I love wave runners. My lovah loves wave runners. So much so that we have been tempted to buy them several times, and only haven’t because A. we lack a place to store them properly and B. we don’t live on the water… yet. So when visiting the Keys (one of our favorite places to Seadoo, by the way) and some dude with an Irish accent says he offers “relaxing tours of the Island on wave runners…at your own pace… for 20% off” we were WAY on board!

We arrived at the shack and Irish guy was nowhere to be found. They wouldn’t couldn’t take our 20% coupon we just got that morning even though they said they would when we reserved the tour. The weather seemed a bit foreboding, but we were assured, “Nah, that’s nothing – the tour is still on, man!” After being issued a life preserver that smelled like a giant foot, we all (about 10 of us) followed Cheech and Chong on our cracked up wave runners. Cheech gathered us about 50 feet out from the shore and told us that we would all follow each other in a line, and to read his hand signals, ya know “for safety.” Then the bitch proceeded to tear outta the lagoon at what looked like 1700MPH leaving everyone in his ocean mist dust.

This thing is outta control!

At that point, I was thinking… “Man, it sure feels like someone’s going to die today, but maybe I’m just getting use to the waves or something.” Smith was booking it on our wave runner to catch up with the asshat tour guides and I am certain in my fight to stay on the back of that thing that I pulled out several of his nut hairs.

RIP Smith’s Nut Hairs – we will never forget.

The ocean was so volatile that we were hitting waves at about 60MPH then shooting up into the air and dropping at least 5 feet… every five seconds. Some swells going by made our view of the now grain-of-sand-sized tour dudes obsolete. Cheech eventually stopped about 25 minutes into the “tour with breathtaking views and vistas.” He addresses the group:

“Yeah so you guys need to go faster and keep up with me. It gets smoother if you go really fast. (Note: It does not.) Also it looks like we got some pretty severe weather happening right now that we didn’t know about when we left (even though EVERYONE was ASKING before we left) so make sure you avoid the lightning, and it’s probably gonna get pretty bad and… so let’s go!” That’s right, “avoid the lightning.” Because lighting is predictable as shit, said no one ever.

Just then a wave turns our wave runner over and we go flying unexpectedly through the deep silent abyss. When I make it to the surface all I hear is commotion and Cheech yelling “OMG ITS IN THE WATER!!! ITS IN THE WATER!!!” At which point I assume “it’s” a shark because the tour guide is screaming like a crazy person. “It” ended up being some sunglasses and if I hadn’t just been rocked to the core at the thought of being eaten alive I would have slapped this bitch like they used to slap women in the olden days to calm them down.

Smith talked me into getting back on the shit taco to finish the tour (I had already begun to swim the mile or so to shore after this fiasco). We rode for about ten minutes before we got trapped in a thick pocket of fog rolling in and had to drift in the stormy sea for about 30 minutes. You couldn’t see the shore or other boats or… anything but whoever was right next to you. For me that was a couple of Seadoos and a hand full of Smith’s nut hairs. It was during this time that I saw psycho tour guide’s assistant, Chong, floating around eating a muthafugging homemade sandwich. How the heck did he get that out there? AND WHY DIDN’T HE BRING ENOUGH FOR EVERYONE?!?!

Later, dudes.

End result is, we didn’t see anything scenic, and we feared for our lives for *three and a half* hours on our *two* hour tour. If you’re in the Keys, unless you KNOW it’s a beautiful calm day, SKIP THIS SHIT! Don’t listen to sweet-talking Irish guy. His pot-o-gold is full of lies!



Your Lady Garden and You – a magical journey.

An awesome friend of mine has a daughter who has “become a woman.” Talking about it with her has made me think back to when I was that age and all of my friends were dropping like flies into the monsoons of their lady gardens – so I have decided to make a quick post to let you young ladies know, “it gets better.”

It gets better, ladies.

How to manage:

A. I like to refer to the area in a comical manner. “Lady Garden” seems to suit it well. No one wants to be clinical when it comes to discussing things with anyone that isn’t a doctor. Even with a doctor I struggle to be clinical without throwing up in my mouth a little. Referring to it as your Lady Garden, or some other quirky name, makes it way easier to joke and discuss the happenings therein with your friends. Note: Well before the term “Lady Garden” was officially adopted, my Grandma referred to it as a “Muffin” and your “Muffin Basket.” Which I always found hilarious. To this very day I use the terms interchangeably.

B. Therefore that “time of the month” can easily be stated as “It’s raining in my lady garden” or “I have soggy muffins.”

C. Pads, tampons, various accoutrements associated with your Lady Garden/ Muffin Basket are to be known as “party favors.” Then no one ever has to overhear you asking anyone for anything. “I forgot my party favors, do you have one?!”

D. Speaking of tampons – wait ’til you go to college for those things. Or be like me and kinda wait ’til you graduate college and you panic because a group of friends with a boy your interested in book a vacation in a tropical beach oasis where you’ll have to wear a swimsuit nearly every day. Either way, you’ll need to buy some extras and practice… by “practice” I mean lock yourself in the bathroom yelling out “AAAAAKKK WHAT IS HAPPENINNNGGG????” for 30 to 75 minutes of uncomfortable joy. Tip: If at any point after you put it in, you can still feel it, you’re doing it wrong. You gotta be sure to push that party favor to the top of the mountain or you’re sure to fail the expedition.

Yeah, you’re doing it wrong.

E. Everyone is freaking out about it. If “they” ever make fun of you for anything it’s because they’re terrified of whatever it is happening to them. So in that sense if anything embarrassing ever does happen, you’re kinda like a super hero who lived to tell the tale! Also, if they’re making fun of you in general it’s probably because the weren’t hugged enough as a child – or they have a secret hairy mole that their parents lovingly named Petunia. Anyhoo, be strong young padawan.

