Karma is a real thing.

From previous posts, you know I rescued a puppy. A very sweet, loveable, well-behaved puppy... That has severe separation anxiety issues. 

I'm not sure what the previous owners did to this poor pup, but he panics when I get in the shower because he doesn't understand that when I close the shower curtain I'm still there. 

I started dropping him off at my parents' house this week... 5am drop off, 530pm pick up. It's been working it beautifully for the past three days, until I made a jackass move. 

Work has been draining the life from me, so when I woke up late (as in I woke up at 5:07 and had a negative seven minutes to drop this puppy off), I was a little spacey and scattered. I threw on some mismatched work clothes, grabbed my makeup and a granola bar, picked up leo and ran out the door. He did his morning bathroom routine at my parents' house this day. 

Still rushing, I left my keys in the door so I  wouldn't have to screw around with them later to lock back up, and brought Leo in. Once he was all set up, I panicked because I couldn't find my keys ("scattered" may have been a very nice adjective for this morning). I put his poop bag that I planned on taking to the trash on my way out on the kitchen island counter and got his good bowl set up. After talking to myself out loud and also asking Leo where my keys were as if he was going to answer, I saw the door cracked open and proceeded to feel moronic as I remembered I left them in the door. I ran to the door, rushed out, and headed to work. 

It wasn't until I reached my desk at work that I had to call my mom and have the following conversation... Which the new girl at work heard, however only my side of this conversation making me seem like a strangely gross crazy person...

Me: Heyyyy mom. Good morning! 

Mom: Good morning.. it's early what's up?

Me: I'm guessing you haven't gone to the kitchen yet this morning? 

Mom: No, I'm getting ready for work... Why??

Me: Well in that case I'm really REALLY sorry in advance..

Mom: K.... WHY are you sorry?....

Me: I left poop on the counter and I'm really sorry I feel like a real asshole. 

Mom: WHAT?! You jerk! Throw your dog's shit bag away!!!

Me: ahhh I know I'm so sorry I was rushing and forgot and I meant to toss it! That's why I wanted to apologize for doing such a shitty thing... Ha. Shitty. Get it? 

Mom:..........yes. I get it. (Laughing now... She's got a decent sense of humor)

Me: I won't leave poop on your counter again!! I promise!! 

I get off the phone with my mom, relieved that she wasn't too angry, and turned around to see the new girl on our team giving me a really awkward and I uncomfortable glance. 

Me: Ohhhhh no. It was Leo's poop. Not mine.

Ads: ...and Leo is?... 

Me: Oh! My puppy!! It was in a bag from his walk. 

Ads: Thank god. I was grossed out for a second. 

Here is where the karma happens. Later that day, we'd wrapped up some hiring process events, and the managers came back and wanted to add additional pieces to the process that we've never done before. 

Basically, my version of shit on the counter was getting to recreate everything I had just shredded that afternoon. Ugh. 

Parking lot phenomenon

There is always that place you go frequently and have to park. Most people call it work, in my case it's the outskirts of hell. Disclaimer: this will probably sound racist, however it is kist a blunt observation of my experience this morning and nothing more. 

I dropped off Leo at puppy daycare this morning (read: my parents' house because the poor pup has severe separation anxiety and freaks the shit out whenever I leave). I'm already running a little late and remember I have to get gas (I reay love my car because it not only tells me how shitty I'm driving and that my mileage efficiency is dropping, but it also reminds me that I need an oil change soon. Yay for spending money on cars!) I gas up, head over the bridge, and off to Dante's Inferno to make that paycheck! 

Upon arriving, and singing some Civil Wars, I back into a space near the middle of a row, with one car on my passenger side. I sat there for a minute, shamelessly taking a selfie (behind my pink leopard window shades) to get BC's opinion of my new hair style. Update: this hair color is a keeper. Reluctantly, I turned off my engine, open my door, and hop out. It was taking me a minute to get myself and my belongings together (purse, lunch bag, coffee, more coffee) when this Asian lady comes speeding down the aisle. 

