vitamin c in human form

i will never get sick of praising my friends for being awesome. if you searched the posts i've written over the years you'd probably learn that 90% of the durn things involve my buds. how i love them...heart, pitter, patter, sigh.

yesterday was the end of my energy, the beginning of sickness and the return of b. my girl has a lovely new guy in her life and so, as it should be, we're no longer up each other's asses like we once were. i understand it happens but that hasn't stopped me from missing the times we had together.

yesterday i started feeling a tickle in my throat. i went and worked out to try to knock the ick out but i think i just made it worse. by the time i got home i felt like pooh. i showered and cuddled up on my living room couch, totally prepared to die a happy contented night death when i heard a jiggling of keys.

i was spazzing out wondering who in the heck was interrupting my death when b popped through the door. i've never been so happy to see a friend. do you know this heifa came bearing gifts of hot green tea and juice? (i mean naked smoothie "well being" juice!) do you know she was wheeling in her stuff for the night, totally prepared to stay the night and gab with me to keep my spirits up? who does that? a true bud that's who!

we talked until i couldn't keep my eyes open anymore and then we went to bed. i to my lovely bed and her to the lovely couch in my room. around 3 am i woke up in a cold sweat and i just KNEW i had H1N1 so i popped up in bed and said, "b! i think i have swine flu. you need to go home so you don't catch it." the woman rolled over in her sleep and said, "it's 3am in the morning broham. go back to sleep." i started giggling and layed back down.

b is great. she hushes any and all hypochondriac tendencies i may have and pops up right when i need a human being around the most. (being sick and alone is THE WORST!) i layed back down and after the beast left my lungs i fell back asleep.

i get by with a little help from my friends...they save me. they spoil me. they allow me to be the quirky weird person you read today. i honestly don't know where or what i would be without my darling buds.

i love you b!!! thank you for not allowing me to die in the night.

also shout out to jersey and j--my friends sure do know how to make a girl feel better!

pondering soul mates

i'm sitting here wondering if i can believe the ish j was feeding me today. she's reading some snazzy book about past lives and she thinks she has the current soul i'm dealing with figured out.

apparently in my last life i was some racist named billy bob russy. billy bob russy was whack and so when it was time to stand in line for his next life's path he was forced to choose one that would teach his sorry behind lessons he was incapable of learning then. that, i guess, meant he had to come back as a biracial single chick. (while she was telling me this i was SO visualizing jonah from sleepless in seattle telling his father the spiel about how tom hanks couldn't see that meg ryan was his soul mate because he wasn't pure of heart like jonah)

i'm gonna digest that one...i'm gonna chew on it a bit like billy bob russy would chew a piece of fat. i'm gonna try to figure out why my last soul person decided on putting me in this particular life. i'm lactose intolerant. did billy bob russy (say the full name always. he liked that.) hate his life on the dairy farm so much that he decided he'd do away with milk and some forms of cheese?

did he ask for big feet (wink wink) and forget that he MAY come back as a chick? did his wife nag him to the point he wished for a horrible next life filled with craptastic solo days, months, years? what the freak did i do to billy bobb russy?! better yet what did his trick of a wife do!? even better question than that--which person has she come back as in my current life so that i can smack her around a bit! (i haven't learned a darn thing.)

he never got attached to the dog that risked its life for him during the duck stampede of '42...therefore i attach myself to every damn object that comes across my path. i name everything. EVERYTHING. i'm currently typing on george, my handy dandy laptop.

i do like some of the stuff j was droppin though. apparently my Godchild was close to me in my last life as well as j herself and the people in my close circle. i don't know why i was the one that got to pull people along..i mean why couldn't the dog decide to pull me in? what if someone didn't want to have a darn tootin' thing to do with me this time around? there's lots of questions j.

lucy, you got some splainin to do! (billy bob russy translation: woman you better get 'er done and ya better do it dern quick or i'll have to make you sleep outside with the hogs again. now fetch me my pipe and scratch my balls the way papa likes it.)

crack lips

bad choices lead to some crazy insights let me tell ya...

so i totally strayed from my running schedule this weekend. because i had a friend in town i partied like a rockstar each night which made waking up at 6:30 am to run an impossible feat.

when i woke yesterday at 9 am i grumbled to myself that i couldn't hide from the pavement any longer and so i put on my running gear and headed out. (it wasn't noon...i'd be fine, right?)

i finally make it out to the park around 10. i sit in my car, contemplating if i should bring my big jug of water. i decide that it'll be more of a nuisance than anything and leave it in the shade of my car. i begin my run.

about a mile in (i have to do 5 mind you) i stop abruptly because my surroundings are's hot. it's really hot...and DRY and i can tell this run's not gonna be easy. this is when the panic sets in. i know i have 4 miles left. do i run? do i hurry and finish to get my water quicker or do i walk and let my body rest?

i start to walk and the dry desert starts to attack me like it never has before. i'm usually a camel when it comes to not having to drink all. this always fascinates friends but i had no such luck that day. i could feel my lips cracking open pretty quickly and when i'd go to wet them my tongue would be completely dry. do you know what that feels like?

that feels like "I'M ABOUT TO DIE OUT HERE!" i go into uber panic mode and start searching for water fountains but what are the chances there are NONE around this supposed park. i cut thru the park onto a path i've never tried before praying that i'll find water. all around me are signs saying "water conservation". irony is a mutha bi-yotch.

i start to sway and i know i'm gonna pass out and i want to cry so bad but i don't even have the liquid in my body for tears at this point. no one stops to help me and i'm pretty sure i'll end up passing out from heat stroke somewhere near the lake of water i can not drink (although i was tempted...ducks swimming and poohing--didn't care!)

just when i thought i'd have to give up i recognized a street path that i had taken to park my car and stumbled down the path until i found it. as soon as it was in sight i busted out crying. at that moment every singledom demon i possess in my body came rushing out of my eyes and i was sobbing uncontrollably.

if i would have passed out no one would have known. no one was waiting for me at my place. no one knew i was running. i was completely alone without even a running buddy to call my own. everyone in that park was with family...everyone on the trail was running with someone and at that moment it was like the "water water every where and not a drop to drink" irony...there were people all around but none of them were mine.

i got in my car and immediately texted my best bud j back in middle earth. she of course got me laughing which helped but i was haunted by that sob session for the rest of the day.

i couldn't drink enough water. i couldn't get the loneliness out of my head.

i learned some valuable things about myself out there.

#1: i can't run outside if it's hotter than 70. la's dry heat blows.
#2: i must carry water with me at all times.
#3: i will never get used to rockin solo.
#4: my best friend rocks. if she can cheer me up after my near-death moment she's doing something right. and i love her more than i can write.

