The Time I Tried Weight Watcher’s

Once upon a time when I was young broad (about a year and a half ago) , I tried out the Weight Watchers method to shed a few gazillion pounds.   Although, I am not about getting on bandwagons (publicly at least, privately I’m all about them), I decided to give WW a try. Here is my testimonial.

I Tried Weight Watchers for three months. (read I paid for WW’s for three months, and that counts as being on the program.Kinda like how claim to be a gym rat because I saw a rat in the vicinity of the gym I pay for on a monthly basis. I’m not sure if now is the time to talk about the rodent infestation in the I’ll save that for another day.)

I lost four inches (read as I  gained four pounds, but if I’m paying for something I’m going to turn a negative into a positive. The four inch loss is true however…let’s thank the lady selling girdles outside the WW meeting).

After my three month analysis of  my WW performance I decided, WW was not a plan that worked for my lifestyle based on the following component:


Have no clue what that means? Let me explain…I can’t add,someone tells me seven, I write down something that looks like the number zero and then I turn it into a flower because, heck ,it looks close enough… I mean don’t flowers have seven petals? No? Whatever, who cares, numbers suck. Needless to say their point system meant absolutely nothing to my stomach. Sure I had a thirty something point allowance a day, but when every meal entry is a flower with seven petals, you start to worry about your health. You also wonder if you’re suffering from malnutrition because all you’re eating is flowers……… AND because I refuse to be one of those people that looks sick from all their weight loss I carb loaded a little.

…And because I don’t understand the concept of a little, what I really mean is I ate A LOT.

Till my next miscalculated adventure,


PS I do, however, know a lot of people of have been successful on WW, for example my stalkee Margo from…she’s like a Dancing-Math genius queen, or something to that effect. She figured out the system and is now a skinny minnie with energy and shit.

PPS I’m considering becoming an addict to working out, and by this I mean: I’m considering buying a workout DVD that would be housed in my living space. My fitness knows no bounds, I tell ya!







Death Of A Movie Star

This past week we lost someone to “addiction” again. Philip Seymour Hoffman, rest his soul, was a talented man and  by all accounts a loving person. I talk about his passing today, because his death hit a nerve with me.

All the outlets have been reporting on Hoffman’s death and his long history with addiction and recovery. They’ve talked about our drug epidemic and usually have a  person talking about rehab or lack there of. What has bothered me about this is how we talk about addiction without addressing mental illness, without addressing the need for mental health reform.

Addiction is not about drugs, it’s not about someone being “bad”. Addiction is about what is going on in someone’s head and their inability to deal with it, without substance.  In school,  I remember police officers  ”teaching” me that drugs where bad, and that only bad people did them. It is in fact criminal the way we prosecute drug users, but I am not sold on the idea that every drug user is a criminal. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve seen many good people succumb to drug/alcohol addiction; it has made me question: what exactly is bad here?

I have a cousin addicted to lord knows what. I know when people see him, they see junkie.  They see someone not “strong” enough to beat drugs. They see someone they are afraid of, someone they can’t trust, someone they can just hopefully ignore…  They see someone they view as bad and should just be put away.

When I see my cousin, I see someone hurt. Someone who was not given the tools to deal with an emotional/mental disorder. I in fact still see a little boy with the weight of the world on his shoulders, being told he would outgrow this phase in his life. I still see that teenager tired of not “outgrowing” his issues, ashamed of not being able to cope and desperately seeking remedies for his problems. I see an adult dealing with the ramifications of addiction… not only does he still have the same “issues” in his head he had as a kid, but now he is addicted to a treatment that is causing his body havoc. I do not exaggerate when I say I fear getting phone calls of a fatal overdose, everyday. He has tried quitting, he has tried rehab, the results are short term… not once has he been offered long term mental health care. In fact he is now told he feels the way he does because he’s addicted to drugs. Horse shit.  Society prospers from his drug addiction, not by addressing his mental health.

My father was an alcoholic for all of my childhood. He was not, nor is a bad person. My father had a problem and it wasn’t alcohol, it was anxiety. You see he was taught at the age of eight to treat this anxiety with alcohol, rather than address the issues of abandonment that caused his anxiety that he felt after having his father pass away at  age two and having his mother leave shortly thereafter by choice. Somewhere, society felt it was cheaper and easier to treat his mental health with something that suppressed his feelings and destroyed his liver, than to take the time to heal him.

