Am I the problem?

This is not going to be like my typical posts filled with humor, sex, and self-deprecation. This will be a post about my past ignorance and how I’ve recently begun educating myself to understand why I have white privilege. This is a post with the goal to educate my friends and readers about how we can actively make a change, or at the very least, learn why a change is needed. This is a post that is very emotional and hard-hitting for me, and a post I never thought I would write. I would love to hear your thoughts and comments on this post, but I will not respond to hate-fueled responses or violence promotion. If you feel there is anything in this post that I am ignorant about or about which I am not educated correctly, please help me to learn.

As many of my friends and family know, I do not like posting anything politically fueled on social media, and I rarely engage in conversation on the subject. Many people may think its because I am clueless to politics, or don’t have passion. I’m sad that this is what is being received from my silence. That is not my intention. My intention is to remain silent on this topic because I recognize that everyone has different views, and their opinions are correct in their own way. I know that I am not the most educated on subjects enough to hold a meaningful debate, nor do I have the platform to change the way I want people to think. I don’t want to feel judged for my opinions and I don’t want others to feel this way. But I can see that the topic in America and the rest of the world today is less about politicians and more about RIGHT vs. WRONG. I would agree that politicians are speaking volumes by how they react to the situations going on today, but the main point is that we need to educate and learn as a majority, and those of us that have white voices should use them to help the ones that struggle to be heard.

The other day, I started watching All American on Netflix. This show depicts the struggle of being black in America. I didn’t realize how relevant the episodes would be in the events that are transpiring since George Floyd’s death. Then I realized, it isn’t since George Floyd’s death. This has ALWAYS been happening. I think America is just now choosing to really draw a line in the sand. There is a RIGHT side of that line and a WRONG side. Violence is always wrong, but those who are desperate to be heard and don’t know how else to get their point across can join the RIGHT side. Riots and looting aside, protests just don’t seem to be working anymore. What WILL work is education, listening, discussions, social media content, reading, empathizing, silence, loudness, dreaming, working, encouraging, walking, running, shouting, signage, petitioning, asking, just to name a few things! I have jokingly called myself “an accidental racist” which I now understand is wrong. I try very hard to not have racist thoughts or intentions, however, I recognize my place in society has inherently given me racist thoughts and intentions. I do look at people and see color. I do look at sections of the city and see color. This is not because I put them there or think they belong there, but because that is where they exist in society and for some reason, a negative connotation comes with that to white people that maintain a more privileged position. When walking alone, do I get more suspicious of a black man walking past me than a white man? Yes. Do I do this because I believe that there is a genetic difference that will make one of them more likely to attack me than the other? No. Do I do this because society tells me one is more likely to attack me than the other? Yes. Whether we know it or not, that’s where white privilege lives. Does that same black man think that I feel a certain way when he walks past me? Yes. Is he aware that I am racially profiling him? Yes. Does he think I intentionally feel that way? I can’t say. Does he know society likely makes me feel this way? Yes. But what can I do to change this? The answer is not simple, but I can start by getting educated, listening, discussing, seeing social media content, reading, empathizing, being quiet, being loud, dreaming, working, encouraging, walking, running, shouting, making signs, petitioning, asking. Most importantly, I can look in the mirror and understand that I will NEVER understand how that same black man feels.