#5: there's a reason people put marathons on their bucket's hard. it's grueling and it's definitely not for the sissies. what on earth did i get myself into?

midwest magic with a side of humble pie

i'm gonna eat my grumpiness from friday with some humble pie. i had an AMAZING time friday night and drove home with the most amazing energy tied to my heart.

friday...sigh, friday i was pissed (and then some) that my bud flaked on me but at the last minute (when minutes count most) my boy jersey agreed to go. from that point on i knew my luck would change. we left a burger joint and i skipped across the busy streets of ventura singing a tish-made jam "tonight's gonna be magic. i feel it i the air". jersey laughed and probably rolled his eyes a bit at the loon embarrassing him down the street but i was so right for singing my little song!

it took a little bit for the magic to kick in. i wasn't happy paying $20 for valet, $15 for the comedy store and $30 for the mandatory drinks they make you order (jerks...there went my no alcohol pact) BUT a couple of comics really stood out and had us laughing so hard my cackle went away. yes, it was like THAT!

this one guy vargas did a skit about the different sperm he has and the sperms' race (gladiator style) to the egg...i swear i almost busted a gut. there were a few other funny peeps as well that loosened the boy and i up enough to really enjoy those mandatory drinks and have a good time.

around 11 something the show ended and we gathered with my college bud peej and his peeps at the saddle ranch for some texas tea. (now we all know, everything's bigger and better in texas...that especially applies to the dranks and the drunken states that follow.) we met a couple and a cool chica from ku that i actually met a couple of years ago. we screamed out stories over zz top and made funny & friendly into the wee hours of the night.

i swear the whole group was like one big awesome first date. we all clicked so well and were having such a good time that the married couple invited us all back up to their home in the hollywood hills...that's where i started paying attention to the magic. we had spoken to vargus the comic previously and had all been impressed with how humble and cool the guy was. little did we know that each and everyone one of us would chow down on sharing the good sides of ourselves and then eating the same humble pie later in the night.

i love surrounding myself with interesting people. i seriously want to hug my buds to death sometimes. great writers, photographers, mothers, fathers, news journalists, stylists, professors, comedians...i've got friends doing amazingly random but awesome things with their lives and i can't get enough of that ish.

the people i hung with last night were no different:

jersey's this amazing fitness guy. peej's photography leaves my eyes buggin
and wanting more. his pal sara is this cool ku chick with a soft spot for sports (fight on!) peej's high school friend and his wife, j&m, had me rolling the whole night with their sweet and often hilarious stories. all successful in their own right, these folks are are all humble, intelligent, open-minded people that left me grinning on my drive home thru the hills.

being around such optimistically driven people is contagious. if lovin' those kinds of people is wrong...i don't wanna be right!

if you're lucky, you get a handful of people like this in your lifetime. if you're smart you'll listen to what they have to say. if you're down you'll follow their words and if you end up with a similar life perspective you're lucky as hell.

last night i learned that acknowledging the good stuff, going after the good stuff and eating the humble pie makes for a very good life. i'll eat up whenever i can.

photo by peej's cell phone

grow some nuts...2 big balls

it's no secret that i live in han solo opposite land. i do not enjoy going out by myself. i do not like chillin at the bar. i do not like riding in the car. i do not like being alone. i do not like it you silly bone.

i don't understand why people assume they can change this about me. since the ripe age of 5 i have been chillin solo. i can remember being a lone ranger out in the strawberry fields behind my house collecting toads and tadpoles. no one did that ish with me and back then this was perfectly acceptable. not so much 20 something years later.

i've done the "one is the loneliest" thang for YEARS and i think i've paid my solo dues. i don't wanna hear any bull spit about being a strong woman and showing up to crap by myself. i'm over it. you're not gonna change my mind. it's lame. it's no fun. kind of hard to have a conversation with one's self...i mean if you talk back people look at you like you're crazy.

when did i turn into such a flippin social douche?

for the umpteenth time friends are bailing tonight and leaving me alone to attend a show at the comedy store by myself. i'd rather stay home and hermit but as i type this the college bud i'm supposed to meet out there is g chatting me arse off about growing a pair and just coming. yeah, yeah i realize the dude flew in from middle earth but i'm the kind of girl who develops actual hives from solo stressing.

(i do! my neck currently looks like a zealous teenage boy slobbered all over it.)

friends try to curse me with ideas that one day i will have screaming children and i'll wish and pray for the quiet days of yester year. i want to poot on these weird-minded friends. they obviously didn't spend enough time chillin in strawberry fields like a hived-out geek i know.

toot talk

i'm not talking about the joy of discussing toots. i'm talking about the artful language of tooting. it's something i've been perfecting over the years but it went to a WHOLE NUTHA LEVEL the other day when i was sitting in on a meeting.

i had to give an update on a little thing i like to call "project hella annoying". i gave my little spiel and then i ended my ish with a quick tooting sound.

yeah, you heard right. i said, "and that's it. (toot sound)." the folks in the room looked at me crazy and then started laughing under their breath. i smiled and the meeting carried on. afterwards, a chickadee approached me cracking up. i can tell ya one thing, this language can break down monotonous dull barriers. can french do that?!

when i walk in every morning i always toot talk to this guy that sits in my row. instead of a good morning he gets a double toot sound. sometimes if i'm nice i'll say, "that's hi and good morning in toot talk" and he'll shake his head and go about his work. i like to think it's something he needs in order to start his day right--a fresh and unique approach to an otherwise boring greeting.

i totally recommend some tootlage. be weird. it does a body good.

bean lady is back!

back story: when i was born my grandma consulted with a lady i refer to as "the bean lady" to forecast my cute little life. i guess every culture has its version of the storyteller. my gram's bean lady is the equivalent to a tea leaf reader. this wonderful bean lady read the beans and the beans told her i would be a great woman some day. she said lots of people would hear my words and all this other stuff that basically meant i'd grow out of my nerdy awkward years and actually be sociable--possibly even cool.

fast forward to now.

so my gram and i used to email every day. (she's cool like that.) but then her computer broke and mornings just haven't been the same. no more totally hilarious messages to get me going. i think she was feeling my withdrawals because she called me out of the blue to give me a phone pep talk yesterday.

this is where the bean lady comes in. i guess gram was playing cards with the bean lady (again, my gram is cool like that) and the lady with the beans told her that i was still going to be an actress some day. she told gram all my business i haven't thought about acting...that i probably feel that that aspect of my dream is now over but those feelings would pass. (the woman also said i'd be living solo so we'll see how that raise talk goes with the bossaroo.)

i'd just like to point out that i'm not so much interested in the forecast from the bean lady but the fact that a bean lady exists some how in my personal life narrative.

