August 27, 2013
I've also heard it phrased as "write when you're drunk, edit when you're sober," but since I don't much care for drunkenness, I'm gonna go with the aforementioned emotion. Anger. I'm pissed the eff off. Why? WHYYY?! Because I just got done watching the latest episode of that show I just can't quit (mentioned briefly in last week's randomness), and my little heart is more achy breaky than Billy Ray's after watching Miley's VMA performance. Spoiler Alert: EzrA and all his character's smooth vanilla beauty are making me lose hope in all good looking men. The better they look, the deeper the knife wound in the back. Pretty Little Liars, I'm done with your BS.
Next, the reason for the photo. I've been on the hunt... quest... expedition around town for the perfect Açaí Bowl. With all the healthy-type food establishments in Atlanta, I didn't think it'd be this complicated. I thought wrong. Yesterday, I went to my favorite smoothie spot with super high hopes. The bowl was decent, but it was too plain. The açaí was perfectly blended, I'll give them that, but they only topped it off with some banana slices since they ran out of granola. What kind of health food place runs out of granola? I'm already having fruit for lunch. The least you can do is hook it up with all the fixin's. Throw some fresh berries with the granola on top and make me feel like the freakin' bowl is worth the meal replacement. I even asked if they could use something else instead of granola, like sliced almonds, chopped nuts, flax seeds, chia seeds, etc. Nope. No luck. I had already paid for everything, so I just took it, thanked the kind apologetic fella and headed back to work, unsatisfied.
So today comes, and after a quick Google search I decide to check out another smoothie spot around the corner from my place: Planet Smoothie. What I didn't know about this place is it's an independent franchise, so essentially, no two planet smoothies are alike. When I got to the counter and ordered my bowl, the guy told me he didn't recommend it, because it isn't that good. Since his english was a bit broken, and because his mother was behind him giving commands in another language (Korean, maybe?) (I know she was his mother because he actually called her 'mom' at one point), and because he knew nothing about me & my taste buds, and because I was on a mission, I disregarded his advice. I should've listened, oh danggit I should've listened, because I basically left the spot with a smoothie in a bowl with some granola on top. Well-blended açaí should be smooth as butter, NOT loose and slushy.
And here I am, 7 hours later, still irritated. But I'm not the type to walk away from a challenge, so I just might try again tomorrow.
August 26, 2013
Roadtrips are quite literally part of my world. On any given weekend, I'll likely be down to gas up a car and ride out for a quick escape. The more spontaneous, the better. Something about seeing where the road takes me feels effortlessly adventurous, and I'm getting all tingly on the inside just typing it out right now. If the trip little to no effort, why not just leap first and look later? So when I was riding north of the city to Tennessee this weekend, and saw a billboard that said "Georgia Winery, Next Exit. Free Tastings", I made sure the car got off at the next exit. Thankfully, my roadie(s) are usually onboard for a little randomness. And wine. And seriously, who wouldn't stop for free wine tasting? Some people pay top dollars for those things.
The day started off pretty good. And it got even better when we got to Rock City and were handed free admission tickets by a nice older couple. Shoutout to the nice older couple.
Still, 'twas a dope day.
Apparently you can see seven different states from the top of Lookout Mountain: Alabama, North Carolina, South Carolina, Kentucky, Virginia, Tennessee & Georgia. It all just blended together for me, but it looked nice. Woulda been the perfect moment for a panorama photo, but i'm still in need of an upgrade.
Still, 'twas a dope day.
August 23, 2013
My windshield has been straight busted for about a month now. There was a small crack in the corner when I bought it from a random used car lot a few years ago, and it was pretty easy to ignore. So that's what I did. Ignore it. Then one day I was riding along, minding my own business, and a rock ricochets off the truck in front of me and hits my windshield - dead center where it cannot be ignored. I tried to ignore it anyway, but overnight the tiny blob evolved into a wiry crack from the driver's side to the passenger's side. Believe it or not, I still tried to ignore it. Until I came back from a weekend in Florida and the original crack in the corner had also expanded.
Today, I finally bit the bullet and got it replaced, thanks to a friends of a friends who knew a guy who knew a guy. It almost feels weird riding around with no obstructions in my view, but I could get used to this.
