One to Nothin'

Some Nights I just want a Heartthrob.

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Did I already tell you guys that I’m going to go see two of my all-time favorite bands in the universe on Sunday? (The answer is yes, Kensie, you did. But I either read it and am ashamed to tell you that I remember that far back in your archives, or no, I don’t give two shits about what concerts you’re going to because I’m mad jealous. Only two options.) I’m going to see Fun. for the fourth time and Tegan and Sara for the FIRST time. To say I’m stoked would be a severe understatement. Like my high school self is peeing her pants while sitting in art class with her little pink iPod mini plugged into her ears wanting to belt along to “Walking With the Ghost” but at the same time not wanting to be that girl (also she probably just polished off some cheese fries.. that bitch). And yes, I totally have every song Fun. has recorded memorized and I will be dancing my ass off (and probably crying/fainting like a Belieber) in awe of Mr. Nate Ruess. Lesbihonest, I’d totally buy drinks for those two ladies up there, too. #heartthrobs 
In case you were wondering how deep my love for Ruess goes, feel free to take a look at the very first post ever written on this here blog (which I originally started as a music blog in 2010, wrote two posts and then failed to write a word in for about a year before starting One to Nothin’ kind of as you know it today). Or you could look at this one, this one, this one, this one or this one. I believe ‘obsessed’ is the word you were looking for. Anyway, the point is that since I love these bands so hard, obviously you should too. So for your ear hole pleasure.. Enjoy this playlist.

Weekend shenanigans

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FRIDAY
Friday night is best described as sweaty. I hopped on the train right after work when it was 90ish degrees out and found that there was no air flowing through the train. None. So I proceeded to melt for the next hour until I arrived in San Francisco, where it was uncharacteristically warm out and we hit up some Vietnamese restaurant where, again, there was no air to be found. At this point I started sticking napkins between my thighs because I’m a classy broad. Then we went full-on hipster by seeing “Drinking Buddies” (oh hey, Nick Miller. I think I like you best smashed with a beard) at a sauna of a dirty and awesome little theater complete with a Skype Q&A sesh with the director. I only took one photo the entire night which may or may not have been due to all the sweating.
SATURDAY

Saturday is best described as ridiculous. It started out innocent enough with a $5-bottle of chardonnay and drooling over this sexy man beast a la Hart of Dixie. Yea, I’m in deep. Then my cousin (my former roommate) came over and it all went downhill from there (or uphill if you’re a runner. It wasn’t good is what I’m trying to say). I dropped the second $5-bottle of wine, which was probably a good thing looking back, then one jager bomb lead to another and it all escalated to me drunk dialing my parents at 1am (4am Florida time). Mega ultra fail. Sorry, parents. Thanks for not disowning me.
SUNDAY
Sunday’s descriptor was full-on hung over. I rode the struggle bus all morning and eventually went to a family BBQ with my roomie, which escalated into drinking games played while sitting on our new couch (eeek!!) and using an upside down Rubbermaid tub for a table. And once again, my goofy self only took one photo the entire night and it was of my half-eaten Jack-in-the-Box burger. Seriously? Worst blogger ever.
MONDAY
And Monday was awesome. I attended my first Oakland A’s game (they won!) and devoured some garlic fries while trying not to bitch slap the babies behind me kicking my seat constantly. I’ve been appreciating the fact that I don’t have little mini-mes running around more and more lately. I think my ovaries shrunk three times their size that day. Maybe it’s just the hangover talking.
Overall, solid weekend. Remind me of all those liquid and fastfood calories this week when I’m too lazy to work out, pleasekaythanks.
Linking up with Sami.

Boozesicle Recipes

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Some of you lovelies requested the recipes for my boozy popsicles from last weekend and who am I to deny my readers of my random drunken conquests? So here we go. I can’t guarantee the measurements or how great they will taste (although I found them to be quite delicious), but I can provide you with the ingredients and some sweaty bikini selfies to go along with them.

All you need is an expensive trip to Target to get: Watermelon chunks (precut if you’re a lazy SOB like myself), blackberries, strawberries, pineapple chunks (also precut), cilantro, a cucumber, clear rum (I used Bacardi), silver tequila (my boy, Jose), champagne (optional, I was getting creative), lime juice and a bottle of Pinot Grigio (to drink while the pops freeze, obvi), sugar, popsicle sticks and little plastic shot glasses. Oh, and a juicer although a blender would work fine, too, I’m just that weirdo who has two juicers and zero blenders in her apartment. Moving on.