it don't get much quirkier than that and i love me some quirky!
p.s. i just tried googling "bean reader" and nada came up. i couldn't make this stuff i tried yo!


anyone who's a fan of sex and the city knows about ssb: secret single behavior. my poison happens to be reading every darn page of o magazine. i may not seem like the magazine's target demographic but i love me some oprah journalism. i read every page looking for new hotness. heck...i will forever be a student. once college ended i had to find new professors and that particular magazine stepped forward and said hey why not.

the mag hips me to new hotness every once in a blue moon. this issue didn't fail in regards to moon moments.

homework list:

  • must scoop up some mayda del vallie poetry--2001 def poetry slam winner and featured poet in the october issue. anyone who can write, "must have been something made me think i was special enough to speak to scream to stand up straight special enough to ask God to listen to me" is snazzy in my book.
  • time to recycle old magazines.
  • hit up the bookstore _how God ends us_ by delana r.a. dameron. another poet with raw goodness
  • check out the album "the boy who never"
  • watch "herb & dorothy"-documentary airing on pbs, october 13th

self made lesson's what's for dinner.

twin luv

my Godchild (miss whit) just called me at work to tell me she was invited to a young author's conference. only two students from each class get to go and MY child was one of the brilliant, totally awesome, genius kids that was chosen.

i have a soft spot for writers...i can't lie. i have a pillowy cashmere-like feeling for my whit. top that with the fact that she loves to write, wants to be a writer and wants to attend ku-my alma mater-to make this happen...sniff. it brings tears to my eyes.

so i tell the kid i'm proud of her and her accomplishment deserves a gift. i ask her what could i possibly give her that would be worthy of the awesome writer she is. she told me i could get her a journal. i ask her what color and i kid you NOT...the little angel says, "could i please have a lime green one. it's my favorite color."

those that know me realize i'm fighting back tears right now

it's no secret who my favorite person in the whole wide world is. i think i could love her more than my own future kids. just saying...

for all those wondering where this lovely gift will come from...there's only one place that can create a "my Godchild is the most brilliant writer in the whole wide world" gift.

for all those eagerly wondering what lime green luv i will send...behold!!! THY GIFT.


i recently wrote the following: i'm watching the giants game & a documentary. i am nerd. i am sporto. i am sperd.

that's code for i don't play in corners. i tend to butt twitch when asked to sit in my box and play nicely with the cookie cutters of the world. basically i'm all for being flexible and liking whatever i so choose to like based on me, myself and i.

bree and i were just discussing this idea. we were sitting around watching tcm (turner classic movie channel) and there were these film snobs jibber jabbering about how silent films are the way to go. this part was cool but then they had to go and jack that ish up by hating on the latest star trek movie. hmph. why you gotta hate?

there are tons of folks out there like this in the world. there's film snots ("i only watch film noir. i wear black berets and i smoke long skinny cigarettes.i am beatnik. hear me nik a beat.") music snots ("i only listen to underground indie music. anything and everything on the radio is utter crap. i am angry. i am emo. my strategic bang is so oppressively perfect.") and of course book snots ("the classics are the only books worthy of existing on this planet. i love all things bronte and if someone ever suggests a book outside my meager box limits i will die a horrible and might i add gothic death.")

how lame is that?! how boring and claustrophobic. i'll take sperd for 500 please. i'll also take some gagger (geek + swagger). i'm allergic to limits. call me master t.

can i get an ughhhhhh na na na naaaa?


i love my pal d. he makes for an interesting bud and definitely gives me some awesome hee haw moments. sadly, the same man has decided to rob me of my monday night "heroes" watch parties and i'm feeling lost, confused and hopeless.

i wanna take a minute to acknowledge the sadness i'm experiencing.


i will miss our monday night par-tays. i will miss the feasts we would prepare together. i will miss the bawdy banter. i shall miss YOU.

remind me to kick you in your piss pump. you're due.

with luv & kiwi,

your darling, adorable, totally wonderful friend tish

d and i circa 2006: learning the shocker technique. my alien fingers still managed to jack that ish up

plan z

this one is for all the single ladies out there.

i'm forever the chick who meets the dudes that are forever texting and trying to act interested but really aren't so much. my frustrations with being this type of chick escalated today when above kinda boy texted and gave me some weird lame excuse as to why he always has to be in the business of annoying me.

sigh. i got up from my desk. i calmly (ok not so calmy) walked over to my pals ian and ev and voiced my concern with stupid boys. i told ev i didn't like boys and would enjoy kicking every last one of them in the piss pump (ian cowered away from me).

i then took this discussion to my two best buds and told them if boys were still acting like fools come my birthday month i'd call up their favorite ex and propose. i call it plan z. they didn't seem amused by plan z. b actually asked if it could be a plan zz. i'll keep you posted on that one. j swears i promised her i'd never call or contact this boy again. i'll consider this promise i made to her. i admit i've said he's boring in the past and we don't have ISH to talk about least the dude digs him some tishy. if ole girl from crazy love can take back the dude that blinded her maybe i could stand some boring...

how would a girl propose to a dude by the way?

never, maybe, will do

wisdom comes with figuring out the moments you were wrong and admitting these oopses...without mentally wiggin out.

i'm kind of a fan of those that admit when they've made a mental boo boo. socratic ignorance is cool. i've always been a fan of challenging my preconceived nevers to elliminate a little something i like to refer to as pig-headed disease.

...and since pig heads are SO last year, i stand here today, ready to admit that i've said the word to a couple of things that i swore up and down would remain in the never category.

never list:

i said i would never, in a million kazillion years EVER wear skinny jeans. i wear the damn things almost every day now. i wear tights too. i think i came up with this never rule during my high school mascot years. yellow tights were tragic for a lanky chick let me tell ya.

i said i'd never be a work out warrior and here i sit making decisions like whether or not to give up yoga in order to make room for marathon training.

i said i'd never embarrass myself doing the sue (aka mom) dance while driving and i've been rockin' the snap, bite lip move for a straight minute now.

i said i'd never rock a blackberry. i named my little guy mikimoto. miki for short.

the french bird in that cartoon, an american tail, was right. never say never.

my belief system has been shook. debate logic is finally catching up to a sister...anything can be challenged.

the wisdom comes in knowing that you're a better person for the nevers you've reconsidered. why never? if you can't answer that tiny easy question with something cool or logical then get ready for a lot of will do in your near future.

crazy love

i'm sure my grandparents will be thrilled to know i'm discussing something they probably pillow talked to death 50 years ago.

i'm a little frazzled by the documentary i just watched (blog title). i have no idea what i'm supposed to think after watching that flick. (it's a coupling moment. i have no opinion.)

at first i thought the darn thing would be a great film to show to my girls on valentines day. (it's totally a sick and twisted spin on luv) the story warped itself about 20 minutes from the end though and i had to scratch the valentines vaccine idea.

