all kenny wants for christmas.

1. To kiss Tim Tebow. Do I find him superhumanly attractive? Not really, but I would love to enrage every conservative Christian girl in America.

2. John Hamm.

3. A male seahorse in an aquatic tank.

4. Sushi delivered to my door, everyday, for the rest of my life. (Not at all related to #3)

5. Tickets to see Jay-Z and Kanye. I will watch that throne.

6. An attractive male to pump my gas for me, for life.

7. A big ole' cat, only to torture a particular friend of mine.

8. A ticket to Neverland Ranch, including airfare and an automated tour.

9. A face tattoo. I'm thinking a star of some sort, but I'm open to suggestions.

10. To be blonde for the day, ONE DAY, just to see how frightening I look and naturally, to see if they really do have more fun.

11. To be inside a fabulous Grey Goose commercial. Come on! They look like they're having so much fun!

12. John Hamm.

13. To lunch with Zooey Deschanel, my (female) bangs twin.

14. To meet the guy who blogs under the twitter alias, Men's Humor. It is highly possible that we are in fact soul mates.

15. To host SNL. Musical guest? HANSON. John Hamm would obviously be in every sketch. He's funny, right? Santa, make it happen.

16. Access to Perez Hilton's blackberry. I would get Chace Crawford's number in 2.5.

17. To run into either member of the Black Keys around town. Dibs on Beardy.

18. Dinner with the Obamas. I, of course, would sit at the kids table with Malia and Sasha.

19. To speak at the Freed Hardeman Benefit Dinner. Um, they had Cal Ripken Jr. so I think I have a pretty good shot.

20. To retire. Next year.

Wishing you and your's a very Merry Christmakkuh,

Kenny

tis the season!

Well sugarplums, the holidays are upon us. All of us are excited for the fat guy in the red suit to bring lots of goodies, because naturally, we have been very good this year and deserve that one month of unlimited Pure Barre classes. Tis the season to have some time away from the job and to spend how we choose, right? So what are we to do with your holiday-induced free time? One can only spend so much time opening presents and watching that It's A Wonderful Life marathon with the family.

Here are my suggestions for how to spend some of your holiday break, none of which require an ugly Christmas sweater...

1. Make Christmas cookies. They're easy to make with minimal clean-up and they really impress when edible. Oh, and you can decorate them with icing and sprinkles, if you're into dyes and processed sugars.

2. Watch Home Alone 2: Lost in New York and quote the film in its entirety. Don't be scared. Christmas is a time of perpetual joy - say that to those friends/lame family members that accost you for perfectly reciting your favorite Kevin McCallister lines. "Suck brick, kid!"

3. Go shopping. Whether it's fighting the dementors to get that last minute gift for so and so or taking back that awful pajama set in an attempt to exchange for something you actually like, get out there. It's the only American way to be one with the yuletide.

4. Listen to your favorite (non-Christmas) vinyls at a high volume while singing along to every word. Trust me, this is just as awesome as it sounds. Christmas came early for me when I got both Jenny Lewis and The Civil Wars to add to my growing vinyl collection, so yes, I am full of joy and good cheer.

5. Eat ice cream for dinner. You know you are in the prime of life when you do this.

6. READ. You know, something other than a boring work email or the nutrition facts on your microwavable lunch. Pick up that book that you've been too busy with life and other drugs to read and get started. Holiday break is the perfect time to read something funny, i.e. Mindy Kaling's Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? since you will undoubtedly need a little pick-me-up after hours of quality family time and seeing pretty much everyone you went to high school with at the local Wal-Mart. Christmakkuh is also the best time to read something a little more heavy, cue Joe by Larry Brown, which is what I will be reading. If it all gets a little too messy in your head you can always turn on that cheesy Hallmark Christmas movie and take those engines back to neutral.

7. Do something completely selfless for someone you've never met. You know, pay it forward. Need ideas? Buy a Contributor from one of the vendors around Nashville and buy one for five of your closest friends, too. Take cookies, see also #3, to that neighbor you have never actually met. Surprise the person in line behind you at whatever coffee shop and buy their latte for them. If you can't be nice at Christmas, you don't have a soul.

8. Spend an entire 24 hours doing things that YOU want to do. Want to stay in your pajamas all day and watch 3o Rock reruns while eating sugar cookies in the shape of snowmen? Do it. Merry Christmas.

9. Spend time with the people you love. Make plans, move plans around - do whatever you need to do to spend quality time with the people you care about. And as for that certain someone who gives you butterflies and sets your hair on fire? Be sure to tell them how much they mean to you. Don't be shy. Blame it on Christmas.

10. Take a nap.

xoxo.

these guys.

Ok, so I've woken up with this song in my head for the past two, ok three weeks. With old-school cool lyrics and a steady beat, how could you not love the first single off the Black Keys' latest and greatest, El Camino? The video, featuring an aspiring actor who should seriously consider sticking to dancing, only makes it all the more awesome. Auerbach wails "I've got a love that keeps me waiting" while Carney pounds it out on the drums, perfectly telling the tale of a twisted love affair...always an excellent premise for a hit song, if you ask me.

Oh, and I hear that the Keys we love so much are filming a video in town this weekend for one of my other favorites off the new album, "Gold on the Ceiling." Needless to say, I'm very excited about all this new music! Make your Christmas extra merry and go buy the album. After you watch this video 2-3 times, of course.

Mazel tov!

this too shall pass, right?

Once upon a time there was a fair-haired girl who fell in love with an (emotionally) available guy with perfect hair and they lived happily ever after. Nope, that wasn't me, but it sounds nice, right? No no, I, like many others, in times recent have happened upon the road more often traveled...girl falls in something resembling love with the guy with perfect hair at the wrong time and under heavy circumstances. I blame my blind optimism...don't you?

Now, ladies and gentlemen, we've all been there at one time or another. He broke your heart, she left you for some other dope. He couldn't see himself marrying her, she couldn't trust him. So what do you do when it's done? How do you get happy despite the crickets between the two of you? Well, take 24-48 hours, cry if you'd like, get the favorite food of your choice and indulge. Let yourself go. Then, get up and focus. Now I am by no means an expert, but I am a quick study and always appreciate a good list. So here are some "DO's" and "DON'Ts" of the humble beginnings of moving past that relationship.

DON'T listen to sad/sentimental music. For me, this includes, but is not limited to, the following: The Avett Brothers, Trampled by Turtles, Adele (in my opinion, no one should be listening to Adele unless actively taking Zoloft), or the first half of the White Stripes' Under Great White Northern Lights. Also, by no means should you listen to Mumford & Sons, unless you want a good cry, then by all means, skip the mascara and put "white blank page" on repeat.

DO keep busy, preferably with activities of a positive nature that do not lead to drunk texting. Keep busy, whether that means cleaning, cooking, baking, being nice, spending loads of money on stuff you don't need, writing a letter, writing a blog or becoming your very own Taylor Swift.

