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This week wraps up Colby’s first soccer debut.
It has been… interesting.
I love soccer. I know Colby enjoys kicking the ball around and being with his friends, so I figured it’d be fun to sign him up. How often do kids get to be on a team where they know everyone from the get-go?
Pretty lucky, if you ask me.
The first two games occurred while I was in New York for the BlogHer Conference, but I have been to every game since, twice a week for the past three weeks.
I didn’t anticipate how frustrating it would be. Read more on Not Ready….
It is?
Well, too bad. You’re getting one anyway.
Time flies when you’re having fun. Time also flies when you’ve had an amazing time in New York City, and then come home to a house full of more “fun” (as in whiny kids who are secretly holding a grudge against you for leaving them for almost a week), followed by finding out you’ve been accepted to start training for an about.com job that could possibly throw you into freelance writing further than you’ve ever been thrown before.
(More about that one later, it’s awe-some!)
So yes, time has flown.
That’s not to say I have pushed aside the BlogHer10 trip as if it were some hot one-nighter. As a matter of fact it was so incredible and overwhelming, I haven’t even really been able to process it until now.
I have decided that I was born into the wrong family.
Don’t get me wrong, my family is great and all. They’re smart, creative, supportive, encouraging, and they’re darn cute, too.
But they don’t come with acreage.
Yesterday morning, I received a text from our friends asking if we wanted to meet them at their family’s river-side property for some fun in the shallow and slow-moving river. Perfect for the hotter than h-e-double-hockey-sticks day that it was predicted to be.
“We have an eighty acre farm,” David had said in his text.
Surely, that had been a typo. Eighty acres? Come on. Maybe eight.
I quickly learned that it wasn’t a typo in the least.
Read more on Photoblog: Summa Summa Summatime…
Mary plopped down beside us in the bar, a blue Santa hat on her head.
It was the beginning of August, but I didn’t ask questions. We were in New York at the BlogHer10 conference and I had seen far stranger things by that point in the trip.
Tracy asked how Mary was doing. She smiled and lifted a single orange high heel shoe from her bag, placing it on the table amidst our drinks.
“I lost my other stripper shoe,” she said, gesturing toward the heel.
Immediately, I pulled out my phone, took a picture of the sexy heel, and Tweeted: Read more on Lone Stripper Shoe-Napping: A Tale…
We’re @ the airport, ready to go home… worried we *might* have too much to pass for carryons.
Oh, and check this out: I shipped those boxes yesterday, right? Well, they ran out of UPS Ground forms, so I had to use 3 Day Select. I am afraid of how much that’s going to cost… I think I should’ve just checked a bag and forked out the $25.
Shippers’ remorse.
Alright. Here are our not-so-stunning morning faces: Read more on Vlog(s): Delirious in New York…
Me words no… work?
Head brain not function.
There have been few times in my life that I have ever been this tired and we still have more to do tonight. Whew! It’s exhausting. It’s ridiculous. It’s awesome.
You wouldn’t believe the swag that I’ve received here. They aren’t joking around. Read more on Vlog: Checking in from BlogHer10…
Before I dive headfirst into the first day of our trip, I have to get something off my chest:
Roberto?! Really… I mean, really?!
Chris was the perfect guy. He was the normal guy. He was the guy who was taking things at an appropriate speed and cautiously hinting at his feelings like, um, a normal dude would.
Don’t get me wrong, I think Roberto’s plenty nice on the eyes and seems sweet enough.
But Chris… Chris!
Dumb move, Allie. Dumb, dumb move.
My friend was so distraught over her choice, she chucked several M&Ms at the TV. You know a woman is pissed when she uses precious, crunchy chocolate as a projectile. Read more on #BlogHer10: Day One in New York!…
My brain is too full and overwhelmed to think up some awesomely creative and quirky way to start this blog, so I’m going with this sentence and callin’ it good.
Tuesday morning, at the buttcrack of dawn, I leave for New York City.
I have so much to prepare before hand, hence the full-brain issue. Read more on Swag = Awesome…
That title is about to get a little more funny.
Read on. You’ll see.
This past weekend, a pregnant chick I had just met was talking about this new cupcake place she had been to. She said the cupcakes were amazingly delicious. She mentioned that one cupcake had salted caramel frosting and she loved it.
I had never heard of salted caramel before. I like salt. I like caramel. But together? I needed convincing.
And anyway, this woman is pregnant… her tastebuds can’t be trusted, can they? I know mine were whacked out when I was pregnant.
Still, I was intrigued. Read more on I am a master baker!…
Who has two thumbs and just won a trip to New York?
*this mama!*
I. Won. I Woniwoniwoniwon. I have said that about 182,345 times since finding out Friday morning, and I’m still not sure it has sunk in.
Note: I am not singing Lady Gaga. Oh… how I despise Lady Gaga. Ridiculous, repetitive oh la la-ah, rah, rah, rah-ahaah.
No.
Thank.
You.
Instead, I am rah-rah-ing in a peppy cheerleader sort of way.
I am a snorter.
It has become a bit of a joke, actually. Friends of ours count how many times I snort-laugh in a given evening. Generally, the tipsier I get, the more I snort, though that isn’t always the case. In fact, you can easily gauge my enjoyment of a situation by how many times I snort while laughing. It’s my body’s evil trick, giving my true feelings away.
You have friends who do it.
In fact, you’ve probably done it.
Heck, even as I write this blog, I realize I did it just a month ago.
Vaguebooking, as defined by Urban Dictionary is:
I did a very bad thing yesterday; something I try not to do. Something that makes me feel like a very bad mama on the rare occasion that I do it…
Read more on PhotoBlog: Ahhh!…
If you hate adorable, useful, awesomely cool stuff, I would recommend not reading the following post.
No. Seriously.
If you despise the ultra chic, and crazy cute, you shouldn’t go any further than right… here.