I’m proud of my father, he is now 14 years sober… he thanks his therapist. I want to clarify that my dad did not attempt sobriety under the care of a therapist, he entered rehab. He was there for two weeks… he wasn’t a fan. 2 months into sobriety a doctor suggested he might suffer from extreme anxiety and thought therapy would be beneficial. He now has monthly visits, something he says is as important as getting his liver checked. He often looks at me, when I’m frazzled, and says there’s nothing wrong with going to someone and talking it out… society will tell you differently but that’s because society has a huge mental illness, delusion.

We live in a society where drugs are more readily available than mental health clinics. We in fact are a society that will tell person to get a drink to” take the edge off” whatever issue they are experiencing, rather than fully talk and address what is going on. We, for some reason, are a society that is more willing to accept drug and alcohol addiction and all it’s deadly implications than a society that is proactive on addressing mental health.

There is a stigma on mental health issues…we shame people for suffering from mental health concerns such as depression, anxiety,  and chemical imbalances. We tell people to shake it off, that the feeling is temporary,to suck it up, to stop being weak, etc. We push people into silence, we allow our loved ones to deal with their mental health all alone, we push them to secretively pursue self- medication. When someone gets diagnosed with cancer, we give them a support system… we can’t understand what they are going through, but we let them know we are here for them…as we should. We encourage them to stay on top of their treatment.

When someone comes to us and tells us they have bipolar disorder we treat them as if they have a contagious disease, we discourage them from sharing their struggle because it makes us uncomfortable, and we often tell them they can do this on their own.. they don’t need medicine, they don’t need a doctor… they just need some time.

I’m not saying every addict has a mental illness. But I can’t imagine anyone being in a right state of mind and saying that they want to risk their lives by injecting themselves with heroin.I’m also not saying addiction itself isn’t a problem. Although a alcoholic may have started drinking to mask an issue, 20 years down the line they have another problem, and that is their body now depends on a substance… of course this addiction needs to be treated. What I am saying is, I’m tired of losing loved ones due to our delusion that mental health is not important. We need mental health reform, and we needed it a long time ago.

I want to send my condolences to Mr. Hoffman’s family. I met him once, and he was an amazing individual. I was lucky to have been in his presence, I will forever remember him as the man who made everyone feel like his buddy.


New Year 2014 – Blackmail

Happy New Year loyal readers! To the not so loyal ones…if you want a happy new year… become loyal… no way around it… until then may all the calories I eat find your mid section and make you fat. [insert a mental picture of me spitting at the air *foo-eee* three times]

Since I don’t do New Year’s Resolutions, I have inability to follow-through on shit I don’t really want to do… like realistic goal setting. I rather starve myself and not workout, thank you. I am just going to tell you about how I caught my old ass slipping.

See back in the day this old broad here would not be caught showing love in public…. the only thing I have ever shown love in public prior to this New Years Eve, was cake. I would gladly make love to a good slice of cake in public any day… but show love to a person, no thank you. You may think I’m cold and bitter, and that’s exactly the look I’m going for, so keep thinking that way…. it’s okay, don’t allow the following picture ruin your initial thoughts of me.


See what had happened was, apparently, that I didn’t care if freaking blackmail was captured of me in love.  Look at me… being a total hussy… not even attempting to hide [get ready to gag] the look of complete and utter adoring love.  Oy! May the council of old bitter broads have mercy on my now loving soul. The funny thing is that up until I saw this picture, I thought; “Damn, Cyn… you’re good at being in total love and not showing it… go eat some brownies for those points you just earned”… then this and several other pics popped up and I went “F*ck… you’re that loser going around making people puke in their mouths… go eat some brownies to feed your feelings and to get the type of fat that people just cursed you to be for making them lose their lunch.”

Seriously, look at me.. disgusting. This isn’t Hollywood…. where we can make believe and go aww look how cute… I live in mother effin New York, I am now by definition soft, or Drake as hip hop heads whisper as I walk by… I hear you jerks…. I hear you. I could try and blame it on the alcohol [insert your best Jamie Foxx voice here] but when you’re doing shots called “woo-woo’s” you might as well tattoo Soft and in Love… or Drake… in fancy script right on your forehead.


Now that I have composed myself from being shamed by that amazing bitch feeling called loved, I want to address something in this speech:

Dear Bitter Broads of the Universe,

I am sorry I am not sorry for my indiscretion of being retard-ly in love. I understand if you want to ban me… but remember I’m still a mean bitch to everyone else I’m not in love with… so I might  kind of be like a total evil keeper [food for thought fat wenches... food ... that is all].


