What happens when you move to the burbs and go crazy.


This is probably part 1 of many.

My husband and I made the agreeable next step in marriage and bought a house, in the burbs, even though kids are nowhere in our near future. Not being millionaires and including a pool on the must-have list, burbs were the only fit. The dreaded burbs. I work downtown, so my life has been pure torture. Since I now spend about 13 hours a week commuting, audio-books and podcasts are like fried food after a night of excessive drinking, necessary to survive but would be more enjoyable under different circumstances. I’ve been hooked on topics focused around political injustices of varying kinds, listening to American Sniper, Serial Podcast, In Cold Blood, and now Sword and Scale Podcast, which is a True Crime podcast that is absolutely chilling and addictive. This heightened amount of awareness in a short period of time leaves me feeling outraged, enlightened, a bit scared, and empowered all at the same time. When shit gets too real and I start thinking about who I might know that has a dark side, why is the world so fucked up, and how we can do nothing because money always wins or the system is so flawed, I have to take a step back and listen to Chelsea Handler memoirs and Pitbull hits. I seem to falter between deliberate ignorance and too much awareness. The most recent episode I listened to reminded me that I need to add some people to the “No Fly” list at the front gate. YOU NEVER KNOW WHAT PEOPLE ARE GOING TO DO, TRUST YOUR GUT. This is when shit gets too real and I switch to Bang, Bang and listen to Chelsea handler call her lady parts some funny-sounding Jewish word.


I also consistently feel so sorry for myself commuting, which is ironic (in a sad way) since there are many other real problems in the world that I’m slightly obsessed with becoming aware about lately. I have no chill when it comes to the issues that surround commuting, even though they are entirely out of my hands. I yelled at a person in their car causing a traffic jam, keeping my bus from getting to me and adding time to my already ridiculous commute. After, I realized how crazy I must have looked and now people were avoiding me on the bus. No. Chill. This could get me shot one day, so I need to get a grip. I realize lots of people commute but I don’t understand how or why. No one feels too bad for me, except me. After going through two tanks of gas in a week, paying for tolls and still taking an hour minimum each way, then paying for parking downtown, I decided the bus was the next step. I absolutely hate the bus and the only thing that would make it worthwhile would be bringing wine with me for the afternoon commute home. Let’s be real, some mimosas in the morning would make life a lot better too. I have not crossed these options off the list but feel compelled to disclaim for the public and if my boss ever reads this that I would only  ever seriously consider drinking on the ride home from work.


Currently taking donations for a helicopter and a wine club membership, new job offers that don’t involve commuting, and suggestions for audio-books.  



Things I have learned while being engaged


This isn’t for the faint of heart. Here is my list of things I have learned during this process.

  • Men will rarely say something positive to your fiancé about marriage – even if you are standing right there. And by rarely I mean never. It is quite sad since I think Adam is actually excited. Society will rarely say anything positive about marriage. Movies become uncomfortable because the women are so freaking crazy and the men are so unattached as soon as they get married. Gone Girl is not the best date night movie close to a wedding. We tried to laugh it off – but it messes with your mind.
  • Everyone has an opinion. About everything. And they are all different. You don’t want an overpriced tiered cake? You don’t want cake at all? You want to elope? Just do what YOU and your fiancé want!!
  • The things that don’t matter to you matter to everyone else. And you will get hounded about them even if you state you don’t care.
  • Even if you happen to have been a super chill bride at first – not concerned with the crazy stuff everyone expects brides to do (like save the dates), the last month will be hell. HELL. And if you hate confrontation, planning and small details like I do (big picture kind of person), it will be your absolute worst nightmare. You can’t avoid it. Ignorantly I thought it would not happen to me. Of course it did. You are not immune to the crazy that happens!
  • You will cry in the bathroom at work.
  • Take a stand and tell people to just shut the hell up and get over themselves. IT IS NOT ABOUT THEM!!
  • Don’t let people pick their own dresses. You think people have common sense enough to know what is appropriate and what is not, but they don’t.
  • People literally invite themselves to your wedding. Literally!! This one blew my mind. Things you would never dream of doing to someone – people do to you. Receptionists and co-workers at your husband’s work that you have never met  will be offended that they did not get invited to your wedding that is supposed to be a celebration with close family and friends….. WTF.
  • You will say WTF about people all the time.
  • You learn who really cares for you and will be there for you. Friendships will be affected after the big day. People you thought would be there for you no matter what are not and it is just natural to feel differently towards them. And people you did not know would do anything for you, go out of their way for you and become the most wonderful friends in the world. HOLD ON TO THOSE PEOPLE FOR DEAR LIFE.
  • Money will just disappear. You learn how intimate it is to trust someone completely to share something like money – such a touchy thing. This was a positive for me. I never realized something like joint bank accounts would require such trust and intimacy.
  • The thought of your name changing is so very strange and never feels real. In fact, realizing you have found someone you want to be with forever and ever, is really quite crazy and strange to think about.
  • Eventually you just have to step back and realize this is about a marriage, not a wedding, and just tell people straight-up to leave you alone. I’m still working on this one. But I feel a mass phone conference or message coming.
  • I just want to re-iterate the key point here, no one is immune for the unimaginable drama that will occur in the last month. So brace yourself.