at this moment i feel like i'm lame for being single and relieved i'm single simultaneously. (i'm also twitching and rocking myself for comfort.)

i don't know where the movies come from that pop into my netflix queue. i swear there's a crazy elf trippin on acid that hides in there and selects chaos at will but i love that little elf. it's good to shake things up.

we tend to hang with folks that generally dig the same stuff we do. this leads to boring contentment watching, doing and thinking the same things all day 'err day. i think everyone should adopt an acid tripping movie elf to help spice up life. let everyone twitch and rock for fun.

in the meantime, i shall be that elf for you all. check out crazy love. it's got a little something for everyone so i won't limit the darn thing by giving it a target audience. it's crazy for dang skippy.

sunday school


some days i 'connect' a little better than others (some days i'm heathen incarnate) but when i'm in the presence of some spiritual moment without fail i will weep. my heart just splits open and tears come bursting out.

gangster mom invited me to church and i enjoyed being in the presence of people happy in their skins. i ran over the weekend and watched as jewish fathers and their sons walked early morning to celebrate and practice their faith. i couldn't help but see the theme of the weekend. it was all about witnessing some good in the world. eyes wide open, i soaked it all in and prepared myself for the lesson. (there's always a lesson.)

i've seen religion and faith everywhere this weekend. it's emotional to boot. like i've always said, i'm in love with being in's not just a couple thang my friends.

i watched the second part to oprah's whitney houston interview. i told you the first part was a joke but the second part had me in tears. faith in a higher power, faith in goodness, faith in each other...whitney got out there and sang her heart and out and when she started discussing the people in her life who said she was not meant to break i broke.

all faith and no tissue makes tish a very puffy-eyed but happy girl.

a better resume

real resumes of the world, show yourselves!

life skills:

  • i can pick up things and pinch with my toes

  • i'm a flosser

  • people assume i'm vegetarian because i love veggies but i can tear some brisket UP!

  • i'm blind as a bat

  • i'm a morning person

  • i laugh like ernie from sesame street (some call this the drowning duck sound)

experience being cool:

  • my first acting gig was playing the mama sheep in my first grade school play

  • i was my high school's mascot

  • i once tooted in magic circle...and the red head i crushed on still liked me after that (shout out to dennis)

  • i've acted like a chicken in front of 20,000 ku basketball fans

  • i can quote the movies drop dead fred, little mermaid, the color purple and cry baby like a mutha trucker. (betcha didn't know mothers with trucking skills can do that?)

positions held:

  • been best friends with j for 14 years, b for 4 years

  • guest writer for a mad famous fitness blog

  • token goof for my posse since 1981

  • antique photographer for worlds of fun (for 2 lovely yet stinky summers)

human law

since the summer before college j and i have made it a point to do the email thang. for years now (we don't need to count at this point, do we?) we've been hee hawing our way thru term papers, boyfriends, loves, weirdos, douches, family dramas and all the other good stuff that makes life fantastically rich. some of our conversations are about hard serious issues that require a best friend's ear while other times we can discuss random nonsense like what a witty death threat would entail...yeah, we're weird like that.

these conversations have sustained me year after year, drama after drama and joy after joy. yesterday i mentioned that we can talk about hoo haw all day long and still feel like we've left each other at the end of the day with a little more of each other than we had before. no matter what we discuss we just get betta and better. i dig this.

i, of course, had to bring my single flower power mantra into the mix..."now if only i could find a dude like you"

j, happily married to the best guy in the world, chuckled and told me while it's great having the guy who she can share and do anything with it's still great having a female best bud. there are just some things guys will never understand about their estrogen counterparts and vice versa.

i agreed of course (we share the same brain u know) and slammed my fist down as i typed "it's human law".

i blog a lot about the secret societies that refuse to let me in. this time though, i got this. i've got the "best friend secret society patch, hand shake and secret decoder pin" downness!

bff j: secret weapon for sanity since 1995.

(thanks for keeping membership strong!)


what about me screams addictive behavior?

i shout kiwi power and dub my blog green with luv and people assume i need candles in the shape of toothpaste or die!

…do i seem like a full throttler? once i like something i go hawd?

i’m totally the opposite. i can love, love LOVE a band but yawn when the next album comes out. i'm not gonna love something blindly. squeezing something to death until its gasping for air is not my cup of tea. i don’t roll that way. i'm just not down with obsessive luv behavior…what can i say.

so a sister writes a post about digging asian boys (growl hubba hubba) and now all of a sudden i’ve banished all jonesing for other men…people's jaws drop when i check out a brutha man’s caboose. some how i've managed to convince the world i’m strictly a lover of all things asian man…and these guys don’t even have to be cute. i have no taste or discernment…it's an asian man for me (sing this like a pirate) and I shall love them for the rest of my life…until I’m left gasping for air.

did my momma just pop out a big ole hyperbole and name it tish?! is that what i am?

i don't wanna see NO candles in the shape of hiro nakamura's face! i'm just saying...

am i a stalker?

yes i am!

i admit this freely so i get to add cool points and subtract the creepy ones. why am i dancing a fine line between blog admirer and creep you ask?

because of THIS! this blog, one of my newest sources of joy, has the greatest pics that keep me busy for hours on end. that alone could tickle me green but to see my name ON the site... mwahahahaha

oh yea, THAT ROCKED!

it felt like what i assumed folks feel when their face pops up on the "kiss me" jumbo tron. maybe even what j would feel if gwen stefani were ever to acknowledge her lovely web site or, j herself!, during an interview. it's like magic johnson telling a story and publicly naming the kid he remembered sitting in the stands the last time he played ball. it's a blogger's moment in time...sniff.

maybe i just luv, luv, luv seeing that i was acknowledged and permanently locked down on one of my favorite blogs for eternity.

i'm a narcissistic stalker: being one-dimensional was never my bag baby.

the good kinda nosy

i just read an interview in my o magazine (that's oprah's magazine for all you silly mortals) that left me happy as a clam. jay z was the guy in the hot seat.

obviously the man has a new album out but i don't really give a "what what". i'm not gonna lie to kick it (i'm SO a nas fan if we're pickin teams which MOST people DO) but there's just something about this particular interview that had me swooning with admiration. (yeah i said it.)

i love oprah to death but the sister hasn't given a great interview in i don't know how long. (please don't get me started on how lame the first part of the whitney interview was...) i need her to push buttons, ask the questions... the HAWD questions that make the person in the hot seat squirm. (i went to a school of journalism people. i thurst for blood in truth form.)

so i digress. the interview.