On another note, I'm backin' it up with Whitney's link up. Jojo's version of Marvin's Room is definitely better than the one put out by
August 21, 2013
Everyone's who's been in any kind of romantic relationship has likely heard this saying. I hate it. I wish I could shake some sense into whomever created the quote, because if I'm stuck on someone, the only person I'd want to "get under" is the one I'm stuck on. Wouldn't engaging someone new would be kinda heartless? If I'm not really feeling the new person, is it fair to even entertain their company? I wouldn't want to be kicking it with someone who was just trying to get over someone else, even if it was just a casual thing.
I'm the type of person to give my everything in all I do, which is probably why I don't take on too many projects at once. I never want to stretch myself too thin. Whether it's work, friendships, relationships, prayer, hobbies or whathaveyou, if I'm doing it, I'm doing it all the way. If I'm arguing, I'm laying out every single point that'll help my case. If I'm working out, my heart-rate better not drop below 120. If I'm cleaning the bathroom, that baby gotta be spotless before I can leave. The list goes on...
On the other hand, there definitely have been times where I was still getting over a romantic failure, and someone new came along, making me completely forget about whatshisnameagain. So what gives? This can't be the only way to move on from someone, right? Time isn't the ultimate fixer. At least, it never has been for me, but how long until you consider yourself stuck in the past?
Mini rant over.
August 20, 2013
It's 11am. Chick-fil-a has stopped serving breakfast, Chipotle just opened for lunch, the morning rush has died down and some people are almost halfway through their workday. Then there's me. By 11am, I'm usually just getting into my workday groove, wondering what mysteries await during the day ahead, still digesting my breakfast and likely sipping through a Grande Unsweetened Iced Coffee with Soy Milk.
My parents are morning people. My mom wakes up every day at 4am, without an alarm clock. (I repeat, without an alarm clock.) The woman is a bright-and-early five foot one robot. Then there's my dad, a man who considers waking up past 7am "sleeping in." Who are these people?! Is this cause to question my identity? I didn't even know what REAL sleeping in was until I was a legal adult, and I haven't looked back since. How do morning people function with such zest and vitality? Before 9am, I'm basically a Walking Dead extra, and even then it takes a hot shower and a solid soundtrack to get me going.
Yeah... there are times when my circadian rhythm gets thrown outta whack: if I'm on vacation, if I'm sleeping somewhere less familiar than my own bed, if I'm unnervingly anxious, super excited or unusually worried. These instances, however, are few and far in between, but when I do manage to wake up earlier than normal, I feel insanely productive - like all the earlybird worms are all mine and I don't have to share with anyone.
Morning people have a vivacity that I deeply admire. I hope to be one when I grow up, but all the tricks I've tried aren't working. Go to bed earlier? Not when you have HBO On Demand & need to catch up on The Newsroom. Setting my alarm earlier? I just can't quit you, snooze button. Go camping? Not when mosquitos see me as a first-class buffet. Also, there are no showers in the woods.
I've also been told that having kids will make you a morning person. Uhmmmmm...
I've also been told that having kids will make you a morning person. Uhmmmmm...
August 19, 2013
On Saturday, I was one of those annoying restaurant customers who pulled out her camera when the food came. These biscuits, though. Theeeese biscuits, though... (typed twice on purpose) they're famous for a reason. Do I even need to say what restaurant they're from? I may or may not be trying to recreate this recipe in my own kitchen soon.
Speaking of my kitchen, thanks to the nonstop rain and 65 degree
Well... *Dwayne The Rock Johnson voice* IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT THE NAME IS!! Because I've been doing this breakfast for dinner thang for years. In fact, no undergrad collegiate experience is complete without a few poptarts and bowls of cereal for your evening feast. How else was I supposed to gain my freshman 15?
Thankfully, my culinary skills have come a long way since then, but I doubt there's a woman in this world who sincerely wants to throw down in the kitchen every single night. Sometimes (read: most times) I keep it simple, and breakfast is about as simple as it gets.
Homemade Stuffed French Toast
Bread (obviously) - 4 slices
Cream Cheese - 8oz
Brown Sugar - 1/4 cup
Berries of Choice - as much as you prefer
Almond Milk - 1/4 cup (can substitute with any milk)
Cinnamon - 2 tsp.
Butter/Margarine - 2 tbsp.
Vanilla Extract - 2 tsp.
For the fruit filling, I'm using strawberry preserves with blueberries on the side, but any blended berries will work. Even a mashed banana will make a good banana creme filling. I'm also using whole grain bread, but I hear those fancy Italian breads work well, too.