DON'T be an emotional cutter. You know what I'm talking about. Reading old texts. Looking at pictures of the two of you when you were laughing hysterically about something that was way funny at the time. Checking up on him or her via social media, agonizing over meaningless/ridiculous check-ins and retweets. Side note: Please spare us your thinly veiled posts because trust me, errrbody knows what and who you're talking about when you write those "emotional" phrases. #absurd

DON'T get a haircut. I cannot tell you how many girls (and guys) I have seen make this tragic mistake. Go into the salon whilst stressed over a relationship and you'll most likely leave looking like Nick Nolte.

DO sleep. If you can't, take something. Melatonin is a favorite in my circle. Bloodshot eyes are not flattering and only cause friends and co-workers to stare at you awkwardly and then ask questions like "Rough night?" or "Feeling okay there, Champ?" If you do find yourself in that position, don't roll your eyes and yell profanities at them like you may want to...just smile and drink your coffee.

DON'T eat (a lot of) bad food. You may be heartbroken but eating that #5 with cheese and large fries at 1 am will only hurt your heart and hurl you in the running for the next season of "The Biggest Loser." Love the show, don't want to be the show. Eat good food and treat yourself to chocolate. And wine. Those two, in moderation, tend to help everything.

DON'T underestimate the power of your friends. You best keep the people that love you the most closest to you, not just for your benefit, but for them, too! They need to be able to get out their rants of that relationship, because chances are, they have them and need to get it out just as much as you. Go out, stay in, go somewhere new or go to that one place with that thing you like, again. Friends make you laugh and remind you that you are in fact pretty awesome.

DO treat yo'self. Go shopping. See a movie. Get your nails did. Finally cash in on that massage you got last birthday. Watch the game with your pants off. Call in sick and just do nothing.

And now, I leave you with some wise words from Mimi, my grandmother who thought she knew everything...and she probably did.

"This too shall pass, and at least you're pretty!"

XOXO

An Open Letter to All "Twilight" Fans.

Dear Twihards, or whatever it is you like to be called,

We get it. You’re obsessed with the whole vampire thing. After years of fake tanning using your allowance money you have now embraced being pale, since Bella’s pale and well, she is now a Cullen. You think Edward is sexy although in your dreams you end up hooking up with Jacob EVERY time, and it is way better than anything Stephanie (Meyer) ever published.

This may come as a surprise, hell, I surprised myself, but I actually didn’t hate the first book too much and only half-hated the movie. Sure, it was like reading an above-average 5th grader’s narrative essay, and I may or may not have read it on the beach whilst under the influence, but HEY! I read it. Back off already. Don’t send the Volturi after me! (See how I made a small joke there?) So, as it were, I found myself conveniently skipping the other installments in the saga – winning! While I did not dress up in a ridiculous “Team Dope” shirt and stand in line with my gummy bears and popcorn only to run into the theater to get just the perfect seat for the midnight premiere, I DID keep my sarcastically awesome remarks to myself as I nicely walked into whatever movie I was seeing.

I did, however, accompany a closet Twihard, who will remain nameless for legal and social reasons, to see the latest in the “Twilight” saga last week. I felt like I had already seen all there was to see, thank you previews and The Soup, but WOW, it was way worse than I even imagined. Twihards, I beg of you, check yourself before you wreck yourself, if you will. Between the awkward vampire wedding and a honeymoon that lasted longer than Kim Kardashian’s last marriage, it was a flop of pathetic proportions. Best line from the honeymoon was when Bella asked Edward, “you aren’t going to touch me again, are you?” This is what we’re teaching our youth and middle-aged housewives? OY. Hands down favorite moment? When the pale faces (Cullens) gave Bella a big ole’ glass of blood to drink, you know, to satisfy the vampire growing inside her. Here Bella, drink this cup of O negative while the rest of us toss our peanut M&Ms.

Puuulease, Twihards, Team Edwards and Team Jacobs, recognize! The thrill is gone. The story has run its course, and then some. There are better movies to sleep through. There is much good literature to be read (please see me for a detailed list). Let’s move on to obsessing over more interesting and relevant items, i.e. Herman Cain’s sex allegations and clever autobiography, why Prince William didn’t marry Mary Kate & Ashley (per Kanye), and world peace.

xoxo

What I'm Thankful For.

Well kids, it's that time of the year again. The time when you're surrounded by family members you don't really know/like to eat way too much turkey and pumpkin pie all in the name of pilgrims and indians.

In the spirit of the ole' tradition of counting the blessings, I give you a list of various goods and nonsense I am thankful for this year...

1.Peppermint Joe Joes, or as I call them, crack. Brought to you by Trader Joes, these delectable cookies are life changing. Go make the purchase and see how quickly you go through a box, or two.

2. Herman Cain. God bless him and his 999 plan for changing Amurrica one Godfather Pizza at a time. While he has had several unsuccessful runs for public office in the past, this go around has already proved to be more interesting, cue the sexual harassment allegations of recent. I also love the title of his recent bio, written but not written by him, cleverly titled This Is Herman Cain - original. How very Republican of him.

3. The fact that I am not a Penn State graduate.

4. Funny women who write funny books. Both Tina Fey (Bossypants) and Mindy Kaling (Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me?) have written pee-in-your-skirt funny books that are basically impossible to put down. I mean, it's not every year that two successful and highly hilarious women in Tinseltown contribute such greatness to the world of literature. So buy em, read em, and then pass em on to your best girl or gay to read so you can laugh together.

5. Living in the South. I love that I don't need a massive winter coat just yet, and it's November. I love that although I drink unsweet tea I know that I can order sweet tea anywhere I go, including that tiny Thai place off Franklin. I love that people you have never met wave and smile, typically in a non-creepy way, and I love that the majority of the population have enough of an accent to be adorable. Also, Southern gentlemen and the SEC. You are welcome.

6. No more Oprah's Favorite Things. Now before you lose your S on me and tell me I'm un-American, hear me out. I have always liked Oprah as much as the next girl, but admit it, she had gotten a little ridiculous - "You get a car! And you get a car!" Seriously, people? So yes, I'm sorry that I'm not sorry for being thankful that Oprah is no longer telling us what we should want but can never afford.

7. Bronzer. It's crucial for the winter months to ensure you don't look like you just got back from spending months in a Siberian basement.

8. "Dancing With the Stars" and "The Sing-off" are almost over. Happy trails to Nancy Grace in sequins and Nick Lachey in his Express for Men iridescent shirt. See you never!

9. For the good fortune of not getting a single ticket for car tags that expired sometime in April. In my defense I've been really busy, and yes, I'm on it.