she asks him great questions and he gives great answers back and i learn something and i feel better and i'm actually diggin the fact that a man like shawn carter exists in the world. i dig the way he thinks about emotional situations and how honest and brave he is for sharing those situations with the world at large.

i delight in the uncomfortable "agree to disagree" moments the two power houses have concerning "the n word".

there's nothing sexier (yeah i said it) than a self-assured man who is comfortable and respectful enough with himself to act with integrity. it's called swagger and by george i like me some swagger!

i suggest you pick up the good o magazine and read the interview. every day we're supposed to learn something new. when someone else's education trickles down into your noggin and inspires, then you know you've tripped into some magic puddle of splendor.

this is one of those times where nosiness can actually do a noodle good. (shout out to all you pop culture tabloid suckers!)

i'm a happy clam with pearls of wisdom growing in my pink clammy middle parts. (lol ew. yeah i said it)

spoiled is subjective

i don't care who mentally wills that i receive eternal wedgies or blistering sunburns for this post. i post my truths and today my truth happens to be i'm sick of the damn sun.

yeah, i said it. i realize all those in middle earth are butt hurt over the amount of rain they've received. i'm butt hurt that they're butt hurt over glorious change. i'm butt hurt because i've been verbally abused and mentally kicked in the pants for wishing that droplets would fall my way. (i'm now happy though because i got to use butt hurt-my new happiness-five times in this post.)

i know i hate the snow & ice and all that jazz but that doesn't mean i can't also hate 350 days of stupid too bright really darn hot sun. it's hot! it's september and the other day i kid you not, i BURNED my fingers on my steering wheel. i couldn't use the darn things for 3 hours!!! who wants to live in an environment that packs that much heat?! not i!

i swear the next place i move to will have actual seasons. septembers will be real falls and not stupid summer days that didn't receive the memo that it's time to chill the heck out.

i leave you with one snippet of convo i had with my east coast twin concerning her disdain for my sun hatred. please pay special attention to her cruelty. sniff...

east coast twin: Yes. I likes my festivals. Gotta go to as many as possible. You see, we only have nice weather for part of the year. We don't have sunny days all the time. So we have to squish all our fun outdoor stuff into about four months. We can't all complain about sunny days all year long. :-)

me: You’re really never going to forgive me for hating the sun’s harsh breaths of death are you?

e.c.t: no

don't be surprised if the next place i move to boasts of rainy days. i miss grey. i really do.

i need a date like i need a hole in my head

i have an axe to grind against the inhumane practice known as dating.

back in my lucky younger days i had no problem with the dating scene. (lucky is an understatement.) when i dated i would meet and find great guys that would last at LEAST a couple of months.

then i grew older...added a couple more wrinkles to my brain and moved out to whackville (aka los angeles) and there began my adventures with crummy arse whackalicious dudes.

it was only fair i guess...

i have oodles of yummy reasons why dating sucks. ole boy may just up and marry someone WHILE you are engaged (yeah that happened to me). they may even lead a double life. (me again!) or they may be like the douchey mc-douchington i met saturday night at a ku watch party.

first of all. i am at a football watch party. i am sitting with a group of friends at a table. i am drinking water and watching the game. i am not talking to my friends which means i'm actually there for the game. i'm not there to find my baby daddy.

ole boy still approaches and i'm humored for a tiny moment because he mentions he's from kansas city too and i always have time for a little midwest love but the dude wants to seriously talk...WHILE I'M WATCHING MY FOOTBALL. i miss like two great awesome plays. i keep turning my head and clapping and saying "doh" when i miss something and he STILL doesn't get the durn hint that he's taking my beloved attention away from what matters most.

so yeah i'm a little perturbed at this point but i'm not down for rudeness so i continue to humor the dude. half time things get interesting. so i tell him i had moved to la for acting (big no no!) and so he starts name dropping and job dropping all of his endeavors (girls included). i don't humor this part of the conversation because it makes my butt twitch. after telling me how he dated so and so i turn around and give him the i'm only half looking at you/paying attention vibe .

this is when he blows it up like an atomic bomb.

i hear him say, "so when we hang out you have to wear some heels cuz i love a tall sister." and my butt twitches so much i scoot across the chair.

huh?! what vibe am i giving off to these dweeboes?! if, during commercial breaks, i'm spittin actual knowledge your way and sporting a ku jayhawks t shirt and boy shorts why would you ever assume i'm that whack girl that would swoon for something that whack?! do i look like a chicken headed gold digger? please don't be fooled by the fact that i sport long hair...that's so lame. GROAN!!!

at that point i graciously told him i guess i wasn't in his league because i didn't respond well to men i had just met telling me what to wear. he of course tried to take it back and said it didn't matter but the bomb had already done its damage.

this is SOOO how a lot of la men are by the way. it's all about appearance. it's all about the shallow pooh. i spent the second half throwing up in my mouth a little bit.

la boys...whackalicious pinheads since 2005.

cheap hippie

ize like free.

ize like music.

free + music = a very happy Jesus woolly-haired girl

a while back on one of my many boring weekends i heard an npr campaign that seduced me into becoming a kcrw member. i'm not gonna lie, while i do luv me some ira glass and morning becomes eclectic i gave money because i wanted the free mac book. (why i gotta lie to kick it?)

there's always an underlying "what's in it for me?" so no judgmental finger points you pure-of-heart people! dare you to throw a guilt-free stone!

i obviously didn't win the darn mac so i kind of forgot about my little philanthropic endeavor until today when i received an electronic gift in my inbox with 20 FREE songs from kcrw's dj playlist. i was JUST complaining i needed new music too! SWEET!

i recognize some of the goodies. there are some eels in the mix. some sonic youth but there's a whole lot o'stuff i've never heard of that has me impatiently waiting for my itunes to download already. the morning after girls, bibio, miike snow...?

never heard of these music delights. can't wait. hope they are good.

there's only one kind of stuff betta than free. free GOOD stuff.

make luv, not bad music...and keep it free!