As Adam stated when I said “screw everyone I’m going to start being mean”, this is how bridezillas are born. As I stated in response, this is how families are destroyed.

This is supposed to be joyous and fun so it has been quite a disappointment to learn I too have to deal with the crazy drama that everyone talks about. As my wise OBGYN said – weddings are all high drama no matter how hard you try (we are on emailing terms). But at the end of the day this is about a marriage and I have vowed to make my own happiness and meditate on our marriage, not our wedding. And to start telling people to just fuck off.


Disclaimer – I haven’t even taken some of my own advice in fear of starting WWIII and having all future children banded from seeing their grandparents, so proceed with cation when telling anyone to “fuck off”. Although it feels nice to think about saying.

Breakin’ Necks and Cashin’ Checks


Health craze update:

I am happy to say I feel like a domesticated ruler of my world. Adam and I now have a healthy routine and it feels so grown-up and sophisticated, it freaks me out sometimes. Routine goes as such: I get home around 5:30 – 6 to find Adam starting his cardio on the treadmill. I then whip up some sort of awesome meal – I have been super creative, props to me. Then it is my turn for cardio while Adam cleans up (I clean while I cook too – don’t want to give too much credit). Then we eat, catch-up, and shower. Lunch prep begins for the next day. By this time it is usually 8 or later already. So we watch a show and unwind a bit.

How domesticated and healthy is that?! The only thing I have caved on so far is wine. I am weak and my soul needs wine. I have cut back so much though it doesn’t even feel like cheating. I’ve got to live a little anyways.

Yesterday I got a running high. That zoned out feeling while running where you feel absolutely nothing and think you could run forever. This has happened to me one other time in college. I accredited it to sorcery of some sort. The feeling was nice while it lasted and I took advantage. At this rate it seems that will happen to me only every 5 years. How do people run long distance?! It really blows my mind. Kind of like the galaxy and the human brain. These things are all on similar mind blown levels to me.

Along with the domestic domination I am feeling, I also just got a promotion to supervisor. I unofficially managed my team already, but now it is official. I was thinking a gold chain with “supervisor” might be necessary. Or a neck tat. On top of being domesticated and a supervisor, I’m also planning my wedding with minimal stress. The key is, I just don’t care. How do you want us to wear our hair? I don’t care. Who do you want to do your make-up? I don’t care. But how will people know the date if you don’t send save the dates? I don’t care. I think I have been over this before but just to re-iterate, the things I care about for my wedding are marrying the best groom in the world, looking bomb in my dress, eating delicious cake (not of the tiered, overpriced variety), an open bar, and club music aka blaring Pitbull. Oh, and the honeymoon. The end.

ALSO, I have mastered a curry dish. Add that to the list of things I have dominated lately. Just to change things up a bit in this blog, here is the recipe:

Take 3 trimmed chicken breasts and dice into cubes. Pro-tip: sharpen your knife first. I’m learning domesticated tricks the hard way. Sauté the chicken in 1 tbsp of ghee. Add salt, pepper and garlic powder and cook until the outside is completely white. You don’t have to cook the chicken all the way through. Then add coconut cream – just the top white part of a refrigerated can of coconut milk – and 1.5 cups of chicken broth. Originally I used more cream and less broth, but it was a little too sweet for me. So now I use less cream and 1.5 cups of broth. I use about 3 spoons of the cream. Now cut up some veggies to throw in. I use whatever I have that makes sense to add, which usually consists of tomatoes, carrots, red bell pepper and cabbage. I was thinking about adding zucchini to the mix too.  Next add 2-3 tbsp of curry powder. I add this much because I LOVE curry. 1-2 tbsp would suffice if you are a curry newbie. Add 1 tbsp of grated ginger. Throw in some extra cumin if you feel like it. Salt to taste. Put a lid on the pot and cook on low/med heat for 40 minutes. Should be bubbling but not too high so you don’t reduce all the liquid. After the 40 minutes add some cilantro (the more the better in my world) and ~6 pressed garlic cloves. Let cook for about 5 more minutes. You could also add cabbage or zucchini at this time if you don’t want it to become too soft with the other veggies. SO yummy. This is the recipe I modified: http://paleomagazine.com/coconut-chicken-curry/

  • 3 chicken breasts, cut into cubes
  • 1 tablespoon of ghee (or oil)
  • 1/2 cup of coconut cream (skim from the top of 1 refrigerated can (13.5oz) of coconut milk)
  • 1 1/2 cup chicken broth or stock
  • 2 cup diced carrots
  • Cabbage
  • 2 tomatoes, diced
  • 2 – 3 tablespoons curry powder or garam masala
  • 1 tablespoon grated ginger
  • ¼ cup cilantro, roughly chopped
  • 6 cloves garlic, minced
  • salt to taste

Your house will smell to high heaven for the next day or so, but worth it. I originally wrote “smell to high hell” since I thought that was the phrase. But then immediately thought that makes no sense and googled it. Found out it is smell to high heaven, which makes way more sense. AH-HA moment of the day.

