Can I have one?

Seriously, I want this. It can ride on Mini's back.

Ankles

I spent last week in London and Paris, backpacking through the cities and staying in hostels.
Everything went smoothly for the most part but, as with any travel experience, there were some weird moments, one of which I will try and tell right now (although I wish I had taken a picture).
It was our (my sister and I's) last night in Paris and we came back from bar-hopping around 2 am to a hostel lobby littered with random travelers also coming in after a long night.
There were two completely trashed guys who were belligerently trying to figure out what mine and my sister's names were, and since they didn't speak English, or French, or even Spanish (but instead some jumbled version of all three), it was hilarious.
drunks: "Battyyyy?"
us: "what? Betty? no, really? people are still named Betty?"
drunks: "Christine?"
us: "no, okay we're done, we're going to bed now"
drunks: "SAAHAAD!!!"
us: "did you just say 'salad'?"
drunks: "yes! SALAD!!"
us: "no, our names are definitely not Salad"
Apparently the name he was going for was Sarah, but thanks to them Caroline now has a new nickname.

So, we head up to our closet of a room to fall asleep with the other 4 people already snoring in there and we pass out within about 5 minutes.
Around 3:30am I hear the door open and this guy shuffles in...shoes on...pants down around his ankles...wearing blue tightey whiteys and is going from bed to bed shining a flashlight in each persons eyes.
It takes me a second to register what is happening and then he is near my sister's bed and my protective instincts kick in and I jump up ready to kick him in his tiny balls.
For whatever reason my defense mode is super rational and I first did a body count to make sure that everyone that shared our room was in their beds and that I wasn't about to kick someone out that was supposed to be there. All 5 accounted for. Me = huge dork.
I start yelling "GET THE F*&% OUT OF HERE!"
He doesn't seem to understand English and is trying to take off his shoes.
"GET THE F*&^ING HELL OUT OF THIS ROOM RIGHT NOW!"
Then I see his face, it's Salad guy! Now I'm extra annoyed and start yelling in French (since English isn't working)
He's falling all over the place trying to get his pants on and find his shoe while some crazed person is screaming in his face and then he stands up and looks at me and says "Can I sleep with you?"
Seriously? I push him out the door and lock it.
Best part: no one else in the room even woke up when this was happening.
Thanks guys, for having my back.

I...Ugh...I just....

can't STAND Liza Minnelli.
Whew, I feel better now.

Anticipate

You know when you plan for something for a really long time, like Christmas when you're a kid, or a wedding or college and then all of a sudden it's two weeks away and you're filled with so much excitement mixed with a giant dash of nervousness and you can hardly keep yourself from jumping out of your own skin?
I'll be in London and Paris in two weeks.
It will be nice to see them again, it's been awhile.

The friends I made in my 05' travels: Jon (Canada), Me, Alejandro (Argentina), Gemma (Australia), Fernanda (Brazil), D (Argentina)

My Cave

This is the art that adorns the walls of my favorite place in the house: my room.
Please excuse the terrible photo quality, I blame my phone and the poor lighting.

My sister Caroline decided to take up painting one day, turns out; she's awesome at it.
This is the first painting she ever did, she surprised me by shipping it to me and I was so excited that I was given her first masterpiece that: I cried. A lot.
I named him Willoughby.
He's the one every morning that looks at me with that smug expression and says "you know if you keep hitting snooze you're going to sleep right through 7:00 and then you're going to have to skip your shower and be paranoid for the rest of the day that you look like a greasy, smelly, homeless person."
Thanks for staying on top of it Willoughby.

The above is a birthday card my sister Claire made for me last year when she was out visiting for my birthday. The picture doesn't do it justice but I love it, and keep it out on my dresser year round. She happens to be an amazing artist and I have other drawings and sketches around but this one makes me happy because I love cake.
She also happens to be an amazing baker and made me coconut vegan hostess cupcakes for my birthday party.
check out her blog:
http://nowheyvegantreats.blogspot.com/

The dogs are "Josephine and Napoleon" by Will Rafuse, I found them online several years ago, and wanted them. The only problem was the prints were expensive, and there was literally only one or two sets floating around on the internet. A few Christmases ago I put them as the only item on my list and figured that I would either a) not get them because they were out of print, or b) get them because my Dad is an internet mastermind who can find anything. Either way, no big deal, I also like chocolate covered cherries and anything turquoise so they know my back-ups.
Christmas morning I see two equally sized square pieces wrapped and I know they're my prints...I unwrap them and...hmmm...something looks off.
I didn't want to say anything because I didn't want to make my parents feel bad but it looked like they were printed out on a crappy color printer and how do you tell someone they spent $100 on a cheap replica and were ripped off?
Turns out they were out of print, and my Dad (he's adorable) printed them out as an IOU and framed them. Several months later he tracked down the real ones.
I love them.

I became obsessed with Magritte after the Thomas Crown Affair came out. So obsessed, in fact, that I traveled to Belgium just to visit the Magritte Museum in Belgium. I walked around Brussels for several hours until I had to pee, so I stopped in a building that had a gift shop, I noticed some books on Magritte and, blame it on a full bladder or the fact that Brussels is boring as hell when traveling solo, but I went up and asked an employee how to get to the Magritte museum.
Turns out I was standing in it.
Dumbass.

This bunny cost more than a wooden bunny should cost. I saw it at Pier 1...didn't buy it. A week later I couldn't stop thinking about the freaking wooden bunny and I knew I had to go back before it started haunting my dreams. Now he lives on my external hard drive.
He doesn't have a name yet, I'm open for suggestions.

As you can see, my room makes no sense. I once described it as looking like "a pack french gypsies came in and went nuts".
I think that about sums it up.
Throw in my robot pillow cases and bookshelf of teenage magical adventure books (Harry Potter, The Alchemyst: The Immortal Secrets of Nicolas Flamel, and Pendragon) and the other works of art by my sisters and miscellaneous pieces picked up along the way and you have the raddest room ever.

Snack

This is what a blurry half eaten grilled cheese looks like in Dallas at 5 a.m.
In case anyone asks if you've ever seen one, your response can now be "yes".
Thank you room service, for feeding five hungry karaoke singers during the wee hours of the morning.

Moonlight

I stepped out of my car and this was next to me, it looked awesome in the moonlight aka new LED street lights.

Daylight

This is what is waiting for me outside my front door every morning.

Dancing King

I take a Zumba class at the gym (Zumba is a latin dance/aerobics class) every Monday to add some fun into my 'weights, cardio, weights' routine.
The class is filled with females except for one older man who is my favorite.
Let me try and paint a picture of him: picture a wealthy man in his 60's, the type of man who would own a yacht and frequent the opera. Now picture this man with dyed reddish hair (or a really good toupee) and a spray tan...sort of a wealthy Miami man. Now take this wealthy bachelor out of his Armani suit and put him in a pair of gym shorts and a cycling shirt.
He waltzes into class a little late every time, takes off his shoes and socks (why? no clue, he's a mystery) and he joins in the dancing. The reason I like this man is because he is the only one in the class who does not follow what the teacher is doing, instead he floats around waving his arms with his eyes closed as if he is having the time of his life.
I don't think he's ever gotten a step right, and yet he is having more fun than anyone else in the class.
I hope I learn to dance like no one is watching by the time I reach his age.
Sheer fabulousness.