10. 903 Coral and other people that I love. I am so blessed to have such amazing friends who are so fun and think I'm fun, somehow appreciating my particular brand of ridiculous. To my hilarious roommates who I would be so boring without, thank you for loving me and uh, embracing my uh, idiosyncrasies as a roommate. You are two in a million. To all the other amazing people in my life who are way cooler than me, thank you for keeping my life so interesting and full of love. Now see, wasn't that sweet?

So put your thanksgiving pants on and get ready to embrace the holiday. And don't hold back on the stuffing and watching football all day on the couch - shopping on Black Friday will serve as your cardio.

XOXO

martha marcy may marlene.

So I saw a movie this past weekend that quite honestly f'ed me up a bit. Translation: I loved it. You've got to go see it. Sure, I've had a couple nightmares since and yes, I freaked out a bit last night when I returned home to the back door wide open (thank you wind), but the film is incredible. And don't worry, the plot is easier to follow than it is to say the actual title five times fast.

"Martha Marcy May Marlene" tells the story of a naturally gorgeous twenty something who suffers from anxiety and extreme paranoia after fleeing from an abusive cult. To say she has major issues is an understatement - she was brainwashed, after all, and struggles with separating delusion from reality. Her sister, Lucy, and her husband with an accent take her in, trying desperately to help her be "normal" despite her awkward and sometimes violent behavior. Flashbacks tell the horror of what she escaped, nitty gritty and all, but even those seem to morph with the present in such a seamless way that you find yourself unsure of what is really going on with Marcy May.

Now here's the biggest shock of all...Mary Kate & Ashley Olsen's little sister, Elizabeth, gives a stellar performance as Marcy May. That's right, someone in the Olsen family has the ability to wear real clothes and show emotion. I bet it's weird for Mary Kate & Ashley having a sister with actual talent. You feel? Eh, well for the first time an Olsen might just win herself an Oscar.

All in all, it's a disturbing and haunting film that leaves you with an ache in the pit of your stomach and an overwhelming sense that you just witnessed something great. Sure, it's a little unnerving and no, there's no cookie cutter resolution, but it is definitely worth the $7.50. And for those of you who need further justification, Entertainment Weekly gave it a B+, which is basically an A+ in my book.

Grab someone nice and go see it.

to the old country!

You never know how a wedding will go. Sure, you're honored and excited when one of your best friends asks you to stand beside her when she says "I Do" but you honestly never know how it will all pan out. Will you like your dress? Will she lose her S hours before the ceremony and have you putting together additional flower arrangements? Will you get along with all the bridesmaids, sans power struggle? Will you feel okay about latching arms with the chosen groomsman? So many variables to consider.

This past weekend I was in my lovely friend Beth's wedding. She and I have been at bff status since college, we immediately bonded from preacher's kid syndrome and general sarcascm, so I was very excited to stand on that top step beside her as she made it official with Mr. Chandler. Unlike most weddings, where the bridesmaids are more like hired hands to finish up all last minute details while wearing David's Bridal, this was all about spending time with each other, see also: laughing and generally having fun. Shocking, right?! We did all the typical pre-wedding bridesmaid activites; i.e. getting the nails did, bridal brunch hosted by her mom, painting pottery for the newleyweds while eating cake in the shape of a corset, and semi-embarrassing the bride with plenty of questionable lingerie. Past that, there was a lot of story telling and laughing until it literally hurt - a sign of good friends having the best time together.

Now I know what you're thinking - sure, you had an excellent time with errybody else but where was the Bride? She was right there with us. Drinking the OJ and dancing to low-quality rap videoes minutes before walking down the aisle. So when the time came and that instrumental medly played, I walked down the aisle with the Ginger and smiled as I stood on my blue dot waiting for Bethany to walk down, too. She was beautiful. Chase cried, she cried, we all cried. Weddings get me every time. After the ceremony and all the pictures and all the little southern ladies saying "you're next" (mmmm excuse me what?!) and 2, ok 3 pieces of cake, they were off! Riding into the sunset. It's a bittersweet feeling, watching one of your best girl friends leave with her HUSBAND. Happy that she's happy, a little teary-eyed that she's all grown up and someone's wife.

Great weekend, great friends, lots of laughing, and lots and lots of love.

Now...I need a nap.

"How is it possible to miss a woman whom you kept at a distance, so that when she was gone you would not miss her?”
― Steve Martin, Shopgirl

blue sky and the devil.

…"Old worn out feelings
And yesterday's news
Just give me something
That I can use…"

Dreams came true this past week when Trampled by Turtles played their first show here in Nashville. And while yes, I am aware that this is rapidly approaching music blog status, I'm not sorry for telling you of their greatness.

Ah yes, ok, so the venue was small enough and the crowd included everything from oxfords to flannel...a solid showing for a bluegrass group from Duluth. They took the stage and I cannot express to you how perfectly happy I was from the moment they started playing. Their desolate ballads are hauntingly beautiful - you don't really know whether to sing along and smile or start to cry. Pretty early in their set they played one of my favorites, "Methodism in Middle America," and later they covered the Pixies' "Where is My Mind." Incredible. By the end of the night I was in such a euphoric state that I wanted to head to the country and never return…or quit my job and follow those five guys on the rest of their tour. Win-win if you ask me. We were all captivated by the whole scene, including Kenny, famous for knowing every rap since Tupac's day, fell in love with the bluegrass, and the lead singer, right then and there.

Oh man, I really can't say enough about these guys. I would love nothing more than to be their publicist and let's face it, I would probably already be a groupie (do those exist anymore?) if I didn't have a job and all that. Just trust me on this one: you want to hear this band. I even played a little "Wait So Long" for my 8th graders pre-fall break, and while they were skeptical at first -yelling out phrases such as "Who are these white guys?" and "We thought you liked Kanye!" - they ended up singing and clapping along.

So please, do yourself a big favor and (legally) download both "Duluth" and "Palomino" and give in to the bluegrass. You're welcome.

P.S. 903 just got a little more awesome…we now have a record player.

the Business.

Oh man. Saturday night I had a spiritual experience in the form of

J Roddy Walston and the Business.

True, I've sang their praises in blogs past, but had never seen them live and in all their gritty glory until this past weekend. The venue was small and the opener to the opener sang a song titled "Bitch, This Isn't L.A." - not my style by any means, if you can imagine, but comic relief if nothing else. We somehow survived the boys in skinny jeans and teen angst tunes just in time for my main squeeze to take the stage.

Initial thoughts...Wow, he has great hair. Like really great hair. We all know how important this feature is to me. J Roddy was also sporting Raybans and a wedding ring, the latter of which was a surprise but hey, he's a man of commitment, I can respect that... and be a tad jealous of his lady.

As soon as he started banging that piano with "I Don't Wanna Hear It" we all started singing and jumping like fools, and the great thing is no one cared! It was one of those shows where every one around me was singing along to every word just like I was, so I really didn't care how dopey I looked dancing around like a crack addict singing "I know you hate me baby but don't break the needle." They played all of my favorites, including "Brave Man's Death" where he basically made the piano his bitch in front of my very eyes. I might or might not have semi-yelled that very sentence amongst the madness. Maybe it was the boots I borrowed from Kenny. Nah, it was definitely J Roddy.

