Luxe & Love

It's early Sunday morning and I'm standing outside Kepos Street Kitchen trying to juggle my hot latte, my house keys and my iPhone.

My keys slip out of my grip and fall onto the side walk, I manage to scoop them up but accidentally press the master button on my phone which activates Siri aka the electronic she-devil.

"What can I help you with?" she yells from the depths of my smartphone, my brain pounds against my head from one too many red wines the night before.

"How about an extra hand?" I mumble under my breath.

"Alright here's what I've got" she says almost condescendingly.

A Wikiapeadia definition of  'hand' flashed up on my screen:

A hand (med./lat.: manus, pl. manūs) is a prehensile, multi-fingered extremity located at the end of an arm or forelimb of primates such as humans, chimpanzees, monkeys, and lemurs.

I ask for a hand and all I get is lemurs. This feels like the story of my life right now. I'm constantly asking questions but no matter how hard I try I can't get the answers I want.

I've asked the girls to stay several times, but the answer is always no, we love you but we have to go.

Ms P is my saving grace.

I get home and make the stupid mistake of trying to open our temperamental front door while still holding the coffee. As the door finally jolts open the paper take away cup crushes in my hand and hot liquid spills everywhere.

"Shittttt" I moan throwing everything on the ground like a dramatic 12 year old. Ms P hears me and walks down the corridor to my rescue.

"What the fuck" she says shaking her head and kneeling down to collect my keys.

"Thanks, where are the girls?" I ask bending down to help her.

"I think they went to the travel agent."

Again this is not the answer I want to hear.

We walk into the living room and I sit down on the couch. I'm defeated and it's only 10'oclock.

"Go have a shower and get dressed we're going to get coffee with a side of love." Ms P says pulling me  up.

I agree to the coffee but as for the love, well I think I need more than just a side serve right now.

20 minutes later we're dressed and waiting out the front of The Dirthouse. I turn to head in the direction of Crown St when Ms P leans forward and waves down an approaching cab.

"Get in grumpy" she says to me as the Uber car pulls over along side us.

"We are going to have breakfast somewhere new remember."

"Where?" I ask feeling slightly annoyed that we can't just go to one of our usual places

"Queen Street Woolarah thanks" she tells the driver.

For the millionth time this month I receive another wrong answer. Great, we're off to have breakfast with a bunch of assholes.

It doesn't take me long to realise that I'm the only asshole around.

Luxe (or the place with the love heart coffee cups).

If you're an avid Instagramer like me you'll be familiar with Luxe Sydney (a popular Sydney eatery) because of it's clever branding and delicious baked goods.

The Luxe coffee cup gets hashtaged more by Sydneysiders on a Saturday/Sunday morning than a Woolarah housewife visits The Brow Bar in a lifetime (thats a lot). In fact a morning coffee at Luxe is somewhat of a ritual for many of Woolarah's wealthy residents.

We are are neither wealthy nor residents but in the name of adventure and good caffeine hit Ms P decides we would be the next coffee lovers to hashtag #luxesysdney on this cool Winters morning.

If you like people watching this is the perfect place for you! As we arrive we are asked to put our name on a list and wait with the rest of the Australia's next top model contestants. Prada, Givenchy, 3.1 Phillip Lim, Givenchy. Each girl is dressed to the nines (70% sports luxe) and is accompanied by her favourite designer handbag of the moment. My YSL and I have had quite the love/hate relationship (to be explained later in the blog) but today she acts as my protective armour as a handsome male waiter finally allocates us a seat between a group of little girls with baby chinos and some other privileged locals.

To my dismay nothing we order comes with the iconic Luxe branding, not even a napkin and therefore our iPhones remain switched off. 

So how was it? The coffee - well it was good, not amazing. But maybe we are missing something? As I look around it appears that the coffee alone is enough for most customers with no plates of food in sight apart from the odd croissant at the kids table. This doesn't deter us from ordering the two naughtiest things on the menu. Chocolate filled French toast with pear and corn fritters with maple bacon. Maple Bacon!!

It takes a while to receive our breakfast but it also gives us some time to people watch. While we wait we spot: Roxy Jacenko PR guru & her stylish toddler Pixie, an ex Home & Away star and then the best sight of all - our plates of food being carefully placed in front of us.  

Is that it? Is my initial thought when I see the French Toast I paid nearly $20 for. 

I take back this snooty remark as soon as I cut open the golden puffy toast and put a slice in my mouth.

