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.


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.


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.

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”.

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.

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.


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

Well, this is embarrassing…

If you haven’t heard of Nate Bargatze, you need to look him up right now. Start with his special on Netflix, “The Tennessee Kid”. He is, without a doubt, the funniest comedian that I have seen. I think I watched his special 20 times already. There is one on Comedy Central, “Full Time Magic” that is also very funny. He tells these horribly self-deprecating jokes with the straightest face imaginable. He is a slightly overweight dude, average looking, with possibly a thyroid condition because his eyes bulge out like a turtle. That’s why I would suggest watching his specials before you listen to his stand up. However, if you are in desperate need to listen over watch, he has “Full Time Magic” and “Yelled at by a Clown” on Spotify. In “The Tennessee Kid”, he talks about one time he was golfing when it was really hot out and before he drove back home, he wanted to change his shirt. He had an extra one in his trunk and changed it while he was standing back there. Just then, an old man looking for his wife in the parking lot hobbles over and goes, “Olivia?” Nate stared in awe for a minute, while trying to use his hands to cover up. He says, “I’m not sure who he offended more, her or me. There I am, a sweaty shirtless dude, at a car he doesn’t recognize, and that was a dead ringer for Olivia.”

I thought it would be a really good idea to tell you guys about just a few of my most embarrassing moments. I have ranked them in order of least to most embarrassing. Sit back and enjoy.

4. A very traumatic incident…

When I was about 10 or so, I was bored at home with just my oldest brother and his friends. They were in high school so naturally they didn’t want me hanging out with them. So there was this chest that we used as a coffee table in our living room – It was antique with a latch that would flap down for some sort of padlock (we didn’t have the padlock since it was purely decorative). We used to play hide and seek with friends and we would use that as a hiding spot. We could close the top and the latch was so old it would stay standing up since there was no lubrication. So, I was really bored one day and put myself in there – mind you, I could only fit in there in the fetal position. Well, when I shut the lid, I heard it. A “clank” that will echo in my brain for the rest of my life. I was locked in there. My brother and his friends were outside and I was left alone, waiting to die in this old ass chest. At least they wouldn’t have to pay for a coffin. At the age of 10, I thought maybe – just maybe – I was strong enough to rip free the chains that held the lid on to the hinges from the inside. I thought if I kicked and wiggled the lid enough, the latch would miraculously fly back up and I could simply walk out like Houdini. It was probably a good 20 minutes before my brother came in to use the bathroom and heard my kicking and screaming. He opened the lid and cussed at me like a sailor. Alas, I was freed. Needless to say, I was banned from my living room for the next few years and am now on anti-anxiety meds.

3. Did I do that?

When I was 16, my family went to California to attend my cousins wedding. My sister-in-law got me nice and drunk (so like, 3 drinks because I was about 90 lbs), and I had no cares in the world. I called over this cute guy, about 20 years old or so, to dance. I was having a good time. All was well until my brother started to get uncomfortable with this dude dancing with a 16 year old and asked him to back off. I’m not sure he knew I was the initiator in this situation. He definitely didn’t want to see what our high school dances looked like if that made him uncomfortable. I was very PG with him. Anyway, I moved on to the next person like nothing happened. When my family and I finally went back to the hotel for the night, I was volunteered as tribute to sleep on the cot since we didn’t have enough beds. I woke up with a raging headache and some unhappy parents. I found out that I was the source of quite a bit of drama at the wedding. Apparently, when my brother asked him to back off, my dad accompanied them outside and attempted to fight this dude. Neither my brother nor my dad are fighters. For your knowledge, this guy ended up being the groom’s cousin. I wish I knew what happened, but I don’t think any ‘bows were thrown. Ultimately, the groom asked his COUSIN to leave, even though my family is the one that made a scene. Homeboy wasn’t happy with that because he kicked in the back tail light of our rental car. Oops.

2. Thirteen years later…

This one probably wasn’t a big deal at the time, but it has stuck with me for 13 years now. I was a late bloomer in high school. For one, I had braces during the most vulnerable years of my life – freshman to junior year (thanks Mom). But also, I was late to have my first kiss, first make out, etc. There was this guy that I liked throughout high school (he was a few years older) but he had a girlfriend most of the time. Anyway, I met up with him one night during my sophomore year, and I felt like a total bad-ass meeting up with a senior. We were in the front seat of his Jeep and we moved to the back seat to make out. As I was getting on his lap, my foot got stuck under the front seat. And I don’t just mean stuck. I mean, I was planning on moving in there at that point. I was like, “This is it. This is where I live now.” I had no idea how I was going to pay the mortgage on a Jeep but it was about to be what I had to do. He had to help me pry my foot out but my shoe and sock came off in the process. I didn’t want to look like an idiot with one shoe and sock on so I took the other off. At this point, I think I was overstaying my welcome. After making out for a bit we had to search for my sock under the seat which probably only took 30 seconds but the way I remember it, we are still – to this day – searching for my sock. I was absolutely mortified…13 years later. He probably doesn’t even know/remember this happened, but the North remembers.

