Tag Archives: Awesome

We’re getting married…to dudes!

That’s right, you read correctly, Me (Lucky) and my best pal Gizzy are finally getting hitched…and NOT to each other!

And so, like every other bride to be, there’s planning to be done, cakes to eat, parties to attend, registries to build, and of course, a wedding website to capture it all!  Wondering who the lucky gents are? Read and weep my friends…

Follow us on our newest journey: Lucky & Gizzy’s Fairytale Wedding

Happy Valentine’s/Single Awareness Day!

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Tour d’apartmente.

I know you guys have been just itching to see pictures of my new *dream* apartment…so, although it’s not completely decorated or cute yet, I’ll go ahead and share.

It is FRIDAY, after all.

Here goes:

My cat, OJ, helping me unpack. Clearly.

Not supposed to be my TV, but rather the series of pictures hanging above it…I painted them myself!

The “invisible bookshelf” I built using L-brackets. What do you think?

This is the view from my front door. That would be my dining table, fat cat, living room, and yes, a giant frame without a picture…I have yet to find one big enough!

Excuse the mess. This is my kitchen. Obvi.

And another view.

My couch, ottoman, and chair…complete with cat blanket. Sigh.

Another view.

One part of my ridiculously tiny closet.

Part of my bathroom. I haven’t gotten my shower curtain in yet, but as soon as I do, I will post the pics! I hope you enjoyed my tour!

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Everything’s hotter in Texas

Whew! My sincere apologies over the long wait for updates on my visit with Gizzy and my adventures with Nicole and Ben’s wedding extravaganza. It’s been a hell of a week—in a good way.

My vacation started off Friday morning with a trip to the airport, where I enjoyed a delicious bloody mary pre-flight. I was due at the lovely Bush International airport at 1 pm, and then was scheduled to fly onto Gizzy’s town from there at 3:30. Sweet enough.

I indulged in a second bloody mary onboard (a new guilty pleasure of mine) so I arrived in Houston nice and toasty. Since I had a few hours to kill, I posted up at a bar near my gate…it was a little Mexican place with Dos Equis on tap. There, I spotted a few hotties, but was mainly enjoying my conversation with an older woman who had just moved to Houston.

The flights around us, all going to Gizzy’s big city, were getting delayed left and right due to weather…so I kept an eye on my phone, checking the status of mine. Although it said it was delayed, I went to the gate at 3.

Once I got there, the lady at the flight counter made an announcement saying our plane was having a mechanical failure and needed a new part, and she would give us an update at 4:30. So I waited.

At 4:30, she said the new flight time was 9 pm. So I told Gizzy the deal and made my way to Bubba’s—a restaurant and bar near my gate. It was there I found a cheap 32-ounce brewsky, and called my mom to spill the beans. When I got off the phone, a very cute gentleman had parked next to me and said we were on the same delayed flight.

At this point, I didn’t know his name, I just knew he looked very cute in his baseball hat and had really straight white teeth—two things I’m an absolute sucker for. We talked, we drank, we ate dinner…then walked back to our gate around 7pm—two hours before the scheduled flight time.

And what? The plane was gone.

We joined a few fellow passengers at the service desk, who informed us that the plane had left with only half its passengers. Pretty. Fucking. Awesome.

We waited in line for 30 minutes before someone from our flight made it to the front. And I watched as the woman behind the desk was a complete bitch, saying she “just can’t deal with this drama.”

From the line I said, “Uh, are you fucking kidding me??”

Like yes, I know that’s a shitty job, but it’s not my fault you have to work it, and it is also not my fault the airline left 2 hours prior to the departing time.

Once me and my bar buddy got to the desk, we were told to go somewhere else, another help desk. Well, after a few minutes of walking and searching, I found out there was no such help desk and we had to walk outside the airport and start all over to book new flights.

New flights that didn’t leave until the next day.

And a Happy birthday to me.

It was then that my buddy introduced himself as Matt. Of course! I think I have a curse finding guys named Matt…but how could it be a curse when he was so cute, right?

“Well I don’t know how you feel going out with a stranger, but we could go to a bar if you’d like,” I agreed on one condition—that he not murder me a la Natalee Holloway.

