Sexiest Man Alive

So, if you've been living under a rock, or prefer the ladies, then you may not know that People has announced their Sexiest Man Alive.

Mercy.  Some people aren't too pleased with the choice, and to those people I say there are a few music videos and a handful of clips from American Horror Story you should go watch and then come talk to me when you're 'finished'.  (Sorry, mom.) 

Anywho, if People were to change their tune, it's obvious who their choice should have been:  The dude I get to live with.

If you don't agree then maybe I'm biased or maybe you're crazy.  Or I'm probably crazy.  Whatever. 

This post will be punishment for the past 3 1/2 years of complete and total noncooperation from him when it comes to taking pictures.  I hope this will teach you a lesson, honey.  

First of all, let's talk about his smile.  We're coming up on four years of being together and his smile still makes my tummy feel all silly.

 I mean, look at it.  You want to steal him from me, don't you?  Well you can't have him.  He's mine. 

Come on, I'm going to have to throw some good pictures of him in here so he doesn't kick me too hard when he gets home.  But really, that smile.

Second, I love a man who can accessorize, and he's the very best at it.

That face, plus a dino hat?  Dead.

Not only is he man enough to wear a 'poncho', he's crafty enough to make one himself.  My only complaint about this is that nobody thought to get a front shot.  Or maybe that's for the best, that may have been too sexy. 

Third, if you know me, you know I love animals almost as much as I love that kid. So, there is nothing more attractive to me than seeing him hanging out with a cute little furry baby.

  Wait a minute?  Those are cute pictures.  I'm getting side tracked.

There we go. 

You know what, I lied.  The only thing more attractive than a guy who loves animals as much as I do, is a guy who loves food as much as I do.

My only wish is that he thinks of me with the same fondness as he thinks of food. 

I guess I could look at the silver lining, the sillier his face looks, the better I look in the picture.  Depending on the lighting.  And what I'm wearing.  And the background.  Oh, and my face.

Since People didn't answer any of the letters I wrote to them voting for my boo to get that coveted title, I suppose Mr. Levine will have to do. 

STOP IT.

Yeah, go ahead and let that image send you right into the weekend.  YOU'RE WELCOME.

You should know that the above image was my second choice after an extremely amazing inappropriate picture that could possibly make some people uncomfortable.  Get at me if you want to see said picture.  And trust me, you want to.

Also, shake your ass a little bit for the weekend too, with Ms. Whitney.

 

 I have an open bar wedding to get to this weekend, do your best to get half as drunk as me.  Happy Friday!

Well, One of Us Is Crazy

Hi there! I haven't been kidnapped or anything, if you guys were worried at all.  If I ever do pop up on a milk carton though, you can ask our newly crazy face neighbor where he hid the body.  I kid.  Sort of.  I'm pretty sure he'll let me live.  I would love to elaborate on the situation, but, here's something funny about me:  I like to think I'm much more important than I actually am. 

It's not that I necessarily think I'm hot shit or anything, but I always think my actions are going to have a MUCH bigger impact than they actually will.  Especially any 'negative' actions. 

My much talked complained about jury duty from the other week? Lots of people I talked to had fool proof ways to get out of it that they've used before, but I just couldn't bring myself to try any of them.  Even more people said they just never show up and have yet to suffer any consequences.  It says very plainly on that pesky little piece of mail that showed up at my house that they can put you in jail for that shit.  Now, do they actually enforce that punishment? According to all of my friends enjoying their freedom, no, but they have to make an example out of somebody, right?  Might as well be me.  Scratch that, it DEFINITELY would have been me.

I also couldn't bring myself to lie after I was dumb enough to actually show up to jury duty so I would be excused.  I just knew this was a 'Runaway Jury' type situation and somebody in that room knew everything about me and they would know I was lying and again, I would go to jail.  (P.S. You should watch that movie, it's my favorite.) 

I'm insane.  I know.  Don't worry, it gets better.

Joey and I are hardcore believers in 'pooping and scooping'.  You step in dog shit enough, you do your best to make sure somebody else doesn't suffer the way you have.  The other day, I got Joey's leash out to take her on a walk, and I guess her excitement rubbed off on me, because I completely forgot to grab a bag.  So, I had no way to pick up her poop.  Any normal person would have just shrugged their shoulders and went on about their business.  Me?  First, I looked over my should about eight times to make sure I didn't have to explain myself to anybody.  Then, when Joey and I got home, I grabbed a bag, walked about a mile back to the scene of the crime, and removed the 'evidence'.  The entire time I was walking, I just knew I was going to find somebody waiting there to yell.  Either a cop, or a neighborhood watchman taking his job a little too seriously, I just knew it.  Of course, there was just a pile of shit there.  I got away with it, this time. 

One time, I thought I backed into a car in a parking lot.  I got out, checked out both cars, and realized I had actually just backed over a traffic cone, and got in my car and left.  The farther away a drove, the less convinced I was that I just backed over a cone.  Maybe I did actually hit the car and the damage was so minor that I just didn't notice it, but the owner would.  I spent the next week refusing to drive my car anywhere in case there was somebody out there who witnessed me not hit a car and wrote down my license plate number.  Seriously, stayed home, refused to open my door.  Six years later, nobody has come a-knockin'.  Turns out, running over a traffic cone and NOT hitting a car doesn't exactly earn you prime time coverage on America's Most Wanted.  Who knew?