Let me be very clear when I say that the row I was parked in was very open. It was before 6am, there were quite literally about sixty empty spaces around me. This beehive comes speed racing down this row, and starts to turn into the space directly next to me... While my door I OPEN and I'm standing there getting my stuff out of the car. Mrs Jeff Gordon slams on her brakes, and proceeds to wave her hands around frantically. 

Ohhhhh, NO. If you want THIS spot, you can wait two minutes for me to move instead of plowing me down, otherwise suck it up and move six feet over to the next space, crazy.  Instead of yelling this at her like I was in my mind, I smile and wave back, yelling, "Good morning!" 

Asian Lady was not happy with this. Because I'm what I consider a sweet girl, I closed my door a bit so this psycho could park in the space next to me. She takes up that opportunity very quickly and zips into the space, proceeding to scrape the curb with her bumper. NICE. 

I decided the best course of action for me was to get the hell away from this crazy as fast as I could. 

...and then I hear the click-clack slaps of undersized six inch heels behind me... And I received the dirtiest look I've seen in a while from this broad. 

I think people forget to be courteous because these aren't strangers here, these are coworkers. 

Look out for the crazies, everyone!

Bug Central

Nic and I live in the suburbs. We are suburbanites living on the edge of the boonies, actually. Our complex backs up to a massive field that separates us from the highway that takes you right out of this crazy town. The majority of this side of the city is comprised of strip malls facing well built neighborhoods, surrounded by fields and wetland areas. 

At my parents' house, which was less than a quarter mile from one of the biggest wetland preserve areas in the city of not the biggest, there were always little creatures showing up: frogs hanging out on the hose, snakes in the pool, mice roaming the sidewalk before the neighborhood cats got them, and you could hear owls all the time at night. At my and Nic's place, it's not too much different. So far, we've had the centipede fiasco (see post, will link later), which has now been followed up by a few more creature events. 

Earlier this week, comfortably tucked in my bed attempting to finally get some shut eye, I hear Nic yell my name and slam a door. That's never a good sign. If this girl wasn't one of the most amazing people I've ever known in my life, I'd have stayed in bed. She is. I got up. She's now in a towel staying clear of the bathroom and asking me to help her get rid of the spider between her shower curtain and the liner. I'm thinking it's just a little spider, so I grab a tissue and pull back the curtain. 

NO. Fuck no. This was no little spider. It was clearly furry and vicious. This bastard glared at me with it's mean little eyes and darted toward me. This was no job for a tissue, this was a job for Clorox all surface cleaner with bleach (this is not a plug, that just happens to be what we have under the sink). 

I ran back into the bathroom telling Nic I'm gonna kill the little shit, pulled back the curtain again, and it was GONE. Talk about scary. After a couple minutes of searching it resurfaced on the curtain liner and I sprayed the hell out of it. I had all direct hits and sprayed this bleach cleaner on the spider until it was dripping. 

IT RAN AWAY. The bleach didn't phase it at ALL. This event quickly became nearly as creepy as the centipede. These critters here are bionic. 

Fed up and freaked out, I grabbed my old running sneaker, hit the shower curtain and smashed it when it hit the floor. VICTORY! 

KC: 2, nasty bugs: 0. 

Okay, so, the next day I was working overtime at home, physically and mentally drained, so my mother decides to bring me dinner so it's one less thing I have to think about (and it was very much appreciated because I probably would have just ended up making some strange concoction of leftover tostadas and cereal. 

She gets to the door, and before she knocks I knew she was there. How? The childlike scream of "what the hell is that?! Eew!!" Coming from my mother on the other side of the door. 

Apparently, there was a snake that slithered in front of her from one planter area to the other side of our door. Good lord. 

