Fly Away

I don't like flying.

I'm not afraid of it, exactly. I know my odds of dying in the air are pretty slim, and a morbid sliver of me thinks a crash would be exciting. You know, until you hit ground.

But it just makes me nervous. Forget the fact that I've traveled on my own countless times, many of them international flights. Flying turns me into a helpless eleven year old, totally sure that I'm fucking something up. I have a longstanding fear that I'm somehow going to get on the wrong plane. Or I won't be able to find my gate. Or I'll miss my flight because I'm getting drunk in the bar. (That only almost happened once, okay?) (Do eleven year olds drink nowadays?) (This is not the point.)

I get claustrophobic too. Maybe I shouldn't use that word, because I'm sure my problems lie outside the textbook definition of that phobia, but being on a plane makes all my muscles cramp, my throat tightens up, I feel trapped by all the people around me. I don't really like people, that's probably part of the problem.

I hate having to get up to use the bathroom. I hate having to get up to let OTHER people use the bathroom, and I always choose an aisle seat. I hate that my food choices are so restricted and dependent on lines. Last week I ended up having Cheetos, beef jerky, and chocolate coconut water for breakfast. It was delicious, but not exactly on my diet. I hate the fact that I will always eat every bite of my airplane food even though it's so ick. I hate the line of people waiting to get on and off the plane---sardines. Stupid, selfish sardines.

I have my books. I have my music. I know the thirteenish hours in the air will pass, and I'll get off the plane and onto my shuttle and will be home to my kitty cuddles within 24 hours...but still.

Tay no likey.

Sigh. See you on the other side.

Random Thoughts from Spain

• Reason #763 Why I Love Hot Yoga: 100+ degrees in Sevilla today as we're wandering about staring at pretty buildings and things, and I be like, "Meh. I've had hotter."
• Also, traipsing around Europe with 50ish less pounds is MUCH more pleasurable.
• I met my future second husband in line for the bathroom at a restaurant in Puerto Banas in Marbella. His name is Dante, he speaks three languages, is from Manchester, and was very taken with me. Would not stop paying me oodles of attention and showed off his magic tricks and clever songs. Gorgeous smile and a glorious golden tan. Of course, it was his sixth birthday. Maybe in 20 years?
• Speaking of Puerto Banas, oh my LORD. Just along the water, lined with yachts that have to cost millions of dollars, is a strip of concrete dotted with restaurants, bars, and sparkly boutiques. As the night went on, hoardes and gaggles of painted up girls in Britney*-baring dresses stomped around in sky-high heels, desperate for the attention of any one of the aging Europeans who cruise up and down the street in Bentleys, Ferraris and Aston Martins, just to be seen. It was so thoroughly ridiculous. I loved it so much. 
• I may have lost weight while I'm here. If this is true, it's only because I've had the worst sore throat since Day #1 and haven't enjoyed eating much. Also have avoided alcohol like a responsible adult. Finally starting to improve so I see some mojitos in my future.
• I got some super strong Spanish ibuprofen from a farmacia, and I'm obsessed. It was so cheap I want to buy a dozen boxes and sell it on the streets. I'm not sure this is the best business plan. It also gives me insanely crazy dreams. 
• I was able to see my ever-lovely Facebook wife in Madrid on our first night in the country, and met the fellow she's been cheating on me with. I approve of him. I told him if he wants her FB relationship status, he owes me alimony, in the form of one drink every time we hang out. Sounds fair to me.
• I have yet to buy myself a souvenir. This is not acceptable. I want jewelry. 
• I exchanged messages with the Ginger, so I'm hopeful that he will still exist in my world when I return. If he has not found other OKCupid sluts to bang. Ooh I'm so possessive of my not-boyfriend! (OH LOOK, SARCASM OKAY.)
• The original plan was to stay at a timeshare in Estepona for the whole trip, except for the first and last nights. Well, this particular establishment was not exactly up to my family's (maybe too high) standards. To quote my mother, "This is the closest I will ever come to camping." So we stuck it out for four days, and left riddled with mosquito bites to stay two days in Sevilla. Where I currently am, sitting on a big fluffy white bed in the fanciest suite in the swankiest hotel I have ever stayed in, the Hotel Alfonso XIII. SO PRETTY. I love my daddy and his Starwood Platinum status. Back to Madrid tomorrow for two more nights, then home to my precious kitty!