F. Find a partner in crime that can “spot check” for you. Come up with a code phrase like “Do you *know* when football season starts?” *wink wink* Then you can scoot out and let her check to see if your Lady Garden fountain has sprung a leak. (Know that 97 out of 100 times it has NOT. We’re just paranoid.)

Wink Wink.

G. You know that tiny useless pocket in your backpack or purse that’s good for nothing? Well it’s good for hiding the holy grail of emergency party favors. I had a friend that would wrap them up in a piece of aluminum foil incase it ever accidentally fell out of her bag while onlookers were present.

Nothing to see here, it’s just some tin foil!

I think a cheapo eye glasses case works wonders. One day you’ll grow to be unashamed and stash them in your boyfriend’s car door, or in your tiny azz purse for all the world to gaze upon, like me!

There may come a time….

1. There may come a time that you spring a leak while you are waiting in a lobby for your best friend and designated spot checker to get out of advisor counseling. Even though you are wearing jean shorts and drinking a Blue Coconut Route 44 slush that you guys got on happy hour at Sonics that matches the color of your jeans perfectly, do not try to dye your pants in the handicapped stall of the school bathroom. This plan ends in disaster because you have to wet your entire shorts in order to make it look like you didn’t just pee yourself by only trying to dye the “affected areas.” Also, it’s cold in there and you miss out on the rest of your delicious half-priced slush.

Blue Coconut Slushes For EVERYONE!

2. There may come another time when a friend is hip hopping through the school giving Friday end-of-day shout outs to everyone she knows with (unknowingly) her pad sticking out of her short’s leg. Do not panic. Run over to her, back her into the lockers, give her your gym shirt and tell her “Do not ask any questions, tie this around your waist and go to the bathroom… NOW!” You guys will still have time to call your mom to pick you both up because you missed the bus home.

Nothing to see here, folks.

3. There may yet still come another time that your friends all plan a trip to a water park while it is about to rain in your Lady Garden. This is a time you may want to investigate using the torpedo of party favors, or avoid going in the water past your knees. Whatever you do, do not ride “The Black Hole” high speed water slide with a pad on. You go in looking like the Queen and come out looking like a brick layer… or a brick smuggler to be more accurate. Luckily, you found someone to walk behind you while you hurry to the bathroom to panic and marvel at the amount of water one of those things can soak up.

Nope, nothing.

Keep in mind, the best way to get through anything difficult is to know that someone else got through it too. Share your embarrassing stories with your friends that embarrassing things happened to. It will make them feel better and both of you will always know that with a little laughter, “it <always> gets better!”


Party ’til your butt blows!

So I had a fantastical birthday celebration that started out with Smith giving me this lil beauty right here:


AH YEAH! It’s red cause I gots street skillz.

THEN as if that wasn’t enough, Smith whisked me away to Savannah, GA for a long weekend retreat with friends.

This is where we stayed on Jones Street

This is where we stayed on Jones Street

Savannah is awesome – it’s old and historically eerie, and we like to do super nerd things there like go on trolley tours, or run an app in your car tours. Here’s some of my limited retention recall of historical facts I learned about Savannah:

1. This is the home of the Girl Scouts! I was a Girl Scout! Juliette Gordon Low got it done!

The original Girl Scout headquarters!

The original Girl Scout headquarters!

2. Jingle Bells was written in a church there in the 1800’s. Can you believe that shit? WE STILL KNOW THAT DAMN SONG, SON! That dude was a genius.

3. They had mullafuggin pirates that would get townspeople drunk and then smuggle them down to the river through underground caves – THAT STILL EXIST! Why wouldn’t Johnny Depp have taught me about this yet?!

The Pirate House Restaurant; turn left at the corn fritters and straight on til morning!

4. Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil was filmed there. Here’s his house!

Jude Law, Kevin Spacey, John Cusack... damn, son!

Jude Law, Kevin Spacey, John Cusack… damn, son!

5. It’s sweltering as balls in Savannah. Literally. I pulled down my weather map while I was there and it said Humidity – 87%. EIGHTY SEVEN PERCENT! I didn’t even know that shit could go that high! Go home Savannah, you’re drunk!

Schwetty Balls

Schwetty Balls

6. Speaking of drunk, Savannah is one of the few towns where it’s legal to walk around with open containers of alcohol. Like, you can get to-go cups at restaurants. It’s bizarre! They even have a store that sells travel growlers. If you don’t know what a growler is – it’s basically a supped up forty.




We enjoyed plenty of those – so much so that the dude at the growler store thought we were locals and gave us our fifteenth growler free card. That’s right, fifteenth. In my defense, my growler contributions were root beer. Delicous on-tap root beer.

And speaking of root beer – I had hard root beer for the first time in Savannah and it is magically delicious.

I drank these until I peed root beer.

I drank these until I peed root beer.

It was a great few days – we walked, and drank things, and ate things, and walked some more, and sweat my non-existent balls off, and it was all fun and games until I got food poisoning and threw up out of my butt, and my mouth… which made for an interesting four-hour ride home.



It’s quite funny now but at the time I thought I was dying. I left little pieces of me all over Georgia that day. In the Burger King, in the Dairy Queen, on the freeway… everywhere. When I woke up a day later from the ordeal I realized I was wearing the same shirt and socks I rode home in but I was sans pants. Which is not like me, I mean I have pajamas – I’m not an animal! I still have no idea where my pants went, but I do remember some strange looks when Smith and I were packing the car. Anyhoo, here are some other pics of Savannah! 😀

bundts candy fork horses sixpence street trees uniCORN vespa

skinny slush