Happy weekend to all!


paleo plus jerks plus high hormones equals hangry me


Today I am SO grumpy and I credit that mostly to day 5 of strict 30-day cleanse – no sugar (aka alcohol), no grains, no dairy, no legumes and no processed foods. You may be wondering what this leaves (funny because leaves is actually the answer) to eat, and you are also probably wondering what would possess a person to do this. The answer is proteins, veggies, fruits and most nuts, and I get on extreme kicks from time to time in order to better myself. I’m actually reeling it in to avoid being an annoying person that no one can be around. I could be looking for alternative deodorants and get rid of the microwave (Adam would murder me), but I’m trying to be reasonable. I’m also doing this because I’m vein and want to look bomb in my fitted wedding dress come April. I have done this before and days 1-3 are easy, actually fun because I get all creative with my cooking. Days 4-6 are grumpy stages because I have a slight headache from sugar withdrawals and I realize the amount of energy and time I have put into food prep in just 3 days – like a months’ worth. And I realize I HAVE to go to the store on a weeknight now in order to not fail. I’m also super competitive and failing is not a viable option.

And on top of it some people are just straight-up greedy assholes. So I keep having thoughts like “I’m going to murder someone”. Then I start to worry about being framed and remind myself NOT to say this out loud (see prior blog about fear of being framed). They (the detectives investigating the murder I was framed for) would have a motive, me being hangry (verb: a state of uncontrolled anger stemming from hunger or cravings), and me saying the word “murder”. Luckily I have kept these thoughts to myself, well not anymore I guess.

I realize a strict diet I imposed on myself and greedy assholes are not real problems so I don’t have a real reason to feel this way. But also keep in mind I’m on my last week of the pill which is the highest dose of hormones and every once in a while, this is the week I have a screaming, crying, irrational break-down. And I know I am being so crazy during these times, but there is nothing in my power to keep the crazy at bay. It drives me nuts and I feel guilty when it happens. But then I remember it is not my fault I have a womb and am trying to be responsible so I can actually plan a family one day and have a hot bod for now, so I get over it.

Adam doesn’t seem to be experiencing The Grumpy Effect. This is probably because he is just happy to still be able to eat steak and bacon. While I am excited about the bacon part, I do not enjoy steak like most Texans do. I really don’t get the appeal and I actually get grossed out sometime. It is very hippie of me and I feel like a sub-par Texan, really American, because of it. I just would not pick to eat steak if I could eat something else, like crab and truffle fries. He also claims he didn’t drink alcohol or eat sweets during the week until he met me. I call bullshit. I think he meant it like my habits turned into his habits, not like he didn’t need those things until he met me. But who knows really.

I just got a snarky email from a greedy asshole that ends with “praying for your success”. These are moments when I question everything in my 8-5 life and consider responding with WWJD in text size 1000, even though I may lose my job. I’ll just go eat my fruit and turn on Mindy Kaling now.


my past life as a mob wife


One of my irrational fears is being framed. This probably comes from too much crime television and novels. I was recently turned on to the podcast Serial, and I was hooked. More like obsessed. I listened to the entire 12 episodes in 1.5 days. Work was more enjoyable during this time as I was able to tune out most everything, success! But the podcast only makes me feel like my “irrational” fear really isn’t that irrational. Or maybe who you hang out with is a huge deal, like my parents always stressed growing up.

I have always thought that if I had another life, I was probably a mob wife in it. Reason 1 is my fear of being framed. The only explanation of this fear is my potential mob wife past life. I have seen Goodfellas enough times to know that it is standard business for one mob to frame another mob for a whack job. I mean most fears stem from experiences, whether people realize it or not. So it makes even more sense that I was in-fact a mob wife. The evidence is just stacking up. Reason number 2 is that I literally get involuntary chills up my body when a cop drives by. I have not been in trouble with the law and there is nothing that I could even imagine I could get in trouble for, except that I stick it to The Man by getting my inspection done on the morning of the first day of the month after my inspection sticker expired. Well there was one minor run-in with the law as an 18 year old at a party. Everyone ran and my respect/fear of authority kicked in and I turned myself in. I’ll save that for another time because it is hilarious. I understand most people get nervous when they see cops even if they aren’t doing anything wrong, but I get an uncontrollable chill up my spine. Even siren noises can trigger this response. Reason 3 I think mob wife, versus straight OG, is the aforementioned southern respect for all authority figures, deserved or not, no questions asked. I was probably more along for the ride as mob wife.