So, I took his picture and sent his description to Gizzy. And then we jumped in the cab and headed to his apartment. Once we got there, he told me this whole thing was just too weird, so I should wait outside while he dropped off his suitcase.

So I waited. And yeah, the whole thing WAS fucking weird, but I’d had a few bloodies and 64-ounces of beer, so I didn’t think it was as odd as I should have.

Anyway, we got in his car (noting the license plate) and headed to the bar.

Once we arrived, we ordered drinks and sat next to this older guy, Mark. Mark was an interesting fellow, who told us he was single, liked to do coke, and was sleeping with his boss’s wife. Totally love to meet cats like this in a bar—no one tells better stories than a 55-year old bachelor.

So, Mark entertained us a bit, but we were also playing trivia…naturally, I keyed my name in as Natalee, and Mark kept calling me that all night before asking how long I’d been dating Matt.

“6 hours,” Matt said.

My original plan was to catch a cab back to the airport and just hang out until my new flight, buuuuuut Matt invited me to sleep at his apartment and said he would drive me to the airport in the morning.

I couldn’t resist.

He was apologizing for his place before we even got inside, but he had nothing to apologize for. It was nice, and clean, especially for someone not expecting company. He offered me clothes to sleep in, and charged my dying phone for me. So I changed and curled up on the couch. And then he said I could sleep in his bed.

I had to give myself a talk. Do not take off your pants.

And I didn’t. I behaved and so did he. Although we did kiss.

We have been texting ever since, and I have graciously accepted an offer to go back to Houston this weekend. So if you’re in the area, I may as well bring more strangers along. Just don’t bring weapons, Joran.

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Music got me feelin’.

I’ve wanted to do this for awhile, now.

I feel like errybody’s gotta hate on the auto-tune…and you know what? I like it! So, since I’m still playing at Gizzy’s house, I’m offering up a fun post today. A post that shows auto-tune done RIGHT. Y’heard?

So, I present to you, “Lucky’s Playlist of Auto-Tune Jams” (in no particular order):

1. Daft Punk, “One More Time.”

2. Chris Brown, “Forever.”

3. Janet Jackson, “All For You.”

4. T-Pain featuring Akon, “Bartender.”

5. Britney Spears, “Piece of Me.”

6. Tupac featuring Dr. Dre, “California Love.”

7. Eiffel 65, “Blue.”

8. Lil Wayne, “Lollipop.”

9. Justin Timberlake, “SexyBack.”

10. Snoop Dogg, “Sensual Seduction.”

11. 3LW, “No More (Baby I’ma Do Right)”


12. Kanye West, “Heartless.”


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A {text} conversation with JBelt.

JBelt (5:35 pm): Drinking? Tomorrow? Or perhaps bare-knuckle punching? I’m going to fencing tonight.

Lucky (9:40 pm): I’m gonna have to witness some fencing to appreciate it more.

(10:36 pm): Just got done. You could come by Thursday late, if you really want to see some.

(12:28 am): A practice or a real duel (match)? I’m gonna need to Google.

(12:33 am): Yeah…we don’t really fight duels anymore, Lucky. In fact, it’s been illegal for almost 200 years. Practice from 7 to 8:30 or so, open fencing until ten…Bouts. They’re called bouts. We should YouTube some so you know what you’re looking at. The rules are complex, so it can be tough on spectators. That’s why you don’t see much fan merch.

(12:38 am): Well I didn’t think you were going to slice someone’s face off or anything. Rule #1: Don’t call it a duel. Sheesh!

(12:39 am): Tee hee. I suppose I took advantage of you a little, but it was irresistible. I will make it up to you with a beer and YouTube.

(12:41 am): I swear I’m not an idiot. But I am a natural blonde. Shit happens!

(12:41 am): I don’t think you’re an idiot at all. Not one bit.

(12:47 am): About how many people come to the practices?

(12:47 am): Maybe 12-15. Less if it’s hot outside.

(12:48 am): That’s not too bad.

(12:50 am): Too bad? What do you mean? And, why are you still up?

(12:51 am): It’s more people than I expected it what I meant. Yet not a ton of people. Still up because the boxing gets my mind kind of wired.

(12:52 am): I know exactly what you mean.

(12:53 am): My body is dead. But I notice I’m usually pretty energetic afterward. And sometimes I’m completely pissed off. Really pissed.