It is for lack of a better word. Simply luxe. 

The toast is buttery and decadent and the glazed pear gives the entire dish a perfectly light sweetness. Yum!

Unfortunately Ms P's breakfast isn't as impressive. For us (obviously two very important breakfast connoisseur or just two very poor hungry bitches) there is no bang for your buck here. It is delicious but hardly worth the wait and the $20 price tag. 

Having said that we demolish both plates before ordering some warm beverages to go. After a few minutes two coffee cups arrive at our table, each with a big red heart. This time I make sure I'm extra careful not to crush it as we head off for a walk down a side street.

It is a nice change wondering around the tidy streets of Woollahra lusting over the beautiful houses and fancy cars. This is one thing that Ms P and I share in common, despite our dilapidated house we both love real estate and indulging in long meaningless conversations about one day owning some. 

As well as taking a sneaky photo or two...

After an hour I am in a completely different head space. To be honest it is nice to get out of the Surry Hills bubble and discover a different part of Sydney.  

 We eventually find a park bench and sit down while still holding our cups, not wanting to throw them out just yet.

After a few minutes of silence Ms P turns to me and smiles.

"So where in the world are we going to live next?" she asks.

I laugh and fling my arm around her accidentally knocking the cup out of her hand. We both watch it roll into what can only be described as a giant dog turd. 

"Oh noooo you bitch!" she cries before we both burst into a fit of laughter. 

"Did you get enough pictures for the blog?" is her second question as she flicks through the photos on her phone.

"I hope so" I say looking around at all of the beautiful terrace houses.

I take in the cool Winter air and for the first time in weeks begin to feel content with the way things are unfolding rapidly but with great purpose, I somehow suspect. 

All is made easier of course by the fact that Ms P has been here every step of the way, ever since I found out about the house and the girls.

I guess the moral of the story is that it doesn't really matter what answers you get as long as you always have someone in your life asking the same questions. 

Ms B and Ms L they have always told me how much they want to travel, discover new places, spread their wings and one day leave the place they grew up in. I guess I'm happy that they finally found the right time in their lives to do it. Like I did when I first moved to Sydney over three years ago. 

It sounds awfully lame but I truly believe that everyone comes into your life for a reason and sometimes you find that people will suddenly leave your life for a reason too. 

For now I'm happy spending most of my salary on over priced maple bacon in the snobby Eastern Suburbs of Sydney and living in a shitty share house and I am so lucky because I think Ms P is too.

My advice to you -  whatever comes let it come whatever goes let it go and don't forget to cherish those who are with you right now, those people (the ones who truly believe in what you're doing and take the time to support it) are the gateway to great things and unlocking the unlimited potential within you. 

Ms P I'm sorry I made your cool coffee cup roll into a pile of poo - I fucking love you!

Tuesday Night Dirthouse Shenanigans

What else is there to do on a Tuesday night but watch Usher's new music video 'Good Kisser' and count how many times he can make four girls scream.

You ready Queens?

0:42 - 0:47 Usher plays the drums topless - 4 x screams

1:20 Usher grabs his penis - 3 x screams + the contents of 1 x Paleo burrito falls down the front of Ms P shirt

1:26 Usher makes a cunnilingus hand gesture and looks directly into the camera - 126 screams

By the end of the film clip all four of us are standing on the couch doing the move you see at 2:24

Wow! Thats the most action I've had in a long time. 

Now tell us how you go...

The Story Continues (Continued)

My mum thought it was very impressive that I booked for us to stay at QT Sydney on the opening night of Sydney Film Festival. 

"You know how much I love Guy Pearce!" She squealed like a groupie trying to catch a glimpse of the action from our suite window.

It would have been very PR girl of me to book this hotel purely to get amongst the action, unfortunately I'm not that smooth. 

Once I realised I was in the direct firing line of a dozen photographers and about to be arrested by a big brawny policeman (who was obviously more on the ball than everyone else), I made a dash in the direction I came from. I did however get to see the back of Edward's head - It was nice.

(The photo below was taken by a Maple girl on her break, Rob is directly below the S on the State Theatre sign that I should have seen when I checked in - on arrival I assumed that the barricades were there merely to stop dickheads like myself from falling into the street).

After my little trip down the red carpet I decided that I'd had enough excitement and the only thing I would be doing for the rest of the weekend was bathing and ordering room service.  

