31 for 31 – A Look Back

Last year, I stole an awesome idea from one of my internet stalkees, Alida, and I did the 31-for-31 thingie.  I liked it so much, I’m going to do it again for my birthday this year!  (For quick refreshment: In Part 1, you are meant to list 31 things you want to do this year.  In part 2, you are meant to list 31 things you’ve learned this year.)

Of my 31 to-dos, here was what I accomplished:

  1. Get my arm back to 100% (or preferably, 120%) – Yeah bitches!!!  I’M BIONIC NOW!  And thankfully, the scar healed up a bit more so I can be less vain about being attacked by Somali pirates.  But the plate sticks out all the time and it’s still frustratingly uncomfortable (as well as one of the screws starting to work its way out), so I may end up removing it soon.  We’ll see.
  2. Be diligent with physical therapy, and stop being so pig-headed and impatient about how long it takes to freaking heal a stupid bone (Ahem.) – I followed this advice, which is why my arm is super-ridiculously-strong now.  My husband, who separated his shoulder JUST AS I WAS GETTING BETTER last March, did not do his physical therapy, and now looks like the Huncharm of Houston.  I told him that would happen, and he was pig-headed and impatient, and that’s what he gets for it.  I can’t take him anywhere with me now.  (Just kidding, baby.  You’re still beautiful.)
  3. Buy a boat (30-34ft preferably) – Bought a 32ft catamaran!  Husband spent about two months solid fixing it up in North Carolina while I worked on the house watched Netflix.
  4. Start jogging – I actually started jogging in March 2012 (as soon as my doctor said I could), and then I got a workout buddy and started going to high-intensity spin classes shortly thereafter.
  5. Get good enough at jogging to start running (if doctor says it’s okay!) – See above!
  6. Lose 25 pounds (minimum) – I lost 35 pounds.  :)  Spin classes paid off! Continue reading

Why You Should Not Spoon Taylor

I’ve spent the last six months almost-writing a blog post, but now bitches, this is happening.  Prepare yourselves.

We’re going to start with a story.  Get your blankies and your giraffe hats, and gather around.

A long time ago, in a land   So one time, I was dating this guy.  Super sweet, cheek-pinchingly adorable guy.  Wouldn’t harm a fly.  He was that guy that would be helping old ladies across the street, didn’t curse (so you knew our relationship was doomed), didn’t have any vices except for video games and a slightly-too-comfortable relationship with all his guy friends.  (Like, they’d have sleep-overs and one of them drove a Miata.  I’m not judging, I’m just saying.  It was suspect.)

Right, so, super-nice dude.  We’d been dating for, what, two months?  Long enough for him to realize I was totally the most amazing person on the planet, but not long enough to say, warrant me yelling at him for anything.  He was still holding in his farts around me, so I guess we were in the honeymoon period.

He still lived with his parents (and I being the older and wiser of the two, had an apartment), so he stayed over at my place a lot.  We were still at the “we love to just cuddle all the time” phase.  Anyway, we snuggle into bed, and he cuddles in behind me like a super-sweet guy would do.  He nuzzles his head into my hair, murmuring something about how I smelled like gingerbread (what?), and falls asleep.  I drift off into dreamland, lovely comforted by the warmth of his body.

Except it couldn’t have been that comforting, because I started having a dream about getting into a fight.  I have no memory of the dream.  I just remember I was in that halfway-to-sleep, halfway-awake part of the REM cycle, where you twitch a lot.  So in the dream, someone takes a swing at my face, and hits me in the jaw.

Half-asleep, I lurch my head back…right into his nose.  Hard.

Y’all, I broke. His. Nose.

I wake up to a kind of dull ache in the back of my head, and my poor boyfriend, screeching like a banshee.

I know what you’re thinking…”How rude of him to wake Taylor up like that!  She was trying to sleep.”  And I appreciate that, because it’s totally true.  Plus I was traumatized by some whore trying to suckerpunch me in the jaw, so I was already kind of shaken up.

Seriously, no joke.  Blood is gushing everywhere.  All over my leopard print sheets, all over his face.  He’s crying, I’m crying.  It was a whole big ordeal.

I tell you this because I had a dream last night, where I was fighting with a kangaroo (playfully.  That motherfucker would have laid me out if he’d wanted to), and in my dream, he hit me in the face and I jerked back my head while waking up, and for a split second all I could think was OMG I HOPE HUSBAND ISN’T SPOONING ME.

And he was.  I could feel his arm curled lovingly around my waist as I was sobering from the dream, and I remember just gasping really loudly, like I was already expecting the collision.