1. Well, shit.

Two years ago, about a year or so into my current job, I started to put on a little weight – sitting at a desk all day and constant food gatherings at work really added some extra hay to the cart. I was really feeling like I wanted to make healthier choices and try to lose a little weight. I had seen a commercial for a “weight loss assistance” pill called Alli. The way it works is it traps the fat in the foods you eat and converts it to oils, allowing your body to digest fats with ease. The instructions state to use it in combination with eating healthy, as it was not a weight loss pill – it just gives a little assistance. Well, if I were going to completely change my diet I wouldn’t need the pill. So I started making better choices and incorporated more healthy foods into my diet. I still had the occasional french fry, but any fatty or greasy foods you eat get converted into oil and, well, “slip” out of your body. I went to go use the restroom to pee at work when I smelled something…something bad. Sure enough, I had shit my pants. I was so embarrassed and had no idea how I didn’t know before I used the bathroom! I didn’t feel it or smell it until I was in the bathroom. I had to throw my underwear out at work… Thank GOD it was 4:00 so I didn’t have to suffer all day with that, even though my coworkers probably already had! I returned to my desk, commando, hoping nothing else slipped out. I stopped taking Alli immediately. I went to return the medicine to Target. When the sales associate asked if anything was wrong with it, I told her the truth. Turns out, I was not the first or the second person to return the product for the same reason! And, only after this happened, my coworkers started telling me about people they knew that took that pill and the same thing happened.

I have MANY more embarrassing moments in my arsenal, so if you’d like more, let me know. I’ll see if I can get some new ones to happen to me in the meantime. Tell your friends about me. Keep it spicy.


Life Lived Out Loud.

I was reading listening to Elvis Duran’s audio-book (my first ever), titled Where Do I Begin? Stories from a Life Lived Out Loud. Elvis Duran has always been one of my favorite MC’s and I listen to his morning show on the way to work every day. He is crass, outlandish, and hilarious to listen to, so I wanted to check out his book. I was not disappointed – it met my expectations of crazy stories from his life that he was not ashamed to tell, regardless of what repercussions might come his way. He talks about funny sex stories, public urination, having to navigate his career as a sometimes-hated person, living his life unapologetically himself. I enjoy listening to his book is that it is super relatable. I don’t mean the fame and the celebrity radio show. He is a normal person who happens to have crazy life stories in which his audience can find humor, but at the end of the day, he likes to go home, do nothing, and be lazy. My goal with this blog is to be relatable to you, my readers. I recognize that I am not a celebrity and most people may not care about my life stories if they don’t know me. Also, it is much easier for men to talk about going to pound town than women because of a certain stigma. But the point is, when someone can share their life in such an open way, others start to feel comfortable with the cards that they have been dealt and start to realize that you can be yourself. Anyway, that was not the topic of this blog post. I just wanted to take a moment and reflect on why I am doing this. I have received amazing feedback on this blog and I thank each and every one of you. You will be on the dust jacket in my book one day. Also, I have business cards! You can find me wherever you find business cards.

Although I am a lazy person who enjoys sitting on my couch and not talking to others, much like Elvis, I do enjoy a night out where I get absolutely shit-faced to the point that all those frogs are lookin’ a lot like Prince Charming. I was drunk at my usual spot one night when the bartender dared me to make out with a guy at the bar for $20. I told her I’d do it for free because he was hot, and I did. At least my beer goggles told me he was hot. No idea what he actually looks like and for all I know, we sit next to each other every time I am there. One weekend, my friend and I went so wild during our 1 hour pregame (who the hell pregames at this age), that she blacked out and played human pinball with all of the bar guests. At about 10 pm, after a good vom sesh in the bar bathroom, I took her to my house, threw her in my bathroom and went right back out to the bar by myself. I know, I’m a good friend.

I remember sitting at the bar, hanging out with 2 of my favorite bartenders, Lauren and Trevor, when Lauren asked if I would sleep with Trevor if he was the last person on Earth. I said, “I would sleep with Trevor if he wasn’t the last person on Earth.” Lauren says, jokingly, “ew with his butt chin and everything?” -_- Now, if you know me, you know that I too have a butt chin. Lauren was so funny about it because she said “as soon as that was coming out of my mouth, my brain yelled ‘ABORT! ABORT!'”. Nonetheless, at that point in my drunk journey I would have slept with anyone at that bar. I even said that aloud. One super hot guy next to me turns and says, “Anyone?” I looked him dead in the eyes and said, “Anyone.” At that point, he got up and left, but it didn’t stop me from making those “you up?” texts. And, when your booty call comes to pick you up at the bar during closing time – I bet you couldn’t read that without singing the Semisonic song – and he is friends with everyone there, it is very obvious what we’re doing, I’ve come to learn. I got several texts the next day about it.

The best part of this story was when I got home with said booty call, my friend was still laying on the bathroom floor. I put her in my bed with a bucket and a glass of water next to her, and went to my guest room. I woke up around 4 AM to use the bathroom and there she was again, on the bathroom floor, underwear-less with a tampon string hanging out. I am really happy I am the one that found her that way rather than homeboy. I put her back in my bed, put a pair of my underwear on her – this was after her refusing she needed underwear even though she was very aggressively on her period and laying in my bed with white sheets – and went back to sleep. Upon waking up, she comes into the guest room and cuddles with us. She has no shame. It’s a weird friendship but I love it.

Apparently, I am the easiest person to ghost. It happens a lot. Like, a lot a lot. I just recently (yesterday) found out that the booty call mentioned above had been ghosting me for a month… I didn’t know this until he told me and apologized. We immediately made up though *wink* and he awkwardly high-fived me goodbye. Just this morning at 9:30 am, I received a text from a Tinder ghost-past saying he was going to be in town this weekend if I wanted to still f*ck him. Never met him in person nor has he spoken to me in 2 months so I’m going to pass, but thanks. And of course you all know about the other ghosts – Parker, Kyle, many others I can’t name. These fuckbois must not know how dope I am. It’s OK, though, because I will blast their shit on here. Y’ALL LUCKY I DON’T USE YOUR REAL NAMES.

To anyone reading this, just do me a favor and don’t give out candy to all those ghosts this year on Halloween. They don’t deserve that sugar.

Remember, live life a little more spicy and make light of your uncomfortable situations. They may get you a NY Times Best Selling Book.