I want to celebrate life at every age and I want to stop caring that another month has passed because guess what? I lived that month. And lately I’ve been living them pretty well. 
Wow, this post has been all over the place. This is what happens when I listen to Van Morrison on the porch. Thanks for reading, friends.

5 Steps to Ultimate Costume Crushing

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Today is the first day of October and with this cold splash of obvious to the face comes a post all about my favorite topic: COSTUMES. I’m going to teach you how to create the sluttiest best costume for any occasion as demonstrated by my broke baby-faced-baby-bodied-college-sorositute self.
This step is critical if you want to have money leftover to order 5star once you get home and have the drunk munchies. Instead of buying costumes, you just swap them around with your friends. In none of the above photos am I wearing my own clothes. None. My personal fave is the firefighter costume. I didn’t have a helmet, boots, a hose or any other indication that I was, in fact, a firefighter other than the reflectors strategically placed across my bod. Perfection. Also, when in doubt throw on a brown dress and a coke wrapper. Genius.
If you were lucky enough to partake in the art of dance growing up, don’t even think about throwing away those hideous costumes you had to flail around on stage in. These bad boys are pure Halloween GOLD. I mean, what starts out as goofy purple fringe capris on an awkward 12 year old turns into super sexy, glittery, fringey hotness as a 21 year old. And who doesn’t love some spandex faux knee-high boots with holes on the bottom for your tap shoes? Try to contain yourselves. 
Check under your sink before you start snooping around a costume store. Sometimes the best costumes are right under our silly little noses. Take that garbage bag skirt up there for instance. Yea, I’m a puzzle, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m wearing a garbage bag for a skirt. And Emma? She’s wearing tootsie roll wrappers. Got extra bubble wrap hanging around? BOOM, you’re a bubble. Or just decide that wearing a piece of foam you painted the Dippin’ Dots logo onto counts as a costume.
When you embrace your inner nerd, you end up with costumes that 80% of people don’t get, but the 20% who do think you’re freakin’ awesome. #worthit We’ve got Sally from Nightmare Before Christmas, Sarah from Labyrinth and Lara Croft from Tomb Raider. Again, stay away from store bought costumes for ultimate costume crushing. That Sally costume was made from a men’s Hane’s t-shirt, Sarah’s dress was from Goodwill and Lara’s guns were spray painted squirt guns (which I found out after filling with vodka and bringing to the bar is illegal, woops).
Self-explanatory. I started in 8th grade and I haven’t looked back since. Avril Lavigne is always a solid costume choice. Extra points if you can find an extremely douchey guy to dress up as Chad Kroeger and do a mashup of “Photograph” and “Sk8r Boi.”
There you have it, friends. May you never have to wear lingerie and animal ears to a costume party ever again. Or do. Just make sure I’m invited. 

Weekend Shenanigans

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My Friday night looks a lot sexier than it was. I spent some time reading The Phantom Tollbooth, which if you’ve never read it I strongly suggest you do so. It’s one of those books that’s for children, but not really. Just read it. You’ll thank me later. I also ate homemade pecan pie (because my roommate is a domestic goddess) and watched “The Great Gatsby” by candlelight. Then we proceeded to watch “Safe Haven,” which was awful. I was even told that I was “being such a guy!” because I kept pointing out plot holes and inconsistencies while getting really frustrated at the thought of this chick cutting and bleaching the crap out of her own hair and having it turn out like this–no, just no. This was also the night that I realized my sponsor friends are all gone because I didn’t pay for Passionfruit. My bad. I swear I will get my shiz together by October. 
Saturday I woke up at 5am (??) to run (?!???!?) in San Francisco with Emma. I don’t even know who I am anymore. As soon as we started trekking up the first hill mountain, I knew I was in over my head and was probably going to end up with a run-turns-fall concussion by the end of it. But alas, I made it up the hills and we ended up going 10.6-ish miles complete with views of the Golden Gate Bridge and no bandages necessary. Then after showering and taking a whack at conquering my pigmalabiaphobia, we ate an exquisite explosion of smoked salmon, tomato and capers on crusty breaded goodness and set off to find parrots and used books. What we actually found was a bunch of stairs and new (expensive) books, so after adding a couple more miles and stairs to our day of activity, we sat in a park and soaked in the rest of the beautiful day. After getting stuck in traffic for a couple hours, I went to bed. Party.
Sunday was spent doing gymnastics and cuddling with a big furry stuffed bear while babysitting, followed by laundry, dishes, cooking and cuddling with a big fuzzy sausage dog. Don’t judge me, I’ll take all the cuddling I can get. That’s all I got, you guys. I’m out.
Linking up with Sami.

