They Say It's Your Birthday

If you aren't friends with me on facebook and got the ~someone has a birthday~ email or follow me on twitter and listen to me talk about how I'm not sure how to feel about it or if you just don't know me at all, I have a birthday this week. Tomorrow, actually. Big ol' 22 years old. I'm still as excited about birthdays like I'm still 5. I want presents. I want cake. I want people to just fawn over me and pay attention to me me me. Nope, no one else gets to have a birthday when I have one. I'm the important one here, hello.

All my vanities aside, I feel like I get the right to be selfish and spoiled on my birthday. I wasn't even supposed to be born. I fell in that 1% that the birth control can't control. Not only was I not supposed to even be here, I gave my mom hell while she was carrying me with diabetes. Then to top it off, I was born early and I was sick. So sick that I made my grandfather cry because he thought there was no chance in hell I'd make it. I had see through eyelids, people. That's why there are no newborn pictures of me. No one wants to see that shit. That ain't normal or cute. Plus I never slept and apparently looked like Yoda. What. Even.

Yet here I am. I should live to celebrate my birthday. I should be excited that I made it to another year, with or without the threat of a family member telling me to stop whatever I'm doing if I want to make it to that next birthday (if I could have a dollar for every time I heard that....it'd all be gone by the next day. I suck at money. It's whatever). And I am. I just miss people other than myself making a big deal of it. I mean, yeah every year my mom and I have a few drinks and she tells me the same stories every year and how I scared the shit out of everyone because no one knew if I was going to be okay or not, but I'd at least like it if letting me pick out a restaurant wasn't like pulling teeth...mom.

So yay! Happy birthday to me! I'm happy to have not died! And yes, I wish I could get something to signify how lucky I am with a tattoo. Preferably while on NY Ink while crying my eyes out about how grateful I am and all that blah blah blah.

Pipe dreams, y'all. Pipe dreams.

Down with the brown, Easter & How I'm surving The Storm of the Century (so far)

so this weekend, Bryan and I went to his mom's yesterday morning (after some badass Waffle House. can I get a hell yeah?) to get our hair done and I went through a hair transformation.

WHOA, BROWN HAIR? WHO AM I?

no really, I've been blonde off and on and usually stick to red so I'm back to what's considered my natural color. this is so weird. so. weird.

we also went to the Dublin Dr. Pepper Bottling Factory for a paper & then we sat around during Storm of the Century, pt. 1 in which I cried because there was a tornado near my house and I wasn't there to be freaked out with my family and drank a whole bottle of wine but didn't get drunk at all. and now it's Storm of the Century pt. 2 (possibly) and I already moved my car in Bryan's garage so I ain't going nowhere. plus it's trying to flood/hail and I'm trying not to throw up out of nerves and beerin' it up and trying to do math homework without crying.

oh and we also went to the Ft. Worth Zoo for another paper/so I could see the fake dinosaurs and almost scream/barf in the reptile house (I hate snakes. I'm just like Indiana Jones!) now if you excuse me, I'm gonna stress eat a chocolate bunny.

hope y'all had a good weekend/Easter!

so the other day when I was cleaning, iTunes was being wonderful and syncing songs up perfectly on shuffle. I'm a big fan of shuffle. anyways, it was making the perfect spring mix but I got distracted and forgot to write it down so I could make a mix. so I'm going to attempt a half assed version of a mix with youtube. deal with it, punks.














enjoy and laugh at my weirdo taste in music!