...and for the curious kitties out there: "THE LIST"

40 day dream-edward sharpe
when they fight, they fight-the generationals
un canto a mi tierra-quantic and his combo barbaro
sweet disposition-the temper trap
the strangers-st. vincent
smile the day after today-black moth super rainbow
sans soleil-miike show
part of your nature-the morning after girls
pale horses-moby
maybe so, maybe no-mayer hawthorne
malibu gas station-sonic youth
just like honey-headless heroes
in my dreams-eels
here are many wild animals-a camp
haikuesque (when she laughs)-bibio
do you wanna-zap mama
calle sol-nickodemus
birds of a feather-mocky
belated promise ring-iron & wine

i'll wave my private parts in your direction

today has been the perfect chill day.

no demands on not being funktified. no demands on entertaining active individuals. i committed myself to doing flitterfluff nada and by gosh, i did just that.

monty python watching, book reading and blogging demanded specific attire. (hoodie by fit bottomed girls)

a thematic "i don't give a fruck" food selection followed.

next on the agenda is 2 oprah magazines i have yet to read and this cute book i've been reading for the last couple of weeks _Bee Season_. i realize some day i won't have the luxury to sit around and delight in absurdities like the ones i've played around with today so i'm soaking it all soaks well.

flame of the uninspired

i spend a lifetime curving out my fate
things i like, things i hate...
--k.d. lang


toni morrison & jazz paintings i purchased
the last time i was in new orleans

the ring collection i've accumulated. just for the record
the ring on the right says "fabulous" it don't get no betta

my makeshift makeup brush holder

my Godchild's art circa 2005
i think she may be the next picasso


running. period. at least for now. i'm glad my marathon is at disney world. if i don't have happy, happy, joy, joy all around me the day of the race i might just spontaneously explode

long running socks. i told the sales guy this length made my butt twitch but he put them in my bag nonetheless. sigh...i'm too cheap NOT to wear them either so spazz socks i will endure. hmph

apparently i like more than hate. yeah for being a good girl!

hitchcock presents gangsta bird

mary poppins you make me twitch.

you make me twitch because you sang a demonic song called "feed the birds" and some little kid grew up and decided that feeding the damn birds was a sweet awesome idea. they took this demented idea to the corner bakery across from MY job and they fed the birds over there some radioactive bull crap. tweety is now on roids and it's all the magical nanny's fault.

i just spent my entire lunch screaming, ducking, choking on my turkey sammy and timidly shooing this little shithead:

the really effed up part is him and his posse were only attacking my home girl and me (who happened to be the only two sisters in the darn patio area.)

racist, roided-up hot mess. that's what it was. i swear i need a drink.

L 7 moments

know you're an L 7 when:

you're waiting for a text; yearning for your phone to just give you one little red blink of confirmation that you indeed have friends in the world. then, right as you give up hope and turn back to your regularly scheduled sytycd (GASP!) red light, red light!!! (corner of the right eye) you turn and it's the darn stupid idiotic tv remote going nutso again. cruel...

you open a facebook update that reads, "you are the funniest. write some more..." and then realize someone's just commenting on another person's dang page. fb notifications are the devil.

boredom exposes all cruel.


brain leaks


"sticks and stones may break our bones but words will never hurt us"

yeah...i think every one's parents used that little adage at one point in our young impressionable lives but believe it i most certainly did not.

i knew better because the kind words sent my way always made the day a ginormous amount of better-ness. words can make the greyest of grey clouds disappear.

take the comment my anonymous new yoda buddy left on one of my posts:

Your blogs are interesting and fun to read. It's not easy capturing the attention of people in today's busy world... Getting people to take time out to read about your life, your thoughts, your experiences, is a GIFT. You have complete strangers telling you to keep going. Not because they know you personally, but because they can tell by your words and the things you do outside of acting, that you have the potential and drive it takes to achieve anything. Whether that be writing, acting, directing. You'll be successful my blogging friend. Patience is a virtue. Just wait and see.

i read something like that and my whole outlook does a 180. i've figured out that the sunniest of sunny people can have dreadfully bad terrible days but the difference between the tiggers and the eeyores is one's ability to bounce back. i really am thankful that folks care enough to help me stay in the tigger group.thank you anonymous friend. sometimes words really can break some happy off into you!


so i dig my fro. curly hair really is the best thing for the grown and lazy but me and the Jesus wool battle it out gangster style in the shower each day. i seriously have to stand there and brush the ISH out of my ish for a good 5 minutes (not cool for a gal who prides herself on short shower time. go green!) my sista gurl friends will laugh (or roll their eyes) but my hair's version of the kitchen is reDONKulous.

that all changed this week. i have NO clue what's up with my hair as of late but the darn fro is actually being nice to me. for the last couple of days i have had actual silky non-tangly hair in the shower. (whaaaa....?)

first day i totally thought it was a fluke of nature...but by day two? mwahaha!!! when the brush glided thru my hair on day two without stopping to check out rat #26 i about cried.

is frederick fekkai for real?! do i need to have this man's babies?!


we gots to get our hee haws out somehow...urban dictionary is one of my many poisons of choice. without fail i'll find some hilarious word that has me and my peeps rolling on the floor snorting. (that's laughing for all you d.a.r.e. savvies)

take "joke insurance" for example. joke insurance is when two mates have a mutual understanding to laugh at each others jokes, no matter how lame or awkward said joke is, therefore lessening the social failure of the bad joke.

isn't this grand?! isn't it SO true?! j and i have the corn ball humor down pat. while others are groaning and reaching for the knife that was made special to end their ear's suffering we're bustin guts (that means laughing for all you naughty savvies!) friends and the perks that come with are pretty darn fantastically delicious.

our dear president just spoke of insurance. said every green-blooded american should have it. i'm thinking maybe i should write the dear chap and ask him to add j.i. to the bill. heck, it may get a republican or two to attempt a smile once in a while. who knows...

the envy in acting

ugh. so here's the deal on acting.
it's frustrating and i had no where to go and nothing coming in from my agents. i became jaded. hard core jaded...

i'm soooo not the girl that knows where to go, what auditions to take, what classes help and which ones hurt.

so i started writing a book about this craptastic journey i've been on for the last four years and i felt like my dream was shifting from actress to writer. i was TOTALLY cool with that.

that is until i saw a facebook update from an acting pal of mine who landed a HUGE movie deal and is currently on cloud nine doing articles for major magazines and discussing her formal training and how surreal a dream come true really is.

the actress in me broke down. i'm a bit emotional right now. can't really process what's going on. would i still act if given the chance? is "tish the writer" a finite go live plan? what the heck is happening to me?!

envy is creeping up on me like a creep in a club. i just want to see someone's path and then walk directly behind them, making sure to step in every footprint and catching every audition "yes" that comes along.

i have no idea what succeeding in acting looks like. because of this can i really consider myself an actress? can i keep this up?

fart-licking failure

how about we just go ahead and strike marathon mandinga from the record. i admire my previous moxy...but that zeal isn't gonna be discussed for quite some time i predict.

do you know what a fartlek is? well that's what i did today. (i hang my treadmill-cocky head in shame.) i ran a measly mile today outside (my first outside run in a straight minute) and about killed over. the last two miles that i was SUPPOSED to run consisted of run/walking...also known as a lovely fartlek. (pronounced fart lick...don't you try to make that ish sound fancy!)

i ran the straights and walked the curves and i did all of this while fit stupid high school football players watched and guffawed at my obvious lack of kiwi power. (at least they were guffawing in my head. it sounded like a collective goofy-from disney-laugh. mental or not, i felt the sting of shame.)