So my fear of being framed stems from my past life as a mob wife. And now that I know real, everyday people really can get framed, I’m on edge this week worried about who I might know that would be capable of something like that. Also the court system is totally jacked. That is another topic. The lesson of the story NEVER lend your phone, car etc. to that morally questionable friend or family member that you think would help you dispose of a body if you called them, instead of turning you in. Because that person could also frame you.

Anyone who would like to discuss the podcast, I would be overjoyed. Going to bed last night I was tossing and turning from all the thoughts in my head, so Adam asked what they were about. The first one I voiced was “whether Adnan is innocent”, then the usual work, wedding, diet bs. I’m pretty sure that was not the response he was expecting.


Who’s been smoking in my car!?


I’m still extremely confused by the cigarette butts I found on my car floor board this morning as I was leaving for work. Did Adam smoke in my car and not use the ashtray? Did I? Wait, we don’t smoke. Does my car even have an ashtray? A creepy feeling that a stranger was in my car without me knowing sweeps over me. And a certain I-haven’t-bathed-in-a-while stench is overwhelming.

Did I leave my car unlocked, again!? Adam will be furious. This would not be the first time I left my car unlocked. The first time I found all my stuff rummaged through, yet no windows or apparent struggle to get in was evident. My flossers, nail polish and random crap weren’t good enough for the intruder, but the stupid power drill Adam still obsesses about being stolen was. Maybe they only took the drill because of the 2 cases of bullets I keep in my car to make people think I own a gun deterred the intruder from rummaging further. The way I see it, had I locked my door, they would have busted my window and it would have been a much bigger loss for me. Adam said if I had locked it, they would have just moved on to the next car to see if that person was dumb enough to leave it unlocked. He may have said it nicer, he is a sweetheart. But the dumb comment felt implied. We just agree to disagree on this one.

The ONLY logical conclusion I can come up with based on the evidence is that a homeless person slept in my car last night, and smoked in it. And did not have the decency to use the ashtray! (If there is one) This is Houston. And I live close to downtown. This explanation makes perfect sense.

When I get to work and proclaim “a homeless person was smoking in my car last night, and slept in it”, the immediate response I get is did I not lock my car? As if this was my fault! Maybe I need to start locking my car. Or put some more bullets in there.


After thought (also known as P.S. for some reason that I will go google after this): I noticed I use a lot of contractions when I write. Probably because that is the way I speak. I went back and changed a “wouldn’t” and “weren’t” to “would not” and “were not” , just to change it up a bit. And this P.S. just taught those that aren’t as familiar with contractions (not from the south, I assume).

right off the fryer


I am young, not at heart of course, but nothing makes me feel old like talking to my baby sister and trying to keep up with the latest acronyms, as I eluded to in my last post. Youngsters, excluding myself, just take it for granted that everyone will know what LOL means. My grandma sent a text to me about my great grandpa’s funeral service and ending it with LOL. Laughing out loud seemed a bit inappropriate. My grandma is a sweet person, granted she has an edge, so I decided that it meant lots of love to her.

When we were kids my grandma had a bright purple Mustang.  We absolutely loved it and just wanted to touch it all the time, until my grandma saw us touching it.

“If you kids touch my car one more time I’m going to rip your arm off and beat you with the bloody end!”

This is the edge I’m referring to.

 Until very recently I thought SMH stood for so much hate. It works in almost every situation. For example, I got a chat from a co-worker about that lazy person in the office. “They didn’t run the report again. SMH.” So much hate makes perfect sense. “We have to work on Labor Day. SMH.” Apparently it means shaking my head. I would never think “shaking my head” to that statement. I would however be filled with hate.

So here are my versions of the latest acronyms I have seen.

SMH – so much hate.

IRL – I’m really laughing (since LOL is used even when not actually laughing out loud).

ROTF – right off the fryer. Makes no sense at all. But acronyms are literally impossible to figure out.

IYKWIM – this one blew my mind. I mean the time it would take to decipher something like this? Ridiculous. I’m yawning knowing.. that is as far as I got.

In honor of my edgy and amazing grandma, I’ll leave you with another hilarious “cat breading” photo (still can’t believe this is a thing), mostly because she hates furry things. Any squirrel that even looks at her plants wrong is fated to receive a pellet in the rear from her BB gun, always loaded and peacefully perched on her lamp.

Last "cat breading" photo, I swear

Last “cat breading” photo, I swear