I Can't Blog Every Day

Because I have a job. Duh

ps why hasn't this made me famous yet?

Well I'm No Sacajawea

I'm clearly not a descendant of Sacajawea. She can lead Lewis and Clark across fricken 'Merica but I can't even get from Grand Central to the nearest watering hole... AND I use an iphone! I once was within blocks of Grand Central and somehow landed myself by the highway staring at the water. "Welp. This can't be right." Merrrrr. Pulled out my handy dandy iphone to give me directions back to GCT. After shuffling down a few one ways I quickly realize the directions are for when I'm IN A CAR. Blaaah. Fail fail fail.

So what do I do this weekend? I hike. Not a good idea for the directionally challenged. Twenty feet into what I call "the jungle" I want to turn back. It's cold. It's raining. And I'm HO. The whole time I'm dodging plants that I claimed were poison ivy (nobody wants a girl that's got an itchy rash) and trying to navigate out of the jungle without crossing any mountain lions or other mountainous creatures. After awhile we come across a wonderful fork in the road and a trail map. Option 1: South Loop Option 2: South Loop Shortcut. I'll take the shortcut thanks. 50 feet later another fork. Option 1: Quest Option 2: South Loop. My roommate asks which one we should take and I firmly state "South Loop" since nowhere on the map was there a mention of Quest and I'm not looking for any new adventures. So we climb some rocks, cross some creeks, dodge some low hanging branches and only fall once, just to find out... we went the wrong way. Now... there's nothing more depressing than realizing you have to go back through the jungle you just survived and then go on some path that the hiking gods call "the quest." Ugh. Get.Me.Home. This jungle is more treacherous than I expected and all I can think about is how I'm going to be the star of the next "I survived" episode. Thanks Bio channel for getting me hooked.

What do I do in a state of panic? Why I sing Disney songs of course. No other place happier than Disney. A few Pocahontas and Little Mermaid songs later... we're back on the right "path!" All hesitations I had before have gone out the window and I'm flying towards the exit (or where I think the exit should be). Finally back in the car I make the life decision that maybe...juuuust maybe... hiking and/or being outdoors is not something I can list as something I like to do... unless there's more beer of course. :)

"If I smile it will look like I'm having fun right?" 

This Is A Serious Post...

Noooot. Hello. Last night was Friday, I'm sitting here with a HO (hangover), and I ended my night with Cheeburger Cheeburger loaded fries. I.Have.Stories.

So my close friends know that when it's late in the night and I order a vodka water or a dirtay marti-nay I need to be cut off. When I know I need to hydrate but don't want to stop partying... I go for the vodka waters. When I'm hungry and not ready to leave the bar, I order the Dirty Martini so I can eat the olives. Just call me a professional drinker. Anywho, last night I start out the night with a dirty martini which makes me think there's no way I can wake up with a HO since I'm starting the night rather than ending the night with the dirtay martinay. LIES.

The guys were traveling in packs last night. Multiple herds of bros yet my roommate and I were just chillin at the bar not talking to any of them. One brave soul approached us and opened up with  "well you two look like you've been having loads of fun for the last hour or so." Red flag. Red flag! I'm not concerned with the fact that I look miserable... I'm concerned with the fact that thiiiss is his pick up line.  But since I can't pretend to be interested in the basketball game anymore I decide to talk to him.

Long story short, El Suave had convinced us to move locations in the bar so that we're closer to his pack 'o' bros. The first guy approaches and I hear "I own a company, and houses and apartments (blah blah blah I'm bored) and my dog commutes back and forth with me in a purse." WUT? Did that just happen?? Got my attention there and definitely don't want to talk to youuu anymore.

Incoming bro #2! His personality is similar to Michael from That 70's Show mixed with the back woods of West Virginia. AKA not all that smart. "Oh Iowa? That capital is Dessss Moin-esss right?" Well um. No, that's not how the English language works but at least he knows his capitals so I'll let that one slide. Fast forward the conversation to when my roommate death grips my arm and is hysterically laughing. "He thought Seeee-ox City was the capital until he found out it was in South Dakota!" Maybe it's the liquor at this point or just my general state of being but I'm confused. "See-ox City. Ya know... SIOUX CITY!" HAAAA. Time to exit stage left and salvage the night with some loaded fries  from my favorite late night establishment, Cheeburger Cheeburger.

I made the mistake of not using any adjectives in the name of my blog. More Bros might have been a bit too vague.

When You Said Topical I Thought You Were Talking About Ointment

And that's how my brain works. There's everything that's happening in the real world ... and then there's my world. It's only natural that when somebody says that his statement is "relevant and topical," I think of an ointment. The fact that my blog title has a comma and a period after bros also sums up my life. It's unsure... it's awkward... but I like it.

So you know how people can midlife crisis multiple times? Well at least my dad did but his was like deja vu. He got a tattoo and a motorcycle. A few years later he went for the repeat. Got a bigger bike and added to his tattoo. I guess I followed in my dad's footsteps, only I went for the quarterlife crisis. My first go around I decided I needed to move to New York. Overall a pretty spectacular decision. I think I'm quarterlifing again but I decided... to blog. Whooooa. WILD. Problem with this decision is I thiiiiink that blogging was cool a solid 10 years ago but I've never been one to claim that I'm part of the trendsetters group but I do plan on heading the Bring Back Blogging movement.

I'm a 4'9 girl that was apparently not born with a filter on my mouth. I wasn't actually born 4'9 obviously... but I reached that height at 13 and apparently decided that's as tall as I wanted to go. With that said how could somebody that tall (or short depending on if you're a glass half empty type of bro) go through life and not have entertaining stories to go along with it? I actually think the small stature and lack of filter go hand in hand. Nobody wants to get mad at a short girl. I'm the same size as most children....in fact there's a good portion that are taller than me.

Since I hit that glorious age of 21 and could finally get into the bars, I've experienced things most people haven't. It's that terrifying feeling where one minute your feet are firmly planted on the ground and the next thing you know... you're floating in the air. I'm not referencing the fact that I fall all the time (signature drunk move - deserves a post of its own) but the fact that bros take the term "picking up a girl" literally. I've become an expert in weighing my body down and the "help me" move. The "help me" move consists of the look of sheer terror and the outreached hand to closest friend and depending on the moment, a possible mouthed "help meeee."This is just one small struggle. I have many... and they're all entertaining.

It's Friday and all I can think about is how my life needs more beer, more bros, and moooore blogging!