Now, TODAY, I'm laying in bed icing my ankle (I sprained it yesterday at the gun range; hilarious injury story to follow in another post... Probably the one with the chicken standoff). I look over at the wall, and what must have been the child or younger brother of the shower spider was hanging out. This time I jumped up, called for Nic, and attempted to paper towel kill it. 

Nic has had just as rough a week as I have, making her initial solution much more effective than mine. She grabbed one of my flip flops, slammed it against the wall, and scraped the spider off on our patio. DONE. 

We make great roommates. :) 

Chipped

"This thing we have, it's--it's never been easy. I've... I've lost you so many times. I've lost you to darkness, to weakness, and finally, to death. But now I realize... I realize that I have not spent my life losing you. I've spent my life finding you."

"...When we met, I wasn't just unloved and unloving. I was an enemy of love. Love only brought me pain. My walls were up. But you brought them down. You brought me home. You brought life into my life and chased away all the darkness. I will never forget the distance between what I was and what I am. I owe more to you than I can ever say. How you can see the man behind the monster I will never know."

"...But that monster is gone. And the man beneath him may be flawed... but we all are. And I love you for it. Sometimes the best book has the dustiest jacket. And sometimes the best teacup is chipped."

for a later date

Not talking to you is easily one of the hardest things I've had to do. It's a conscious decision every time, and I can't tell you how many times a day I want to tell you about things that are happening... good, bad, and everything silly in between, even if it's just to give you a laugh or two. I miss you terribly, so much that it's a physical feeling. There's a hole in my chest. There is an unyielding and insatiable emptiness.

I can hold my breath, fake a smile, bite my tongue, force a laugh, play the part, dance the dance. I'd stay awake for days and turn on the charm and pretend like it doesn't destroy me if that's what you need me to do. I can do all of that if that's what you want in order to be happy. I can be there as your friend, and I can be the best friend you've ever had. What I can't do is pretend that I don't love you. I can't pretend that I don't know that it's real and true and mind-blowing and soul saving and ravenous and ecstatic. I can't pretend that I remember what life was like before you were present in mine.

And I can't tell you all of these things directly because I love you, and right now that means not saying a word.

Fun facts

Fun facts & things I'm learning (about myself): 

1. I will gladly opt for cleaning dirty dishes , but please don't ask me to put away clean ones. Ugh.

2. Same with laundry. Usually the pile of clothes on the floor is clean, not dirty. 

3. I am just now, after twenty something years, starting to use pens with blue ink. For as long as I can remember the sight of blue ink when I write has given me anxiety. 

4. On that note, my handwriting cj she's quite often, and can get disgustingly messy... Like a doctor. 

5. I hate bacon, onions, and cucumbers. Gross.

6. I love strawberry lemonade and drink water more than fish. 

7. Rockstar energy drinks spike my anxiety, so I'm now not drinking them anymore.  

8. I have an intense phobia of all winged creatures (except penguins because they're adorable and playful). This is thanks to multiple attacks from geese at ages 2, 8, and 21. 

9. PMS treats me like I'm a werewolf; a few days out of the month I turn into a monster and want to attack everyone. My

Apologies in advance. 

10. I'm not broken, sad, or pitiful. I don't typically get upset because of things that happen to myself because I don't really feel bad for myself. Majority of times I'm truly upset are because someone I care for deeply is doing something, saying something, or making a decision that isn't good for them. Sometimes I get mad at the universe for throwing some Olympic obstacles my way, and it's frustrating. 

11. There are very few episodes of Saturday Night Live that I find side-splitting funny. 

12. There is nothing in the world like feeling for someone in a way you can't put into words. 

13. I used to think pink was my favorite color, right after I thought orange was, and blue before that. None of those were because that's what I was influenced. 

14. For a very long time I made decisions about what I liked and what I wanted based on my surroundings and opinions of others. A couple years ago I stopped being a chameleon and stated choosing things for me. I've always liked turquoise. 