Ooh, and pre-J Roddy taking the stage I happened upon 1/3 of the Business, the bassist who was in plaid and also hiding out front whilst the opening band did their thing. We started talking about nonsense, he mumbled between drinks and it was pretty loud but I managed to make out "Great, what song do you wanna hear later?" to which I answered "Caroline" and the aforementioned "Brave Man's Death." They played both, and I was happy. And yes, he was a great kisser.

I'm working on katielovesjroddy.com now.

Until then, get their music and get ready to keep it on repeat.

25.

Well kids, I'm officially old. A quarter of a century, to be exact. That's right. On the 18th I turned 25. I spent the week and half or so celebrating this momentous occasion, from seeing both Grace Potter and The Raconteurs at the Ryman to singing karaoke while eating a cookie cake with my senior picture self in the middle. The only thing that could have made all the happy birthdaying any more epic would have been if Jack himself had sang to me from the Ryman stage, and let's be honest, we're not there yet, kids.

Turning 25 makes me think back to when I turned 16. I wore seersucker and I distinctly remember telling my best girlfriend at the post-party sleepover that I couldn't wait to turn 25 because that's when you become established. Who knows what episode of "Saved by the Bell" I got that from, but I was convinced of the inevitable transformation that would occur on this particular year. Truth: I am not at all the girl I was at 16. I've grown taller and hopefully smarter, been on my own, loved and lost people I will always adore, and had my fair share of mini-breakdowns and moments of pure happiness. Now here I am at 25. I'm somehow allowed to (attempt to) shape young minds every day, and while yes, sometimes I want to yell mean things and run away from the creatures called 8th graders, I am thankful for the opportunity and welcome the challenge. I have solid friends who keep life oh so interesting, and no, I do not need the anti-aging cream just yet. Oh, and I can now rent a car. I'm pretty neutral on my level of excitement on that one, but hey, it is a perk that comes with this age.

So here's to being 25. Turn up the music and roll the windows down.

I'm happy.

she's got the medicine that everybody wants.

Earlier this week I had the good fortune of seeing Ms. Grace Potter & the Nocturnals at the Ryman and I officially adore her. How can you not? She has awesomely blonde hair with the Alison Mosshart bangs, legs that go on for days paired with the highest stilettos, and perfectly short dresses that I would gladly welcome into my wardrobe. To complete her bad A package she has a killer voice AND the ability to play just about any instrument, electric Fender included, and still belt the big notes without so much as breaking a sweat. Oh, and she has her very own band of Nocturnals to play with her on the daily. Ooh la la, indeed.

For her first stint headlining the Ryman, GP played an UH-MAZING set, complete with my favorite not-so-love song off her first album, "Apologies," and everyone's new favorites, "Medicine" and "Paris." She moved across that stage, dancing and shaking in massive heels, and we all fell in love with her rocker stage presence that is rarely found at such a level in female performers. All of this, and at THE RYMAN. I was a very happy girl.

If I die young, I hope to come back as Grace Potter.

"You hell on boys, let's see how you do with a man."

Fact: I have started writing 4 or 5 different “books” in the past 4 or 5 years. I’ll get this idea in my head for an excellent piece of (at the least) chick lit, I’ll write and write, and then the inevitable happens….I get too caught up in juggling real life and end up with a couple questionable chapters of an undeveloped story. These half finished works of mine are, embarrassingly enough, mostly about a girl falling in love and living happily ever after with the prince charming of her choosing, and I cannot believe I am admitting that I, too, more than once, fell trap to the fluff. However, I don’t want to write clichés any longer. After all, it isn’t always rainbows and butterflies, right? We aren’t always supremely happy, we don’t always have the best relationship with our parents and not all stories end with the protagonist lucky in love and making bank.

I just finished reading “Provinces of Night” by William Gay, a Southern Gothic writer who lives in Hohenwald and actually signed the copy that I was so graciously leant. His style is uncanny, writing such dialogue that you honestly feel as if you’re somehow in the book, witnessing it all right next to Boyd and Raven Lee. He writes the nitty gritty, and I can’t help but crave to emulate that somehow in a piece of my own. Sure, it’s a far cry from the pseudo romantic comedies I’ve starting writing before, but I feel like this is the time for me to actually write about real life and real relationships. Everyday is not a fairytale, and not every story ends so nicely. That’s what I love about both “Provinces” and my personal favorite, “The Long Home” – all loose ends are not tied up at the conclusion of the story, and everyone does not necessarily live happily ever after. All these black-and-white-I’ll-die-for-you-after-knowing-you-for-a-week stories can’t hold a candle to the gray, er muddy, areas that W paints in his stories that have so enthralled me this summer.

Ladies, and perhaps gentlemen, put down whatever fluff your pretending to mindlessly enjoy and pick up something with a little more grit. I strongly suggest the aforementioned as well as “Fay” by Larry Brown, a story of a less than leading lady so intriguing and perfectly told that I solemnly swore to never ever read the fluff again.

xoxo.

Ah, September.

This might possibly be my favorite month. I love summer, I do, more than most anything, but if the seasons must change then I will welcome September with open arms. Sure, I am not a fan of saying so long sweet summer, but this beginning month of fall ushers in many happies...

Exhibit A: College football is back, which means hello again to SEC haircuts, game day festivities and Sportscenter being a constant on your tv. Now I understand some girls tend to dread football season and all that it entails, i.e. a lack of attention from generally all males during games. However, I happen to love SEC football and all that it entails, especially when it involves good people and good beer. After all, I am a Southern girl.

Exhibit B: My birthday falls on the 18th, and while I am always excited when there is a reason for a nice little get together, I am even more excited this go around because I am turning the Big 2-5. That's right, kids, a quarter of a century. Oh the days when I thought 25 was when one became established, er, old...

Exhibit C: Jack White, in the form of The Raconteurs, at the Ryman on the 15th. Seeing Jack live at the Ryman might be the greatest thing, ever.

So here's to school supplies, cooler weather, football, birthdays, road trips, boots, the Ryman and everything in between. September, please be sweet.

J Roddy and Turtles.

Ok, so I don't usually go on music rants. It's no secret that I am obsessed with music, lyrics most specifically, but I usually swing the old-fashioned way and just pass good music on to friends here and there. However, I must tell my most recent obsessions. Actually there are two that have recently captured my heart and soul...

