This is a post I started after I attended my best friends wedding at the beginning of August and am only now posting at the request of one of my most loyal readers, "Your blog is seriously lacking."
When did this all happen? We grew up and now apparently it's time to get married. This last weekend I jumped a couple planes and stepped off at Sacramento International Airport, ready, with some slight trepidation, to attend the weekend festivities and as requested by the bride, sing as the bridesmaids made their long walks down the aisle before Ashley herself did the same. But all this would occur after I first stayed the night at Aaron and Megan's house for a quick visit that would never be long enough. Neither were actually there to pick me up because I had scheduled my flights to arrive as early in the day as possible not considering their work schedules, so my next step was getting into a disgusting shuttle with equally disgusting schmos and a driver whose eyeliner was too thick and hair that was unnaturally yellow (I mean, who are you kidding?). After this trip I decided that I would never fly coach again and never take a shuttle either. I am sorry Mr. I am past my 40's and studying to take the LSat but I do not want you spilling into my seat and I am not impressed with your practice booklet; please refrain from speaking to me.
After the plane and shuttle ride my trip could only get better. My time in Sac is never what I want it to be, unending. I love spending time with my favorite people who share the same last name as me and low-blows are never taken to heart but generally enjoyed and given the credit they deserve. Double-chins and comments about each others obesity are never off-limits and breaking into song about the ghetto are better than singing rounds of row, row, row your boat. The only thing that has changed is how late we stay up taking shots at one another. With the arrival of my cousin's first child and having work schedules that require their days to start at 5:30am, nights are called at 9:30pm instead of 2 and 3 in the morning and drinking has been reduced to a few MGD 64s which are great for avoiding a hangover in the morning but suck when you are chasing a buzz... you just never quite get there but we go to bed and call it a night anyways.
The next morning I woke up and took off to Napa. An hour drive isn't so bad; especially with a thermos of coffee to get me there. The wedding wasn't till the next day but the wedding rehearsal and dinner were that night and zipping (or sipping) around in Napa is not something I will say no to. The days activities went off without an incidence and the next day the wedding was about the same.... if you didn't count the woman who walked into the ceremony wearing a bright pink dress that may have been meant for a stripper (later we found out she had a little too much to drink and had she been a stripper the only thing she would have to take off was that dress. Just think her falling out of the car and legs in the air). Besides the inappropriately dressed woman who was the escort.. I mean girlfriend of a groomsman, the wedding was a blast, the food was awesome and the beer and wine were free. A perfect wine country wedding. Congrats to one of my best friends and her new husband!
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
"For what it's worth"
This is a post for my friends and family; whether it pertains to the time I spent being miserable, apathetic, drunk or otherwise while in college, this goes out to them and is for what it's worth.
I've said it in a few posts as of late but college is over. There is a strange mix of weightlessness, like I'm floating somewhere in limbo with complete and utter joy, accompanied by an acute sense of fear that things will never be the same, that the people who have somehow come into my life will be lost as we leave to begin to live the rest of our lives, hoping that in some way the impact we made (or hoped to have made) will have been enough to ensure that we will remain some small part of one another. Then there are those people who have remained active participants in my life since high school, when the same feelings applied but a lifetime ago; college was on the horizon and freedom was a beacon of hope, naiveté was a false comfort and ambivalence was overcome with a belief that the rest of our lives began the moment the car was packed and we stepped into our roles as "independent" adults, attending classes we believed would give us the knowledge we lacked to be successful, active contributors in our communities and society at large. Being a kid was great, right?
Families grew farther apart, others tightened and expanded. Sisters got married and pregnant (in that order, thank god), parents got older and maybe slightly more frail but were still the compass we chose to follow or ignore. Sometimes tragedy was the mechanism by which friendships were decided to have no bounds and the catalyst that transformed lifelong ideals and forced change that may have otherwise never occurred. Roles were reversed, enforced or assigned. Titles became more numerous and life's endeavors more complicated but somehow everything kept moving.
