May 2, 2014 § Leave a comment
How ’bout we take it easy with a lil’ quote for this lovely Friday.
Here ya go – one of my favs, just for you:
There’s a little boy and on his 14th birthday he gets a horse…and everybody in the village says, “How wonderful. The boy got a horse” And the Zen master says, “We’ll see.” Two years later, the boy falls off the horse, breaks his leg, and everyone in the village says, “How terrible.” And the Zen master says, “We’ll see.” Then, a war breaks out and all the young men have to go off and fight…except the boy can’t cause his legs all messed up and everybody in the village says, “How wonderful.”
Now the Zen master says, “We’ll see.”
– Charlie Wilson’s War
April 28, 2014 § Leave a comment
Oh wait, that’s not how this works. Ok then I’ll give you some things I’ve been into lately.
Next time your crippling insecurities make you feel like shoving spoonfuls of frosting into your mouth watch this. Then go ahead and do the frosting thing anyways because frosting is delicious.
But be sure you remember: No matter what you look like someone out there would love to plant his face in your
This is lovely. Play on repeat.
Kind of like heroine. I have no idea how heroine works. Most likely not the same at all. What I meant by that is I’ve been binge watching this show via Netflix. So good.
Shhh…it’ll be over soon. Just a couple more.
And Then There is This:
Just to be clear I prefer dicks that are still attached but nonetheless – excellent exhibit, excellent documentary.
I only star dick pics.
And Lastly, This Dog Says ‘Fuck it’:
Now what? Guess that’s all for now.
As always I’ll miss you.
Love Your Vodka Guzzling Lunatic and Best Friend Forever,
Sweet Baby Jamie
I’m Not Being Very Helpful:
March 6, 2014 § 8 Comments
But I don’t know. I just missed you guys, I guess.
So little to say…maybe I shouldn’t have even written this post?
I did, though.
Ok, here’s the plan. We drink. And that’s the plan.
So, m’babes, let’s get together and pop open a bottle of wine. Just grab your Caloric Cuvee glass. Oh? You don’t have one?
Don’t touch me. Monster.
Fine. I’ll introduce you. Behold – the Caloric Cuvee wine glass. LOOK AT IT!
Maybe you should take a closer look. ENHANCE. ENHANCE. ENHANCE. And I’ll add a tiny model! Ok, now look!
You can fill it to the calorie marks, super helpful, or you can fill it so high that the feelings you usually reserve for your dream journal spill out into real life.
Pre-tay sweet. And I’m not just saying that cause this super cool company sent me some free shit. I am not above selling out. Trust. But these glasses are actually freakin’ adorable. And you can totally get in on this. Just leave a comment below letting me know why wine is your favorite beverage. And if it isn’t, lie.
Then I’ll choose my favorite (sexual favors encouraged) and Caloric Cuvee will send you a free glass to call your own. Boo-ya! Biz-natches! Don’t say I never gave you anything. AND EVERYTHING IS RIGHT WITH THE WORLD!
Now look at the pictures.
Someone Buy My Blog…
February 10, 2014 § 9 Comments
I love Valentine’s Day! I’ve always loved it, even when I was single because I could be a mess at the bar and people would just assume I was sad instead of an alcoholic.
Every year I send out Valentines to all my lovies (seriously I do) but the selection is always extremely limited. I never feel as if I can fully express myself with what’s currently out there. So I decided to make my own.
Cards By Jamie
February 7, 2014 § 1 Comment
Once upon a time two of my dear friends and I took a girl’s adventure trip to Costa Rica. When we arrived in Arenal, a small town known for it’s active volcano and hot springs, we booked a tour-guided hike that promised an afternoon through beautiful rainforests followed by an evening swimming under a remote waterfall.
The morning of the hike started peacefully. Our tour guide was extremely tardy but we sat content drinking coffee at a local cafe.
After some time a shitty van stopped in the middle of the road directly in front of the cafe. A man wearing disco clothes popped out from the back in a graceless ta-da pose. This was Carlos, our drunk tour guide. Upon first inspection we knew Carlos was drunk, he reeked of booze and had a glint in his eye that said, ‘I’m fucked up’.
We hopped aboard.
The van took us to seemingly the middle of nowhere. As we exited, Carlos chucked grocery bags filled with 2-liters of soda, Tampico and loaves of bread at us. The brochure had promised lunch so I’m guessing this was Carlos’ attempt.
Next we followed Carlos as he took us down a trench, up a trench and through a barbed wire fence marked ‘private property’.