In other news… I’m also in love with myself… I mean look at my fly self *taps weave*

I hope your New Year was as lovely as mine. I hope it was filled with love that was not captured on film… but in your heart [yea, I got it bad].

Tootles bitches…. toootles.

My Awkwardness Described Through The Jerks Of The Animal Kingdom

Because of my cheery disposition, I am sure it will come as pure shock to you that I hate people. Well not so much hate all people roaming this earth, as I hate interacting with most earthlings it’s not that I’m above you all, but in my head, I kind of am. I’m an introvert and as a consequence hate the air outside of my apartment.  Well, that’s my excuse anyways.  Honestly, I’m awkward as all hell and being around people just brings out this pleasantly awkward quality out in me. And because I am here to humor you, I have decided to show you how I react to “common” situations.

1.Receiving Presents:

Let me clarify, if you forewarn me that you are giving me something, and tell me what it is to the T, I can put this look on (see below) otherwise I am caught completely off guard and unable to monitor my facial emotions of why the f**k did you get me something.
 And when you tell me what it is… make sure you tell me everything… don’t play with me.
2.My response to being asked out to social gatherings:
My response is usually why? Followed by lies… such as I already have a happening life and things to do. In the off chance I say yes, expect me to try and back out 100 times right before the event. And I will put this face on.
3.How I receive compliments
Once I’m comfortable with you, I respond like this:
However, if you are a stranger, which is anyone I’ve known for 2 years or less. OR haven’t made you a bff in my head. I react like this
4.How I deal with people in the morning
I don’t.
I don’t like surprises. I can’t enjoy them. For example I once had a very wretched lovely surprise birthday party thrown for me. I spent the whole night pissed off that someone was not scared enough of me and thought it would be funny to catch my emotions of guard. I hate people.
6. Meeting new people
7.Small talk.
Yea… I don’t know about you, but I find small talk awkward. I don’t really want to hear about how many siblings you have in hopes we will bond… unless I like you, but then it’s not considered small talk it’s called data compilation for stalking purposes.
I don’t have any.
But please don’t let that stop you from making me uncomfortable and sharing yours.
PS I hate cats, I think they are evil and so aloof. Kind of like me….but I hate them.
Happy Holidays Everyone! Hope It’s filled with presents that have a high return value. Tis’ the season to be jerks.

Sage Advice From An Old Broad

I start this post, like I do most others… it’s been awhile. So, let me update you: since you last read my latest masterpiece; I became an even older broad. Yes, I tuned 31 [please insert Louisiana style funeral procession music, it’s a sound I need to get accustomed to, although if you think about it, once I kick the bucket, I won’t be hearing it… so insert whatever music will help you get over the pain of losing one of America’s sweethearts to the other side. Play anything you like… anything except country, I refuse to have you mourn my loss to country… unless of course said country song involves tractors or running away from your wife, OR my favorite bashing some kind of vehicle because your once love interest ran away with someone else).

In the past, when I was younger, I would usually have the energy to list x amount of things I would accomplish by my next birthday. This year, however, pure laziness age caught up with me, and I came to the realization it’s much easier to give crappy advice than having to do things that require energy and shit I am now of the age where I must pass down the wisdom I have acquired to those ready to embark upon escapades of their own.

So here, I bestow upon you sage advice from an old broad, who managed to get into a lot of trouble without having to do more than a couple of hours in jail.


1. It is much easier to find yourself when you’re not surrounded by people who already know who you are.  Therefore fly little bird fly to a place no one knows you so you can create who you want to be.

2. Live life in the moment, not haunted by your past, or paralyzed by a future that may not even happen. I find that the things I regret are those decisions I made in thinking to much of the future, and not enough on whatever my current needs were.

3. Push boundaries.  The rewards are in crossing the lines not staying in them.

4. Be honest, not only to yourself but to others. Nothing is gained by keeping secrets.

5. Don’t fight to keep people in your life, the door should always be open. People should want to stay, not feel forced to stay.

6.If you want to experience a sense of freedom, I found New York City offers it. But it’s expensive, so make sure you’re rich… or you’ll find yourself a slave to the city. L.A. is the city of dreams, but they sometimes come at a sacrifice of reality… don’t take reality for granted.

7.  No matter how much you know, someone else knows more. Nothing makes you look like an ass quicker than being smug about how much you know or by trying to be right. If you know you’re right, it shouldn’t matter what the other person thinks….save yourself from being labeled a dick.

8. Being pretty opens doors. Having a personality and integrity keeps them open.

9.When stopped by police officers do not make comments about their donut breath.