Phone calls were frequent and innumerable. Minutes and hours were wasted with silence because sometimes it wasn't to talk that we called home, but just to have the comfort that if you wanted to say something the line was already connected. Eventually reliance on our formers lessened and shifted to those in the present. Together we would commiserate and scrutinize every detail of a case, quiz or test. Some didn't understand the relentless dissection of every word, but they weren't accountants and couldn't understand how such a routine was comfort to us, even as we discovered every mistake and error and estimated a grade that wouldn't be posted till the following week. Group breakfasts often followed 8am classes and afternoons after tests and weekends, that started on Wednesdays, were spent and forgotten at bars, while Facebook became a way to archive and begin to piece together a night lost at Ben's.
I've come to where I am now and wonder what I used to be and most likely wouldn't be able to recognize who it was back then that used to slide down hills on a block of ice, chase cows on a country road or drive up and down Partich Rd hunting Rebobs (but really hoping to not find anything but a good scare) because someone's parents paid for the gas. I guess it's all worked out for the best, even if some of it really sucked.
I've said it in a few posts as of late but college is over. There is a strange mix of weightlessness, like I'm floating somewhere in limbo with complete and utter joy, accompanied by an acute sense of fear that things will never be the same, that the people who have somehow come into my life will be lost as we leave to begin to live the rest of our lives, hoping that in some way the impact we made (or hoped to have made) will have been enough to ensure that we will remain some small part of one another. Then there are those people who have remained active participants in my life since high school, when the same feelings applied but a lifetime ago; college was on the horizon and freedom was a beacon of hope, naiveté was a false comfort and ambivalence was overcome with a belief that the rest of our lives began the moment the car was packed and we stepped into our roles as "independent" adults, attending classes we believed would give us the knowledge we lacked to be successful, active contributors in our communities and society at large. Being a kid was great, right?
Families grew farther apart, others tightened and expanded. Sisters got married and pregnant (in that order, thank god), parents got older and maybe slightly more frail but were still the compass we chose to follow or ignore. Sometimes tragedy was the mechanism by which friendships were decided to have no bounds and the catalyst that transformed lifelong ideals and forced change that may have otherwise never occurred. Roles were reversed, enforced or assigned. Titles became more numerous and life's endeavors more complicated but somehow everything kept moving.
Phone calls were frequent and innumerable. Minutes and hours were wasted with silence because sometimes it wasn't to talk that we called home, but just to have the comfort that if you wanted to say something the line was already connected. Eventually reliance on our formers lessened and shifted to those in the present. Together we would commiserate and scrutinize every detail of a case, quiz or test. Some didn't understand the relentless dissection of every word, but they weren't accountants and couldn't understand how such a routine was comfort to us, even as we discovered every mistake and error and estimated a grade that wouldn't be posted till the following week. Group breakfasts often followed 8am classes and afternoons after tests and weekends, that started on Wednesdays, were spent and forgotten at bars, while Facebook became a way to archive and begin to piece together a night lost at Ben's.
I've come to where I am now and wonder what I used to be and most likely wouldn't be able to recognize who it was back then that used to slide down hills on a block of ice, chase cows on a country road or drive up and down Partich Rd hunting Rebobs (but really hoping to not find anything but a good scare) because someone's parents paid for the gas. I guess it's all worked out for the best, even if some of it really sucked.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Life, it's happening.
I am still adjusting to the idea of being done with college (with the exception of one class I will finish this summer), but I suppose it has still been less than a week. There are no homework assignments, group projects, classes, quizzes or tests to study for or get worked up about, however, they have been replaced by the almost insurmountable task of packing up my apartment. It is a feat that has unmasked my ability to find value in the most worthless of items and forces me to ask myself why a post-it note was not thrown in the trash three years ago. The worst has been finding old receipts from purchases made at the likes of JCrew and company. Finding one would have been fine, but when you find 4 or more it can be somewhat devastating. Those I promptly threw out. No need to tally them, the damage has been done.
I call my apartment a hole but it actually has not been a horrible place to live while in school. Unless having neighbors who's sexual exploits have been on display via their balcony, or overheard through a mutual bedroom wall. I mean really? One, the whole balcony incident occurred in the middle of winter when it was like 30 degrees out and then the other one.... it doesn't feel that good and you are not making an X-rated movie, and if you are that is gross and no one will watch it unless they have a fetish for ugly people. People are gross. I look forward to the day when the only thing I share with a neighbor is a 10-foot privacy wall.I don't want you to think that I am a hermit or grump; I really enjoy the company of other people, but usually not my neighbors. When I have to listen to screaming that could be mistaken for a cat being skinned alive or you constantly slamming your front door, speaking in Spanish and then me being startled by my dog suddenly barking at the window... yeah I kind of hate you.