i wanted nothing more than to steal a helmet and jog off the track. instead my gal pal e consoled me and treated me to a deliciously nutritious berry topper from jamba juice (berries, soy milk and granola basically) for din din. (took my mind off of my boo boo run for a good half hour.)

i wanna know why a gal who can run 10 miles on a damn treadmill can barely get thru a darn mile outside. i felt like my lungs were bleeding. i'm not being dramatic! i could actually taste that mess. someone give me when it gets cool? take allergy pills? what's the secret?

i understand this is why people start training early for marathons. i'm thankful i still have 17 weeks and a couple days but that doesn't make me fear the outdoor runs any less.

and one more gripe before i go. so i ran in college to clear my head. the track was the one place i could go numb and work out all my mental ish. i'm currently dealing with some stuff that i KNOW is ridiculous because it consumes my every thought. it's lame. i shouldn't be stressing about the things i can not imagine my pissy-ness when i hit the track and my mind started gravitating towards those very thoughts. doh! it was just not a good run day.

sorry but no. i could not channel the marathon mandinga. sniff.

i shall end on a positive note. there is NUTHIN better in my world than coming home from a run, taking a hot arse shower, throwing on some cocoa butter lotion, a pair of basketball shorts and a soft t-shirt. it's like life butta.

a maniacal marathon mandinga

i am running a marathon. this doesn't scare me but BOY is it scary to think i'll be eating, breathing, living the runner's life. for the next 18 weeks i shall be a running fool. secretly, deep down, i am squealing in my running shoes.

i'm running a marathon. first of all, girls like me don't RUN marathons. we don't have lofty fitness goals. we don't push ourselves. well girls like i used to be.

i love the commitment part. the focus and the dedication it takes to go after something like this. plus when i'm old and grey i can say i ran a marathon as a youngster and my grandkiddoes will think i'm awesome like whoa. (yeah, i brought it back)

i'm going full out this time. yesterday i went to this lovely running store in pasadena called a snail's pace to get the proper gear. boy was it an experience to boot!

first of all this is no ordinary sports store. i walked in, confident and cocky, and asked the sales guy to give me an asics shoe in a size 10 1/2. (shut up about my shoe size...i'm tall!) he asks me why i want that shoe. i tell him because everyone says it's cool (doh! he's caught me being a douche!)

he laughs mockingly in my face and asks if he can help me find the best shoe for my foot. i take the challenge on curiously. he brings out a foot measurer thingy and gives me the scoop on my obvious inability to determine my correct shoe size and then tells me how a runner's foot swells and all this other mumbo jumbo that my ignorant little behind had not a clue about.

he brings out 3 different pairs of shoes and then has me not only kick the back of my foot, stand and do the "where's your toe hitting" game BUT he also makes me run up and down the store not once, not twice but FOUR times and then has me run on a treadmill for awhile, testing out each shoe for the perfect comfortable fit.

i walked away from that store with a pair of shoes i didn't even know existed but i swear i could visualize myself running past the finish line with pizazz in my lovely new kicks.

getting the pizazz shoes (aka brooks) cemented that this is all real. like a big kid, i'm really taking on this new feat with gusto. i'm throwing on the proverbial black war paint under my eyes, filling up on carbs and hitting the track.
today, my friends, is the beginning of my journey to awesomeness.

the shoe in all its glory: the brooks kick

they're even tishy gangster like! i'm about to make this my mantra. i will go some mo.

i even bought some new sockaroos to go in the lovely new shoes. dry fit. it's what's for dinner.

Add Image

coming after you like a spider monkey!

"i'm hyped up on mountain deeewww!"

(awesome quotes made possible by talledega nights)

this was not a weekend of deep intellectual movies and profound insights into the human soul.

my labor day weekend was fun and major chill. i don't know what chill little bug crawled up my keister but it demanded i do almost next to nothing the
entire weekend. (physically speaking that is)

i FINALLY saw inglorious bastards and now have a special place in my heart reserved for brad pitt. (this is a first for me...please don't ruin it by saying he's hot.) i thought that movie was hilarious and sadistic all in one. there were so many times i could feel the audience wanting to cheer and scream, "YEAH!" but felt self conscious that others would find them sick, sad and twisted but aren't all folks that go to see a tarantino film sick, sad and twisted? YEAH! we are. : )

i, along with my faithful friend d, went to the beach on saturday. we drove the hour and some change and ended up in my cousin's land--a place where one can chill, do nothing and feel quite good about it. we ate really good food, went out for drinks and just hung out. i now think d will become a dog whisperer. he spent a good hour silently watching the dogs' behavior patterns and if i would have let him, he probably would have stayed at the beach for the rest of his life doing just that.

after the beach chill ended we drove back north and kicked it with my good pal rushell and her extended fam bam at her lovely home. latin sounds permeated her backyard. we ate THE best panamanian food, shook the hips a bit, swung in the hammock and then we came home. i think d actually got one of her family friends to try english beer...worlds collide lol.

now, today, on this day known as labor day i continue the act of doing nothing. i plan to get caught up on all the tv i've missed for the past couple of weeks...and i mean COUPLE. i plan to drink green tea to prepare my body for its reintroduction to normal food (marathon training starts this week!) and read read READ (i sang those last three words like an opera)

that's it folks. nothing momentous lol...nothing life-changing...BUT it was swell to relax and chill out. i swear when i hang with d i feel a lot like charlyne yi (complete with laugh). since she's now one of my heroes, this is a good thing.

i die

it's september.

this means tv shows start back up. this means my life chart shifts--book reading down, boob tube watching UP UP UP!

this means i get rachel zoe back. gasp!

one day when i was a good little girl i ran out into a green field (think sound of music) and i screamed up to the sky, "oh happy day, give me my love again!" and the sky whispered to a cloud, who then whispered to the o-zone, who then whispered to gasses, who then whispered to sattelites that my wishes were to be honored. that nice satellite then beamed down that lovely bravo program and now my addiction can start up once again.

who knew i needed chanel chats and prada plots. zoe knew.

i feel like tv's gotten really crummy. i say hang on to the shows that engage you.

it's so hard for me to sit on the couch for more than 30 minutes nowadays. this is CRAZY for a once tv junkie to admit.

tv's bad and i'm a.d.d. energetic crazy so anything that allows me to calm down and clear my head is tube-ular-tastic.

mental cupcakes

so while i was dancing on sunshine yesterday my darling best friend was not so much. this resulted in me trying to help infuse a couple of mental cupcakes into her day to stimulate some smiles.