Reading does not make my list of favorite pastimes. I’ve never once listened to a podcast. But in order for me to do better, to think better, I need to listen (that’s my lazy way of reading) about things that matter rather than having the TV on. I started listening to an Audible book called White Fragility: Why It’s So Hard for White People to Talk about Racism by Robin Diangelo. I recognize this is by a white author which I only found out because I was writing this post, but she wrote something that really impacted me. Before 1919, women were not allowed to vote in America. Ipso facto, they could not vote to have a right to vote. Women relied on men to bring about this change because men were the only ones with voices at the time. Does this seem ironic? Absolutely. But today, and probably for quite a few generations, if not always, black people rely on white people to bring about change for their race. I don’t even want to use the word “culture” in this instance, so I leave it to “race”. This is because “black culture” is a negative interpretation and bi-product of white people segregating a whole race into a distinct social class. Culture is defined to a collective social group and my views are that “culture” should not be used to segregate racial groups. Religion is social-cultural. America includes many societal groups. But, race does not bind you to a certain societal group by way of nature. Instead, race is a genetic reaction to geographical location, plainly put. Diangelo explains this in more detail, so her book is absolutely worth reading, no matter your race. Understanding these concepts has helped me to realize not what black people are going through, but why my inherent white thoughts and actions are not always inclusive, but become racist. Also, I can in fact use my white privilege to help what society deems “a lesser race” be heard. What I hope you get by the end of this post is to listen more, try to understand, ask questions, and don’t put the responsibility of getting educated back onto black people, but instead do what you can to seek out knowledge and make a change.

I personally don’t think saying “you are the problem” is any of my business, because I don’t know what “you” know or don’t know, how “you” think, who “you” drive change for, or what life experiences have lead “you” to believe the way “you” do. Instead, I would challenge you to consider if what “you” think, feel, say, or do is having a negative impact on an individual and threatens their basic human rights, as well as Constitutional rights. I see today that the power of the First Amendment is being suppressed and the right to peacefully assemble is threatened. The problem is, I don’t remember America voting on this or passing legislation to bypass the First Amendment…? I do think that those rioters inciting violence should be dealt with in a lawful manner, not by unnecessary violence, but those peaceful protesters that you see around any city in the US should not be forcefully dealt with. I have seen COUNTLESS videos of police brutality to humans simply holding signs. The actual idiocy of law enforcement to not recognize the difference between a criminal and a peaceful protester with the right of free speech shows that we need better law enforcement (people and ideology). I will not say that all law enforcement is bad, but I do think the organization as a whole is led by people who don’t allow these workers to exercise intelligence or uphold the legal constitution. I won’t say all law enforcement is bad just like I wouldn’t say all white people or all black people are bad. What’s worse is, as a democracy, we don’t get to decide who gets placed into law enforcement or legally tried, but we have to rely on another white majority and law enforcement-allied branch of our white government to decide. I can appreciate the juxtaposition of a government built on democracy where the majority of its members aren’t being heard or seen. Unfortunately, if its a minority race, the members are even less heard or seen. But I am hearing you and seeing you, as I hope all of my fellow white people will come to do, and constantly try to better themselves so that black people get the voice they so desperately try to make heard.

At the risk of getting redundant, I want to make one last point before wrapping up. I saw a Tweet from a white man that said “Both myself and George Floyd had law enforcement called against us for a $20 crime. The only difference is he lost his life for it and I got off with a good party story. That is white privilege.” How can we educate and help our store owners to know the difference between reality and what is an inherent white, racist thought? Not just store owners, but law enforcement as well. Education, listening, discussions, social media content, reading, empathizing, silence, loudness, dreaming, working, encouraging, walking, running, shouting, signage, petitioning, asking, just to name a few things. I really encourage everyone reading this to think about what makes racism exist. Please do not get offended and jump to conclusions that I am saying all white people are racist. Understand that I am trying to convey the fact that white people have inherently racist thoughts and views, and to better ourselves, we need to learn more about it. That is what I am trying to do.

My favorite quote that I’ve read in all of this is, “I understand that I will never understand. However, I stand.” I don’t know who originally said this, but if you know, please let me know so I can credit them.

All lives don’t matter until black lives matter. Help make a change. Vote because not all of us can.

Quaran-Tina

Wow y’all, it’s been a minute. I was having a hard time juggling all the things in my life and keep up with this blog. I’ll be honest – I am not a good blogger. But I just wrapped up another semester of grad school and will be taking a semester off, so I have some time to spend with you beautiful people (6 ft apart, of course). I thought it was fitting for this post to be about my time and thoughts in quarantine.