(12:54 am): Pissed off? It’s supposed to be cathartic.

(12:55 am): Yeah…when I’m punching the bag I think about shit that pisses me off. And I guess it lingers.

(12:56 am): Fair enough. I boxed in the Navy I get the same stuff, the endorphins and adrenaline, from fencing, too. Tons of energy. Sometimes the wrong kind of energy.

(12:57 am): Wrong kind of energy?

(12:58 am): The cold shower kind. Or, just fast-mind insomnia—too much to recall, nothing to do with it, no rest but hours of lying awake.

(12:59 am): I gotcha. Is that why you’re up?

(1:00 am): Indeed. Melatonin. Soon.

(1:01 am): I will drift soon enough. I wish it was still raining out.

(1:02 am): Why?

(1:02 am): I love the sound.

(1:05 am): I like the thunder. The rain doesn’t really show up for me here. Can’t hear it.

(1:07 am): Really? And you have an actual roof. I have an apt above mine.

(1:18 am): Not much, anyway. Tell me not to start a movie. Tell me to eat sleepy pills and go to bed.

(1:19 am): Time for bed, Dave. No movies!

(1:22 am): I’m all awake and stuff. I feel pent up. I might have an endorphin allergy.

(1:23 am): Sounds like you’ve succumbed.

(1:23 am): I’m still here.

(1:24 am): Has your boxing rage worn off?

(1:25 am): I wasn’t too pissed off today actually. In my class yesterday this dude next to me was trying to hit on me the whole time. That REALLY pissed me off.

(1:26 am): Did you whip his ass?

(1:28 am): When it came time for a little partner work he immediately claimed me. I wanted to punch him in his beer gut.

(1:29 am): But didn’t?

(1:31 am): No. We were doing situps passing a medicine ball back and forth. The best I could do was aim for his face with the 13 ponder. See? Now I’m getting pissed.

(1:33 am): Excellent.

(1:34 am): I went on a few nightmare dates a little while ago and I suppose the subject of dating in general pisses me off.

(1:35 am): I’m not counted on the “nightmare” list, am I? How bad were they?

(1:36 am): No this was just a week ago. One guy still had a gf, so it was interesting when he flipped his shit thinking she found out. The other I didn’t know was a date. It was a friend of mine who I thought we were going to a movie. Instead he confessed to liking me and tried to kiss me.

(1:37 am): Poor baby. That’s pretty rugged. The second an old friend?

(1:38 am): We’d known each other for 3 years, and really, I’m not attracted to him at all. So it was really awkward and I was really caught off guard, although when it comes to dating he’s so forward and cocky it was kind of scary. He was saying all kinds of weird shit.

(1:42 am): Shitfire. What sort of weird shit? You seem fairly resistant to that to me.

(1:43 am): He moved out of state, and we really hadn’t kept in touch but he had to do some stuff here so we made plans. I thought it was innocent so I was pretty excited to catch up. He said “when we worked together I wanted to ask you out” so I thought it was past tense. Then he tried to hold my hand.

(1:43 am): Oh for gods sake. That doesn’t sound that bad.

(1:44 am): After the movie he was saying stuff like “are you going to give me a reason to come back more often” what the fuck?! He also also asked me if I ever slept naked. What. The. Fuck.

(1:44 am): Okay. That’s pretty fucked. Creeper.

(1:47 am): How on earth did I not weird you out? That’s still surprising to me.

(1:50 am): I suppose to someone who actually liked him that stuff wouldn’t be weird. So I guess if you did anything weird maybe I overlooked it. But I don’t recall it.

(1:52 am): I didn’t DO anything weird, I just AM a little weird.

(1:54 am): Well you didn’t say anything scary. Here’s the bottom line. If I don’t want to eventually fuck the guy, it won’t work. Sounds slutty. But it’s true.

(1:56 am): I take that as a premium compliment. And slutty is an antiquated term.

(1:58 am): I just figure you have to have something physically plus the chemistry…or else every little quirk is going to be annoying. But, I’m no dating expert.

(2:04 am): I am also a novice. Of sorts. That’s probably not the right word at all, but I think you know what I mean.

(2:05 am): Yeah. I went through a breakup after three years last summer. Since then, dating is just different. And often, it’s a hassle.