Can we pause here to appreciate that three girls who, I’d say, function fine in society hiked down a trench, up a trench and through a barbed wire fence all while carrying groceries because a very drunk stranger told them to. At this point of course our guts were saying, ‘remember Natalie Holloway’ but our hearts were saying, ‘no, it should be ok’.
But seriously, if all of us paid attention to every little red flag we’d miss out on mystery and adventure and life. That logic is sound. People who are overly red flag cautious don’t get to do things like drunk guided tours through Costa Rican rain forests. They are also probably a lot less likely to die in an embarrassing circumstance but sometimes you just gotta get your hands dirty.
So there we were, getting our hands dirty.
We must have taken some back-wood shortcut because we eventually did end up on a legit trail. Once there, it was much more apparent just how drunk, Drunk Carlos was. This motherfucker was real real drunk.
He spent a substantial amount of time making zero progress, shifting weight from one foot to the other, staggering from one side of the path to the other. His ankles were buckling, his shirt drenched in sweat. We did our best to encourage him, ‘All right, all right, you got this. Just a little further.’
But Drunk Carlos was the kind of drunk you can’t just shrug off. At a point early on Carlos realized this. He took a swig from his water bottle (which we later discovered wasn’t actually water at all) and plopped butt first to the ground.
Carlos was sick of hiking. Maybe he was sick of life. Either way he was done. He looked up at us, smiled a true bright smile and then in the most cartoon character-ish way possible he passed out. It was actually kind of cute.
Eager to get on with the hike we told Passed Out Carlos we’d come back for him. We didn’t get very far before we realized we didn’t want to die in the rainforest so we returned to Passed Out Carlos.
We frisked his pockets, found his cell phone and rang the travel company. They arrived, extremely apologetic, to swoop all of us, including Drunk Carlos and then the real adventure began – To be continued for another post.
Carlos is the kind of man who lives life one drunk day at a time. He doesn’t change his behavior to impress or please anyone. He just simply is Drunk Carlos. And although I can say with almost complete certainty that we are not even a spot in Carlos’ memory, he is very much tied to ours.
In that short amount of time we bonded to Carlos forever. We’ll carry Carlos in the highlight reel of our lives, we’ll try to explain the oddity and absurdity of the situation to others and although some might find it amusing, words will never truly capture it.
That’s the thing about sharing moments in life like that, they bond you forever because, well, you kind of had to be there.
Glittering Hearts Wander
January 31, 2014 § 1 Comment
I’m super excited for Sunday! I don’t actually give a shit about the football part I’m just excited for the day drinking! I support any and all causes that make getting drunk before noon socially acceptable. I also support anything that is supremely popular because I don’t like to be left out.
Now for my Superbowl Sunday predictions:
I predict that Peyton’s brother, Eli, will start drinking a little too fast early on in the day and he’ll start annoying everyone by sticking that giant foam, We’re #1, finger in people’s faces. And one of Peyton’s friends will be like, ‘yo, cut it out!’ and Eli will be like, ‘easy breezy dude, just trying to have a good time’ but he’ll really be thinking, ‘who the fuck brought this guy?‘ and then slowly but surely Eli will get way too drunk like he always does. And Eli won’t even care or apologize to Cooper (Peyton’s youngest brother) who will have to miss the last quarter of the game to look after him when he gets sick.
And then Cooper will tell Peyton what happened and when Peyton brings it up to Eli, Eli will be like, ‘sorry man‘ but it won’t be a real apology because Eli never owns up to anything. And Peyton will feel like Eli doesn’t truly support him but he’ll choose to just drop it because no one, not even Eli, is going to ruin his special day.
And then months will pass and it’ll seem like Peyton and Eli are totally cool but then on Thanksgiving it’ll come up again. And this time it’s in front of pop-pop, who hates it when the boys fight. And Eli will try to avoid the issue by making Peyton seem petty. He’ll say something like, ‘oh, here we go again Peyton, let’s hear it’.
And Peyton will be so frustrated he’ll shut himself in the bathroom because he just needs a moment to himself and he’ll cry a little and Peyton hardly ever cries. And Eli will hear him and know on some level, deep down, he really is sorry but he doesn’t know how to say it. Then Peyton will pull himself together and head back to the table without another word because he just wants to have a nice Thanksgiving dinner like a normal family.
Years later Eli will work through his issues with a therapist and in a joint session between him and Peyton he’ll finally apologize and this time he’ll mean it.