I call my apartment a hole but it actually has not been a horrible place to live while in school. Unless having neighbors who's sexual exploits have been on display via their balcony, or overheard through a mutual bedroom wall. I mean really? One, the whole balcony incident occurred in the middle of winter when it was like 30 degrees out and then the other one.... it doesn't feel that good and you are not making an X-rated movie, and if you are that is gross and no one will watch it unless they have a fetish for ugly people. People are gross. I look forward to the day when the only thing I share with a neighbor is a 10-foot privacy wall.I don't want you to think that I am a hermit or grump; I really enjoy the company of other people, but usually not my neighbors. When I have to listen to screaming that could be mistaken for a cat being skinned alive or you constantly slamming your front door, speaking in Spanish and then me being startled by my dog suddenly barking at the window... yeah I kind of hate you.
In other news, today I gave my dog, Kobi, a haircut. If you don't like it keep it to yourself; chances are I don't like yours either.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
The Late Post that had to be Reposted!
This is kind of annoying because I posted this entry to my blog a few days ago and for some reason it is no longer showing so I am reposting it. This is an entry I wrote back in March and never though was finished but looking at it now it seems complete.
I guess this blog-thing is going to be more difficult to keep up on than I had anticipated at first. I can only bring myself to write when I feel like it and not just because I have loads of material (and in the last couple weeks I have a lot).
I find that my morning ritual has become more and more standardized as of recently. Of course it begins with a groan and me cursing the sun for waking me up too early and then rolling back over and waking up another hour and a half later (and having an 8am class doesn't prevent me from doing this). Once I do decide I am almost ready to get up, I open one eye and check my Facebook on my phone that charges right next to me (it's my other half and sleeps on the right side of the bed... not the night stand), and then I shoot my cousin a menacing text if he hasn't already called, because he thinks it is his job to keep me on a normal sleep schedule and call at 7:30am, and wait for a few seconds before the screen lights up with his picture. My day has begun and it is easy to waste the morning switching between holding the phone at my ear and turning on speakerphone as I cook eggs and drink coffee, antagonizing one another as we would normally do if we were in the same room (I would settle for the same state at this point). Conversations are intermittently interrupted by the coos and giggles of almost 7 month-old Sam and stories about changing diapers or a new tooth or his eating habits. Normal conversation. You may not think so but it is extremely interesting and the best part of my mornings. Eventually Aaron (my cousin), bemoans the loss of the morning and we reluctantly give in to the call of our days and hang up. Bah.
I guess this blog-thing is going to be more difficult to keep up on than I had anticipated at first. I can only bring myself to write when I feel like it and not just because I have loads of material (and in the last couple weeks I have a lot).
I find that my morning ritual has become more and more standardized as of recently. Of course it begins with a groan and me cursing the sun for waking me up too early and then rolling back over and waking up another hour and a half later (and having an 8am class doesn't prevent me from doing this). Once I do decide I am almost ready to get up, I open one eye and check my Facebook on my phone that charges right next to me (it's my other half and sleeps on the right side of the bed... not the night stand), and then I shoot my cousin a menacing text if he hasn't already called, because he thinks it is his job to keep me on a normal sleep schedule and call at 7:30am, and wait for a few seconds before the screen lights up with his picture. My day has begun and it is easy to waste the morning switching between holding the phone at my ear and turning on speakerphone as I cook eggs and drink coffee, antagonizing one another as we would normally do if we were in the same room (I would settle for the same state at this point). Conversations are intermittently interrupted by the coos and giggles of almost 7 month-old Sam and stories about changing diapers or a new tooth or his eating habits. Normal conversation. You may not think so but it is extremely interesting and the best part of my mornings. Eventually Aaron (my cousin), bemoans the loss of the morning and we reluctantly give in to the call of our days and hang up. Bah.
Friday, May 13, 2011
You're an Egg.
Can I start this post by saying that I cannot stand Lady GaGa? Every time I get in my car and the radio comes on it's her. I will give her credit and say that her songs are not awful but just played to point that it makes me want to commit suicide. Also, in general, she is kind of just annoying. No one wakes up in the morning and says, "today I think I want to wear a bookshelf on my head because that is who I am." She is ridiculous and the biggest marketing scam ever conceived. I wish I could stuff her back in an egg and drop it in a pot of boiling water, dye it and then hide it in my backyard on Easter and forget about it. Over. Next.