Pizza, fitness, trees

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You read that right, guys. I worked out every day so far (granted this was written Thursday night, but still), and I rewarded myself with a vegan pizza the size of my torso.. but rounder. Actually I only wanted a slice, but apparently they don’t do that for vegan pizza (not that I’m not complaining because most places that serve pizza say, “Forget the vegans! What is lactose intolerance? Cow milk for everyone!”). So I got a large and in charge pizza and had to rearrange the entire fridge at work to make it fit (that’s what she said), but the cool thing about vegan pizza is, nobody wants to help you eat it! Therefore I haven’t cooked or bought a meal since yesterday and I’ve still got two slices left. I’d call that a win, especially because this is the best damn vegan cheese I’ve ever tasted.
And now that I’ve written an entire paragraph about pizza, here are my workouts from the week in case you were wondering:
Saturday
Sunday
Hiking + 3-mile run with my trusty sausage dog
Monday
Tuesday
4-mile run with Ziggy
Wednesday
4-mile run with Zig (she was on a roll this week!)
Thursday
Booty Workout (SO effing hard)
Can we raise a toast to my not falling despite running on three separate occasions this week? CHEERS!
Holy balls! The leaves actually change colors here! Who knew? I’m allowed to geek out over this, okay? I lived in a seasonless climate for over two decades. This is a big deal. Such a big deal that I impulse bought new boots and like 12 long sleeve shirts without caring what they looked like because they were so soft. I officially care more about comfort than cuteness. A sad and awesome realization if I do say so. Also I’ve gone two weeks with no alcohol (it’s a bet, you guys, not AA. I swear.) and I think my bod is confused at its lack of toxins flooding through it. I could get used to this. Maybe.
“Her perspective, faith and support will change his reality. If she doesn’t challenge you, then she’s no good for you. Men who want to stay ordinary will tell you not to have expectations of them. Men who want to be great will expect you to push them, pray with them and invest in them… One great thing is better than a thousand mediocre flings.” -Rob Hill Sr

..Because it’s true and not everyone follows me on InstaGram (but they should– @mackensieg).

Lastly, this is the playlist I was getting weird to as I wrote this post. I hope you’ll go back your azzes up with Whitney in the name of Friday.

 

Me + TV = Relationship Failure

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I love me a good sitcom as much as the next guy (girl, I definitely mean girl) but I’ve been thinking about the types of recurring characters that appear in my favorite kinds of shows and I have a type. Look at the ghosts of my IRL relationships past and you couldn’t string them together if you tried, but when it comes to witty, scripted, romantic comedy television, I’ve got it down. And it ain’t pretty. Check it. 

New Girl
This show has three totally crushable main characters: Schmidt, Winston and Nick Miller. One’s a narcissistic d-bag with a big heart, a successful job and a hot bod. One’s a goofy ex basketball player who’s often in a relationship despite being awkward around girls and is really bad at pranks. And one’s a law school dropout who’s a bartender for a living, is grumpy all the time and is a total commitment-phobe. Can you guess which one I’ve got a big TV boner for? Hint: It’s not the successful one with a hot bod. That’s right, Nick Miller. Get over here, you goofy turtle-faced old man. I want to curl up next to you like a damn cat.

Hart of Dixie
I just got into this show, so I can’t pretend I’m all knowing about these men, but I do know they’re all pretty much beautiful and probably not a good indication of a little podunk town in Alabama. Zoe Hart, you are one lucky betch. But I do know that there’s Lavon Hayes, the ex football player mayor who’s ripped and loving, George Tucker, the all-American lawyer guy who was in the same relationship for 15 years and lastly Wade Kinsella who, you guessed it, is an unmotivated bartender who’s really, really ridiculously good looking, slutty and terrified of having real feelings. Yea, I got it bad for the sexy bartender.