15. I'm too hopeful. 

People are amazing

Disclaimer: I do not in any way see myself as better than any other person, not do I have a closed mind, judge too harshly, or assume the worst in people. I realize this may come off as arrogant and, well, for lack of a better descriptor, bitchy, but it is only out of frustration! 

My career entails a vast amount of organizational and multitasking skills. For the past (almost) two years, I've been assigned workloads equivalent of two full-time employees (one that retired and was a classification above mine, but that rant won't happen today). It's demanding and draining to say the least, mostly because the certain individuals outside of my team that I'm required to work with are often "last minute" people. Not cool bro, not cool. 

Our division conducts hiring practices and processes almost quarterly, sometimes more often and they overlap. A job opportunity notice was just posted to the external, statewide website. This means for the next ten days, Meus and I get to field a plethora of mind-blowing phone inquiries about the position. 

"I currently work here, can I apply?" 

You can do whatever you'd like. 

"Who do I put as the contact person?" 

You're talkin' to her... Same person you just contacted from the notice. 

"Can I just email you my application?" 

You can, but that's not what the instructions say. 

"Why should I even apply again because YOU didn't hire me last time?"

I didn't make any decisions about who was hired. Maybe your interview sucked. 

These all sound like legitimate questions, however the job posting clearly covers every single item we get questions about. EVERY time. The instructions are clearly listed under the "How to Apply" section, and contact and job information is all labeled and provided. Basically, these peeps don't want to read. 

Meus and I share a workstation table in between our desks. Each process, there is an inbox labeled "APPLICATIONS HERE" with a giant, highlighted arrow pointing toward the inbox... 

It never fails... Multiple times a day, someone will walk up to me and ask where they turn in their application... If you found my desk in this maze of a building with 3000 people working in it, I would like to also think you can read a sign that's right in front of you and couldn't be more obvious with strobe lights attached to it. 

WHAT. THE. HELL?! Get it together people!! 

It sounds insensitive and negative and condescending, but when you have to work two full time jobs and are getting paid for one, patience runs short. 

Rant over! Funny chicken story to come later!

Today's Downtown Photo Shoot!

I never knew how they really worked until I was a senior in high school, and even then I thought it was a requirement to have them taken in a studio with props and backdrops. Nope. Definitely not the case! I learned this when I saw some of my friends' photos that were outside and just damn beautiful. Nothing compares to natural lighting.

Over the past few years, I've done many photo shoots, and only one of them has been indoors. Other than professional softboxes and ramps in a photo studio, I have an extremely hard time feeling good about photos I take indoors. Natural lighting amazes me every time I do a professional shoot outside.

I mentioned the mass amounts of anxiety that was consuming me the other night in anticipation for today's shoot, and waking up this morning it was still slightly present. Confession: I have a crippling fear of disappointing people I care about. The woman for whom I was doing photos of her daughter for has been my friend for about six years now. I've worked with her and gotten to know her and I've seen her go through ups and downs; she's nothing short of fantastic. Even though she's not someone that I consider extremely close to me (of those there are truly just a handful), our friendship means a lot to me, and the last thing I wanted to do was charge someone for me to disappoint them.

Honestly, I don't charge nearly enough for the work I produce and the effort I put into it, but I have a different belief than most photographers when it comes to shoots and the final product. Photography does not provide my living; I don't depend on gigs and shoots to pay my bills, but I pick up my camera because I enjoy it and there is something about composing a photo and capturing that specific moment in time that will never happen again that is intriguing to me. I also like making people feel wonderful about themselves, and sometimes (mostly for girls) a photo shoot complete with hair and make-up and favorite outfits do the trick. All the shoots I've done, especially senior portraits, I overshoot and choose the best ones after. I do put a cap on how many I'll make drastic edits to (sepia, black and white, etc), however, when I burn the disc, every photo I took (minus any with eyes shut or that are really just not great) goes on the disc. What am I going to do with them? The parents and the models all give me permission to use the photos on my site, and I obviously archive the files, so why not let them enjoy every piece of the day as well? So some of them won't be digitally mastered like the others, but as a parent, they're all going to be beautiful photos. That's their baby, and, chances are, there are some dorky bloopers from light testing that turn out to be adorable photos anyway.