In more relevant news, the stuff that pertains mostly to me, I finished my last semester of college! Praise Allah-Buddah-Shiva-who cares. Never I have I had such a feeling of elation and mobility. I could jump in the car and just leave. I won't but I feel like I could. I don't even really feel like I have to get a job at this point. When someone asks, "what do you do?" I can say, "I have a degree in accounting!" and be done with it. I think having a BS in Business Administration with an emphasis in Accounting gives me the right to do nothing. I think I have developed a slight issue with entitlement. Thank you college.
It is somewhat baffling that this phase of my life is over and I don't really know how to transition into the next part. This semester was lost somewhere in a bar, or left in the bottom of a pint glass, passing the time in class on Facebook chat with those sitting right next to me, scanning the room to assign celebrity likeatures and nicknames to classmates (or victims may be a more appropriate word). Rudolph (the puppet from those Christmas movies), Al Capone, Sister-wife and the most infamous Pompadour, were just a few of the favorites. I am unsure as to how this became our daily routine but it was what kept us sane, and trying to muffle the sound of our laughter during lectures was a greater accomplishment than getting an A on a test. Actually, assigning people alias' was my doing, but it was fun and sending people pictures of look-a-likes and trying to get them to laugh at the most inappropriate of times was my favorite pastime. Oh the things I learned in college.
In more relevant news, the stuff that pertains mostly to me, I finished my last semester of college! Praise Allah-Buddah-Shiva-who cares. Never I have I had such a feeling of elation and mobility. I could jump in the car and just leave. I won't but I feel like I could. I don't even really feel like I have to get a job at this point. When someone asks, "what do you do?" I can say, "I have a degree in accounting!" and be done with it. I think having a BS in Business Administration with an emphasis in Accounting gives me the right to do nothing. I think I have developed a slight issue with entitlement. Thank you college.
It is somewhat baffling that this phase of my life is over and I don't really know how to transition into the next part. This semester was lost somewhere in a bar, or left in the bottom of a pint glass, passing the time in class on Facebook chat with those sitting right next to me, scanning the room to assign celebrity likeatures and nicknames to classmates (or victims may be a more appropriate word). Rudolph (the puppet from those Christmas movies), Al Capone, Sister-wife and the most infamous Pompadour, were just a few of the favorites. I am unsure as to how this became our daily routine but it was what kept us sane, and trying to muffle the sound of our laughter during lectures was a greater accomplishment than getting an A on a test. Actually, assigning people alias' was my doing, but it was fun and sending people pictures of look-a-likes and trying to get them to laugh at the most inappropriate of times was my favorite pastime. Oh the things I learned in college.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Do you want to do something you suck at? No.
What am I not doing right now? Studying. Oh well. I would rather be self-absorbed and write about something pertaining to me and add to my blog. Is it just me or do you have to be somewhat (or a lot) self-absorbed to have your own blog and assume that what you have to say is interesting or entertaining enough that people will waste their time reading it because you are wasting your time writing it? Just a thought. So there is another quality to add to my list of personal traits: self-absorbed.
As an accessory to this trait is my habit to not participate in activities that I am not reasonably good at. I am unsure as to why, but maybe it is my aversion to looking like an idiot (I still fail at this multiple times a day) or maybe the thought of failure is just unacceptable; the latter I do not think is true because I still choose to stay in business school as an accounting major and I suck. Anyways, this habit is one that I have identified on multiple occasions when people have asked me to bowl, play pool, basketball or even throw a football. None of these activities are fun to me. When I bowl apparently I think that you are suppose to leave as many pins standing as possible and that bowling in the gutter is not such a bad thing. Also I have this perception that bowling is somewhat white trash. I mean let's be completely honest and not pretend that we have not seen the copious amounts of men with mullets and cutoff muscle shirts accompanied by women with armband tattoos and are worse for wear and tear. I honestly feel as though I have walked into a meth-heads dream the moment I enter any bowling alley and gag on the smell of stale cigarette stench that is usually the companion of those who barely have a tooth left in their head. Ok, one more for the list: snob. The same perceptions apply to playing pool. I suck at it and it is white trash. I would like to insert a snide remark about these people also bathing in Miller Lite, however it is my one white trash tendency to drink Miller Lite and I will refrain from indicting myself or aligning them as my contemporaries.
