I feel like we’ve earned a cocktail this week, don’t you think?
I think we have. That’s my vote. I’m going to be frank with you and let you know that I’m not a margarita girl. Not one bit.
I’m more of bourbon on the rocks girl. I’m a fancy (or even cheap) kinda beer girl. I can be a wine girl, sometimes. Definitely a gin and tonic kinda girl. But never a girl who craves margs. But if I am gonna be that girl, the drank has gotta be spicy. I love a spicy margarita…but not too, too spicy either or else I’ll be that girl who eats all the chips trying to extinguish the jalapeño fire. I’m complicated.
I drank the last of this while watching this week’s Nashville and almost freaked out. If you’re not watching this show, you’re missing out on so much scandal, big hair, sequins and country music. It really is a dream of a show.
Last week I had a straight hour where all I thought about were fish sticks. I’m pretty sure it had everything to do with me avoiding work, coupled with the Los Angeles weather being an absurd 80 degrees in the dead of winter; nonetheless, it was all I could think about.
The weirdest part about this fixation was that growing up cafeteria fish sticks were the last thing I ever wanted on my lunch tray. Even at the ripe age of seven, my brain knew they were not to be trusted.
I mean, just up until last week I was under the not-so-cute impression that fish sticks were made like chicken nuggets: ground up, reformed to a “stick shape”and coated to hide the scariness. I know this sorta doesn’t make sense, but this is what I thought.
Turns out, I was dead wrong. So glad I was wrong. Aren’t you glad!? This means we can still guiltlessly enjoy them.
I’m never the girl that’s super prepared for things.
I wash my clothes only when I start wearing mismatched socks. I wash my hair when I can’t go another day. I only buy paper towels when I start using bath towels to clean up messes.
And the list goes on…and on. And on.
I think it’s just that I’m really good at wingin’ stuff. It’s how I like livin’…
The only season I actually prepare for is Fall. I dig it so much that I can’t just can’t help it.
I buy sweaters while it’s still hot outside. My boot game starts to get good when I really should be wearing sandals. I have 30 minute conversations (in September) with my dad about turkey brining plans.
And as of right now, I have thirty-two Fall-ish recipes written down in a notebook that I can’t wait to make. Yeah, I’m way prepared.