Over lunch (at which I had the BEST beer of my life- regrettably since it's now giving me massive side pains) my friend told me about some other friends of hers that own a photography company, and offered to do the whole package for her - announcements, thank-you cards, invitations, etc. They asked her why she didn't choose them, and she enlightened them. I was the better option because she trusts me, she's comfortable with me, and there is a no-pressure open communication with me. If they had an idea they wanted to try, they both felt that they could tell me and ask me if we can do that, and likewise, there were a few times walking between locations that I'd see a spur of the moment shot, ask her to turn around and snap the shot. Those were some of the best. I was also the better option because she knows she can always come back to me and ask me if I'd design announcements or invitations or send photos out to be professionally printed, and she didn't have to make the decisions on the spot. I suppose this is an extremely terrible business model for me, but it's not a business, so it all works out. Plus, I'm getting referrals out of this and have another senior portrait shoot lined up for two years from now when her youngest graduates high school. SWEEEEEEET.

A few hundred bucks for a few hours of fun? Totally worth it. After writing that it sounds a little dirty, but I promise I'm talking about clean photo shoots, people!

Oh yeah, and happy Star Wars day! May the 4th be with you! (The Catholic school girl in me always wants to say "and also with you" like we did at Peace in Mass every single Friday. Ugh.)

I might post photos. I haven't quite decided yet. What I DO know is that I'm hopping into bed! I had a nice bubble bath with candles and wine, and now this girl needs some sleep! See y'all later!

xoxo

Hamster At Large

Y'all better keep your kids and animals in the house, there's a medium-sized rodent at large in my apartment complex. 


Yeah, I can't make this shit up. 

It's about 8:45am, and Leo and I are out for his morning walk. Our building happens to be next to the kids playground area, and there are a few little kids playing. Leo and I walk to his favorite spot on the grass (less than a week and he has a favorite spot already). I noticed that someone's apartment door was propped open, and a couple of the kids (they were all about 5-7 years old) were running back and forth in and out of it. Pretty normal. Not to mention that the weather was beautiful and felt amazing. As soon as we got back I opened all of our windows!

Leo and I make our way back around the complex and are passing the playground area again when a man steps out of the opened apartment yelling at, who I'm assuming was, his daughter. 

Angry Dad:"GRACE! Where is the hamster?!"
(Who I'm assuming was Grace): "He's in his cage!"
Angry Dad: "No he's not! Grace get over here!" ...no response, just more monkey bars... "GRACE I'M NOT JOKING! GET OVER HERE! WHERE IS THE HAMSTER!?"
Grace: "I dunno I guess he got out!"
Angry Dad: "GRACE. The door is open and he's not in his cage! You better start looking for him because I am NOT getting you another one!"

I wasn't sure if at this point Leo was jumping with excitement because we were next to the playground and he adores little kids, or because he heard that a little furry friend he could chase was now on the loose. Probably the former, but this dog is quite surprising. 

We're still near the playground, and Grace yells over to me, "Hey miss! Can I pet your dog?" I said absolutely, just be careful around his leg. Grace walks over, squats down to pet Leo, doesn't take her eyes off of him for a second, and nonchalantly says, "So my hamster escaped his cage and is probably lost now. If you see him could you please make sure your dog doesn't eat him? Thanks!" ...and immediately took off back toward the oversized plastic slide. 

Oh goodness. Now not only are we on the lookout for cats letting themselves into our house under our feet when we open the door (they actually do just bolt in out of nowhere), but now we get to keep an eye out for a loose hamster.

So strange, but I love kids. They're so entertaining. It's fun to think that I was that entertaining at one point!