I wish I had something funny to say about why I do not play basketball or football but I am at a loss. Maybe it is because the idea of being pushed and shoved or tackled is just not fun to me. Also, it is more an issue of whether or not you get caught doing something that is not allowed by a ref and everyone knows that they have a tendency to not make the right calls. It's like asking the retarded kid that works at McDonalds to leave off the pickles. It never happens. (Please don't send me emails about how not PC that is. I dont care).
Things I like to do: swim. That is about it. I get my own lane where no one can touch me and that's it. Although there is the occasion that when I work out the fat, old man wearing the speedo asks to split my lane. Uh no. Completely unacceptable. When they say "split," they mean they will swim down the middle appearing to drown and I will be tossed to and throw in the wake they somehow create without even moving through the water.
This post didn't really help me accomplish my goal of appearing to be kind and caring... looks like you are getting to know me quite well. Live life.
As an accessory to this trait is my habit to not participate in activities that I am not reasonably good at. I am unsure as to why, but maybe it is my aversion to looking like an idiot (I still fail at this multiple times a day) or maybe the thought of failure is just unacceptable; the latter I do not think is true because I still choose to stay in business school as an accounting major and I suck. Anyways, this habit is one that I have identified on multiple occasions when people have asked me to bowl, play pool, basketball or even throw a football. None of these activities are fun to me. When I bowl apparently I think that you are suppose to leave as many pins standing as possible and that bowling in the gutter is not such a bad thing. Also I have this perception that bowling is somewhat white trash. I mean let's be completely honest and not pretend that we have not seen the copious amounts of men with mullets and cutoff muscle shirts accompanied by women with armband tattoos and are worse for wear and tear. I honestly feel as though I have walked into a meth-heads dream the moment I enter any bowling alley and gag on the smell of stale cigarette stench that is usually the companion of those who barely have a tooth left in their head. Ok, one more for the list: snob. The same perceptions apply to playing pool. I suck at it and it is white trash. I would like to insert a snide remark about these people also bathing in Miller Lite, however it is my one white trash tendency to drink Miller Lite and I will refrain from indicting myself or aligning them as my contemporaries.
I wish I had something funny to say about why I do not play basketball or football but I am at a loss. Maybe it is because the idea of being pushed and shoved or tackled is just not fun to me. Also, it is more an issue of whether or not you get caught doing something that is not allowed by a ref and everyone knows that they have a tendency to not make the right calls. It's like asking the retarded kid that works at McDonalds to leave off the pickles. It never happens. (Please don't send me emails about how not PC that is. I dont care).
Things I like to do: swim. That is about it. I get my own lane where no one can touch me and that's it. Although there is the occasion that when I work out the fat, old man wearing the speedo asks to split my lane. Uh no. Completely unacceptable. When they say "split," they mean they will swim down the middle appearing to drown and I will be tossed to and throw in the wake they somehow create without even moving through the water.
This post didn't really help me accomplish my goal of appearing to be kind and caring... looks like you are getting to know me quite well. Live life.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Enchante.
Here I am and once again I am neglecting my stutodial duties (responsibilities relating to being a student; I make words up as I please) to write this blog. Inspired by the numerous friends who have started one of these this is my first post and will be my attempt to introduce myself as a kind and caring person with depth beyond measure: Hi. My name is Anthony. Done.
Ok, so that may have been lame so let me be more descriptive. My name is Anthony and I am sarcastic, mean and apathetic... sadly these are some of my more endearing qualities and this will become more apparent as we spend more time together. I can be a confusing person because I am a walking, breathing contradiction whose ideas and words corroborate one anther. Confused? The preceding statement doesn't make sense and I live my life assuming things never will but will enjoy it to it's fullest none the less. I enjoy being self-depreicating because it is my lame attempt at humility and a bad joke at the same time. I can laugh at my own expense and have the expectation that the people around me will allow me the same courtesy at theirs as well. I will laugh harder at my own jokes than anyone in the room and believe it is only fair because why should I not be able to enjoy my humor as much, if not more, than everyone else? I think I am hilarious and deserve my own TV show. I mentioned that I am humble, right?