*"Britney" is my most favorite slang for ladyparts. If I'm being honest, I like the classic "cock" for the fellows, although "schnitzel" amuses my inner five year old. (Also, my favorite slang for getting your period is "shark week" if you're curious, or alternatively, "she's shark bait.") Aren't you glad you asked?

¡Viva España!

I am off tomorrow morning, leaving on a jet plane, landing in Madrid on Friday morning.

I plan to eat and drink and walk and frolic and soak up the sun and objectify some hot Spanish boys.

I hope to be able to post while I'm gone, but I am not sure what my Internet situation would be. If I can't check in, I send you all oodles of love, and will share stories when I return!

<3
Tay

Songs of the moment...

I go through obsessive phases. With everything. I think we've discussed this before.

When I love a song, I love that song. I put it on repeat. It becomes my jam. I think it's talking about my life. I listen to nothing else for days. Then I move on.

For your listening pleasure, here are a few of my most recent auditory addictions.

"Kandi" by One EskimO
       -This song makes me want to bang. Or cuddle. Or both.

"This Head I Hold" by Electric Guest
     -This song makes me wanna dance around in my underwear like a fucking idiot.

"Never Go Back" by Grace Potter & The Nocturnals
     -This song makes me want to rock out and talk shit about boys. The new album is pretty fantastic.

"This Is The Beginning" by Boy
     -This song makes me want to drive down the PCH with my windows down, with no where to go and nothing to do.

?!?!?!?!?!

WHY DOES THE UNIVERSE HATE ME?

Why? Why? I'm nice to animals. I smile at old people. I let squirrels cross the street in front of my car. This one time, I donated money to a charity. I always say thank you.

So why oh why do I just have the shittiest fucking luck in the whole damn world?

Sigh.

Seeking Life Planner

I would like to hire someone to run my life.

You will tell me what to eat, say, and do. You will tell me when to get my less-fat-but-still-squishy ass off the couch and go work out. You will be in charge of what I wear, when I pee, and when I am allowed to text boys. I will not be trusted to make any decisions, even if the decision is simply white or red wine.

I don't want any responsibility for my life. I get so anxious over choices, whether they were right or wrong, I second guess things I said weeks ago and wonder if they're coming back to bite me in the ass. I have paranoia. I assume the worst, always, despite the fact that I like to think of myself as an optimist. A normal event can be interpreted by my brain as the END OF THE FUCKING WORLD.

I have no money, but I will pay you in love and kitty cuddles and cooking. As long as you tell me what I'm making.

Sunday Brunch Style

There's a reason nearly every single girl you know in their mid-20s loves brunch.

Because it's fucking awesome.

First of all, cheap and delicious, just how I like it. Not to mention if you're having brunch, it's totally acceptable to start drinking in the morning. And the whole purpose of brunch is gossip, no? You and your best girlfriends, talking about inappropriate subjects in public, giggling and eating way too many calories.

It's the best.

I met one of my absolute favorite people at Mesa Cafe in Santa Barbara yesterday for a delicious egg white scramble with cream cheese, bacon, and green onions, accompanied by a bowl of fruit and the best biscuit ever. It was perfection.

I'd planned to throw on yoga pants for our date, but the night before I was hunting in my mother's closet and discovered an awesome maxi dress that, I have to say, looks bangin' on me. And it's a small. And if you've seen my mother, you know me fitting into her clothes is an epic achievement. I just love me a maxi dress---it's like a nightgown, but you look like you're trying.

• Dress from My Mother's Closet (I enjoy the sexy classy cleavage.)
• Lace Cardigan by Miss Chievous 
• Flats by Coach
• Necklace by Forever 21

What I woke up to this morning.

That is all.

A few of my favorite things...

• When I realize at the end of the day that I haven't read any of my regular blogs. So much to catch up on!
• Waking up after a morning of drinking, totally dehydrated, and being lighter than the day before. Conclusion: Drinking is good for me.
• Dating a nice boy who treats me well. 
• Making out like a teenager and ending up with swollen pink lips the next day.
• A clean apartment.
• Going to yoga at lunch and earning hours of Friday night laziness.
• Sunny sunflowers just for me.

Blue Moon Cupcakes

 My attempt at beer cupcakes wasn't exactly a failure, as they were delicious, but they didn't taste very beer-y. Perhaps I will try a stronger flavored beer next time. Or more of it.

But look! So pretty.

I took the remainders into work, and they were a hit! Yay me and my sexy domestic skills.