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.