(2:08 am): I’ve had several of the long ones like that. It changes things, a bit. Harder to take things seriously, or to risk much at all.

(2:09 am): Exactly. Did you take your sleepy pills yet or you went against what I said and are watching a movie?

(2:10 am): And by the way, I’m of course attracted to you, too. I can’t believe I had any self control with you at all. You are quite charming, and plenty hot to boot.

(2:10 am): Niether. In bed, mulling. Not the regular kind of sleepy yet. You about to cash in?

(2:12 am): No, I just didn’t want to bore you with my embarrassing dating stories any longer.

(2:12 am): Not at all! You’re fine.

(2:13 am): Thank you for the compliments. I won’t buy that I’m charming. Hot? Okay. Charming? Hrmmm…

(2:13 am) You are plenty charming. I’m rarely attracted to blondes or busts…as odd as that sounds. You are hot in a different way than that. You are hot as a writer, and you have good locomotion. In a variety of situations.

(2:15 am): I felt like I scared you off by saying I had a crush on you and I definitely was not trying to jump into anything.

(2:18 am) I know. But the reality was, any commitment at all would’ve been too much. I know you, and I like you—quite a bit. And I would, naturally, love to fuck. But I don’t want to be that guy…I knew I wasn’t ready for anything at all.

(2:20 am) You weren’t, and aren’t, that guy. I was, and still am, weary that we won’t be able to hang out at all. I don’t want that. And, what’s so wrong with boobs?!?!

 (2:20 am): Nothing. In fact, yours are delightful, and I’ve replayed the experience over many times (especially the arching of which you bragged…that text put me in an awkward public situation, so you know). As I said, you are the exception; I was plenty attracted.

(2:21 am): HA sorry!

(2:21 am): We can hang out. I just hate being a douche, and sometimes I am one. …no worries, it was absolutely worth the glares.

(2:24 am): Wait…how did people see the text? Did you have your phone on a projector screen?

(2:25 am): No, Lucky. Jesus. It gave me an erection, goofy. I will withhold blonde joke.

(2:26 am): Well I didn’t know!!! Fuck.

(2:27 am): Dammit…now my mind is very much in the gutter. Thanks, Lucky.

(2:27 am) I honestly thought you meant someone saw the text. Silly.

(2:28 am): No, but when I saw it I was definitely like, ‘sweet Christ, what’s she trying to pull here?’

(2:30 am): I wasn’t trying to stir it up. Really. It was the truth. Now I know not to tell you that shit.

(2:32 am) I didn’t say that. It was a delightful message to receive. Only oddly timed. I was just looking for it again…too bad I can’t find it.

(2:36 am): What happened to it?!

(2:40 am): I give up. I’m just being creepy now. I don’t know what I want with it anyway, we’re having a conversation. Just thinking about it this late at night has me plenty turned on. I fear a cold shower awaits.

(2:41 am): A cold shower. Does that shit really help?

(2:41 am): No.

(2:42 am): I didn’t realize the text was that hot.

(2:43 am): It probably wasn’t…but the arching certainly was. It’s too late. My mind has wandered, and apparently decided to be a creeper.

(2:46 am): You’re not a creeper.

(2:47 am): You falling asleep?

(2:48 am): No. Are you trying to get rid of me yet?

(2:48 am): No.

(2:50 am): I’m watching an episode of Sex and the City.

(2:50 am): Oh no! I’m trying to get my mind back in a wholesome place, perhaps…

(2:50 am): Don’t worry. It’s on TV. It’s so watered down. Nothing racy.

(2:52 am): Shall I leave you to it? And, wow…

(2:52 am): And wow, what???

(2:52 am): Sex and the City. It was a very mild jab.

(2:53 am): Every guy gives women shit for Sex and The City. It’s just candy.

(2:55 am): The other day you said the chick lit you were reading had gotten a little steamy. I laughed at that, too.

(2:55 am): That’s why I told you. I think it’s funny that I read that shit. But you know what? I like it and I’m not ashamed.

(2:56 am): I knew that was your intention in telling. Charming. It was noted. Makes you cuter.

(2:56 am): I always assume Nicholas Sparks is the laughing stock of his poker night. But he has a ton of books. They’re all the same, but still.

