just a warning to you mens out there....

you know what? FUCK YOU.

Lots of anger. This is not how I wanted my life to go. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

The Golden Years: set of four magnets available on Etsy.

coming to french press vintage

It's been kind of a shitty month. The humidity and heat are stifling me and all I want to do is sit in the soft leather chair next to an air conditioner vent and watch reruns of Law & Order. Thank the gods for vintage clothes, you know? This is what I love.

Saturday I met my new friend J. and we hit up all the vintage and thrift stores around town and perused the antique mall, Sleepy Poet. We talked about chiffon and crinoline and antique lace, favorite finds, and our personal collections while we sipped nice drinks at a bbq joint near one of the shops. It was a good Saturday - one of those days that made me feel a little revived.


Coming super soon to French Press Vintage:

fuck you anyway.

Sometimes it's a little challenging for me to move forward with life. Not because of any other reason, really, besides myself getting in my own way. I was talking to a new friend last night, very new, and she asked me how my day had been as she sipped on her oversized Diet Coke. I said it was ok, that I was a little stressed, even though that was a lie because in reality I was a lot stressed. My eyes watered a little and the floodgates opened - not crying, because the lobby of a tattoo shop is no place to cry, but a lot of shit just came pouring out of my mouth. This doesn't normally happen....I'm not a "share-er" unless I feel super close and/or comfortable. I'm especially not a share-er with a new friend. It's odd, to me, this making of new friends. It's almost like I don't remember how, like I've been in the same pattern for so long that I've forgotten the polite getting-to-know-you conversation topics.

As I was pouring out my crap day, my anger and disappointment and other unsorted and unidentified emotions, I blurted out, I just really hate my life. Which is true, in a sense, because of the last year of turmoil. But as I was walking on a suddenly cool Southern morning, amongst the broken glass from past car wrecks, a solitary truck door handle, overgrown weeds and soft-looking morning glories, I realized there are some beautiful moments, even in the wreckage.

So fuck you. I'll drink my strong coffee and eat my banana and just move forward. I won't crack from work stress and being micromanaged. I'll blare Jacked on Green Beers and I'll forget all about you, and her, and everyone else. So fuck you. You deserve it.

Voodoo Pincushion available on Etsy.