Happy Endings
Happy Endings was recently cancelled which is extremely unfortunate because it was hilarious, but here’s the rundown of the three main dudes. Brad: The original token black dude from New Girl who works hard, has expensive taste, looks good and is crazy about his anally retentive wife. Dave is the metro, food truck owning free spirited guy who was left at the altar by his fiancee. And the one I’m most attracted to: Max, the homosexual, unemployed commitment-phobe who loves beer and food.

Friends
And lastly, what show compilation post would be complete without a Friends reference? We all know about the men on this show, but we’re doin’ it anyway. We’ve got Ross, the whiney serial monogamist who wears a lot of gel in his hair and is passionate about his career as an archaeologist. There’s Joey, who’s the good looking actor who’s dumb as a rock and often recounting his sexcapades. And there’s Chandler, the one who uses humor as a defense mechanism so he doesn’t have to deal with his emotions, has a job but no one can say what he actually does and until he finally gets with Monica is terrified of relationships. Yep, I’m all about the Chan Chan Man.
Now if you don’t mind, I will go ahead and blame every failed relationship I’ve ever had on these television shows because clearly it has nothing to do with me and everything to do with the clever writers behind these TV shows. What lazy, no-good, super hot, emotionally unavailable characters have I forgotten? Lay it on me.

Chiaroscuro

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Top: Plato’s Closet/Pants: Kohl’s/Earrings: Claires/Lips: NYX

I kept thinking about the term “chiaroscuro” as I was taking these photos. There are tons of things I learned in college that I let slide right out of my brain, but for some reason art history always made an impact on me. If you’re unfamiliar and don’t feel like Googling it, it’s a term describing the contrast of lighting for dramatic effect in many paintings throughout history. Of course I only took these photos with such contrast because the fluorescent lighting looked awful on my sunburn and I’m not ready to take my selfies outside yet, but it got me thinking about the balance between lightness and darkness, literally and figuratively. With little day-to-day things, like pairing bright accessories with a neutral outfit or nearly neon lips with black everything else; Slightly bigger things, like enjoying Ramen burgers and chocolate on the weekend while trying to eat veggies and work out throughout the week; Buying new clothes I want now while trying to save up for inevitable future expenses; Partying like I’m 21 because #YOLO while trying to become a functioning adult; I’m constantly seeking balance. These examples don’t really scream, “dark,” to me, but I think it’s all the little ratios that add up, weigh me down and lead to further questionable decisions. It’s when I let too much dark in that I find myself lost, off-centered and dizzy. I think I’ve been letting more light in lately, but I want to continue to seek it out and let it skew the balance. I want it to shine through me and warm others. I hope you’ll join me.
“There’ll be no comfort in the shade of the shadows thrown.”
Linking up here.

Pigmalabiaphobia.

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Sometimes you just have to throw on some lipstick that matches your sunburn and have a moment with your dog in front of the camera, amIright? Ziggy Stardust gets me. She’s really good at cuddling lately, too. I think she rewards me for good behavior. Like, I took her running yesterday, so she didn’t wake me up at 4am to poop in the fancy bushes and when my alarm went off, she continued to spoon with me through my 13 different snoozes. She hasn’t even been freaking out about the skunks quite as much lately, and she’s certainly not getting that from me. I hate those stinky funkmasters, but I don’t know why they scare me so much especially since I have a history with possums and a tendency to chase mice when I’m drunk. Pretty sure this means I’m more afraid of stank than pain/rabies. 
Speaking of irrational fears, I’m kind of a huge wuss when it comes to wearing lipstick. I may or may not have Googled, “What’s the phobia of lipstick called” earlier and the answer may have been “lipstick phobia.” Cool. The one fear that doesn’t have an extraneous name and I’m choosing to blog about it. So I love colored lips and I admire people who rock them with confidence, but I get super self-conscience about it when I try to do it myself–especially when it’s the middle of the day and it’s not acceptable to let your drunken alter ego dance on tables (Rose is all about the lipstick). I never think twice about other chicks who wear it, so I have no idea why I’d assume others will look and me and think, “How DARE that harlot wear red lipstick to work?!” But I do, and it’s unacceptable, so I’ve decided to conquer my pigmalabiaphobia (add it to UrbanDictionary, I dare you).
I bought two new colors and they’re both loud, wonderful and need to be worn. Keep me in check, friends. My pigmalabiaphobia needs to be rid of once and for all, so call me out on my nude lips if need be. And until next time when maybe I’ll have something of substance to write about, enjoy some tuneage, then go check out Brooke for an even cooler playlist.