First of all, this is my work space in my “home office”:

The pup is between my legs. So is Olivia.

What I’ve Experienced…

I like to classify myself as an introverted extrovert. I mean, I’m a fun time when I’m with other people, but there’s nothing I love more than being totally isolated at home, alone, with no one having expectations of me. I made a conscious decision to live alone because of my hate for other people and I’ve never felt more confident about it until this pandemic. I can’t imagine having to be bored in the house and in the house bored with someone else. My patience for myself is low, let alone other people. I’ve found myself getting deeper and deeper in a slump of not wanting to do anything. The more I do nothing, the less I want to do. I’m at a point where I’ve done nothing for so long now that I don’t even want to talk to people on the phone or do any of the 30 craft projects I bought in a panic once the state closed down. Showering is a thing of the past. The amount of series I’ve binged watched is frightening. Aside from having two full on meltdowns as a result of Vampire Diaries, I’ve watched so many paranormal shows that I’m numb to it and EVP sessions are just comforting background noise while I’m working. You’d think it would freak me out, living in a 120 year old home and all, but I’ve developed a plan to punch any ghosts right in the ingrown pubic hair if they bother me. My lunch breaks consist of me closing my computer and continuing to watch Netflix, and then doing the same thing once I open my computer back up. My school work was getting in the way of me doing nothing so it was a real struggle. Thank god I took a semester off because I don’t know how I can continue to do nothing and go nowhere AND manage to get my assignments completed on time. All I can say is THANK GOD the Met Gala was cancelled! I think we can all agree that this quarantine is making me numb and emotionless and I am loving it.

The first few weeks of quarantine were really good on my bank account. I was too scared to even get food delivered so I was actually eating the food I have in my house and only going to the grocery store for fresh produce. As time went on, I grew more and more rebellious and currently we are in a situation where I spend a lot of money on DoorDash and I’ve done so much online shopping that its finna be Christmas on my front porch soon. I stopped keeping track of my shipment notices and probably wouldn’t notice if something didn’t show up. Two of my nieces and a lot of my friends have had birthdays during this time, so I’ve hashed out a good amount on gifts for others (my selfless plug). I bought a new backyard, too (thank you stimulus check)! Now I feel like I have a little oasis right outside my house. I think the pupperino likes it too!

Before
After. Peep the grass!
The Princess.

What I am looking forward to…

I can’t wait for bars to be open again. That’s it – that’s all I’m looking forward to.

Felt cute. Might post another later. xoxo, keep it spicy.

It was me. Period.

A few weeks ago I posted a poll for my Instagram followers on topics they would want to read about. On of the responses was “period stories.” I’m definitely not questioning this input. This is a normal answer that any human would give. I have to give them what they want. There is one story that haunts me sometimes, but as you may have already known, it is not one of my top most embarrassing moments. I mean it was gross for sure, but I don’t lose any sleep over it. You’re probably wondering what it was. I have one word for you: Superbad.

For my freshman year of college, I went to NC State to get out there and try something new. I didn’t intend on going there just for freshman year but it turned out that way. Many reasons were the drivers to me moving back home, which actually is a great blog post idea… Brain, remember to do a post about why I transferred home from NC State. This specific incident didn’t have anything to do with it, so I digress. Those that know me know I am NOT into frat guys and have very low tolerance for sorority girls. However, when you are a freshman you will do anything to get out of your dorm and when you are too young to buy alcohol or go to bars, you really don’t have a lot of options. There was this one fraternity house where my friends and I would go a lot – it belonged to Theta Chi. The frat house was an old motel that they renovated into the ultimate bachelor castle and had pretty bang-a-rang ragers. The bathrooms, however, were worse than that of a port-a-potty at a music festival. Definitely not equipped with toilet paper or soap. Therefore, any girl that came to the parties who was on their period had to suffer with the consequences of wearing an hours-old tampon. You were better off using Mother Nature’s toilet and toilet paper. But this was a huge group of guys living on their own for the first time, in a gross-ass old motel, so I don’t deduct any points from the guys for this situation. After all, they are a lesser species – unless we have a draft for the next World War. Then they are, indeed, the stronger species.