Naturally I went for the sweetest most expensive thing on the menu (Affogato with crispy hazelnut pieces and another shot of Cafe Patron).

What? I was upset.

Mum decided to take a break from her regular Paleo regime as well and got the same thing sans espresso and tequila. Boring!

In no time at all we were living it up like R Pat. Complimentary Vogue? Don't mind if I do.

Mum and I talked into the night about everything that was going on in our lives. I promised her that once I made it big I'd buy her a holiday home in Vaucluse with a hot pool boy who looked like Usher circa 2000 to keep her company.

The next morning we woke up ravenous from all of the shit talking. Although we were meant to meet friends for breakfast, I begged her to stay in the hotel so that I could soak up as much of the cleanliness and admire the solid ceilings before returning to The Dirthouse. The beauty of holidaying in your own city is that you know where to get exactly what you want!

Coco Noir in the Westfield serves The Grounds coffee and gives fab discounts to those who work in the centre. My time as a Maple boutique girl certainly paid off! As they were preparing my order I ducked into the lavish David Jones food court to get fresh pastries and a handful of juicy grapes as well as some date logs and a couple of bottles of mineral water.

Ta Da! Breakfast in bed...

The rest of the weekend was spent reclined watching movies (free with most of the rooms at the QT Sydney) having long baths and...

Thinking about that all important question - what next? 

Guess I better find me some new housemates, why not a new lover while I'm at it?

The Story Continues

What do you do when you're fighting with your housemates who also happen to be your best mates over a house that is about to be deemed unliveable?

A: You call your mumma and get her to fly down from Noosa so that you can stay in a nice hotel and get some good old fashioned life advice.

I've been wanting to stay at QT boutique hotel for some time so I was excited when a friend gave me a great deal on a deluxe king suite.

I love that it's not like most hotels in fact it's the Mick Jagger of hotels with more personality than you can poke a stick at...

A pick-up stick that is.

"Look they have pick-up sticks in the mini bar and DIY espresso martins!" says mum holding a bag of multi-coloured sticks.

"You can have those and I'll have the martinis." I say grabbing both glasses.

"Sweetie" she purrs – the woman is like an exact clone of Eddy from Ab Fab but with jet black hair and a sun tan.

She sits on the bed and gives me that look.

"Tell mummy what's wrong" She says.

I explain to her in detail the situation with The Queens and how heartbroken I am about everything that has happened. During the long winded recount of unfortunate events I  pour the two mini bottles of Patron into the glass and begin to sip the alcohol straight. It tastes like shit but I know that mum will insist on covering any extra charges to the room and getting drunk for free sounds like a really good idea right about now.

"It’s fucked because I feel like I’m not only losing my best friends but the blog too, what will I write about when they’re not around?" I ask her flatly.

"It is fucked" mum says - I've always loved her candidness.

 "But it’s going to be ok. You know that you can’t go to Europe with them anyway - you’ve got this fantastic job now"

This is true however I don't know how fantastic I'll feel when I see pictures of them soaking up the Tuscan sun while I'm back here working a 50 hour week.

"And they will always be your friends you just have to accept that it is what it is and be happy for them.”

I know she is right but I don't want to accept anything let alone be happy for them. Ms L and Ms B are my best bitches, my main partners in crime I don't know what I'll do without them.

"Yeah but what about the blog?" I say sprawling myself out beside her on the white linen sheets.

"Heaven on Bourke was your idea, it's something that began long before they came along… sure you may have to live with other people or move somewhere else but the essence of your blog will never change."

 I must not look convinced because she continues in that soothing maternal voice...

“Sweetie you’ll find other things to write about, after all it’s your adventure and your story will continue with or without them – didn’t you see that quote mummy tagged you in on Facebook?"

I roll my eyes and get up to give her a hug. She is right, my life has never been short of things to write about so why would it change now?

And then much like that classic scene in any children's Chirstmas movie when you first see Santa's slay come into sight, something weird, wonderful and magical happened right before my eyes.

The Story Continues

The QT hotel has a great central location, especially if you LOVE shopping. Although I wasn’t in the mood for shopping I told mum that I wanted to pop out quickly before dinner to check on the girls in our Maple Flagship store. While she ran a bath I grabbed my coat and headed down the elevator (which was playing some seriously cool beats) and out towards the main entrance.

By this time the double shot martini had begun to work it's magic and I decided it would be a great idea  to send a cheeky text message to Mr R.

I wanted to write "hey big boy can I move into your swanky new Bondi apartment?"

