Hey Kip Moore

Please, Kip Moore, for the love of all that is cheesy and holy, stop haunting me with your Hey Pretty Girl song. It's everywhere I am the last few days. I love it, don't get me wrong, but it's full of stuff that is not an option in my life right now. Give me some time.. I'll put you back on repeat.

Now, onto the rest of the biz-nass. It was really cute that I was all 'yeehaw, let's do this shit!' about having a blog three months ago.. for a whole three days. So, it's the beginning of October and still the high for today is 90 MF degrees. When I bought the tickets back in April? Was it April? I can't remember.. I definitely thought I'd be attending the Pearl Jam concert in a cute sweater and my favorite booties. No. Mother Nature said no way biotch. So, I brought a tank-top to change into after work. Suns out, guns out. Or something like that? For me it's more like, it's not freezing, shoulder tattoo exposed. Boom.

So, I've got a list of things I want to write about soon. Maybe jotting them down here will help me stick to that?

Nashville (er, the invite to Nashville)
John Mayer
Becoming a foodie
Rylen's potty training (because from an outside perspective, this could be hilarious material)
Stella's attempt at being a hunting pup
Hell on Wheels
Spinach, Artichoke & Turkey quesadillas

Sometimes my ADD kicks in and I just look at pictures instead of actually reading stuff, if that's you today (or always, coughstephencough), the following is for you:

I pretty much opened my photo album on my tele-phono-homo and randomly selected some shots (shots, shots, shots, shots...). My sad lunch of a Hot Pocket (not the kind Chelsea Handler refers to) and water is over, back to the grind for a few more hours. More rhyme and reason to the post next time.. you know, in three months if you're lucky.

I've got a hilarious Cosmo article to share next time. It's pure gold.

Over and out,
A