1. J Roddy Walston & the Business, J Roddy Walston & the Business

I loved them from the second I heard their name, I mean, what is NOT to love when "the Business" is part of the group name and album title? They have a Southern raw grit sound that you just can't get anymore, and their lyrics are as hilarious as they are geniusly true. Yes, it's safe to say I have a major crush on these boys from Baltimore, and while I was sadly not there to see them at Bonnaroo, I hear they were outrageous. Buy the album, immediately fall in love with "Don't Break the Needle," "Pig and Pearls," and "Caroline." I dare you not to sing at the top of your lungs. Honestly, I have had this album on repeat ever since it was given to me, and I love when friends ride with me and they start to love J Roddy as well. Spreading the love, that's what I'm doing.

2. Trampled by Turtles, Palomino

Oh man, I cannot say enough about this album. Beware, you might just cry the first one or two times you listen to "Bloodshot Eyes," but I promise, it's worth the emotional roller coaster. These guys for real know what they're doing, and the gamut of feelings you get whilst listening to their bluegrass amazingness is perfect. Each song is hauntingly beautiful, enough to make you want to either grab somebody and kiss them or text your most recent significant other and admit you miss them. After listening to the aforementioned track, listen to "Wait So Long" and tell me that's not about a prostitute in a small town. Bluegrass at it's finest. Enough said.

Now here's the beautiful part for those of you who live in (or close enough to) Nashville. Both bands are playing shows in October, and both at pretty small venues. I could not be more excited! Buy the albums, get your tickets, and prepare to fall in love with good music.

XOXO.

teenage dream.

So I'm teaching 8th grade English again this year...same song, second verse. A brand new year means brand new kids, and let me tell you, these kids are not afraid to say exactly what they're thinking!

On the first day, I decided to forgo the boring "stand and say your name and then what you did this summer" and opted for the more creative, 2 Truths and a Lie. The name of the game is to try and trick your classmates, blurring the line between the truth and lies about yourself. Although I had been warned by far smarter bystanders that I should brace myself for less than appropriate responses, I was confident that this would work! And work it did, until the last period of the day. One nerdy, yet confident boy that shall go unnamed simply because I haven't learned his name yet, comes to the front to take his turn:

"I'm really good at basketball.

I made all A's last year.

(....long pause.....)
...AND Ms. Powell makes me feel like I'm living a teenage dream."

Needless to say I was shocked and totally weirded out, making it impossible to hold any resemblance of a stern teacher face. So I laughed, called him Katy Perry and told him to sit down. It is definitely going to be an interesting year.

With all that said, I'm holding onto summer for the time being... staying up too late, driving with my windows rolled down and singing some J. Roddy.
I know you hate me baby, but don't break the needle.

Vegas, baby!

Vegas, Vegas, Vegas... I have to admit, I really had no idea what to expect from my first date with Vegas, what with all of its glittery awesomeness. We drove in from LA through the desert that is Nevada, like the true bad A's that we are, and I knew from the time we drove past Caeser's that it was going to be an excellent girl's weekend. By the time we got to the room and made ourselves presentable it was sometime after midnight, which is early around those parts, so we headed to dinner at this perfect little Italian place on the streets of faux-NYC. This is also where I made one of many comedic attempts at winning BIG at the slots...naturally they hooked me and every other girl under the age of 45 with a "sex and the city" game. I spent a whole dollar and pushed buttons hoping to get lucky, and when the machine did in fact go nuts with crazy lights surrounding "Mr. Big: $712.16" and cheesy theme music ensued I thought I had won BIG for sure. So we were all freaking out and being girls about it until the actual "win ticket" printed out, clearly stating I had won $16.12. Was I still excited? Of course.

So from there the adventure continued...I saw WAY too many brides, 98% of whom had a beer (or two) in leu of a bouquet, and I witnessed more boys bachelor-partying than I ever imagined...sadly no Bradley Cooper lookalikes, though. But I promise you, we saw it ALL, including Celine Dion, which I have to say was just as cheesy as I expected but was such a great show that even I was giving her a standing O at the end just like every other fan in the packed house. And yes, she encored with "my heart will go on" and yes, the lady in front of us SOBBED during its entirety. I also may or may not have contracted some sort of sexually transmitted disease from walking barefoot through the Luxor due to the fact that my heels just weren't working for me anymore after many hours.

All in all, we spent quality time by the pool, got some good sun and met some pretty interesting characters, and laughed the WHOLE time. We boxed it out to keep the creepers at a safe distance, and we saw more asian tourists (sorry Chuck) than we ever expected to see in one place. Vegas was just as cheesy and wonderful as I imagined it to be, from the showgirls on the street at 10 am to the cotton candy I was served after eating at a buffet (no judgement, it's a Vegas institution!).

We spent a lot of dolla dolla bills and lost a lot of sleep, but we did not lose our dignity, despite our surroundings. And after all, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right? We sure hope so.

xo.

I cheated myself, like I knew I would.

An Ode to Carrie Bradshaw.

Cue intro music. I have watched possibly every episode of "sex and the city" since its creation in the late 90s. My infatuation first began because it was controversial and something I knew my mother would not approve of, thanks in part to the title. My admiration for the show developed through watching four well-dressed BFFs live and work in the Big Apple. I watched with such fervor I might as well have whipped out a pad and pencil and taken down notes. I watched these women go to brunch and discuss relationships for so long that I shaped my young mind to believe all of this advice to be the gospel truth.

I knew I wanted to be Carrie Bradshaw from the beginning - she had her own column, seemingly had no actual boss, lived in a fabulous building and basically went on dates with the most eligible bachelors and out to lunch with her girlfriends, all while looking impeccable. Oh, and she had Aiden. And Mr. Big. And a closet that just kept on giving. So anywho, I was all about watching and re-watching episode after episode there for a while, but then sometime between college and Chicago I stopped. I gave it up.

Now fast forward to the other night... I couldn't sleep, shock!, it was late late, and there were back to back episodes on, so naturally I watched whilst I fell asleep. Maybe it's just been a while, maybe it's just a sign of me growing up, or maybe I've just dated too much...BUT one thing became crystal clear: the show is a big ball of fluff. Let me just go ahead and point out some of the ridiculousness that I observed in just 1.5 episodes...

1. There is NO way Carrie can afford a rent-controlled apartment in the Upper East Side on her salary. She writes one column, once a week, that is featured in a tabloid-esque publication. Um, try again, HBO.

2. Carrie's closet. While being stylish and fitting nicely into the small space, there is no way that ALL of her clothes fit.

3. No one EVER cooks, ever, except for the occasional meal made by Charlotte. Carrie jokes that she keeps sweaters in her stove, but let's be serious.

4. Carrie is engaged to Aiden but is still talking to THE ex, Mr. Big constantly. Does it bother Aiden? Not at all. It's all rainbows and butterflies. Pretty sure this never works in real-life relationships. Also pretty sure it doesn't work out for Carrie & Aiden...she ends up cheating on him, with Mr. Big. Ouch.

5. Samantha would drive any woman, let alone three close friends, truly insane. I don't care how close we are, I don't want to hear about what random you did the night before. Let's at least attempt to keep it classy, ladies.