i sent a couple of coincidences her way, one journalism contact and a random email plastered with pictures of babies sprawling over various dogs and cats. at one point in our young lives this would have resulted in her thwacking me upside the head with a skinny long stick but as she's gotten older her taste in happiness has changed. she was tickled kiwi.

her final mental cupcake for the day is a humdinger though. this resulted in her sending back confirmation that the mental cupcake in slight question was a big hit. hopefully it plastered a permanent smirk on that lovely face of hers. best friend duties you see...

my goals in life are simple but oh so necessary...

proud member of the mosquito bite club

so this i know for sure:

the day babies stood in line for their parental dna matches i forgot to stand in my mom's boob line. i think i actually stood in yzma's line by accident but that's not the point (no pun intended)

my whole life i've been surrounded by my family's big boobies (heck even my grandpa had bigger ones than me!). i was very used to hearing phrases such as "you're a carpenter's delight" and so on and so on while my younger sisters blossomed. (apparently they got the memo to wait in line double D).

all grandmothers, the mom and female relatives stood in the right line. i was the only line jumper...

i was the only one who had to endure my mom questioning me if i'd like two bandaids for them. (and folks wonder why i'm disturbed.)

all the pain and envy disappeared over my sister's wedding weekend though. mwahahaha...

my mom was at a store trying on clothes and was throwing a big hissy about her girls not playing nice. i came over and told her she just needed the right gear to hoist them up to their rightful location...and with that sentence i reached for her straps and hiked them up with a hard heave ho.

the look on my mom's face was classic. she contorted into a wide "O face". pain flashed across her eyes. she screamed at me, "WHIPLASH!!!" and instinctively cradled the twins while simultaneously slapping me away.

my sister, mom's best bud and me-- boob torturer extraordinaire--all bursted into an extreme fit of laughter.

yes i may be a pirate's delight (sunken chest) but i always will know where my girls are chillin. i'll never have to worry about them knocking me in the face as i run and i will NEVER be publicly tortured by the over the shoulder boulder holder.

there's always a silver lining folks. always...

*title inspired by neah amos, proud member of the itty bitty titty committee since 1995

i smell change. it smells good

i got bored with my sweet little blog's look.

let me know if this is obnoxious...otherwise say hello to my new lil fren.

happy punches

i rocked out some crazy runs for 3 weeks and so i decided (with the help of my lovely bladder) that i would not do a darn tootin' thing this week. i'm taking a vacay from working out. this is HUGE considering the fact that i've worked out on a consistent basis since January.

don't get me wrong. i don't advocate the not working out thing but it has been nice going back to my previous eating habits (i eat much smaller portions when i'm not a running beast) but it also means i can't get down with the treats i've been snackin on lately.

yesterday was an exception though. i needed a cupcake. i needed a cupcake like a a hoochie needs a check up. so i went to yummy cupcakes in burbank and purchased two. (an old school for me and a red velvet something for buddy)

i brought back our tiny bits o' heaven and together we devoured those scrumptious little devils...and my world was complete.

this story has no real purpose other than i'm kind of in love with the fact that something so tiny and might i add fleeting can make me so darn happy.

i personally love the idea of maintaining happy highs. i thank my old school cup cake for providing me with one of many happy punches.

a wedding witness

it’s almost cliché to discuss the angst of the single girl going to the wedding.

it’s almost scary to discuss the single girl going to her youngest sister’s wedding but that wasn’t really ever an issue for me. some where deep in the calm of me I was always comfortable with an going first.

i like the idea of someone protecting her and looking after her so it made sense to hop on a plane and watch the baby of the fam marry the guy that makes her smile stretch to extreme proportions.

the wedding weekend overall was a HUGE success. (i fully recommend all bridezillas calm the freak down and take my sister’s approach) she just wanted to get hitched. she removed all pretentious thoughts of “traditional” and went with her and her now hubby’s intuitions about what a celebration of love should look like. (this included her going down the aisle barefoot. she is my shero.)

we had a kick arse bachelorette party that involved meeting bridesmaids that have been email pals for months, drinking spirits (wink wink) and laughing & crying our little eyes out over stories of the bride and groom. i met my new sisters (in our fam when you marry one of us…you marry our whole fam!) and my new brother.

the big day was the best though. while my sister was cool, calm and collected, i scurried about doing make up and hair, helping my dad avoid social embarrassment by walking down the aisle in a short sleeved dress shirt (why do they still make those?!) and basically keeping my sister from worrying about all the little nuances that make weddings stressful but funny. (and with my cooky family the nuances are plentiful)

the ceremony was awesome ya’ll! my sister and brother-in-law had the awesome idea to have the entire wedding party dance down the aisle to the cool tunes of daft punk. we all had signature dance moves. my sis and the maid of honor (aka captain of the bridesmaids because he’s a dude and that’s just a really cool name) and i danced down the way together. we did the classic “brush the pimp’s shoulders off” church.

my dad twirled an down the aisle and then busted a move with her at the end. their moves had the WHOLE church screaming with cheers (my dad is usually quite shy and reserved…he pretty much never makes any sudden movements so watching him twist with the bride was pretty frickin awesome)

the bride and groom said their vows and even got in some laughs over my sister’s refusal to say “i place this ring” since her hubby has a tattoo ring instead of the traditional kind.

THE best moment of the whole darn ceremony though…wait for it…drum roll please. my grandmother digging thru her purse frantically as her cell phone went off. the preacher finally asked her to shut the darn thing off (quite perturbed he was!) and this public scolding resulted in my grandma shouting out “oh shit!” in church! IN CHURCH people!!! ha! and my mom calls me a heathen lol. now THAT is a nuance that i expect from my fam. best story EVER!

back to the sweet stuff though. i totally cried. i mean i never promised i wouldn’t. i saw my bro’s brother lose it and so i lost it and then i saw his sister lose it and i lost it even more. the only time i wasn’t crying was when i noticed the preacher had a kindle instead of a Bible. (cool and progressive don’t ya think?) it distracted me for a good 3 minutes.

after the ceremony we all hung out casually, took some pictures and then headed over to this awesome space that an and stephen worked at during college (where they met actually) for the reception. old school tunes like “at last” and “fly me to the moon” bellowed out amongst the minglers. they opted for a pot luck which turned out to ROCK and the mood was set. people casually walked about and connected with new and old friends. i stayed close by my cousin and best friend’s side for most of the evening crying and laughing with the two about our little an.

it was a perfect wedding for a perfect youngest sister. those are the kinds of weddings that make one hopeful and content. being a part of a couple’s celebration is a special cool thang my friends. when the couple is true and lovely something magical happens to all those in attendance. it’s inspiring to boot!

i thank the new couple, stephen and andrea, for filling my heart with the good stuff.

the sisters

the captain of the bridesmaids took his job seriously

the bride prepares

the cool crowd

my dates

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