Rainy days & Ramen burgers

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Friday night I went to bed at 8, you guys. I tried to read and then my eyelids fell down. I didn’t even watch “New Girl.” It was a weird time. I don’t really want to talk about it.
Saturday I took one photo and it was of a snail. I’m guessing this is because it was the first time it’s rained more than a couple drops in the past four months. Or maybe it’s because I’m fascinated by these slimy beasts. Look at that magnificent execution of pattern mixing! These are some fashion forward mofos and they make it look so easy. I guess this makes up for the fact that they are completely and utterly useless. You can’t deny that camera presence though. Homeboy’s got charisma.

Anywho.. I spent Saturday babysitting, watching the Gators beat up some Vols, eating homemade chili, working out and watching “New Girl.” Not a drop of alcohol, my friends. This blog space lives to see another week.

Sunday, on the other hand, was pretty epic and I have a wicked facial sunburn to prove it. Emma, Michelle and I decided to hike the California Coastal Trail, which was super foggy and just awesome. Just see for yourself.

After hiking we headed to the Presidio to hit up Off the Grid where I devoured this Ramen Burger–as in Ramen noodles instead of a bun on this magical meat masterpiece, followed by freshly picked strawberries, raspberries and dark chocolate plus excellent conversation and the utter bewilderment that goes along with living in such a wonderful, awe-inspiring place. I am feeling pretty lucky these days.

Linking up with Sami.

Demon neon watch & other Friday things

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I have this little neon green digital watch that my friend got me before we went on a cruise so we wouldn’t get drunk and miss the boat (you can read more about it here). I really loved that thing. It was waterproof and it matched her neon pink one, so we wore them the entire time. I recently rekindled my love for it by taking it on my runs so I can run four minutes, walk one minute without crashing and breaking my neck by trying to look at my phone strapped stanknastily to my arm (not that it helps because this ish still happens on the daily). Anyway, this simple little watch can only do a couple things: time, stopwatch, alarm. So it seems like it would be pretty easy to figure out which button does what, right? There are only four buttons after all. WRONG. Some how, some way, after owning this bad boy for over two years (never changed the battery, nothing) it managed to set an alarm for 11:43pm. And I cannot FOR THE LIFE OF ME figure out how to turn it off.

Every night when I know I should be sleeping (although I’m usually blogging) I’m reminded of how I’m not, in fact, sleeping and that I am, in fact, a pawn in this little vindictive green bastard of a wrist watch’s game. It’s currently 10:15 (I got an early start!) and I’m already dreading that incessant beeping. It’s just long enough to suck pretty hard, but usually not long enough to make me get out of the comfort of my bed to find it and make it stop (temporarily, of course, because we all know that the most dependable thing in my life is that damn beeping every night). I feel like one night it’s not going to go off and it’s going to be super ominous..
There are a lot of things I want to do. Little things. Of course there are big things, too, but I recently started a bet that bans me from drinking alcohol (and if I lose, you guys will definitely know about it because the other participant will be taking over this here blog for 24 hours.. You scared, bro? I am). But I think this will help me focus on things I’ve been wanting to do, like reading. I haven’t finished a single book since I moved out here. I don’t even know why (yes I do, who wants to read when you’re hung over?), I found time to put together a 1,000-piece puzzle (and you can bet your bottom dollar I hummed to myself and took my pants off like Winston did. Did anyone else laugh like a hyena throughout the entire season premier of New Girl?!). I also haven’t been taking cool photos for your bloggie eyes to feast on, just crappy iPhone ones, or even dressing myself properly for that matter. I’ve worn the same necklace and maybe pair of earrings on the days that I even bother to do that, and my boots officially have flapping mouths on the bottoms of them now.  
There was a big fat damper on my exercise schedule this week due to a very sore, bruised and scraped up body (excuses, excuses) but I did run today and I didn’t fall, so I call that a win. And I even upgraded from 5-pounders to 10-pounders in my Revolt workouts (workout. Singular. I did one all week.) So needless to say, this weekend won’t be filled with drunken debauchery, but instead it will be filled with reading, writing, hiking, babysitting, photo-taking and, let’s be real, probably New Girl Season 2 Netflix watching. I hope you all drink your faces off and Snapchat me the evidence.
Now let us join hands and back our azzes up with Whitney.

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