10. When traveling, you never need more than two jeans three shirts and a dozen undergarments. Don’t ever let that stop you from packing your whole closet… having options should always be an option.

11. When you walk into a room, own it. Take the time to say hi to everyone. Everyone deserves a hi… even the waiters, the cleaners, everyone. You set the tone for how people perceive you.

12. Can’t say enough about acknowledgement of mankind. I get that you can’t always give a penny, or that sometimes you just don’t want to give a penny… but always give eye contact. The person asking is human, they exist and they deserve acknowledgement.

13. Success can come without struggle. However, I found that I’ve held on longer to the success that came with struggle.

14. Don’t compare yourself to others, you will never win. It’s easier to be liked for your uniqueness than your commonality.

15. Go watch a movie by yourself and have a dinner at a fancy restaurant by yourself. I found the first made me pay better attention to what I was watching, and the latter helped me appreciate future conversations at the dinner table.

16. There is no need to explain yourself. A No is sufficient. Be sure of yourself.

17.  If you find yourself complaining more than you are thanking…. there’s something wrong, and it’s you. You always have the power to change your situation. Your blessings should always outnumber your stresses.

18. Meditation is hard. But living with a foggy mind is harder… Zen it out.

20.It’s easier to breathe and be yourself when you don’t have a girdle suffocating you.

21. I’ve never regretted not getting drunk or high.  I found I’ve had more fun in life than those friends who chose to drink and smoke the night away.

22. It’s never too late to start again.

23. You’re worth 3x more than you think.

24. As you get older you appreciate the finer things in life… so save some of that party money so your old ass can buy some fancy shoes.

25. It always feels nice to be paid compliments on your beauty… I found I appreciate them more than the compliments given to me on my intelligence. As you get older you find you want to work less to get said compliments. With age comes the wisdom that you can look like crap and people even it’s from pity will always compliment because they feel compelled. I’ve learned I’m not above pity compliments…. so compliment away…




Written Word Wednesday

For those that may not know I am an un accomplished poet… I know you’re asking: what can’t this bitch do? I’m amazing, just come to terms with it. Anywho, in an effort to make you barf all over the place I’m sharing this poetic piece based on love with all of you.


The Attack of Love

You gunned me down with charm
Annihilated me with heart
And as lay on the floor
Shocked and in awe at the opening of my heart
You picked me up and mended me with love
Made me realize that love was a war worth partaking in
Never mind the midnight talks
You still caught me off guard
A surprise attack
To my emotions
I began to bleed love
You took me prisoner
Ravished my body
Interrogated my soul
Began to control me as a whole
You got me twisted
Had me loading machine guns with bullets aimed
At me
Because in the depths of my soul
You implanted the experience of how amazing the rattling of true love
Could be
And when my mind and heart
Continued to disagree
You led peace talks
Connected the disconnect

Translated the terminology of love into words I could understand

Made me understand that there should be no pain in love

Patched up every battle wound with kisses that infiltrated my soul
You made every wound leading up to this point
Worth it
You made losing all the love battles leading up to you
Worth it
Made every tear, heartache, struggle
A distant memory
But, oh so worth it.

Mirror, Mirror On The Wall Who Is the Best Twerker Of Them All?

Brace yourselves, I am about to drop a bomb on you: The reigning queen of amazingness that I am occasionally suffers from moments of inadequacies. I know… how can I doubt all of this? Well, because every Queen Bitch out there knows, there’s always some little princess c-u-n-t in line ready to take your crown… just ask The Queen , she had to employ a talking mirror to watch her back.


Snow White was an effin sheisty witch.

In case you’re wondering (ehem, you are my free therapy) my feelings of inadequacies stem from my childhood (we have discussed that I had the worst childhood ever, right? I don’t care if I had Barbie’s and Twinkie’s to keep me warm… it was horrid, and if you want to be one of my friends, please just agree and say: “Yes, dear”) I mean, there I was thinking I was enough for my parents, when they slapped me in the face with four extra sisters. Now, either they were trying to re-create the perfection that I am (which I could have saved them the four headaches and informed them that this priceless gem only happens but once in a lifetime) or they were trying to tell me that I just wasn’t enough… it had absolutely nothing to do with their inability to use protection, trust.

Anyways, that childhood scar called “feeling like you’re not good enough because mommy and daddy could never buy you enough toys give you enough attention” is still with me to this day. Every time someone slights me on attention; my mind goes to “Did someone with a bigger ass just walk behind me?” I constantly have to remind myself *that a bigger ass is just not possible* just to calm my nerves. Really that is no way to live.