Really I am not all that I say I am above but I am a mix of good and bad and will allow the more undesirable qualities to mask the others, but I am funny; that I will not allow to be dismissed by anyone. So let's get this straight. My name is Anthony and I am kind and mean, quiet and loud, confident and shy. In the right situation I am debonaire and well spoken and in others, maybe not so much. Like anyone else I have my beliefs and tend to disregard facts and ideas that are contradictory to them as a means to avoid the uncomfortable thought that I am wrong. I will apologize in advance for writing something offensive but if you are offended maybe I am making you think and it's nothing that actually warrants me to do so.
I wish I could speak French fluently, tumble and do back flips and solve issues relating to how people argue and view ideas that are not congruent with their own... is it really that upsetting that someone doesn't agree with you? I am an only son and brother and I am an uncle, cousin, nephew, grandson and have recently adopted the role of godfather (my favorite yet). I am conflicted with the responsibilities and expectations of myself to live and attain goals that are practical as opposed to maybe hitting the road and chasing the sun. Music isn't my life but it makes it better. I say, "fuck my life" almost everyday and "I want my life back," when my life isn't horrible and I've never lost it but wouldn't mind it reverting back to no bills or responsibilities. I despise that Katy Perry song about being a campfire or internal combustion engine or whatever. It talks about something that is explosive or flammable. I mean really? I hate things that are trite. It's just irritating. The list of things I dislike is pretty long so maybe I'll introduce them slowly as situations merit them to fruition.
I guess I can consider myself a hesitant writer and frustrated musician of sorts. I am not sure as to what direction this blog will take but maybe it will be a conglomerate of things I've written and will write. So this is my blog and I'm going with it. Live life. Enchante.
Ok, so that may have been lame so let me be more descriptive. My name is Anthony and I am sarcastic, mean and apathetic... sadly these are some of my more endearing qualities and this will become more apparent as we spend more time together. I can be a confusing person because I am a walking, breathing contradiction whose ideas and words corroborate one anther. Confused? The preceding statement doesn't make sense and I live my life assuming things never will but will enjoy it to it's fullest none the less. I enjoy being self-depreicating because it is my lame attempt at humility and a bad joke at the same time. I can laugh at my own expense and have the expectation that the people around me will allow me the same courtesy at theirs as well. I will laugh harder at my own jokes than anyone in the room and believe it is only fair because why should I not be able to enjoy my humor as much, if not more, than everyone else? I think I am hilarious and deserve my own TV show. I mentioned that I am humble, right?
Really I am not all that I say I am above but I am a mix of good and bad and will allow the more undesirable qualities to mask the others, but I am funny; that I will not allow to be dismissed by anyone. So let's get this straight. My name is Anthony and I am kind and mean, quiet and loud, confident and shy. In the right situation I am debonaire and well spoken and in others, maybe not so much. Like anyone else I have my beliefs and tend to disregard facts and ideas that are contradictory to them as a means to avoid the uncomfortable thought that I am wrong. I will apologize in advance for writing something offensive but if you are offended maybe I am making you think and it's nothing that actually warrants me to do so.
I wish I could speak French fluently, tumble and do back flips and solve issues relating to how people argue and view ideas that are not congruent with their own... is it really that upsetting that someone doesn't agree with you? I am an only son and brother and I am an uncle, cousin, nephew, grandson and have recently adopted the role of godfather (my favorite yet). I am conflicted with the responsibilities and expectations of myself to live and attain goals that are practical as opposed to maybe hitting the road and chasing the sun. Music isn't my life but it makes it better. I say, "fuck my life" almost everyday and "I want my life back," when my life isn't horrible and I've never lost it but wouldn't mind it reverting back to no bills or responsibilities. I despise that Katy Perry song about being a campfire or internal combustion engine or whatever. It talks about something that is explosive or flammable. I mean really? I hate things that are trite. It's just irritating. The list of things I dislike is pretty long so maybe I'll introduce them slowly as situations merit them to fruition.
I guess I can consider myself a hesitant writer and frustrated musician of sorts. I am not sure as to what direction this blog will take but maybe it will be a conglomerate of things I've written and will write. So this is my blog and I'm going with it. Live life. Enchante.
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