Watermarg:
Stick the watermelon chunks in your juicer and do not turn it on until there’s a cup and/or bowl under the spigot like I may have forgotten to do. Then add sugar (I freeballed the amount), tequila, lime juice and the pulp left over in the juicer and pour into plastic shot glasses as well as a blackberry in each one and then stick them in the freezer. Some other watermelon combos I tried included adding cilantro and strawberry juice/pulp. There was also a champagne, strawberry and sugar combo. This was very unscientific process.
Cilantrumber:
Cut up the cucumber and again, shove it in the juicer. Add sugar and rum, probably pineapple juice, too, and add some chopped up cilantro. Pour into plastic shot glasses and stick them into the freezer. There were also some cucumber, watermelon, cilantro and rum variations. 
Rumapple:
Stick pineapple chunks in the juicer, mix in with sugar and rum, add chopped up cilantro and the remaining pulp. Pour into shot glasses and stick in the freezer.
Once the pops start getting icing, stick the popsicle sticks in the center and proceed to finish the bottle of Pinot Grigio while the pops finish solidifying. Once they’re good and frozen, chomp down on these bad boys until you get a brain freeze and watch movies from an air mattress in your living room if you want to really get the experience of what went down during this boozy popsicle making expedition of mine. Movie suggestions: “500 Days of Summer,” “Easy A” and “Forgetting Sarah Marshall.” Orrrr be a normal person and enjoy them out by a pool for Labor Day weekend. Whatever floats your boat.

But my heart is wild, and my bones are steel

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I haven’t posted much in the way of “real life” posts lately and I think there are several reasons for that, most of which include getting used to being an adult (I’ve already done laundry, like, twice at this new apartment.. that’s a pretty big deal for me, guys). Having a big girl job means trying to go to bed and wake up earlier so I don’t go to work in a see-through top again (fml) and having my own place means trying to stop rando Target shopping sprees because I’m forking over a good portion of my paycheck on the first of the month regardless of how many clearance pink Power Ranger dresses I just need (our front office staff may run into screen doors, but they don’t play around with the rent check). There’s also the whole trying to make time for exercise and healthy eating (mainly because I need to not buy new pants when my lovies get too big for the current ones) intermingled with my dog deciding to take her dumps around midnight and again around 3am. 
Basically I’m in adaptation mode. I’m adapting to sitting at a computer for eight hours a day. I’m adapting to hearing giant snails crunch when I step on them in the middle of the night (seriously, there were about five in a row.. those poor slimy bastards). I’m adapting to living with my super cool new roomie who gets me flowers when she leaves town and her super cool dog who intimidates the crap out of strangers walking by instead of hiding under the bed (cough, Ziggy, cough). I’m adapting to having neighbors who shoot air guns (much like an air guitar, there’s nothing there but you’re fully pretending there is while making the sound effects–a grown ass man neighbor, I might add) and to the smell of skunks while I’m out in my pjs trying to appease princess poopsicle (I had never actually seen a skunk before moving here and turns out I’m kind of terrified of them). But I’d say I’m adapting pretty well. 
There are definitely other factors contributing to my loss of words around these parts and maybe we’ll have a heart to heart about them in the future, but mainly I’ve been busy living. And that’s always a good thing. 
“Now my heart is gold, my feet are right
And I’m racing out on the desert plains all night”
Linking up here.

Even if I gotta shout out loud

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Ya know how french fries have a very short period of time where they’re not too scalding hot to burn your tongue off, but they’re not freezing cold pieces of potato mush? That’s kind of how I feel about showering after I work out. At first I feel really sweaty, gross and too hot to get in the shower, after which there’s a very short window where a shower is very appropriate and satisfactory at which time I decide to start blogging, but once I miss that window, my sweat dries and suddenly I don’t even feel like I’m that dirty anymore making wet hair seem like a huge hassle.
And this is what happened when I Googled “Going ham gifs.”
Perfection.
Here are the workouts I did in the past week. (Yea, that’s right four workouts in eight days means going ham Powerline-style apparently.)
Monday: This.
Thursday: 3.6 mile run and this.
Friday: 3.2 mile run
Monday: 4.17 mile run and this.

