Puppy dog eyes.


This weekend was going to be spent on the beach, again, soaking up more sun and lounging in the sand. My friends needed to leave later on Friday than i expected, so I decided not to go and stay home lounging in my living room instead - with Brody.

Trapped in my mind


I'd be a fool to turn down a $15 dollar concert, especially when the artist is as solid as Ms. Emily King. Last time she was in Atlanta, I paid a mere $25 dollars to see her and Emeli Sande at Variety Playhouse in Little Five Points, and I got more than my money's worth. I went alone, since my friend flaked at the last minute, and had a darn good time all by myself (see: gif). This time the concert was at Vinyl in Midtown, and I invited my trusted comrade, Phil, who has never left me hanging (and who also needs to update his blog...).

You can never really go wrong with a taco


I mentioned this little spot a few posts ago, and I'm being to lazy to find/link that post, but it's around this site somewhere. 

You can never really go wrong with a taco. At least, I can't go wrong with a taco. They're difficult to botch, and all you need is some bomb salsa verde to really set it off. That being said, I rode down the street to Taco T with extremely low expectations, and now it's the only place I'll ever want to visit for tacos. All the tortillas (corn and flour) are made fresh daily, in-house, and you can actually tell the difference. I'm a fan of crunchy tacos, and when you bite into these, the crunch is as loud as the flavor. AND, they're $1 per taco. Struggle meals are coming up in the world.

All my feels today


Oh, hey blog. Here, have all my feels today.

I drove into the city to run an errand a few hours ago, and was met with a wonderful case of Atlanta-traffic-for-no-good-reason-in-the-middle-of-the-afternoon. The word 'wonderful' was intended with the most sarcastic tone imaginable. While I was tapping my brakes on the freeway, I felt myself getting irritated, so I took a quick minute to find some enjoyment in the present moment. I was riding in a car of my own, that has over 200k miles on it but is not giving me any problems, I had a full tank of gas, I wasn't in a huge rush (even though I did need to get back to the office, eventually), the weather was unusually pleasant for mid-July in Georgia, and an 90s Maxwell track was playing on the radio (Sumthin' Sumthin'). I had so much to be grateful for, even in that fleeting moment.

I feel some recipe posts stirring in my spirit.


I was first introduced to the Nutribullet through my nanny family. I had seen the infomercials for the Magic Bullet on tv years ago, and I vaguely remember hearing about this new and improved version that was supposed to be better for whatever reason, but I didn't really grasp the reality of the situation until I was throwing together a snack for the kids and had to improvise with the Nutribullet and whatever random pieces of fruit I could find. A banana, a few fresh strawberries and a bag of frozen mangoes later I had the best-tasting homemade smoothie of my life. I was feeling quite proud of myself, so I went home and tried to re-create my masterpiece with my regular ol' counter-top blender, but it paled in comparison to the one made by the Nutribullet. Ever since then, that nifty little device has been on my wishlist. Especially after I tried my hand at some homemade acai bowls. My blender does not agree the thicker consistency I prefer, and I was always ending up with chunky bits of frozen fruit mixed into my finished product. No bueno.

Well, not anymore! Thanks to the tall, dark and fine fella' who delivered this this baby to my doorstep yesterday evening (gift-wrapped in my favorite color and everything), my first-world problem has been solved. No more chunky acai bowls! And wayyyy more smoothies with green stuff mixed in that's been pulverized to the point where I can hardly taste the bitterness. I feel some recipe posts stirring in my spirit.

Seize the weekend.


Last Wednesday afternoon, my vacation was a day away, and I was stuck in the office dreaming about sights like the picture above. The temperature inside the office made things worse, since I was bundled up like it was the middle of January. Case and point below:

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My musical moods change with the weather. One day I'm blasting Red Hot Chili Peppers all through my work day, the next day I'm vibing out to Anthony Hamilton, and the next day I'm stuck on Hillsong's inspiration station. Lately, however, I've been on a blue-eyed soul kick, specifically that of the British variety. What is it about British pop that makes it so much more noteworthy than American popular music? The lyrics, maybe? I've lost count of how many songs out today have "na na" or "la la" somewhere in the hook, repeated over and over again. Is that the best these songwriters have got lately? Those aren't even real words...

I'm over it. I've been hopping across the pond for some melodic refreshment, and mannnnn have I been feeling every ounce these ladies pour into their tracks. Duffy is giving me the strength leave my husband with Warwick Avenue, and I'm not even married! Her Rockferry album came out my freshman year of college, and I remember how the song Stepping Stone made me realize the reality of my romantic situation (and that thugs need hugs, too). She's been laying low since her sophmore album, Endlessly, but I'll be waiting patiently until she returns.