Anyway, there was a guy in Theta Chi, named Zach – he was a junior at the time and very good looking. After our make out session during my first visit, I discovered that he had lived in Delaware for a few years growing up. We bonded over that and every time I went to his parties, we were an item for the night. My third time or so there, I remember I was wearing a black miniskirt (the black part matters) because I was young, skinny and hot. I also was wearing a fully loaded tampon. However, I did not know this was a fully loaded tampon until later that night. Zach, poor Zach, was wearing khaki shorts and a polo (the epitome of what I am NOT attracted to). I was sitting on his lap for awhile until my friends pulled me away to dance. Later that night, I saw it; The Superbad stain on his right leg. It was about the size of a golf ball. I was pissed because I thought some other girl had been sitting on his lap and leaked on him (I did see him dancing with another girl a few times). He was actually a gentleman and didn’t care about the stain at all, but he was sure it was from me. I was so offended – I could NEVER be responsible for something so icky. Thanks to my black skirt, I didn’t see a stain on myself and couldn’t check my underwear because the line for the pee-pit was too long. And technically I may not have even had a stain on the skirt because my bare-ass was probably what was sitting on him. Every time he blamed me, I fought right back. Being drunk, I got over it quickly and *allowed* him to walk me back to my dorm. He came inside (my dorm, you nasty people) and hung out for awhile. We were making out on the ground under the bright, florescent, overhead mood lighting and he took my shirt and skirt off. All we did was make-out, Mom, I swear. It was getting late, or early, I’m not sure but I wanted to go to bed. When he left, I changed into my jammies and – yep, it was me. Like, how could I have not known? It was a lot. Like, a lot a lot. There was no washing that out either. It was absolutely, 100%, without a doubt me. I never admitted it to him but he knew. I wasn’t as embarrassed for myself as I was for him. I mean, its my blood. But he had to exist through that party with some girls vagina blood on his leg. He must have really been into me though to come all the way back to my place anyway. Also, whoever let me wear a skirt while I was on my period is a horrible friend. You should know when and if I am bleeding and tell me a skirt isn’t a good idea. Shame on you.

That was not the last time I saw Zach, but it was the last time I wore a skirt. I also started bringing toilet paper in my pocket to such parties, wearing a fresh tampon when I went out and switched birth control pills because there is no reason I should have bled that heavily. So, there you have it. End of story. PERIOD.

xoxo, stay spicy.

My alibi.

Helloooooo, spicies! Sorry for the break from writing, but you wouldn’t believe the reason for my absence during this past month. I’ll fill you in because you know how open I am about my life. Please save your questions for the end.

About a month ago, I met a guy while I was helping a friend with a grad school project. He was really hot and had his life together ($$). He was an asshole but super nice at the same time that I didn’t really notice the asshole side of him as much. It was really unexpected and moved very fast that I cutoff most of my social life for him. Anyway, before we even went on a real date, I called him to pick me up at a bar because I was really drunk and needed to go home. I’m not sure what happened after that but I woke up in his bed the next day. From that day on, I couldn’t stay away from him. Rather, he wouldn’t let us be apart. He picked me up from work the next day and we went back to his freakishly huge apartment. We were having dinner and getting into good conversation when he brought something up that was kind of a red flag. He was into some really kinky shit that I just wasn’t sure if I could be apart of it. You see, I’m kind of prude and I just wasn’t sure if I was ready to get out of my comfort zone, or if this was the guy I wanted to give all that up for. He made me feel really special and I was drawn to him like a magnet, so I entertained the idea. Sexually, we started off pretty vanilla but then moved to some really raunchy stuff. The problem was, he was really controlling and domineering and I just didn’t like that side of him. He was nice in public but behind closed doors he was someone else. Almost like he had a vengeance inside of him that thrived on hurting me. I was losing my friends and family and just didn’t think I was ready to settle down for this guy. How could I? I couldn’t be with someone who was constantly tracking my every move, dropping in on dinners with my mom, and causing pain for his pleasure. So, long story short, I told him I couldn’t do this anymore and that I needed my life back. That’s how it ended between us.