In the past this inadequacy that I felt made me into a tired superstar. I was everything to everybody… I needed to feel loved and validated, overextending myself was the only way I knew how to obtain that. It’s like I didn’t believe that my big ass alone, was just enough.  After a couple of bad experiences with people who took advantage of my insecurities, I decided that I had to stop living in fear that there was someone better than me out there… I mean c’mon, better than me? Pfft.

I mean I couldn’t live my life sacrificing myself to please people, on the off .0000001% chance my parents were able to recreate the formula they did with me. .. It just wasn’t a realistic way to live.

Today, for the most part, I don’t live my life trying to please others… I’ve come into my own… but occasionally I still have these moments. Like, did they like the way my ass twerked across the room? Are my parents happy with my life choices, do my friends still think of me as their best friend, am I still the best sister out of the hoodrat litter I was born into,  Mirror Mirror on the wall is my smile still the most radiant of them all? Yes these are thoughts that go through my head… and where you still might occasionally see me get real quiet *trying to hold back my ice queen tears* when these thoughts run into my head, for the most part I’ve learned to say this to myself: “ if there is an off chance someone can twerk better than you, it’s ok… because I bet you they can’t toss their weave like you can while twerking”

Truth is we all have moments where we feel we are not good enough.  It comes from comparing ourselves to others instead of appreciating our uniqueness and how uniquely gifted we are in every area of life we partake in. Sure in comparison Coco-t’s ass is better than mine, but my ass is uniquely amazing on its own (I mean it jiggles like chocoflan… mostly because it’s made of chocoflan).



PS… just in case you’re having a moment where you really doubt yourself and you can’t pinpoint just why you are prettier, please take this sage advice:

I Say Mean Things- Lock the Donuts

This post is an apology to all those I’ve cursed before during one of my grumpy tirades..or endeavors to get what I want. I’m sorry… I know I look perfect, and I am, but I do occasionally suffer from verbal diarrhea and it usually happens between the hours of 12am-12pm… I mean I’m just saying we all know this about me, so it might also be your fault I cursed you out.  Sorry. *shrugs shoulders*

Like today, I said something completely wrong to someone I love…and the moment it flew out of my mouth I went OhHoly Mother of Gawd, why didn’t my parents ever invest in a mouth stapler for me. I mean seriously it would also solve this eating problem I have. Because, yes, to rid myself of the guilt I felt afterwards, I ate my feelings… with a full bag of Little Debbie’s Powdered Donuts…aka crack for the guilty soul. And after I was done apologizing profusely (because the thought starts to lurk in my head that I could have just pissed this person off to the point they do not talk to me for a month or more…it’s happened, I have abandonment issues.. mostly I caused them *tear*) and of course inhaling the joy of what is Little Debbie’s (that skank), I started to look back at all the fights I’ve ever had, and that trip down memory lane was not pretty.

I mean, I was pretty in the memories, but my mouth was foul. I’ve told people they are pieces of sh*t not even flies would hatch eggs in. (I’m wrong, but in hindsight if anyone ever deserved comments like that it was that jerk…but this is an apology post, so I’m sorry I repeatedly called you a piece of sh*t *eye roll*).

It’s like I have Touretz syndrome, and I can’t seem to stop myself… it’s a real problem.  For the most part I am a possessed doll in the morning, but out of nowhere I snap and then I’m forced to deal with the aftermath of my words, which for the most part are hurtful and untrue. And to be honest, with most people I just shrug my shoulders, and pretend like I said nothing wrong;  denial can go a long way sometimes. However sometimes, I make big uh-ohs and I say something wrong to someone I love..and instead of stopping myself in my tracks, I usually continue for a bit… you know to be the biggest ass I can possibly be….while they, of course, stay classy and quiet *hate them*. It’s like at least bitch me out a little. You know help lesson my guilt, cause me to eat one less donut… but no, you have to make me reach for the whole bag with your classiness…again you may have deserved to be cursed out… I mean again, it’s the price I pay for the ugly little mouth I posses…. the price being: a fat ass.

Anywho… I wrote this post to show you this meme I saw on Instagram…. oh yea and to apologize for being the biggest ass ever. If you ever come across me being foul, just remember I’m an ass who has Touretz syndrome… but that I’m also very pretty to look at, funny, witty, amazing, and have no problem being your bitch for an hour or so to make it up to you…Love You.