He's Just Not That Into You

...is by far one of my favorite movies. Yes, it's a typical chick flick. It's also wonderfully and insanely easy to relate to, no matter where you are in your life because everyone has been through at least one of those situations at some point. 

I've lived my life believing that I'm the rule; that other girls get the man who does something extraordinary, shows up as a night in shining armor, and they ride off into the sunset on the beach while the snow gently falls and makes everything peaceful (I know, that would never really happen). That girl gets ecstatically every after, while my slow poke in tinfoil on a donkey is taking his sweet ass time (that's a joke, FYI. I have a shitload of awesome coming my way!).  

THEN, one day, a lightbulb that could probably illuminate the western seaboard turned on in my head: I don't have to be the rule because I'm SOMEBODY'S exception. That realization has proved to be probably one of the most substantial self-discoveries I've ever made. My whole life I've been the believer of an indescribable happily ever after for me. I've come to find out that it's there, it just doesn't look anything like I'd imagined it, and that's okay. 

I've also learned the waffle-spaghetti theory: men are waffles and women are spaghetti. Following me? The male brain has a generally more prominent ability to compartmentalize events and feelings and well, everything in their life. Not saying that female brains don't, it's just much more remarkable in men. Women, on the other hand, and you ALL know what I'm talking about, are like spaghetti. Three completely unrelated events could happen that have nothing to do with each other, but each event (spaghetti noodle) touches another, and sometimes gets in knots. Susie Q wakes up, spills her coffee, has to go to a meeting with people she doesn't agree with, and she's frustrated about getting into an argument with a family member two days ago, which then causes the printer to break and gas to be too expensive. Yeah, spaghetti. 

Girls are taught a lot of stuff growing up. If a guy punches you he likes you. Never try to trim your own bangs and someday you will meet a wonderful guy and get your very own happy ending. Every movie we see, Every story we're told implores us to wait for it, the third act twist, the unexpected declaration of love, the exception to the rule. But sometimes we're so focused on finding our happy ending we don't learn how to read the signs. How to tell from the ones who want us and the ones who don't, the ones who will stay and the ones who will leave. And maybe a happy ending doesn't include a guy, maybe... it's you, on your own, picking up the pieces and starting over, freeing yourself up for something better in the future. Maybe the happy ending is... just... moving on. Or maybe the happy ending is this, knowing after all the unreturned phone calls, broken-hearts, through the blunders and misread signals, through all the pain and embarrassment you never gave up hope.

Definitely the best part of the movie right there. It's all fairly accurate. I'm not sure that guys feel that way about things, but I'm sure there are many women out there who can relate! At least for me, hope keeps me alive. 

The Black Box of Anxiety

I know most of my posts are about ridiculous events and being silly. That's because I have to be. I'm a person that has to remain positive and smiling, even if that smile is screwed on so right the screw is about to be stripped. 

Everyone has something going on. I do my best to smile and say hi to everyone I see. You never know, that tiny bit of kindness could change their day. 

The brain is the ultimate mystery, the "black box". It's a funny, really. I'm typing this, I can hear the words in my head, I'm just not sure if I'm hearing them the way I actually sound. Rationally, I know this is silly, but then that part of my brain that encourages the curiosity thinks it's amazing. 

For a long time, I'd lie awake at night for hours, unable to shut my brain down. One thought would transition into another  stream of thoughts that would turn into another. It seemed neverending. Hours of sleep would disappear, and all I could think the next day was how much I had to get done at work and at home, and how I was going to make sure I'd get in bed early enough to get decent sleep. It didn't matter that I was in bed at 7:30pm, my brain wouldn't stop running in circles until easily 11pm when my eyes overruled and forced my brain to sleep. 

I would argue with myself, rationalize, bargain, tell myself "that's OK, I can deal with that tomorrow, but right now I'm going to sleep," or, "take a minute and breathe. Chill out." All to no avail. 