Instead I wrote "hey big boy,c  ;)?"

Maybe I should have eaten lunch.

The entire time I was writing the message I could feel a bunch of people buzzing around me. Preoccupied by the battle that was taking place between myself and autocorrect I kept my head down, blocked out the noise and pushed forward heading in the direction of the boutique.

"Excuse me..." I heard a man say at one point

"Nope, sorry" I murmured still looking at my phone pushing through the crowd at a steady pace. Those damn homeless guys are always trying to unnerve me.

Well it ain't gonna happen. I'm unnervable, I'm an unnervable city chick with the world at my feet.

Feet. I stopped suddenly and glanced past my phone at my Tony Bianco's. The black leather looked even richer against the red. Red. Why is the ground red?

I looked up and my heart stopped. For some reason I was in the middle of a red carpet. I tried to move forward but 10 or so meters ahead I saw the exit blocked off by a dozen police men and countless members of the press.

I peered to my right, a gorgeous young journalist gave me a confused slightly irritated look. I broke eye contact with the woman and swung around to my left. Instantly I felt an overwhelming wave of nausea wash over me as I glanced across the street. 100 or so people were squished behind a long blue barricade all staring at me. Except they weren't staring at me they were staring at something else next to me.

"Are you ready?" said the journalist

"Here he comes." she positioned her microphone in front of her mouth and the camera crew took their stance.

Here who comes?

The crowd across the road suddenly erupted, female voices filled the air. Girls screamed and whistled wildly. In the drone of cries I made out two very distinct words.

ROBERTTTTTTT! ROBERTT PATTERSONNN!!!!!!

Fuck me dead.

TBC...

Farewell Queens - Part 2

I am sitting in my room with my laptop on my lap trying to write when I hear a knock on the door.

Two hour has past since the roof fell in and I am beginning to forget about the argument that took place downstairs.

"Hey can I come in?"

 It's Ms L.

"Sure." I say remaining fixated on the computer screen.

"Writing for the blog?" She asks taking a seat on the end of my bed.

"Yeah" I say looking over at her, her face seems lighter more content. The storm is over.

"I've been thinking..." I continue placing my computer beside me and sitting up in my bed.

"I want to move too, we can start looking now and find a nice place up the street for all four of us. I think there's a new place just opening up on the corner of Devonshire." I smile and she looks down.

Something is wrong. I must admit in the last couple of months Ms L and I haven't been as close as we used to be. She is seeing Mr H Hanson again and has been staying at his house.

"I don't think I can live in Randwick again" I sigh trying to give her more.

"It's ok, you don't have to" she says finally, I feel instant relief.

"Ms B and I have just had a big chat about something we've been considering for a while."

I don't even know what she's going to say but a wave of sickness quickly consumes me.

There is a long sunken pause.

"We are going to Europe Paige."

 I don't understand what she's saying.

"We are quitting our jobs and moving overseas for a bit. We both have dual passports so we can live there and just travel around."

For some reason I laugh.

"Ok, but this isn't for a while right?" I ask and now she's the one looking down.

"We leave in eight weeks."

Bang.

"But in the mean time Ms B and I are going to move out to our friends place around the corner. She has two spare rooms for really cheap so we can save money before we go."

Bang, Bang.

I begin to feel really fucking angry. A million thoughts are racing through my head. Where is Ms B? why is she too much of a coward to say this to me? Who am I going to live with? I don't want to live with anyone but the Queens. Why wasn't I invited to go to Europe? Why do they want to move out without me? Who are my friends? Who is this horrible person sitting in front of me?

"So you're leaving me in this house, a house that is falling down, what am I meant to do?"

"I will put up an ad tomorrow and we will find someone really great to take our rooms, you know I wouldn't make you live with anyone you didn't like."

I want to be sick, I want to run away.

"Ok" I say my throat begins to crack and I feel a river of tears threatening to spill out from my eyes.

"You need to fuck off now" I manage before my whole body starts shaking.

She leaves and I curl into a ball and cry until i'm too exhausted to cry anymore, I fall into a deep sleep riddled with bad dreams.

Nearly 13 hours later and I feel defeated. There's nothing I can do. I can't force "The Queens" to stay especially not when our house is falling down around us.

But I also didn't expect them to leave me high and dry for their own European adventure.

Right now I'm worried about a lot of things, losing my house, losing my place on Bourke Street, losing my friends but there is one thought that plauges me most of all...