6. You don't have to make a major fashion statement every time you leave your house. Nor is it necessary to wear sky-high heels every day, and this is coming from a girl who appreciates her heels. Let's be honest, sometimes you just need to throw on shorts and rainbows and get going. You don't need the tutu.

7. WHY does Carrie sleep in a bra? I'm sorry, no woman sleeps in a bra. It's uncomfortable, unhealthy and all around ridiculous. I would like to point out that this has always bothered me.

I could go on and on, you can imagine, but what's done is done. I know I'm not the only female who, at one time, fell into the sparkly trap of love and fashion that is Carrie Bradshaw. Sure, she had a few decent quotes and I suppose she did provide some valuable fashion tips here and there, but let's be honest - the show is by no means a shining example for women.

Quick! Someone turn on "Golden Girls."

SEC, Drugs and Unmentionables.

Dating in your 20s is comical. With highs and lows only comparable to a sub-par romantic comedy, finding that special someone that you enjoy being around for longer than 10 minutes can be challenging at times. There is no such thing as a "type," and although it is no secret that I tend to flock towards a good SEC haircut and Southern charm, I am realizing more and more that attraction is surprising and often times sporadic. You don't always get what you want, and what you end up wanting may surprise you.

One of my most lovely friends has recently started dating a very sweet, ex-drug dealer, yes, he used to sell narcotics, who has a sleeve and several, ahem, unmentionables pierced. Now before you start asking the inevitable, judgmental questions, don't. He's adorably wonderful to her and she likes him; all signs point to go. I'm happy because she's happy, and a bonus is that she is no longer concerned with her ex, a squeaky clean yet immature dope that could never seem to make up his mind, let alone answer a text. Did she ever expect to fall in like with a guy whose past reads like an episode of "Weeds?" Probably not, but the adventure has begun and she can't seem to stop smiling.

So go forth! Date without abandon. Don't be shy. Isn't this what our youth is for?

please (don't) accept this rose.

I'm a 24 year old woman. I have an excellent education. I rather read "the great gatsby" than (most) any piece of chick lit, and I prefer good conversation to a long walk on the beach. WHY is it then, that every Monday night I find myself drawn to watching an unconfident, yet very pretty girl take average guys on group dates where they do things like faux Japanese boxing, planned not by the Bachelorette but by ABC? I mean honestly, the said Bachelorette spends an estimated 40% of each episode crying about some dope that left the show because he didn't want her and the other 60% pretending to seem interested in the guys chosen for her by ABC. And honestly, how am I to believe that it's that easy to fall in love and be ready for marriage, no less, after a mere 6 weeks? It's stuff like this that makes confident girls like us doubt the whole process - I mean, if it's that easy, then why are our own love lives so complicated?

Ladies, we must pull it together. Sure, watch the 2 hours of ups and downs with your host Chris Harrison, but please don't let all the ridiculousness seep into your subconscious. We have got to stop thinking that love is something that just magically happens and is often easier if you are far removed from friends and loved ones halfway across the world. You don't have to go all the way to Hong Kong to figure out if he's worth your time! Relationships can be wonderful and just what we want or need at the time, but it's not all rainbows and butterflies. Let's face it, relationships, when you really start to care, are messy and don't come with background music... people change their minds and sometimes the bachelor turns out to be not too eligible, and you can't do a damn thing to change the way things are. It's real life - there are no cameras and there are no confessionals. It's just you and the other guy, or guys, trying to figure out if the feelings are in fact real and whether or not the love is worth the inevitable roller coaster.

My point is this: watch, laugh, pick your favorite dopes...but PUULEASE do not start thinking like abc reality tv execs wants you to think. As for me and my house, I rather meet my eligible bachelor at Twin Kegs than on a "fantasy date" in the middle of a fountain in Vegas. Sure, sweep me off my feet, but spare me the small talk and let's have some real conversation about things that actually matter. As for the roses, save them for a day when you want to send me a dozen, just because, and you'll be my favorite. Bonus points if they are not delivered by Chris Harrison.

xoxo.

ooh la la la la la la la

Good morning and a happy happy Monday to you and your's. I'm going into my second hour of my last grad class, Data-Driven Culture, which IS just as boring as it sounds, especially today since we are discussing Ethnographic Culture. BLAH. This class may kill me. This venti iced whatever and the guy next to me oohing and ahhing over somebody's kind of terrible wedding pictures on the Facebook are keeping me slightly amused and awake enough to share with you fine people.

Let's see. Things have been...eventful. The cicadas are officially gone, as all of Nashville sings the Hallelujah chorus, so I'm back to running outdoors without fear or limitation. It's a beautiful thing. I took a quick trip to North Carolina with C, first time to be in that part of the US of A, don't judge, and I have it say it was lovely. We spent most of the trip eating good food and laying by the pool, talking about errything, so needless to say, it was a trip well spent. Also, C's mom might possibly be THE greatest, i.e. her favorite phrase is "oh balls" and she has the fridge and pantry stocked as if Trader Joes were to marry Whole Foods. Winning! Oh and speaking of moms, my mom and I are back to ignoring the small issues and being semi-normal again, just in time for Father's Day. It is what it is and she and I will always be the way we are. Don't think too much about that one, kids. AND my best friend's wedding is happening this weekend and I honestly can't get it in my head that it's happening in just a few days. She's growing up and moving into her own place to live with a boy! Oh brother, I won't get sentimental just yet. She's already been playing wife, getting everything perfect at their new residence and making sure all of the tiny details are perfect for the upcoming nuptials. Our dining room looks like a southern wedding factory, with all the monogrammed cups and napkins and SWAG (stuff we all get, you're welcome for that Michael Scott reference)... it's quite the sight to behold. I have decided that when I'm ready to get married I'm just going to hire her, indefinitely, to organize my life and run the show.

And some other things I choose not to disclose, so instead I give you Grace Potter, who will be my spokesperson for events I shan't discuss. Not yet, anyways.

Oh my mother.

There comes a time in every girl's life when she decides she has no desire to speak to her mother for an extended bit of time, or in my case, until I see her at my best friend's wedding next weekend. While my mother and I differ on many an issue and we fought for most of the 90s, we typically stay off each other's toes...with the exception of times like yesterday. I don't know what got into her, she snapped and like word vomit she started expressing her "concerns" about every little thing she thinks she knows about me and my life, currently. I was exhausted and having an off morning, and she took that and ran with it - all of a sudden I'm a sad girl who has lost her self-confidence and ability to be happy. Excuse me, what? I believe I actually laughed at this notion, since I am a very happy person who typically deals with the tough stuff and laughs at most everything, see also this little blog. She went on forever it seemed, voicing her "concerns" and telling me that she remembers what it was like to be 20 something and that she knows more than I think, blah blah. Mother, I do love you and I think very highly of you, but at 24 you were entering your 7th year of marriage and were trying to get pregnant. Little different there. It's tough for her to really grasp the concept that I'm a big girl, living in my own house in the "big city" and happy with my friends and life I've created here. She wants to feel needed, I get that, but talking nonsense and trying to pry is no way to strengthen our relationship. She ended the conversation in true Mom fashion by telling me that my hair looked great, a supposed bandaid for her ridiculousness I assume. Ohhhh brother.

