This one time, at bunco night...

 We moved into a new house about 6 years ago. Within a few hours, we had met all of our neighbors. We were so excited considering that we had lived in our previous house for 7 years and the only interaction we had had with our neighbors was over the fence and went a little something like this.

"Hey, can you throw our ball back over?"

My mom was even more excited when one of the neighbors told her that all the ladies got together to play Bunco once a month.

"Golly gee, I sure do love a good, wholesome game of Bunco!" (that was foreshadowing. and my mom doesn't really talk like that. we're mormon but not that mormon.)

She went to a few and had a swell time (maybe we really do talk like that...). When February rolled around, she got an invitation for that month's "sexy" Bunco night.

 It's a bunch of married, middle-aged women. What's the worst that can happen, right?
Every one was having a good time, playing Bunco and just hanging out. The party was getting a little loud (alcohol will do that to ya) and all the people sipping their Diet Cokes were already starting to get a little uncomfortable. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Someone opened the door to find a young police officer standing on the steps.

"We weren't being that loud were we?" mom thought.

And then she saw the boombox.

That's right. There was a stripper coming into the house. A STRIPPER. Like, with an oily chest and nasty slicked back hair. The women with martinis in their hands had a Desperate Housewives WOOOO-then-fall-over-from-drunked-laughing moment while the women with Diet Cokes in their hands nervously laughed and took cover in the walk-in pantry (you can't make this stuff up.)

"Ok, I have to get out of here. He's in the kitchen. My coat's in the living room. I can do this. Oh my gosh, when did he come into the living room?!"

Needless to say, after an elaborate game of Dodge-The-Stripper, she got her coat and got out of there. She wasn't planning on telling me this story but I'm glad she did.

Oh and in case you were wondering, there hasn't been a Bunco night since. Or at least they haven't invited my mom.

Zoot Suit

Blazer//Forever 21. Shirt//Target. Necklace//Nordstrom BP. Shoes//Target

If you paid close attention, this is the outfit I picked out in my cable television debut. I like. That's why I picked it out. This was also a long time ago. I like it. That's why I posted it.

Just so you know....

Shirt//Old Navy. Sweater//Macy's. Jeans//?. Shoes//Target

After looking at these pictures, I realized this kid may be right... :)

Chevron is the new black.

Shirt//AE. Dress//Target. Tights//?. Shoes//?

Guys, all I want to do is wear this dress all day, every day. I've given up all other aspirations and dreams.

Luxuriating

A while ago, I was bored. Really bored. The kind of bored where one second you're channel flipping and the next second you've watched an entire marathon of Toddlers and Tiaras and you have to get up, go look in the mirror and ask yourself, "WHO ARE YOU?!" Whoever says that hasn't happened to them is living in a state of delusion.

 Or is just incredibly productive and I should strive to be like him or her.

She just realized she wasted 4 hours of her life that she will never get back too.

Anyways, during one of these unfortunate binges, there was a mom who said her daughter luxuriated across the stage. Luxuriated. Luxuriated? That can't be a word. I couldn't help but laugh every time she said it. Say it out loud, you'll laugh too. "Man, that mom, making up ridiculous words," I thought.

And then it happened. A few weeks ago, I read the word luxuriating in a news article. Granted, it was talking about cheetahs sunning themselves and not little girls walking down a stage a stage so luxuriously that they luxuriated but still. There it was. In print. In a reputable news source.

Did this ghetto fabulous woman who also said "ain't" and "I seen it" really have a better vocabulary then me?

I looked up the word and found this definition.

1. To take luxurious pleasure; indulge oneself.

2. To proliferate.

3. To grow profusely; thrive.

 

Does it fit with the context that Ms. Momma used it in? Not entirely. It's a stretch, maybe. 

 

But as for me and my fragile self-esteem, we are going to say she "made it up". And now I know a new word! (Please tell me you haven't heard it either). 

Napoleon.

 I don't have much to say. But if you keep reading my blog, all your wildest dreams will come true.

Sweater//Thrifted. Dress (as shirt)//Forever 21. Skirt//Thrifted. Belt//Nordstrom BP. Shoes//Target

I love myself and I hate myself.

Skirt//Forever 21. Shirt//Target. Cardigan//Target. Belt//Forever 21. Shoes//Target. Earrings//Forever 21

 

 

 

This is me. Buying another tiered skirt hanger. I love myself and I hate myself.

 

 

I have made it throw my first 2 weeks of spring semester. I have written 2 article for The Universe. See here and here. I have a few more good ones up my sleeves but if you have any ideas of articles you'd like to read our events going on around the Provo area, let me know!

Now, go up a picture and look at where I got everything I was wearing in that outfit. Forever 21 and Target. All of it. I have a problem. I mean, that's probably better then Neiman Marcus and J. Crew right?