Losing my main inspiration for this blog.

What is The Dirthouse without it's Queens and who am I with out my best friends in the city?

Farewell Queens - Part 1

You know that horrible feeling you get when you wake up the morning after something really bad has  happened?

Your face is still numb and swollen after shedding what feels like an ocean of tears, time has past but nothing has changed and then there's the question that one question that rings violently in your mind 

What am I going to do next?

I look at the sign blocking off my balcony DANGER DO NOT ENTER, I hear laughter outside my bedroom door and alarm bells ring in my mind danger do not enter. My only choice is to stay here, stay in the room I always wanted, in the house I always dreamed of and if I never leave nothing will change.  Right?

12 hours earlier.

We are all hanging out in the living room watching SATC re-runs when we hear something smash hard down onto the floor. After a few brief moments of confusion, Ms L stands up and cautiously peaks around the corner. 

"Oh my fucking god" she gasps 

My stomach drops, what is it? 

"A massive piece of the roof has fallen in" she exclaims

"You've got to be fucking kidding me" says Ms B walking into the scene of the crime to see for herself

"What do you mean fallen down?" Ms P, the relative new comer questions looking intently at me for answers.

I'm shocked but not completely surprised, I'm sure I heard a noise coming from there this morning.

We all go in to check it out. It appears that the roof below the upstairs bathroom has rotten away and caved in. Soot and stray pieces of timber continue to fall from the hole to the ground where our yoga mats and running shoes used to be.

"Thats fucking it!" Ms L snaps

"Call him" She looks at me and by him she means our landlord. 

I spend 20 minutes on the phone with our landlord but to no avail. I get the same response that I get every time. He tells me that its all fine and he will send someone over Monday (It's Thursday). The girls all glare at me intensely as I talk to him on the phone, you can see that all of them, especially Ms L are hungry for answers.

I finally end the conversation and shake my head.

"Well what did he say?" Ms L ask still standing in front of me.

"He says if it's just damp it will dry out, he'll come around Monday and check it out but for now just close the door."

"Just close the fucking door?" she erupts.

"Just close the fucking door and pretend as though this house isn't a piece of shit thats falling down around us."

We are all silent and for some reason I begin to feel ashamed. 

"It's an old house" I manage to say focusing on a piece of fluff on the ground. 

"It's a piece of shit Paige" 

"She's right" Ms B chimes in and all of a sudden I feel like it's a personal attack on me.

"We need to move" Ms B continues 

"There are plenty of other brand new places out there that are cheaper, like that one I saw in Randwick the other day for $890 or something a week."

The thought of moving back to Randwick makes me instantly want to punch a wall.

"I don't want to live in Randwick, I want to live on Bourke Street." I say looking at Ms P who is sitting silently in the corner merely observing the conversation. I suppose as the newest member of the Dirthouse she doesn't quite understand what's gone on in this house. 

"Come onnnn Paige" Ms L laughs 

"You can't live on this fucking street forever." 

Just when I think she's about to strangle me her voice softens dramatically.

"I know that you love this house, but we need to leave." She says finally taking a seat on the wooden stool. 

"I know," I say quietly.

"I know we will eventually have to leave but I can't just yet ok?"

In my head I'm thinking that we will move out but only to move up, up the street like I had always planned since I first came to this house three years ago.

This is clearly not what Ms L wants to hear as she storms off to her room. Ms B shakes her head then follows. I hate it when they pair off like that.

Ms P and I sit in silence, both pretending to be immersed with whatever is on the television screen.

"I'm sorry about this" I say finally before retreating up to the Queens Quarters.

Who am I kidding? I'm not a Queen. This is not a mansion. It is a piece of shit terrace house that is falling down and with it, slowly crushing everything.

TBC... 

Crown St Fish Shop

*Please keep in mind this post occurred before the creation of Paleo Prestige (although I kinda wish it didn't) after a week of clean eating I'm almost tempted to deep fry my hand and eat it. 

On that note...

I first came across Crown Street Fish Shop on my daily commute to work. Located where Rainford Street Social used to be at first I thought there was something fishy about this pop-up take away joint. 

It's not like your conventional fish and chip shop, it's well, kinda...chic.

The words 'chic new fish shop' were enough to pull the Queens away from their prior dinner arrangements to check out what all the commotion was about. Ms B and Ms L came straight from the Zimmerman sale, Ms P was dropped off my a handsome new character and I strolled up from Bourke Street to meet my ladies.