That didn’t really happen to me because that’s the plot to Fifty Shades of Grey, but it was fun to pretend for a minute. The real reason I took a break is because I am a lazy piece of shit and I started this blog when things were really slow at my job. I usually write all of my posts on my down-time at work, so it looks like I’m busy. Unfortunately, I have been inundated with work the past month or so, so I actually had to hustle. The last thing I want to do when I get home is look at another computer. I’ve also been spending a lot of time learning NSYNC dances, trying to go viral on TikTok, hosting gatherings at my house, and binge-watching Netflix. I don’t know what to tell you, I just have a busy life. But, I really missed this blog and want to keep the momentum up. I ran out of business cards so I need to replenish. I guess that is a good sign, but I am pretty sure they all ended up in the bathroom trashcan at various bars/coffee shops. I’ll be back shortly with a real post…

Keep it spicy.

#Delabear

Hi friends. Sorry for the delay in getting a new post out. I have been suffering from I-don’t-want-to-do-anything syndrome and it has really taken a hold of my life. I’m trying to shake it off but all the players wanna play play play play play and the haters gonna hate hate hate hate hate. The other problem is I haven’t had anything interesting happen in my life for a few weeks until yesterday.

Goldilocks and Da Bear

I imagine most of my readers either A) live in Delaware or B) are friends with me on Facebook/Snapchat and saw my stories, but for those of you who haven’t (thank you for reading), let me tell you about how I was woken up yesterday by a bear in my neighbor’s yard. I had been home sick, going on day 2, when I woke up to a bunch of missed calls/texts/voicemails from my mom. I called her back and asked if she was OK (I keep telling her to get a Life Alert) and she started yelling, “ABBY THE BEAR IS IN YOUR NEIGHBORHOOD!” I had no frickin’ clue about the words that were coming out of her mouth. In my half-asleep state I couldn’t process hardly anything, let alone the fact that a bear was in my neighborhood. She had to say it a few times before I opened my eyes enough to see the news playing on my TV. I sleep with my TV on every night so the news is on when I wake up so I can keep myself educated. Once I finally opened my eyes, I saw my house on the TV via helicopter live-feed. First of all, I didn’t even know a bear was on the loose in general, so when my mom kept saying “THE BEAR, THE BEAR!” I didn’t know what in the Sam Hill was going on. I said, “I guess I should go shut my back door then.” I usually wake up between 6 and 6:30 every morning to feed my dog and let her out, and I leave the back door cracked so she can go in and out while I’m home. I got downstairs (sans-pants and glasses) and Olivia was barking like crazy. I got her inside and shut the door and then opened my front door to see what was going on. In the blur of my glasses-less eyes, I could see a ton of cop cars and caution tape closing my street down. I ran upstairs and put pants and classes on, and a very discreet HIGHLIGHTER YELLOW sweatshirt. When I went back outside, I must have blinded the cops because they yelled at me to get inside my house. The news showed the bear 4-doors over in their back yard, hopping fences. Meanwhile, Olivia is running back and forth with me at my side trying to follow the action. Can you imagine if my mom didn’t wake me the fuck up and my poor little puppy was bear food? That’s all I could think about all day. Not to mention, my door was open so that bear could have found ole’ Goldilocks upstairs in a bed that was just-right. Now, I live in the CITY of Wilmington. I was not trained on how to deal with a bear, I don’t carry bear mace living in the city. We would have been in a sticky situation.