I haven't heard from her since and I predict it will be a few days. I'll be silent and she'll call and apologize for her craziness. I just want to go ahead and put it in writing that if I am lucky enough to have my own little girl one day I solemnly swear to remember what it's like to be me at this age.

Eh, it's always something. Every mom I know has lost her S. Or every mother in law, for that matter. Take my bff Ashley, for example. She is getting married in two weeks and her future mother-in-law just sent her an email of all the items she is "expecting to receive" from Ashley, including a list of all of her own family members who were invited to the wedding. Mother dearest, indeed.

xo.

a lady should be well-read.

So he brought me his copy of "fay" and insisted I read it to start my summer.

I love that the book has really been read, translation:

the spine is broken and pages are starting to fall out.

I'm only a good 30 pages in and am already in like with Larry Brown.

something right.

Few things in life surprise me. Yes, I love surprise parties and I always appreciate a good "ta-da!" moment, but let's face it - it's hard to really shock and awe me at this point. I've most likely bought the shirt and seen the show, yada yada. But just when people had become all too predictable, the tables turned and some baggage shifted in flight.

Insert Metro Schools and 160 unruly 8th graders. It is no secret that this is my first year teaching. I have made several rookie mistakes and there have been days when I about lost my S on a student - that time I told a kid to tuck his shirt in and he called me a whore, or that time when I confronted a girl about her "F List" she had created and she told me flatly, "I will probably only do half of them"... that's enough, you see the trend. Honestly, the stories continue to shock me and I've been here all year. Anyways, so through all of this I have had the responsibility of actually teaching them something, including how to write a proper essay, on which they were given a huge assessment earlier this year. I taught them everything I knew, as well as I knew how and prayed for the best. I got the writing scores back this week and about lost it when I saw the numbers. It was a miracle, that's all I kept thinking as I looked at all the 4's and 5's (6 is the highest) next to all the names of my kids. Turns out, my kids have some of the highest scores in the district, and I shan't bore you with statistics but let me tell you, they are nothing short of a miracle. Just when I was wondering if I had made any impact on these kids, I realize that I did something right. My kids are just excited because I'm making cookies tomorrow.

Now insert a certain boy that has become apart of my recent, well and not so recent, life. It is a fact that timing is everything, and after communication and miscommunication we're just us, and it's just fine. Some people just have that hold on you, and you can't fight the feeling anymore. You're welcome for that classic rock reference. At the end of the day what's important is that you treat people well, that you love people for who they are and how you are when you're with them. For the lack of a better phrase, he's my brandy alexander. Sometimes a girl has to accept the surprises as they come and just roll with it. That's what keeps life interesting, right?

Oh, and I had my first spray tan experience yesterday. The tan lines are surprising, but wow, that's another conversation for another day.

XO

Stripper pole?

So it's getting to be about that time when less is more when it comes to clothing and more time is spent in swim attire than in tights. Ah, summer. Trust, I am counting down to the minute that I can sleep in until 8 and frolic all day, not to return to madison middle school and all these rude/smelly eighth graders for a couple months.

Now being a 20-something girl I of course want to be summer ready, so I decided to mix it up a bit in the fitness department and try Pure Barre. Inital reactions from the males in my life have included - "What kind of bar is this?" and "Stripper pole class?" and even an encouraging, "The pole can be tough." I have to admit, after taking out a small loan to pay for the 30 day unlimited package and special socks ($13 to be exact), I was pretty nervous to actually attend a class. Afterall, I had to buy special socks just to step in the studio.

So yesterday I went into the class with determination to dominate - I believe my exact wording was "Let's rock this B" - so I was feeling pretty good for the first 8 minutes or so during warm-ups and arms. I was keeping up with Kat Von D in front, my toes were pointed as they should be, and I was one with the small ball that I had to keep placed tightly between my inner thighs. Yes, I said inner thighs, and yes, I counted it a major accomplishment that I didn't let that sucker loose at all during class one! Next thing I knew it was time to do leg and bun work on the barre. Now I was initially excited to reconnect with my childhood ballerina self, sans pink tutu, but I quickly changed my tune when I could no longer feel anything other than every muscle in my body shaking from fatigue. After some stretches one could only relate to tantric sex, the class was over. I was exhausted.

Today I can barely feel my arms and have suddenly become acutely aware of every back muscle I possess. I kind of love it. A love/hate relationship this may be, pure barre and I. It's 30 days - anything can happen.

Oh boo.

So a famous blonde once said that a smart girl kisses but doesn't love and leaves before she is left. I don't guess I'm as smart as I originally thought.

Here's to the silence. And keeping myself busy.

easter and us.

So this year I decided to gracefully bow out of the whole family Easter bit and took a small road trip out of Nashville with two wonderfully hilarious guys and an overnight bag. Sunday we all woke up with plenty of time for coffee and a sentimental stop at the local Hardees, and then we were in the car making the gorgeous drive to a sweet little church miles away from everything. To cut to the chase, we ended up missing the church service completely thanks to some confusion in start time. After we lost our S for a moment - we were in our Easter best and had driven down to experience Easter service there - we resolved to spend the day outside, which proved to be a spiritual experience of its own.

We made the short drive to the buffalo river and walked down to the water. There we were, the three of us, I in my cotton sundress and the two of them in their pressed khakis, looking out at this perfect creation. I didn't say much. I was taking in every moment of every thing. Taking off my wedges and tip-toeing into the water. Watching the three of us look like a J.Crew ad, wading in the river fully clothed in our church clothes. Laughing at him as he threatened to throw me in, smiling at me like he meant it.

It was perfect.

From there we went to a waterfall in natchez trace - I seriously felt like I was on the most excellent grown-up field trip. I didn't even complain when I was slipping and sliding in my rainbows nor did I worry when I was anything but ladylike while climbing around to get closer to the waterfall. Sure, I might have gotten mud all over me and yes, my legs were sore the next day, but for that afternoon, everything was calm.

We rode back to Nashville with the windows down and the radio off.

I soaked the whole picture up from the passenger side.

Gaga ooh la la.

I went to the Lady Gaga concert. Enough said.

paint in hair.

I am in no shape, form or fashion an artist, nor am I a painter. I don't even try to pretend - I mastered the stick figure at age 5 and have not progressed much further. I might have drawn a house or something in a required art class but obviously that was not my forte. Now ask me to write a song and I'll have something to you in an hour, and I'll most likely be proud of it. Ask me to walk around the Frist or the Art Institute and discuss emotions and the history of paintings and sculptures and I am in 100%. Just don't ask me to make art of my own - it has always ended in a premature ending or a small disaster.