Scattered across the table we found two different menus. The main menu...

And the specials...

Compared to your typical fish & chip shop the menu is impressive and ultra-modern (Quinoa salad/Lobster Mac N' Cheese) as is the fit out. The eclectic decor gives this restaurant a cool beach side touch and an open kitchen allows for ultimate transparency so that you really work up that appetite. Feeling hungry? The only similarity between Crown St Fish Shop and your corner take away joint is that you still have to order at the bar.

I ordered the Grilled Salmon special w/ chips and salad $26. Salmon - amazing! Chips - delish! Salad - what salad? Lets divert for a second and have a little chat about salad. I'm a health conscious gen y female, I think I know what constitutes a salad. Should a handful of rocket be considered a salad? Ah no. I would probably call that a hand full of rocket or a side of leaves. However, overall this was a pretty tasty meal!

Ms B ordered the classic Fisherman's basket $24. Since we started The Surry Hills Breakfast Club she has become increasingly judgemental of her food. As you should be when you're fishing out 24 bucks for a plate of deep fried fish. The verdict? Delicious! And generous...I had to finish it for her  (the meal is bigger than it appears in the picture below).

As you can see from the above photo Ms P was starting to get very hungry by this time, so lucky for me just as she was about to take a fistful of my chips her selection of sides arrived. Ms P ordered the Popcorn Shrimp $14, the potato scallops $2.50 each and the coleslaw $5. The outcome? Tick, tick, tick and a sudden burst of intergestion. 

I love this twist on popcorn or popcorn chicken! Perfect with a slice of fresh lime.

Last but not least Ms L's dinner. As always she went for the burger, this was the wagu cheese burger that didn't come with fries? Ok so it's only $10 but I to be honest I could have gotten better at Maccas for $5 with fries and a heart attack absolutely free.

"So I got the dud meal" Ms L said not looking too satisfied as she took a bite of her burger which she later noted was stale and dry.

Well I guess we are at a fish & chip shop - but really how hard can a burger be to get right?

Overall our meal was great but I think the best thing about Crown Street Fish Shop is the relaxed social vibe. Being perched on the busy side walk of Crown St means that you're more than likely to spot your mates which is really what dining out in Surry Hills is all about - socialising while you eat!

We were all stuffed after our meals but for those of you with a sweet tooth, you need to try the deep fried mars bars - I've heard they're the shit. Look, there are a couple of "paleo friendly" meals however, 80% of what Crown St Fish Shop has is deep fried. You're probably better off going on your cheat day unless you want to have serious food envy. 

Life Is Like A...

I’m going to use that metaphor, I am, here it is I’m doing it I’m doing it…

For a girl in her 20s life is like a rollercoaster

There’s the magnificent highs –

•       Dating that incredible guy
•      Getting into exclusive parties
•     Scoring that awesome job
•    Doing whatever the hell you want, when you want...kind of.

Then come the unavoidable lows -

Like...

•       Finding out that incredible guy is a snap chatting cheating bastard
•       Getting kicked out of exclusive parties and giving yourself a bit of a bad rep because you        don’t know how to drink Patron responsibly 
•    Realising your first awesome job is as glamourous as changing bin liners and screening   phone calls

And then there is the grey area in between which many people fail to realise adds to the motion sickness (note: you are highly likely to ask yourself these questions at least once in your 20s).

•        I hooked up with a girl last night - maybe incredible guys aren’t even for me?
•         How the fuck does one even get into exclusive parties?
•         Where is this job taking me apart from the post office to buy stamps?

Life as a 20-something is the crème de la crème of rollercoasters but the beauty of that is for every drop in the path, there is usually a rise to the top on the other side.

While I’m doing my best to relate to the rest of my peers may I also draw your attention to the 5 thoughts that go through a 20 something year old girls head on a daily, if not hourly basis:

1.       Am I going to make it?
2.       Why won’t he text me?
3.       How come skinny bitches get so many followers on Instagram?
4.       Why can’t I stop eating bad food?
5.       I’m hungry.

I'm thinking 4, 5 & 1 right now - Am I going to make it...to the fridge in time?

So in celebration of the all the 20-somethings out there here are some pictures from the week of which I have failed to blog due to malfunctions with my rollercoaster...I feel like that bitch has carked it at the bottom and I need a hot maintenance man to get my ride back up and running.

Speaking of hot men and fast rides...