(2:57 am): I don’t know him. Shoot. We should’ve started chatting earlier. Fencing…damn.

(2:58 am): I use the chick lit to break it up. Now, I’m reading Congo. Not sexy. At all.

(2:59 am): Michael Chrichton is my chick lit. And no, not sexy. Guilty pleasure. I realize how arrogant that sounded. Please consider it retroactively tempered.

(3:00 am): Really? I never would’ve thought that. This is my first.

(3:03 am): They are great. Jurassic Park ensured I would be teased throughout middle school. I’m rereading Gatsby. You should bring yours in Friday. Reading and a beer after the meeting. Real hot times, and cheap.

(3:05 am): I definitely won’t be at the meeting Friday. Rain check. I know you’re sad.

(3:06 am): I am sad! What are you doing?

(3:06 am): I’m going out of town for another bachelorette weekend.

(3:07 am): Jesus. Maybe Thursday?

(3:08 am): Sure.

(3:09 am): Perfect. I think I’m fading. Somewhat.

(3:09 am): Alright. Sleepy time.

(3:10 am) Adieu, my dear.

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Feeling The Frisky.

I feel so weird now, speaking to you all, as if I didn’t just tell you about the weirdest shit that’s happened to me in awhile. I can’t say “ever.”

But that’s life. And we move on.

I don’t know about you, but I am an avid reader of The Frisky. And this week, there were two articles that resonated with me. Like, I’ve been thinking about them for days. And I’d like to share them with you.

The first, was in the “Dear Wendy” section—basically an advice column that’s nice and blunt. My kind of gal.

Topic: What’s the REAL reason he doesn’t want to date me?

Question: A week ago I met a really nice guy and we hit it off right away. We both are newly single and expressed to one another that we were just looking for someone to go out and spend time with. We went on our first official date a couple of days ago and it went very well. I was pretty certain that we’d see each other again because at certain moments during the date he would make references to future dates. Well, a few hours after the date he texted me saying that while he had a nice time with me and liked me he wasn’t ready for any kind of commitment and wanted to keep his options open. He also said that he felt like if we continued to see one another we’d likely end up in a serious relationship, and that that’s not what he wants right now. I know the answer here should be obvious to me, but it just really sucks! I have never connected this soon with someone before and we had a great first date and I could tell he was into me, but now suddenly I’m rejected because he likes me too much? He said he didn’t want to hurt me and that I deserve a lot more than he can give me right now. Do you think he was he being genuine and really looking out for me? Or was this just his way of saying he’s not into me without actually saying it?

Now, does this not resemble the situation with JBelt? I think it does. So, Wendy’s answer hit home. The jist:

What difference does it make whether he was being “genuine” or simply trying not to hurt your feelings? The bottom line is that, for whatever reason, this guy doesn’t want a relationship with you. Trying to somehow justify his reasoning or twist it around in your head to mean something it doesn’t or convince yourself that with enough effort you could still have a chance with him will do nothing but make you look and feel foolish. Here’s the thing about guys: whether they’re “newly single” or have been on the market for a long time, if they want you as their girlfriend, they will waste NO TIME treating you like a girlfriend. And if they aren’t interested in you as a girlfriend, they will waste no time in letting you know that as well.

There was more, but that’s the part that really hit the nail on the head. So what if JBelt just got out of a relationship or whatever. Obviously he isn’t interested and I just need to get it through my thick skull and move forward. Trust me, I’m trying. And yeah, I have to fucking see him this afternoon for our magazine meeting. It’ll be the first time I’ve seen him in weeks. Any advice?

The second article that struck me was this: “How Going to Vegas for a Bachelorette Party Made Me Question Everything.”

If that title doesn’t get you, I don’t know what will. Now, I definitely suggest reading it, but the deal is this girl goes on a bachelorette weekend, she’s the only single person and she feels embarrassed to be parading around Vegas grasping penis suckers to celebrate a marriage. She starts to wonder why we don’t celebrate other milestones—in her case, getting a master’s degree.

Completely understood.

I’ve been on two bachelorette weekends this spring, and am headed on my third a week from today. And while, I don’t feel embarrassed by the lollicocks and the plastic engagement rings, it is twisted that we don’t celebrate more in our lives. I know I’ve mentioned it before—us singletons really get the shit-end of the stick.

