BEER

I LOVE BEER. RIGHT NOW I AM DRINKING PEARL BEER. PEARL BEER IS SPECIAL TO ME BECAUSE IT'S LIKE FINDING A FOUR LEAF CLOVER. THEY DON'T HAVE IT AT THE GAS STATION OR THE GROCERY STORES I GO TO SO I HAVE TO GO TO THE FANCY SPEC'S LIQUOR STORE DOWN THE STREET TO GET IT. IT'S LIKE A TREAT. TODAY IT'S MY TREAT BECAUSE I HAD A BAD DAY. SO I TREATED MYSELF BUT USUALLY. USUALLY I JUST GO TO THE GAS STATION OR MY CLOSEST GROCERY STORE AND BUY LONESTAR. I BUY IT IN CANNED FORM WHICH IS MY FAVORITE ESPECIALLY TALL BOYS. BUT I ALSO LIKE THE BOTTLE IF THEY DON'T HAVE CANS. BUT PEARL IS SO SPECIAL. NO WONDER THEY CALL IT PEARL. PEARLS ARE A SPECIAL SEA ROCK THAT GROW INSIDE CLAMS Y'ALL AND TO ME THAT IS SOMETHING SPECIAL. MORE SPECIAL THAN A DIAMON WHICH STARTS OFF AS A LUMP OF COAL. DO YOU EVER WONDER WHEN YOU ARE GRILLING IF YOU ARE ACCIDENTALLY PUTTING HIDDEN DIAMONDS IN THE GRILL? I SURE DON'T BUT  WILL THINK TWICE NEXT TIME. THE POINT IS, I LOVE PEARL. ATTATCHED YOU WILL FIND A PICTURE OF ME AND MY PEARL.

Gas Station Gold

I don't know how to put this lightly or in a politically correct manner so I'm just going to throw it out there. I work in the fucking ghetto. The offices have been there since, I don't know, forever or something and the area has gotten bad. Usually I try to not wander outside of the offices too much but sometimes you just have to. Today I had to go down the street to the Valero station to get cigarettes and a Mountain Dew White Out(hell yeah!). I was feeling footloose and fancy free since it's Friday. So as I made my way back up to the register I was greeted by a rack with a large sign that said "SALE-$9.99". "SHIT", I thought to myself, "I want me a piece of whatever is on sale." So I look on the rack and hanging there, in all of its loc'ed out hoodrat glory, are some thug nasty tall tees with popular cartoon characters on them, except they aren't the characters we know and love. They're ghetto. Since I already love buying shit at gas stations, I knew I had to get one. I picked out the one with Stewie and his beloved pet dog. No, not Brian. That's pussy shit. He is restraining KILLA. His pitbull. I paid for my shit and quickly left because a real life thug was behind me in line and I didn't want him to see what shirt I was buying. Because then he might try to copy me.

Uhmurrica's Best Dressed Couple

In case y'all didn't know, Luke and I are quite fashion savvy. At least we think so. I don't know what everyone else thinks and honestly, who the fuck really cares? I thought I would take some time out of my busy day of facebook and other websites I hang out on to showcase how well we dress. I expect to be invited to the next fashion week. As a VIP.

Shorts and boots. A golfer's favorite.

The amount of pictures I have of myself in tie-dye would need its very own post, but I feel that tie-dye is always the answer.

This picture speaks for itself.

Dressy casual, obviously. And yes, I did in fact leave the house that way.

My geriatric Christmas outfit.

Cowboy boots and menacing gun shirts-always in style.

Luke and my brother in their suits acquired from ghetto ass Suitmart after a day of drinking. As a side note I must add that the box appletinis are out of this world.

Another view of Luke's vibrant suit. Courtesy of Steve Harvey.

Everyone loves High School Musical!

What's For Dinner?

Tonight...SUBWAY.
Last night...BURGER KING.
Tuesday night...MCDONALD'S.
Monday night...my mom cooked that night. So there's my home cooked meal for the week. It doesn't matter if it wasn't made in my home. It was made in A home. So there. Suck on that.

Also, I was thinking at work today(which is all I ever do really, since I have the slowest job known to man) that I probably need to join a gym at some point in the near future. Yeah...probably need to join a gym before my back fat starts eating the top of my pants.

I am not a domestic goddess.

The whole reason I am starting this blog is because of an alarming trend I have noticed, mainly through pinterest. These women make these blogs showcasing their crafting skills, their immaculately clean and decorated homes, perfectly put together outfits, and their made from scratch recipes right down to the fucking mixing bowl they made from 100% organic clay the dug from their yards. Yeah, that's not me. I've learned to accept the fact that I will never be that and I'm okay with it. I am a slob, some might even say borderline hoarder. I hate cleaning. Cooking is a pain in my anus and I only do it sometimes. My house looks like a college boy decorated and I'm pretty sure all the pictures on the walls are hung there crooked. I did DIY curtains in our old apartment though. And by that I mean I used my awesome Come and Take It Flag and tacked it above the window and then it turned into curtains. I rarely drink wine. I drink Lone Star beer. Tall boys if I'm lucky. Date night for us is sitting in the garage with my iPod drinking said tall boys and chain smoking. Not because we can't afford to go out, but because why the FUCK would we change out of our pajamas to go out when there's perfectly good beer in the fridge? We're the dirty Purdys dammit.

^on our honeymoon, doing what we do best.