Romantical

One of my favorite movies.

Photo via 

Pictoral evidence of the dress

Several of you asked to see a picture of my much talked about [by me] Vegas dress.

Ask and you shall receive.

The website did not have a picture, so please excuse my self portraits.

The front. Obviously. I do wish I had proper breasticles to fill it out.




Although on the other hand, not having proper breasticles means I can pull of not wearing a bra with this daring back.

 And there you have it.

Vegas wear.



My blog is PG-13...maybe R

According to the Clean Meter.

Click to verify This made me giggle. So if you planned on sharing my blog with small children...don't.

Sexy but non-slutty Vegas dress: UPDATE

My Vegas dress has been purchased.

I filled what seems to be some deep rooted desire to channel female celebrities, and went with a bandage dress.

It's sexy, alright.

I hope it doesn't creep TOO near the slutty line.

I don't usually run around wearing skin-tight dresses, but hey, it's Vegas baby.

Stuff you should read, according to Alex

Y'all.

Have you read this series?



No?

READ THEM NOW. NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW!

Don't be fooled by the "young adult" classification you will find on them; these books will satisfy anyone.

There is action, blood, danger, political unrest, AND A LOVE TRIANGLE.

[And maybe I've cried an unacceptable number of times over aforementioned love.]

I'm in obsession mode right now as I read the last book in the trilogy.

Have any of you read these? Obsessed as I am? Want to discuss Team Peeta or Team Gale??

In one month...

...my friends and I will be doing this...

 [except none of us look like this. Nor will we dress like this]

...somewhere along this little strip



VEGAS!

We are in crazy planning mode, and could not be more overly-excited.

That time I won the battle against homemade pizza

I conquered a culinary fear: homemade pizza.

I conquered that pizza dough like nobody's business. I'm prepared to start competing in dough battles.

Mozzarella, tomato, onion, and fresh basil.

Ta da!



When friends come to visit

One of my oldest and dearest friends, Lisa, ventured to Houston this past weekend for a visit.

We've known each other since we were 12, when we met at an...wait for it...ENGINEERING SUMMER CAMP the summer before 7th grade.

Yeah, we were those kids.

[And I voluntarily went back the following two summers. Free high school credit!]

It was soon determined that careers in engineering were not in our futures, but the friendship has lasted through our most painfully awkward years till this day.

Though we never attended the same schools, we were there for each other through every unrequited love, bitchy friends who we paid back through anonymous AIM [remember that?] wars, and maybe a teenage incident in which we hazardously chased after an SUV filled with hot high school soccer players.

Anyway. Our friendship is pretty excellent, and I'm beyond thankful for it.

SPRINKLES CUPCAKES!!

I bought two, AND I AM NOT ASHAMED.



Feeling so French

I love France.

Macarons = really damn French.

My friend Amy and I embarked upon a macaron baking adventure, inspired by the packet that the lovely Mandy talked about on her blog.

In the end, we got a bit lazy with ingredients and decided on a simple strawberry macaron with vanilla butter cream filling.

 Maybe I ate a whole lot of the filling by itself.

And maybe I ate four macarons.

It's ok, they're little.

After being carefully piped out by Amy. No picture of mine because they weren't as neat.

Finished product! We were pretty proud of ourselves.

EAT ME. So I did..

Want to laugh? I bet you do.

For equal parts awwww and absolute hilarity, click HERE.

Promise it will brighten your day!
And maybe make you pee your pants a little from laughing at some of these.

Zumba...or that time I had to sexy dance in front of old men

The scene: A large meeting room, cleared of chairs.

The person: Yours truly, plus other employees ranging from middle age to old men

The situation: Bending over [we're talking hands touching the ground here] to "shake my booty," as a form of exercise. Directly in front of said old men.

Ew.

Takeaways:

1. It was free.

2. It's my favorite form of exercise [Zumba, not shaking my ass for old men].

3. I sweated more than I ever have in my life.

4. Today I can barely walk.

5. Maybe those old men were having a really bad day and seeing women do mildly stripperish moves perked them up. But not like that. Okay, maybe like that. But I hope not. This has gone too far. Goodbye.

Dream interpretation

Last night I dreamed that I was driving an 18-wheeler down a rollercoaster.

I feel like this is probably rife with symbolism, but I am no dream interpreter.

Happy Friday, y'all!

I'm off to see this band play tonight, and a country wedding tomorrow.

Female seeking awesome blog design

HELP!

My blog design is less than stellar.

I am seriously lacking in design skills, much to the detriment of my little bloggy.

If you or anyone you know is awesome at making blogs look pretty, please let me know!

I'm tired of my blog looking like a 12 year old put it together.

Thank you dears!!

Monday Funday

Getting a Monday off of work is my favorite.

So it was celebrated accordingly.

Not pictured: The enormous turkey sandwich I devoured.