Eventually, the bear ran off toward a local state park, but not before it almost got hit by a train. The TV showed the bear running along the train tracks that cut through the city and I could hear the train from inside my house. When I say he missed that train by 2 seconds, I mean it. There would have been bear-pâté had it not realized a giant choo-choo was coming to exterminate. I have never seen such an exhilarating high-speed bear chase in my whole life. Luckily by nightfall, the police lost the bear and don’t know its whereabouts anymore and are still searching for it in the city. And to all my animal-lovers out there, don’t start telling me that we should leave the bear alone or that we took over its habitat so that’s why it is here. This bear traveled from safe-bear land looking for food for hibernation and ended up lost, endangering itself and others. Its not like it lived in the city all along and that apartment building on Pennsylvania Ave was its final straw to come out and search for a more livable apartment. The bear needs to be transported to a safer habitat for itself with more land, trees and food. The only way to do so is to tranquilize it so it can be calmly removed from danger. I saw the police come within feet of it multiple times on the news, but they were unsure of how to capture it so that it was safe for them and the bear. I’d rather not “leave it be” so that my dog can never enjoy her back yard ever again. I paid for that shit.

You may see a video circulating around the news/Barstool showing the bear on someone’s back deck. That’s the house that is ~4 doors down from me. Please don’t send it to me. I saw it on every medium there is. I added the dude that posted the video on Facebook because he’s hot and we’re neighbors and he doesn’t know me yet but ~*heeeyyyy Jimmy*~. To all my Trolley peeps – tell me about the excitement you experienced with the #Delabear! I’m curious.

Ok, love you all. xoxo TSL

Unsure of what I just wrote about…

I have been thinking about this blog post and what the hell I’m going to write about. I’ve had severe writers block the past couple weeks. Then I realized, I’m not sure you all need a “planned” post from me. The feedback I’ve gotten is that y’all just enjoy my random thoughts. So, that’s what this post is going to be. Oh, for my birthday, my friend got me this awesome blog planner, which I intend to use! But I’ll start that for the next post.

This is how desperate I am to date – I have my Instagram name on my Tinder/Bumble/Hinge/OkCupid profiles so that in the event I miss a valuable match, they can reach out to me anyway. I get so many random messages from dudes that saw me on those sites and are just shooting their shot. I respond to almost all of them, even to just say thank you for the kind words. The other night, I got a message from someone that had like 2k followers and only pictures or videos of him surfing. You couldn’t see his face in any picture, but he was trying, so I was not going to rule it out. He had asked me to hang out sometime and I said that I was flattered but it wasn’t very fair that he knew what I looked like but I had no idea who he was. So, he asked if he could add me on Snapchat. I agreed since my Instagram name and Snap name are the same – I can’t very well pretend I don’t have one. He sent me a picture of his face and he was cute. I sent him a picture of me sitting on my couch in sweats, glasses, no make up and wet hair fresh out of the shower. He thought I was so cute so I humored him and tried to get to know him. He kept asking if I would come over his house to hang out… he lives 1.5 hours away and it was 8 pm on a Monday. I told him before I hang out with him, I’d like him to not be a stranger, so I was trying to get to know him first. It took all of 5 minutes into our very first conversation for him to send me an unsolicited dick pic. Mind you, I sent 0 flirty things or pictures and even showed him my ugliest state of being. I responded with, “wow ok that was unexpected and not at all what I am looking for right now. I’m a lady.” He said, “sorry, you just made me excited.” So I responded with, “idk why I am literally so ugly right now,” while he said, “ur my type.” THIS IS LITERALLY WHAT I LOOKED LIKE:

Haha, Mom! You can’t use this as blackmail anymore because I’ve posted it for all of my fans to see.