My Sancho

For those of you not familiar with the very Spanish word sancho , let me educate you. A sancho (female form sancha) is the other man, the lover, the side piece… and yes I have one of those.

What? It’s ok to be jealous of my life. I mean I might be broke and crazy, but my life is fabulous… I have a Mexican lover boy and I look the way I do… hate on.

I first met my sanchito (adding ito to any Spanish word just makes it more endearing) about a year ago, and really he has rocked my world in ways I never thought possible  mostly because he makes the world shake when he shakes his money maker). He’s really everything you could want from a sidepiece: funny, a great dancer,  gives my booty competition, and  most importantly, for me, he’s detached… in other words he hates touching as much as I do….

Ok, ok… he’s not really my lover, but he is my sancho. He’s one of my best homie’s and today is his birthday, and because he is a fame whore (he is my friend after all), he asked me to write about him…and because I am a sucker for my friends and a cheap present here I am writing. So let me tell you in one short sentence why Juan is my sancho: he pays girls to watch him pole dance….he really is the best friend a girl could ask for.

Here’s proof of the pole dance he gave me for my birthday. And yes that dollar in my friends hand was given to her by him. He’s total class.

Juan is much more than just a pole dancer… he also invented a dance called the Reiki Cumbia (the man heals while he dances, seriously, my friends are uh-mazing).  He’s one of the few people on this earth that can ALWAYS make me laugh.  He has been there for me in ways that no other man has: he 100% supports my dreams and ridiculous escapades. He even lied to his aunt  and told her that I was a make-up artist, just so I could test it out… on her wedding day.  He makes me feel like a priority when I am with him, which is why he will forever be my Sancho… and I will forever have his back (mostly because I like to look at his big butt).

Juan, really wish I could be in Cali to celebrate your 24th bday instead of living it up in NYC due to your push of living my dreams.  I love you like I love flan, which isn’t a lot, but it is a step above fruits and vegetables. Have a happy birthday Sancho. Here’s a pic of us where I cropped out your wife Liz out.



I know I say this often, but it merits being repeated over and over again: I have the best friends ever. I think of it as God’s little way of making up for the family he gave me (he played a mean joke on me there).  As I’ve gotten older, I have also noticed that the quality of my friends has improved. In other words my friends rock: they are the best reflections of me.They support me, they love me, and most importantly they always keep me entertained.

Prime example is my girl Eva- a transplant from North Cali, but with an L.A. heart.  Last year her and I had perhaps one of the best stay-cations ever. I mean who else would fight with me over who was going to go around the beach asking for a red solo cup to use for the eco-friendly box of wine she brought, and end the fight by saying “Fine, I’ll go. It’ll give them a chance to check me out”, and then sashay around the beach asking for a cup so she could unwind? Eva, that’s who.Essentially we got tipsy at the beach, marinated at a dodger game, hammered at a bar… and had fun all the way. Why, well because she is the best aspect of me: a loving heart just wandering through life in hopes of finding a good laugh.

Eva and I however, don’t have to be marinated to have fun. Hundred percent sober we have the most amazing conversations. We talk about our glowing smiles and how we look anorexic after one day of dieting. However, give us a little something to sip on and we sing Mexican Regional music at the top of our lungs while deciding to take last minute road trips up north.  Eva is my sister, we cry with each other, laugh with each other, and most importantly always keep each other up. Part of the reason my life is so amazing, is because she is in it. She allows me to be me, and even joins in making sure I’m never short changing myself on fun much less life. She was the second friend I told I was getting a divorce… She responded with ” Awesome, He’s just holding you back, and you’d make a hot single lady anyways”. When I told her I wanted to move to NYC, in spite of not being a fan of the idea, she sat with me and said let’s make the plan to make it happen. She is my support system.

And as I a writer who uses her blog for free therapy (because yes, this bitch continues to be broke), it is important for me to use this space to thank all those in my life that keep me sane (or at least, less crazy). Friends are chosen not given. And for the longest time I used to keep friends who were not the best reflection of me, solely because of this false sense of loyalty I had.  Eva is a reminder that I made the best choice for myself, and that was to cleanse myself of people who did not reciprocate being the amazing person I am… it was only through that act that I could chose people in my life that were worthy to be in my my life.

Eva, I love you girl! I often dream of us as two hot ass viejas sipping on jack and coke on a fancy beach in Mexico… still having fights of who will go and get a red solo cup to be checked out.


Eva and Me

Although much blush was used for this picture, all that is apparent to me now is how sun burnt I was. First sun burn ever.