We’re On Each Other’s Team
January 29, 2014 § 1 Comment
Justin, Justin, Justin…Biebs.
I am alarmed. I feel like we need to have a heart to heart. All that money and freedom has manifested itself into some pretty unbecoming behavior.
I write this because I am genuinely concerned which I’m sure comes off as a very disingenuous thing to say since I don’t know you personally and I’m not necessarily a fan but hear me out.
I’m sure you’ve worked hard to earn all that wonderful success but what you haven’t earned is the right to act like a fucking douche-bag, well, because no one has that right.
I realize that there wasn’t much of a chance in hell you’d grow up to be a well-balanced individual. You are the product of many collective bad decisions, most of which were not your own. And those oppressive life circumstances left you grasping at mere straws of reality. But you no longer have to worry cause your Auntie Jamie is here for you now.
And because I’m a cool Aunt I understand sometimes getting totally fucked and doing stupid shit is a fun and necessary part of life and that someone in your position has unlimited access to an ungodly amount of really anything and that are you are like, 20, and some would say good looking…
Ya know what? Now that I think about it – you’re fine.
I mean, I’m not saying you don’t seem like a total nightmare. And maybe it’s a flawed depiction but I think it’s pretty safe to assume you are the absolute worst. But you are Justin Bieber for god’s sake!
I won’t sugar coat it, a lot of people are talking shit, like mad shit, but you’ve given the world so much more than it will ever give you. Never forget that. All those haters are just jelly cause they wake up every morning not being Justin Bieber.
So I say lean in. Lean in hard. Throw eggs at your neighbor’s house, it’s practically an act of goodwill on your part to even acknowledge his presence. Party tits out, my lil’ Biebs. Why have a few regrets when you can have multiple? I believe it was Snoop Dogg who put it best when he said, ‘play on playa‘.
Yeah. That’s all I want. That’s all I really want for you.
We’re All No One To Someone:
January 24, 2014 § 2 Comments
My most recent post was about dicks so I feel like I should pay some respect to the vagina. One – because I don’t feel like I’ve embarrassed my parents nearly enough and two – because vaginas are the coolest (please, say that last part again but this time in a Billy Madison voice).
Everyone should respect the vagina because even if you don’t have one, your squishy little body came out of one on what should be considered the best day of your life, your first day of life.
The vagina is wonderful and warm and a beautiful flower (as demonstrated by Georgia O’Keeffe) so it’s no wonder babies want to crawl up there and live inside.
Ok. What else can I talk about vagina related? Hair cuts, hair cuts for your area. I heard bangs are currently in fashion? Waxing? Waxing is a thing I’ve heard of.
I personally have never been waxed because I like to be taken out for a drink before someone sticks their face in my vagina. I guess I’m just old fashioned like that. Plus, I’d feel rude if I didn’t offer to reciprocate which could make scheduling my next appointment awkward. Also I’m pretty sure it hurts.
Periods. Let’s talk periods. I actually haven’t gotten mine in almost six years. Not because my uterus is on strike or because I have any sass towards periods but because I heard a rumor you could opt-out via birth control and I was like, ‘yo, where do I sign?‘
Sometimes I think about the day when I’ll become a woman (for the second time) and I’m nervous my brain won’t be able to process the information quick enough due to a lapse in familiarity and I’ll scream something like — ‘oh god, I’ve been stabbed! I’m bleeding out!’ and a stranger will run into the restroom (cause in this scenario I’m in a public restroom) and then I’ll realize I haven’t been stabbed and in fact it’s just a visit from my dear aunt flo.
Then I’ll have to explain to my heroic stranger I wasn’t tricking them into some twisted fantasy of mine and that it’s actually a perfectly logical and understandable reaction for someone who is not used to bleeding out of their genitals. And then the stranger and I will laugh and laugh and become life long friends and affectionately tell the story of how we met to entertained guests at dinner parties.
Next topic. PMS.
Although I don’t get my period I do tend to get PMS-y around that time of the month. I don’t know if those are real hormones or it’s more like a phantom limb situation? I’m not a doctor so I can’t say for sure. But I do get symptomatic, not really irritable as much as I cry at things that aren’t cry-worthy followed by an outpouring of emotions. But how else would my loved ones know they are loved if it wasn’t for phantom PMS and 2AM Tequila rants?
Um, yeah. I think I’m done with this topic for now. I’m pretty sure next time I’m going to talk about blow jobs or I may hold off just so this blog doesn’t get a reputation, if you know what I’m sayin.