It's that time of the week again. Jen stops by to let us peek into her soul. Have a look...
I want to start by thanking Tracy Fulks for suggesting that we call this a Blogger Summit™ because supposedly it’ll help us on our taxes or something. Everyone go and thank her for being this group’s official CPA. She doesn’t know it yet, but she’ll have to give me extra attention since I only fill out tax forms with “EZ” at the end. What do you guys think of the name change?
I also want to thank everyone who threw in their two cents. The most frequent responses:
This will be my go-to pickup line
So now we move on to Phase 2. This is kind of like Miss America but without alarmingly white teeth, women butchering dance routines in bikinis, and Donald Trump. Continue reading
This is a post about a breakup, my breakup. A breakup I’ve rarely discussed save a few long discussions with key people in my life. A breakup which started with love, and ended with love.
“A” and I met during transitional periods in our lives. I had some serious emotional issues I was dealing with, and he was beginning his journey of self-discovery. I was growing healthy while he was growing up. We were (and still are) different in many ways, but we were able to use those differences to help one another during a time when we really needed another we could call home.
A is a wonderful man. He is intelligent, loyal, trustworthy, compassionate, a great listener, understanding, forgiving, funny, attractive, fun, supportive, romantic, and a laundry list of other things you’d want a mate to be. I would look at other people’s partners and think, “What an idiot. I’m lucky to have A.”
We did all the things couple should do if they want to stay together. We communicated our thoughts and feelings. We resolved all of our issues instead of sweeping them under the rug. We hugged and kissed often. We practiced random acts of romance for the other. We always had fun, and believed in living a life of adventure. We never let “being right” become more important than being in love. We’d admit when we were wrong, and apologized when necessary.
As everyone knows, relationships are complicated. There are times when a breakup is the obvious choice, and people hang on by the skin of their teeth as they destroy each other. There are times when a relationship is copacetic, and the people in it find themselves having the “I think it’s over” discussion. There are reasons and seasons for everything, and I’m beginning to understand this more and more as I mature.
There wasn’t one thing that ended our relationship. No big fight, no act of betrayal, no dramatic event. It was a simple conversation we had sitting on the living room floor of our apartment. One of us spoke first, and the other agreed. Our relationship was over. Continue reading
I have been away for awhile my dear Hooked on Tonics. I apologize, my life has been unusually hectic lately. You’d be surprised how time-consuming eating your weight in miniature eclairs can be.
I am very excited to be back not only because I am very attracted to love all of you, but because I have been scheming with everyone’s favorite redhead, Becca from 25toFly. You see, she and I noticed a trend happening in the WordPress community. Bloggers were taking their online friendships, and making them offline friendships.
First, Le Clown and The Ringmistress met Tracy Fulks.
Then Vyvacious met Sweet Mother.
There is a woman here on WordPress, you may have heard of her, The Ringmistress. She is married to a guy you may also have heard of, Le Clown. Together they form an incredibly sexy and disgustingly romantic couple. They make me puke in a way only Canadians in love can.
Today is Le Clown’s birthday, and The Ringmistress thought it would be fun if she sent him on a blog scavenger hunt. You know, because nothing says love like making someone work for their birthday gift. She asked his best bloggy friends to put up posts providing clues which would help him navigate the hunt. She gave me my assignment, cracked her whip, and I started brainstorming.
My first thought was to dress up like a clown. He’s a clown, I like makeup, and my nose is already red from all of this drinking. It just makes sense to commemorate his birthday in this way.
Dressing up like a clown is a totally normal way to spend a Friday night
I look good, don’t I? A little too good. My eye diamonds, my blushing cheeks, my jazz hands. You can’t upstage someone on their birthday! Back to the drawing board. Continue reading
Are you familiar with PostSecret? You should be. It’s an “ongoing community mail art project” which allows anonymous users to submit confessions/secrets on handmade postcards. Once a week, selected cards are posted on the website for everyone to read. Sometimes they’re sad and sometimes they’re funny, but they’re always a testament to the human experience.
Last week, the amazeballs Becca from 25toFly put up this PostSecret-inspired post revealing her deepest, darkest secrets. Since I’m a huge fan of redheads and bloggers and writing and beer and that time Ashley Simpson did a jig on Saturday Night Live…wait, what were we talking about?
Oh, right. I asked Becca if I could steal her idea, and she said I could run with it. It’s amazing what twenty bucks and the promise of a shared Natty Ice will get a person to agree to. Time for my investment to pay off.
These are my confessions. (Anyone else think of that stupid Usher song?)
I was once mistaken for a hooker
Many years ago I was invited to a party, and dressed in my sexiest overalls. I got totally hammered after drinking a fifth of tequila and three Zimas in a very short period of time. I walked outside to get some fresh air, and propped myself up on a pole which just so happened to be on a street corner. A cop rolled by, took one look at my smeared lipstick and air of desperation, and assumed I was a prostitute. I was insulted because it was obvious he didn’t think I was a $3k/night kind, but the $10 for a handjob kind. He soon realized I was just a drunk dumbass and let me go, and I learned a very valuable lesson: never mix tequila and Zimas.
I am terrible at meeting new people
No, I’m serious. I absolutely hate meeting new people. Something happens to me chemically that makes it appear I’m suffering from every single side effect of a medication. Dry mouth. Sweats. Confusion. Elevated heart rate. Swollen tongue. Loss of bladder control. It’s really awkward when you piss on someone you’ve just met.
Story of my life
Hooked on Tonics, I’ve been away for awhile. I received notes from a few of you expressing your concern:
“Are you going to come back? You’re the most brilliant (and beautiful) writer on the planet. You’ve spoiled me so much I can’t read anything else.”
“Come back or I’ll gut you like a pig.”
“What I really need is more cowbell, but since I can’t have that, you’ll do.”
You guys flatter me.
I’ve been very busy over the last couple of weeks. I went to California to spend time with my family for Christmas, and it was equal parts fun, terrifying and exhausting. Once I got home, I came down with the horrible flu/cold thing that has been going around. Additionally, a new role I’ve taken on at my job kept me a bit busier than I anticipated. In short, shit was cray.
I missed all of you, especially those who send me nudes on the regular.
SoJaT fact: Burt was the first person to follow this blog