But then, by some sheer miracle, he had his head tilted back just far enough that he escaped the head attack.  I don’t understand how that happened, but thank God.  He is far less accepting than the first guy I beat up with my punch-dreams.  He’d probably make a big deal out of it, and want me to drive him to the hospital and shit, and I just wasn’t in the mood for that kind of drama on a Monday morning.

Bullet dodged.  But now, I think he might need to wear protective head gear, just in case.

 

31 for 31, Part 1

So I don’t know if I mentioned it or not (and I’m too lazy to go look it up), but I celebrated my 31st birthday on January 17th (a Tuesday).  I celebrated it by laying in bed, with the highlight of my day being going to Chili’s (free dessert!) and working.  Yay.

However, the weekends preceding and succeeding my birthday were awesome, under the circumstances.  I got to actually hang out with some friends the Saturday before (my first foray out into the world with a broken collarbone), most of whom I hadn’t seen in a while.  We had steaks and great conversation, though there was one minor mishap where a friend slapped my injured arm.  I cried a little, but then I got over it.  Plus her reaction was far too funny, so I hurt myself laughing more than anything.  :)  My moms drove in the Sunday before to take me to birthday lunch and hang out.  The following weekend, my bestie Amanda (who also slapped me on the arm, THRICE!  I have violent friends.) drove in from Austin and we traded my original Laser Tag party for a game night around the house (EPIC!  If you haven’t heard of Cards Against Humanity, go to the link and make it yours).  There was cake, queso, and uproarious laughter.  Friends drove in from out of town to ring in my 31st with much cheer.  It wasn’t my best birthday, but given the limitations, it was truly a great time.

In other birthday-related news: One of my high school drill team friends and I have only 6 days between birthdays (happy birthday, Alida!), and she came up with a brilliant idea that I’m 100% stealing away from her.  So there. Continue reading

I’m back, bitches!!

This was Taylor for two weeks.

My apologies for just dropping off the radar for a month. I know you all were in absolute agony without me, but trust me – it wasn’t as much agony as I was in. Word to the wise: Never, ever, ever break your clavicle. Ever. The same goes for your ribs (from what I hear), or your scapula, or any other bone that connects to your torso.  Pictures?  I think we need pictures. Continue reading

Conversations With Amanda, Part 2

As previously mentioned, I love having conversations with my BFF Amanda.

Mostly because we can be really mean to each other, but in the most loving of ways.  Example:  She borrowed a book from me.  It has charts and graphs and fill-in-the-blank area.  She wanted to borrow the book.  But then weeks went by, and I asked her about it.

She did not read any more of the book, but I did not throat-kick her.  (But oh, it’s coming, Amanda.)

But one of my favorite recent conversations had to do with my (poor) husband and an owl painting that Amanda did.

Here is the painting in question:

It’s amazing, and I don’t just say that because she’s my BFF.  I’m really particular about my art, and there’s very little that I would excitedly put up on my wall.  Not only do all the colors in this palate go with my color schemes, but I love owls, and I love snarky owls the best.  So clearly, this painting was destined to be mine.

Amanda and I discussed where I would put it once it was placed in the home.  I decided I would place it in the powder room, over the toilet, facing the mirror.

In the conversation below, “him” is the owl:

Poor Husband.

In other news, you should totally go look at all of her other stuff.  She’s really awesome.

Merry Christmas, Little Giraffe!

Guess what our intrepid blog author received for Christmas this year?

(Oh, and some other stuff.)

Husband calls it my power animal.  I’m just excited that me and BFF have matching animal hats that personify our existence.  We will soon take over the world with baby giraffes and pandas.  There will be no more war, just lots of “awwwww!!!” everywhere.

And just to start spreading my giraffe tyranny love, I put it on everyone else’s head that I could.  Both people who would allow me photographic evidence have super-smiles on their faces, which is proof that I WILL TAKE OVER THE WORLD WITH AWW.  Yes.  Watch it happen, people.  (Also, how cute are these people?) 

Exhibit A

Exhibit B

So this is proof. Prepare yourself for the baby panda/baby giraffe peace on war on peace.

Did your gift make your (or anyone else’s) year? Do tell!

Ski Diving Sounds Lame Now.

So my cute and adorable pregnant friend won tickets on some radio show.  She always wins, and I never win anything on the radio.  Probably because she calls and I don’t.  This is probably the same reason I have still not won the lottery yet.  There’s some logic there, but I don’t get it.

Anyway, she reports that she won tickets to go ski diving!!!!  Which despite realizing that she probably meant sky diving, sounded like SUPER FREAKING FUN to me.  I am picturing them dropping you from 16,000 feet onto a mountain that you can ski down.  I was exhilarated at the mere thought.  

I immediately began researching this, because I. WANT. TO. SKI DIVE.  Now would be preferable.

Continue reading