The instructions are literally as easy as 1, 2, 3.
August 16, 2013
Basically every morning, I stare at my closets and struggle to find something to wear. Every morning. Even when I think about what I'll wear the night before, when I actually put it on and look in the mirror, I'm highly likely to do a wardrobe change. Or two... or four. It's almost ritualistic in that I never leave my house wearing the first outfit I choose.
This isn't purposeful wishy-washyness, and I hate that it takes so long for me to pick something. Frankly, my personal style can be described as "plain jane," so why the heck it takes so much effort I have no clue. Sometimes it's just hard to keep it simple.
Such is the case when it comes to this here blog. Just a couple months ago, I declared that I had finally arranged a layout I could settle down with. Well... Ummm... You know how you think you've found someone you could be with forever, and then a little ways down the road you discover some quirks and kinks (not the good kind) that seem to be unfix-able? The same can probably be said of any theme I ever try to create on my own. Many nights have been spent with my eyes heavy & burning from staring at the computer screen and trying to fix the teeniest tiniest html bug. NO MORE. I'm done with this ish. And I'm proud to say I've sought professional help.
5th layout time's a charm? *crosses fingers*
August 14, 2013
Disclaimer: I'm terrible at coming up with titles for these things.
Also, this photo has nothing to do with this post.
Except for the fact that I wish I could find this juice anywhere else other than Chipotle.
Speaking of Chipotle, apparently everyone orders online now, because there was a line when I went to pick up my order the other day. Also, why has every Chipotle I've ever been to (quite a few) not had enough parking spaces? When your lines are known to reach outside the door during peak hours, where are we supposed to park? Is this some elaborate carpool encouragement ploy?
Next. That moment in the middle of the night when you're wide awake and you hear a random noise come from your kitchen... that's the moment where you decide you need a dog around. Or a man. But a dog is less maintenance, so let's go with that. It doesn't help that the posts on my feed today include insanely adorable pictures of everyone and their dogs today. I'm just not sure I'm ready to commit to a pooper scooper.
Next. There exists in today's entertainment world television shows that we all pretend we don't watch. And by we, I mean me. Even while we watch them and get angry at how unfulfilled the episode has left us, we stick around to see the previews for next week, and we roll our eyes at how next week's episode will probably leave us with more questions than answers, AGAIN. cc: pretty little liars
Next. Let me not pretend that I haven't missed the past two Mouthwatering Mondays in a row. My kitchen hasn't seen any action in a while. My kitchen is clearly following in my footsteps. My kitchen, however, is clean. So that's nice. Where have my domestic tendencies gone? Last night, I had cereal for dinner, even though there was plenty of cookable food in my fridge. The perks of being a single woman in her 20s.
August 1, 2013
I don't always crave Japanese Hibachi-style cuisine, but when I do, I prefer it be quick and cheap. None of that over-priced Benihana mumbo jumbo. Nothing against those more upscale types... It's just, why drop a Jackson on some chicken and rice when you can drop a Hamilton (special thanks to Google for reminding me of "whose face is on the 10 dollar bill.") and be equally satisfied.
So, yeah. Umezono is small and quaintly settled in a random and partially abandoned plaza.
The thing is, that random and partially abandoned plaza is right around the corner from my place, and had it not been for a casual comment left on a random instagram photo, I never would've known it existed. All this time, I'd been driving to the other side of town for my Hibachi Chicken fix (Taki, Enzo, R Rice... etc.), while this was chillin' in my own backyard. If anyone ever wants to hide something from me, put it in front of my face.
The decor is what I've come to expect from these kind of establishments. The wait staff is outfitted in kimonos, the first half of the menu is written in Japanese, and there's a section for guests who prefer to sit on the floor and enjoy their meal in a traditional, cultural fashion. My friend and I were given hot towels for our hands (to be used before the meal), and we both ordered our usual chicken teriyaki. Since I was super hungry, I also asked for the veggie tempura appetizer.
Get in my belly...
Note: the only eating utensils provided were chopsticks, and we had to ask for spoons... how did they expect us to down this soup? Straight from the bowl? It seems I'm not as cultured as I thought...
The presentation is nice and all, but IMO, the chicken could have been better. The teriyaki sauce was great, but the meat itself wasn't very flavorful.
Our waitress was kind enough to bring pineapple popsicles with our check, and those were pretty dang good.