I really feel sorry for “his type.” Then, without any more words being said HE SENT ME ANOTHER DICK PIC. I said “dude I am not into this, what the hell.” He unfriended me after that, LMAO. I was like what the hell just happened. Within 5 minutes of responding to an Instagram message, I am getting dick pics on Snapchat. Men are actually stupid – If you refer to one of my previous posts, they are literally skid marks on society. *In Russian accent* “I am woman. I am stronger than man. Men are (say it with me) trash. I am right you are wrong.” Now, I know what you are thinking. In my defense, he did not know or read my blog and that I do enjoy the occasional dick pic. But, only when solicited from ME. I don’t understand why dudes think women just want an uncalled for picture of their gross ass wee-wee. P’s are not equivalent to boobs or butts, which are very pretty and soft. It’s like opening a picture and seeing an elephant rampaging toward me about to kill my friends and family. At least wait for a girl to ask for it…if that’s what you are looking for, make sure we are drinking wine before you start a conversation. Then we are sure to ask. Alas, I cannot erase this image from my brain. Nonetheless, I keep waiting for my Prince Charming to come along, so I keep sifting through fan mail until I find the one.

I will say, not every outreach is bad or negative. I’ve gotten messages from some pretty great guys (these are few and far between). Unfortunately, the stars don’t always align just right, preventing the match from happening, but I still appreciate the love! The good messages just aren’t funny like the bad ones are. I think the key with me that I am finding is that I would much prefer to start on a “friends” basis with someone rather than jump right in to dating. There is too much pressure on “going on a date”. Group hangouts are much easier for me than one-on-one. I get too nervous for dates that I can’t stop pooping and somehow always find an excuse not to go. If I have ever done this to you, don’t take it personally. I am just inept at romance, HENCE the singleness. If you friend-zone me first, I will want you much more, so there is a tip for you fellas. Now, this DOES NOT mean friends with benefits. This means, I want you to care about me and my life like I will care about you and your life. I don’t want to be hit up when it is beneficial for you. I want to be treated as a human or how you would treat your other friends. But, whatever.

Anyway, there is my random post for the week. Love you all. Keep it spicy – like I did with my hot sauce on my eggs this morning and now I can’t drink hot beverages.

XOXO, TSL.

It’s my muh fuggin’ birthday.

It’s my birthday today. The big 2-8. To be honest, I thought I was 28 all of last year so I have officially reached an age where I can’t remember how old I am. To all my elder readers, relax. Let me have my time to dread the end of my 20’s – I know you all did. And if I hear one more person say, “Oh, I was on my second kid at your age,” or, “By your age, I was already married and starting a family,” I am going to lose it. Not that I want any kids right now or maybe ever, but that’s like telling someone to grow the fuck up and start a family. BELIEVE ME, if any man wants to settle down and marry me, point them in my direction because there sure as hell ain’t any running my way. Also in my defense, I could have had many babies by now but I have chosen to remain on birth control because babies are gross and I’d rather not ruin my perfect swimsuit body. I can’t even say those are back-handed compliments because what about those statements are complementing the person who is turning 28? I should say to them, “Great! Well, I hope I’m not dead at your age.” But the one time I said that it didn’t go over so well. Let’s reflect on my highs and lows from the past few birthdays.

Here’s an alien that escaped Area 51 on November 6, 1991.
Twenty-Five

I can honestly say I had a quarter life crisis at 25. This was the year I decided I needed to move home from Nashville. I had gone through a good portion of my savings trying to stay afloat with various part-time jobs. It reached a point where I truly didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life or where I was heading. I was the one that moved away from home when I could and tried to start a life on my own, and here I was moving back in with my parents, jobless, with no ambition. When I first thought I would move back home, I started applying for jobs in the Delaware area, to no avail. It was about 3 months after I moved back to Delaware that I finally landed something (December). During the week of my birthday, I got super sick with a horrible sinus infection, so I was on antibiotics. Has anyone ever told you antibiotics and alcohol don’t mix? Because they told me but I had to find out for myself. I didn’t get overly intoxicated… it was just like any other night out at the bar. But I sure did end up in the hospital the next morning. I was staying at a friend’s house and had to call my mom to come get me to take me to the ER at like 5:00 am – just a case of severe dehydration. After 5 hours in the waiting room and two Gatorades later, we left without ever being seen. They gave me an anti-nausea pill that made me more nauseous and charged me $300. So that was cool.