However, I would like to make it known that at age 24, I have created art. Or something like it. Ash and I were antiquing in Franklin for her new place with the Hubs and we went into one of my favorites - Lulu. I instantly fell in love with a painting of a sweet little phrase, which later my boyfriend, Google, told me was an Irish proverb. The price tag read way too much for something I assumed I could attempt to create myself, so I snapped a quick photo while Ash created a diversion. Such rebels we are. OH brother, I know. So after a trip to hobby lobby and a quick stencil tutorial from the master, I was ready to begin creating my masterpiece. We turned on Mumford & Sons, set up camp in the big room and just went with it - I am certain I have not concentrated on something so hard for so long. To everyone's amazement, I didn't take any breaks. I didn't start yelling four letter words when I almost misspelled the word "oftener" in stencil and paint. I stuck with it. I conquered that B of a canvas, and 3, ok 4, hours later...it was finished. FACT: I had more paint in my hair and on my legs than on the finished product. I was so proud.

Sure, it's not perfect, but I love that about it. Imperfections make art approachable and lovable. Hell, imperfections make people approachable and lovable. Feel free to quote me on that.

eat, sleep, repeat.

white blank page, mumford & sons

Can you lie next to her
And give her your heart, your heart
As well as your body
And can you lie next to her
And confess your love, your love
As well as your folly
And can you kneel before the king
And say I'm clean, I'm clean

But tell me now, where was my fault
In loving you with my whole heart
But tell me now, where was my fault
In loving you with my whole heart

A white blank page and a swelling rage, rage
You did not think when you sent me to the brink, the brink
You desired my attention but denied my affections, my affections

Lead me to the truth and I will follow you with my whole life
Lead me to the truth and I will follow you with my whole life

katherine mckenzie, ladies and gentlemen.

We have weird neighbors. I feel this picture speaks for itself.

MJ, is that you?

I guess every superhero need his theme music

Although I am supposed to be working on an ever so boring assignment for my next to last grad school class, I am currently attempting to lasso my thoughts for you since it's been a week or so and let's face it - the 12 people who read this blog have GOT to be getting antsy. I feel like a negligent girlfriend and I'm sorry - this is why I don't do well with plants, or goldfish. As assumed, this past week has been quite eventful, and while I wish I could re-tell all the sweet and hilarious details, I'll summarize:

A.) Small road trips are the greatest. Everyone is always rushing, some of us speeding, to get to the next place - I'm not talking about that. I'm referring to the times when your plans change and you find yourself happily in the passenger seat loving the ride. He knew I was sleepy so he asked to drive me back to Nashville, and I couldn't even pretend to object. A few days later he drove me back to get my car, cue another road trip, and I was even more excited for our next adventure. There's just something about being in a car with a boy who makes you smile. Especially one that sings along to Kanye with you. Which brings me to my next point....

B.) Say what you will about Mr. West, but he really knows how to make a great album. Sure, he has more ridiculous lyrics than poignant thoughts - see also: "_______ we rollin', with some light skinned girls and some Kelly Rowland's" - BUT he's genius in his own right. I don't want to go all Rolling Stone on you, but "My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy" transcends rap and is actual music. I've even started subconsciously dropping lyrics into everyday conversation, something that in the past has only been reserved for White Stripes lyrics - slowly turning into you being the most common. I would also like it to be known that I purchased this album not once, but twice, which if you know me you know is an occasion since I tend to "borrow" songs before I commit to purchasing the full album. (However, I am changing my ways and have not "borrowed" in months, thank you Amazon and positive peer pressure.)

C.) I was asked to speak at my alma mater for communication day, an event where all the PR/Comm/Journalism majors are invited to listen to working professionals give advice, an event that I helped plan while I was a PR major. Holy run-on sentence. Any who, I'm not dwelling on the event itself - that was fine. What was noteworthy and altogether surreal was the feeling I had while I was back on campus...seeing old professors and reuniting with some people I really do respect and love. It made me so thankful for that time in my life, and even more aware of how blessed I am to have such wonderful people in my life now. It's crazy to think that a few years ago I was with different friends, dating different guys and worrying about how many chapel skips I had. I feel so blessed that I am where I am, with who I'm with, doing what I love and on my own adventure. Hope that wasn't too sappy.

D.) You know what isn't sappy? Karaoke. Speaking of karaoke, singing "Fancy" at a karaoke bar is ALWAYS a good idea. Did I sing this classic Reba hit? No. An older lady with a rather large arm tattoo beat me to it, but you know what? Next time, I'll be ready.

I will now leave you with some eloquent Kanye lyrics. you're welcome.

How 'Ye doin? I'm surviving

I was drinkin' earlier now I'm driving

where the bad bitches huh? where ya hidin'?

I got the power make your life so exciting...

space cadet.

I have never been a morning person. Sure, I love drinking coffee and starting the day, but I prefer to wake up leisurely and preferably after 8. So naturally, I have always been a night owl, an expression I always found odd but have become rather fond of over the years. After school I want to crash and burn, but somehow once I get back on my side of town and that moon is out, my batteries really charge right back up. And no, I am not a werewolf nor a battery-powered robot. Fact is I do not get the 7 hours of prescribed sleep. I just don't. I used to, I really did, but then life happened and I decided to count my losses and enjoy my youth. That's what we're supposed to do, right? Isn't that what they all say? My favorite English teacher used to always tell me - "Katie! Stay up late, go on adventures any time you can, because you can sleep when you're dead!" And the church said Amen!

But honestly, I have really been embracing this lately, lack of sleep and adventures included. Of course a semi-large part of this has to do with a certain someone that I love going on adventures with, whether it be early in the morning in a little town - which I still find amazing since as I said earlier, I am not a morning person - or late on a school night. Let's be honest, I wouldn't just randomly go drink a milkshake at a B- fast food chain for breakfast all by myself, I'm just not that creative. But I did, we did, and it was such a perfect morning. And why go to sleep when you can stay up scheming about writing books and listening to Mumford & Sons on vinyl in the dark? Or sitting in the car singing along to 80's pop songs and waiting for it to stop raining? Some of the sweetest moments happen when you should be sleeping.

Now to be completely real with you, sleep is a good thing. No, a great thing. I am by no means implying that sleep is not important or that I am somehow immune to a lack of it. Just last Saturday I took THE longest nap I have ever taken, well, since college, and I woke up feeling like a new woman. So ok, this is me encouraging you to sleep when you can, and hey, if you don't get 6 or even 4 hours, there is always concealer for the circles under your eyes and a Starbucks just around the corner. My case is this: take every opportunity to go on adventures with the wonderful people you can't seem to get enough of, and hey, it's okay to be a little irrational sometimes. It happens. I guarantee, no matter how sleepy you are the next day, you'll be glad you went.