There are many different types of anxiety. Mine happens to be worrying or thinking about things that either haven't happened yet, won't happen, or things I'm blowing out of proportion unintentionally. Typically, it happens when I'm the least distracted- when I'm lying in bed at the end of the day and events have happened and there's nothing I can do about it, or when I'm in the shower trying to remember everything I think I'm forgetting. Even now, I've been working on this post for about two hours... Annnnd this is how far I've gotten. It's very hard to translate feelings into writing sometimes. 

Quick sidenote- super excited for Sunday... As in May 4th... As in May the fourth be with you... Yay! (And every time someone says that, the catholic school girl part of me that was forced to go to mass every Friday wants to reply with "and also with you"). 

I've had this recent self-discovery thing happen which has surprisingly helped my anxiety. It's basically doing whatever the hell I want, and doing more. I've spent more time with my friends (mostly Nic and Kimber), catching up with my brother (who I'm forcing to guest-post his AP FRQ response because it's fantastic), and investing in a puppy named Leo (that absolutely adores Nic's son. I think he'd rather hang out with him than me any day). It's been very enlightening, this spending a lot of time with myself, too. I know what I want, and I know what I don't want. 

Anyway, here's my issue tonight: I work freelance photography jobs in addition to my full-time job. I love photography, but for some reason, every time I book a shoot, I wind up with a rush of anxiety within the week prior to the event. I psych myself out, I doubt myself, and I worry that I'm going to somehow, well, fuck it up. I'm not really sure why this happens, because every time I have a wonderful time with fantastic people, and the result is gorgeous photographs. It's like a massive weight on my chest (which is definitely not my allergy-induced asthma because I've taken full advantage of my inhaler today), and I really just want to get it over with. That sounds terrible. It sounds like I hate what I do. I've come to find (another recent self-discovery) that I don't ever want to be a professional photographer. EVER. For me to full enjoy every aspect of photography, I have to shoot what I love; it cannot ever be for work or to provide a living. Living in a manner that requires me to depend on intermittent work and shoots is unacceptable. Plus, I refuse to be desensitized by something I enjoy for recreation. 

So that's that. I suppose I can't be anxious about it. I'm a damn good photographer, and I will exceed my own expectations at this shoot this weekend. 

I hope. 

Drink Nights

Nic and I thought of a BRILLIANT idea last night: Tequila-Wine Thursdays! This concept works with shots of tequila, limes, pink moscato, and a best friend that makes you pee your pants laughing. 

Steps!: 

Cut up the limes. You probably only need one, at least we did. We didn't make it past that. 

Pour yourself some moscato or whatever other girly-ass wine you prefer. It can't be red, though, or else you might want to die. 

Get tequila shots poured! Grab whichever half-full bottle of Jose you want from the booze shelf and pour! 

Turn on some 90s gangsta and boyband music so annoy the shit out of your upstairs neighbors because it's 915pm and for once they aren't making noise (it IS possible he was on a drug/beer run. We don't know for sure). 

Cheers! LickSlamSuck the shot (yeah, don't forget salt), or if you're Nic, just shoot it and immediately pour another. Chose this with the wine! 

Okay, I'm a wimp. For me it was more like Lick-Slam-Suck-Cringe-frantically search for a chaser-Wine. 

Now feel free to sit on the kitchen floor and laugh your ass off with your bestie!

Alright... So I made a huge mistake... 

After a shot of tequila and glass of wine, I wasn't terribly trashed and was happy about that. After all, I had a lot of sleeping in and not getting up for overtime to do this morning, so I didn't want to feel horrendous. 

Yeah. That didn't work so well. New lesson learned, everyone! Do NOT mix tequila, wine, and Jack Daniels. EVER. You're gonna wake up and feel like a train ran over your eyeballs and popped them back in your skull with a hammer. 

I figured since tequila wine night was going pretty safely I could have another drink. I mixed up some jack Daniels and coke zero (a SMALL glass), drank it, and woke up hating myself. 

Wino Wednesdays and Tequila-Wine Thursdays are no more. RIP.