There was one highlight, however. My friends and I were at a local bar, sitting at a high-top table. The bar was pretty crowded, but with enough of my friends sitting at the table, I knew I would be able to go to the bathroom and leave my purse and jacket safely at the table. I asked my best friend, Anne, to watch my stuff, as one normally would – why do we do this? If it were me, I would never witness a stranger come up and steal my friends’ stuff without trying to stop it. Nevertheless, we have to put a disclaimer out there in case we need to prove how bad of a friend they are. Well, while I was in the lou, a girl (stranger) sat in my seat at a table of complete strangers to her and attempted to move my stuff. Anne asked her politely to move, as the seat was very clearly taken. The girl refused, so Anne got a little bit stronger-toned with her. This chick reaches across the table and slaps Anne in the face. I am so sad I was in the bathroom during this scene. When I got back and after I was filled in, I thought Anne was on her way to fight this girl. I followed, ready for anything that may ensue. We just ended up at a bouncer telling them of the situation, and the girl that was throwing ‘bows was carried out of the bar – not without reaching out to slap Anne again on her way out. Maybe an hour later, we got an Uber home and this chick had the audacity to try to get in our Uber!!! We had to tell the driver to step-on it without explaining. Anyway, I am still to this day talking about the glorious night that my best friend got slapped in the face for me.

We call this, “The Abby Face”.
Twenty-Six

I really don’t remember what I did for this birthday, so it might not have even happened.

Twenty-Eight Twenty-Seven

This was the birthday where I was like, “Ok, I’m old. We don’t really need to celebrate.” We went to the local bar, Trolley Square Oyster House, for my birthday to see my brother’s gig (Dustin & Cassidy for all those locals that are reading). It was a great performance – they played an acoustic set of top 40 music from the 90’s – today. Every basic bitch’s favorite music. I had a good turn-out as far as my friend group, but I could NOT stay awake. I was yawning and complaining the entire time and eventually, at 11:00 pm, I convinced my friends to let me go home to bed. I was the first to leave my own birthday party and I can guarantee my friends had a better time than I did. I’m not even mad about it.

This is me, on my 27th birthday, wanting to go home.
Twenty-Eight

I am married now, with my second kid. LMAO, not – I am accepting applications though. This year, I feel really good about myself. I am an extremely famous blogger and Instagram influencer. I own a home and am in grad school. I have a steady career – even though its not what I want to do, I know I will get there. I have the most fantastic friends and, as you all know, I have recently awakened ~sexually~. I am feeling like a pretty great, strong, independent woman, who doesn’t need a man but also will take one. I recently got my second tattoo, so hide your moms because I am not sure I am suitable to bring home at this point. This past weekend, I celebrated my birthday with one group of friends, had SO much fun, and then attended a Halloween party in which WE WON FIRST PLACE in the costume contest!!! Check out my previous Halloween post for an update with my winning costume. Tonight, I am having dinner with my momma, and this weekend I am celebrating with my other friends. Of course, the results of this birthday could drastically change by this weekend, so I will keep you posted. Praying for at least one fight.

I did find out that I am a Scorpio sun AND moon… The signs that most everyone knows about themselves are sun signs – your outward personality. Your moon sign is your emotions and inner moods. Let’s just say, this makes a lot of sense and really explains why I identify so heavily with psychos Scorpios.

Signing off, happy birthday to me. Stay spicy.

XOXO TSL

This is me today. Still a princess with pretty good genes.