Boozy popsicles & pizza

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This weekend was the first one I’ve spent in my new apartment (going on four weeks since moving in) and I celebrated by only leaving the house to walk Ziggy and buy food/booze. Friday night was spent watching Netflix (what up, “New Girl” and “Breakfast at Tiffanys”?) from a blanket sprawled across the bare living room floor and munching on vegan frozen pizza. Saturday was spent sleeping and then making the most epic of boozy popsicles this side of the Bay has seen. I’m talkin’ cilantro + cucumber + fresh pineapple juice with rum, champagne + strawberries and blackberry + watermelon tequila pops. They were magical, especially paired with Emma’s company and “500 Days of Summer.” And Sunday was spent watching more movies, building shelves and bonding with my dog. Basically I didn’t do much this weekend and that’s how I liked it.
Linking up with Sami.

Shit my dog does

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If you haven’t met Ziggy Stardust yet, allow me to introduce my sausage dog:
Yes, she’s a lady and yes, she is named after a badass male rockstar’s androgynous alter ego. And she does some weird shit (but she doesn’t kidnap infants, thank god).
She goes to town on my sweaty legs after I run. Every single time I work out, she go nuts licking my sweat off. I mean, it’s salt water but grosser and she loves it (this also applies to tears). I don’t get it. She also finds every cut/scab/blister on my body and li-li-licks it like a lollipop.
She does human things like hunting for Easter eggs and eating them afterward, except the longer the eggs sit out in the sun and the worse they smell, the better she likes them. She also sits on couches like a damn lady.
She refuses to sit in the backseat of Betty the Blazer because awkwardly standing with her front legs on the center console and back legs on the backseat is way more comfortable (especially when we make sharp turns and she slams her head against me, Night at the Roxbury style). 
She helps me work out in the worst way possible. When I do downward facing dog, she does upward facing dog under me. She also uses her nose to open cabinets containing treats that her fatty self shouldn’t be eating and binge eats the box (resulting in poop outings every five minutes all night long).
This one’s a new development. She is no longer okay with pooping in regular old grass like a peasant pup, she must have the finest of shrubbery worthy of her shit. Also, she likes to stop mid-run to do her business, usually when I’m on a roll.
She shoves her body as far as it will go under the bed, and when she’s on top of the bed, she spoons with me under the covers. If she starts on top of the covers and wants in the sauna, she paws at my head until I lift them up for her. She then positions her butt right in my face so she can properly Dutch oven me all night long.
And sometimes she spoons with my roommate’s dog, Bro, too.
Now go back that azz up with Whitney Pants.
Happy Friday!

MMG Cribs

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Hey yo! It’s your girl, Kensie, from One to Nothin’. Today Imma be showin’ you mah crib. Come on in! We’ll just cruise right on past the solid gold fountain pumping Riesling out of a life-size Ryan Reynolds statue, skip right through the “cuddle room” where there are 548 puppies who never poop, grow up or chew your shoes and slide right by the self-organizing shoe room packed with color, style and heel height coordinated foot ecstasy and cut right to the good stuff, my room:
On your top left you will see my blogger-cliche affinity for chevron and Target reflected in my shower curtain and again on the bottom left in my duvet cover. If you look to the middle of the top row you will see the dresser that will be arriving this afternoon so that I will no longer have to get dressed out of a suitcase in the mornings. On the top right you will see a pretty warped and self-esteem-damaging full-length mirror followed by the sweet, sweet smell of victory that comes along with finally having curtains (and a not-so-beautiful-but-totes-necessary fan that my super cool sister bought me my first night in CA). She is also the one who got me these sweet birdy decals which my roomie’s dog is already trying to hunt down and snack on. Lastly, full disclosure, my walls are white, not yellow as this photo would strongly suggest and my lamp looks a lot cooler when it’s not glowing like a Katy Perry song.
Before you head out, feel free to munch on some calorie-free sour cream and onion Pringles, lactose-free Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia ice cream and the endless sushi buffet in the kitchen. Watch out for Ziggy though, she just got a new bone today and is running a train on that thing. Like, there’s blood all over it and she put a hole in my new sheets trying to hide it. She also might’ve eaten an entire economy-sized box of milkbones (which are meant for an 80ish-pound dog), so she’s got some lethal gas coming out of her, too. If I were you I’d just hang out by the fountain all day actually.
Aiight, y’all. Imma go roll around in my nickels.
PEACE.

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