I do things as seen here
Dear Neighbor,
Hi! We kind of know each other. We both have dogs and you seem like a cool lady. Your miniature poodle is one of the sweetest and friendliest dogs around. Remember that time he jumped into my car? I thought it was hysterical. I figure you have to be a pretty decent human being to have such a sweet pup. Plus, occasionally we’ve had random, but pleasant conversations. Continue reading “An Open Letter to My Neighbor”
I think I may be one of those rare “single people” who don’t mind Valentine’s Day. In fact, not only do I not mind, I have an annual tradition set in place since I was 17 years old! It started one fine Valentine’s Day back in 2007 (Yikes I’m getting older O.o). My friends and I were in the local grocery store, walking in like a badass posse strutting our independence because we drove ourselves in my Mom’s Mini-Van. I rocked the shit out of that van back in the day.
My friends and I had planned on going back to my house and baking a crap ton of delicious treats while watching a movie. As we were getting ready to leave the grocery store, I happened upon a rack of movies. It was there that I found THE Valentine’s Day movie of a lifetime. I picked up The Departed and thought to myself “I have no clue what this movie is about, but for the sake of looking cool, I’m going to go with this one.” Yes friends, I picked a violent Boston mob film to watch on Valentine’s Day. The ridiculous part was, that it went well! I thoroughly enjoyed the film, as did my friends. Thus a tradition was born.
Fast forward 4 years, and I found myself carrying out my beloved tradition at college in Flagstaff. I invited my friends over for dinner, treats, and a super badass film. I was particularly excited because a certain someone I may or may not have had a crush on was going to be in attendance. Again, I stress the may or may not. It was one of those situations where you aren’t terribly too sure, or at the very least you didn’t want anyone to really know about it. So naturally I did the “deny deny deny” charade for some time.
As I was preparing the food and getting ready for my friends to arrive, I felt a sudden twinge of anxiety and nervousness. I began to feel pretty anxious about all of these people coming over. So naturally, like any smart 21 year old, I decided to drink the anxiety away. After all, what’s the harm in getting a little buzz on before company arrives? Of course, my intelligent, self had not eaten in quite some time, so let’s just say the booze did it’s job.
I “came alive” as my friends piled into my house. It was quite a good sized group, so I was pretty happy with the turnout. Drinks were pouring, people were eating, then all of a sudden, he showed up. Zack entered the room casually late with desserts in hand. I think one of the things I admired most about him was his thoughtfulness. So my buzzed (errr, drunk) ass goes over to greet and look over the tasty treats he’s provided.
I must preface this by saying I am a closeted picky eater. Seriously, there are only two pies that I like: apple and cherry. So looking at his selection, to my horror, Zack had purchased a peach pie. I hate peach pie. Of course, I had planned on doing the nice mature thing by saying “thank you” but my drunk brain had something else in mind. Staring down at the pie I thought to myself “Great he brought peach pie, because I f*cking hate it”. All of a sudden I hear several gasps and the room got quiet.To my shock and horror, what I “thought” I had said to myself, I actually ended up saying out loud. I looked up and surveyed the room to see the stunned faces looking at me. Zack’s face was bright red as I tried to fumble through a terrible retraction/apology.
Fortunately for me, he was pretty gracious about the whole thing and decided to tease me about for some time, and it later became the joke amongst our group. Later that year I made a peach pie for his birthday as a peace offering. As the hostess with the mostest, I proceeded to shove peach pie down everyone’s throats as a sign of solidarity. Needless to say, that was the first dessert finished that night. Even after my little debacle, it was still a great night.
Well folks, that’s how not to behave on Valentine’s Day. Here are a few key takeaways that I hope you’ve gotten from my awesome little blunder
I hope everyone had a swell Valentine’s day!
Lounging in boy shorts has been a pastime of mine for some time now. For those of you who’ve been reading this blog, it’s no secret that pants and I have made a “conscientious uncoupling”. As it turns out, my lack of enthusiasm for pants could be considered a genetic trait, if you will.
Rewind 8 years ago, (8 years?!!) to my senior year in high school, my life was good. Being the overachiever that I was, my last semester allowed me to take only 4 classes since I had already acquired 8 units of college courses through playing in several university orchestras and some math classes at the local JC (I got shit done back then). Since my plate was full, I opted to just go home everyday at lunch, hit the gym, take a nap (I discovered the gloriousness of naps), and then go my rehearsals at UC Riverside in the evening. As I said, life was swell. I had a taste for independence and managed to pseudo-achieve it at 17 (or so I thought). My schedule rocked and I could not have been happier. That is, until one day, my dad had gotten sick and stayed home.
Due to my modified schedule, and the fact that both my parents had careers, I was free to roam at home by myself most days. Kobe and I would have our afternoon nap post-gym and I went about the rest of my tasks for the day. One fine spring’s day, I came home as I would any other day, I came home to one of the most awkward situations since Robin Thicke’s pathetic attempt to get his wife back (yes, it was
I unlocked the door, and went through the kitchen only to find my dear ol’ Dad in the kitchen making a sandwich, naked as the day he was born. To add insult to injury, this dude was on the phone talking business! Our eyes met and he looked like a child getting caught trying to sneak some cookies from the jar. I’ll never forget the look on his face as long as I’ll live. Now fortunately for me, the good Lord intervened and saw to it that the cutting board had been pulled out so I would not be scarred for life.
After a quick nano-second, I roared, “Dad!!! What the hell are you doing?!!!” Not even missing a beat, he replied, “I’m making a sandwich, what are you doing home?” (He was/is terrible with remembering details and schedules). I then reminded him that I only went to school for 4 periods and went on to say how creepy it is to make sandwiches in the nude while talking on the phone. To make matters even worse, the bay windows were open shining heaps of light.
After the brief weird encounter, I grumbled off, got ready for the gym, and went about the rest of my day. To this day, my dad and I laugh about it, and thank God that the cutting board had been where it was, otherwise I would not be the girl behind this laptop you read about today. Had that event taken the unfortunate turn that it could’ve, I have no doubt that I would be in a room with padded walls, unable to cope with the real world. Welp, I guess my love of no pants had to come from somewhere. Who else has had an unfortunate encounter with a family member?
Taryn Was Here 