I’ve wondered what I would do if my dream came true of making it into the Sunday Times—I’ve always figured I’d host a brunch the morning it was printed. Or what if my book was published? Or became a best-seller? Or what will I do when I purchase my first home? Those are all big accomplishments, whether I have a man by my side or not.

That’s a societal thing, I suppose. And society, as much as I hate using that term, is a big reason single people feel like shit. So, I want to know—what’s the milestone you want to celebrate?

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I am not the doctor.

If you thought my Saturday was interesting, there’s a whole ‘nother day of the weekend I have yet to share.

And because I am now suffering from a chest cold and can apparently sleep for 10 hours and still be tired, this is the first time Gizzy is hearing it, too. Aren’t you all so special?

When I wokeup Sunday morning, I was ready for John to get the hell out of my bed and I could get on with my day. I had two things planned: 1. Pool, and D. Make a tater salad for the work party.

John asked me about said plans, and I told him just that.

“Well is that going to take all day?” he asked.

Yes, yes in fact it will, is what I wanted to say. But I didn’t. I just said I didn’t know. Which brings me off-topic. Why can’t I just freaking say what’s in my head? I blame it on The Ex.

Anyway, he said he was hoping to take me to lunch after he ran a few errands. I said okay.

So we went to lunch. And it was there, sitting at the table, that he really started to annoy me. He told me three stories back-to-back about him and his friends and their fishing experiences during a trip to Mississippi. I wanted to bang my head on the table. There he was, cracking up at some story about a water moccasin, and I was shoving fries into my face just to stay interested.

Finally, it was time to go, and he dropped me off and left without me having to makeup some excuse about being busy.

I had been texting with Clay and we decided to meet up at the pool again. So there we were, sippin’ on brewskies and talkin’ shit. So I asked him what was up with his girlfriend. And he said he didn’t really know, they were always off-and-on. I put him in the same category as JBelt and kept drinking the poison.

So we get in the pool. And he kisses me.

Oh, to be a player. Kiss one guy in the morning, and another in the afternoon.

We drink his entire cooler of beer and he wants to know what we’re going to do afterward. I tell him I still need to go to the grocery to get my fixings for the tater salad. So he he’ll come with me and we can pick up dinner.

So, we go back to my apartment, put his shirt in the dryer…and naturally other clothes come off while we wait.

I honestly didn’t think I was that drunk, but considering what happens next, I just might have been.

He carries me to my bedroom and I can already foresee the awkward conversation that we’re about to have—because I was on my period. DAMN.

Now, I’ve never had a one-nighter (in this case a one-afternooner) so I was planning to avoid the sex thing entirely. But, I will say, this kid is hot. We’re talking ripped stomach, tall, tan, huge arms, and the whitest teeth you’ve ever seen.

So we’re on my bed, stripping the remaining garments, and I tell him the bad news. He looks at me like I’m an idiot, proceeds to get us both naked, and THEN, he treats me to a bartle & james, DESPITE what I had just told him. GOD SEND.

I decided I should return the favor. So I do. Then, I come up for air, and ask him how he feels about Pop Rocks included into the mix. Where did that come from? No clue. But alas, I had strawberry Pop Rocks in my pantry (I swear I’m not a slore) and I went for it.

If you’ve never tried it, I would suggest it. I don’t think it really makes a huge difference for the guy, but it sure is mighty tasty.

So we continue to fool around a bit longer—and then, the scene from Sex & the City happened. Where Miranda is hooking up with her running buddy and he goes in for tossing her salad and she’s kind of freaked out by it.

Well I’ve never had a guy do it, until now, and it was sort of nice…until he tried to put his dick in my ass.

Obviously I couldn’t see what exactly happened back there—but it wasn’t the funnest thing in my life, I immediately let out an “OW,” which ended that sherade. And yeah, my ass hurt all day Monday and I was terrified to poop.

But don’t worry kids, all is good over here. I figured he would bolt afterward, but he still wanted to accompany me to the grocery. So we picked up a pizza, a movie, and the tater salad ingredients and had a lovely evening. And he stayed over.

It was a random, random few days.

I hope my wild streak has ran its course…well, for the time being.

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