So, in my mind, if I were to rant and rave about said neighbor, and since he obviously would end up reading this, he would come knock on my door and punch me in the face.  I have no problem shooting him my dirtiest look over the fence, but I'm not ready for hand to hand combat.  I had a lot of gelato last night and I'm not too quick on my feet today. 

Feel free to ask me all about it though, I love to talk.  Just ask everybody.

Jury Duty

Oh, jury duty.  You bitch.  If you hang out with me on Instagram, Twitter, or Facebook you've heard me bitch about having jury duty for the past three days.  Yep, you read that correctly.  THREE DAYS.  I spent the two weeks leading up it listening to everybody tell me I would go in for half a day and then be sent home.  So, I assumed that would be case, so I woke up at seven in the morning on Tuesday, after being up until one in the morning, spent my entire day at the courthouse, went straight to work that night, and then went BACK to the courthouse the next morning, where I spent my entire Wednesday until four in the afternoon.  That's right.  That would be 33 hours awake.
 

That's a whole lot easier in college, my friends.  When you're in your late twenties like me, sleep has to happen.  So, I went directly to sleep when I got home and woke up fourteen hours later, and went BACK to the courthouse.  Yeah, that 'half a day' you assholes kept talking about, turned into three whole days.  Guess I'm lucky?  Whatever.  They finally ended up picking a jury at the end of my third day, and their fourth day overall of deliberating, and I was fortunately not one of the sixteen out of fifty two.

Smell ya later, jury duty! Love, Juror 178

 Because not only did this take up this week, it would have taken up next week as well, and in Tampa, with no phone, internet, or television.  This case was NO JOKE.  What do I mean by no joke?  I mean death penalty.

Annnnnnd cue Tina getting serious for a bit.

I'm not a political person by any means.  And I am extremely indifferent on a lot of issues, which I guess kind of makes me the perfect juror.  Makes sense why they kept me around for so long now.  Before this week, if you were to ask me how I felt about the death penalty, I would have more than likely shrugged my shoulders and said I was maybe more for it than against it but didn't really feel strongly in either direction.  Being asked that same question directly in front of the person you would potentially be sending to their death?  This birdy changed her tune.  How am I supposed to look somebody my age in the eye and say I would have no problem agreeing to ending their life?  We started out the same way.  Somebody's child.  Maybe I was loved more, and cared for more, and given better opportunities and guidance in life.  I was formed to know that murder is not an answer.  Not a way out.  He was not.  Given the right environment, could he have been a totally different person?  Was he given a fair chance at life?  Did he ever have a shot?  Would I have made the same decision if I had been in his shoes his entire life?

The most heart breaking of it all to me, aside from the two officers who lost their lives in this situation?  The last day of deliberation, he decided to wear a tie, and the way he tied it was in such a child like way.  I don't know why that got to me like it did, but it sent me to cry in the bathroom.  It was almost like he just doesn't know any better about life.  That he needed to be taught so much more before somebody sent him into the world to make these horrible decisions he allegedly made.

The closer we got to the jury being selected, I started to realize there was no way I could do this.  I couldn't be a part of something that would end a life, no matter what the circumstances.  I just know what emotional toll that would take on me, and I know that it would never leave me.

Forgive such a 'heavy' post to kick off everybody's favorite day of the week, but this was one of the most important, influential processes I have ever been through, and one I will never forget.

And thanks for reading even when I decide to take life seriously.  Happy weekend, kiddos.

Legally Tired

Hey there! I wanted to wait until today to talk about my weekend, because it was just that good. Well, sort of.  I'll try to keep it brief-ish. 

Saturday was fun overall, but, as I'm sure you all know, my team lost.  I'm not an idiot, I know when a team is better than Miami, but I really had my fingers crossed on this one.  But FSU and that damn quarterback ruined everything.  But, football leads to drinking, and drinking means the boyfriend actually poses for pictures. 

I'll count that as a win. Since somebody decided to start this game at 8:00 I just had to spend the majority of the day drinking to calm my nerves, so I spent all day Sunday laying on the couch watching Dexter, feeling like my head was going to fall off.  And then the time change made me forget where I was and caused the rest of the house to sleep the day away.

There's a boyfriend in there, too.

Anywho, Monday I headed over to Brittney's to make her stuff me with food and then we took the baby bump to the House of Blues.

My cousin plays drums in a band who was playing a show there/being awesome. 

He was nice enough to not only give me tickets, but backstage passes as well, which was awesome for two reasons. First, it kept me away from everybody else, and I'm too old for all the touching and loud noise, and second, because I was able to get some great pictures and videos.

 

You don't get any video because this is a good ol' iPhone post. You can hop on over to the Instagram if you want to see some video of Cyrus being way too good at what he does. 

And the best part about it? I got home at one in the morning and had jury duty today.  This would be when the kids use FML, right? I tried to be as politically incorrect as possible to get excused ASAP, but turns out, that just gets you dirty looks and probably put on some watch list of some sort.  And I was just informed that nobody leaves until 2:30 at the earliest. Five more hours to go.

Excuse me your honor, I'd like to take a nap.

Bend and snap.