Rollin', rollin', rollin'. Keep rollin', rollin'. rollin'. c'mon.

I am a sweaty fucking asshole right now. This is photographic evidence that i am fucking sweaty. I SOAKED my gi. Like, completely and entirely soaked my gi. I thought I was sweaty on Monday night but tonight's class doesn't compare. Tues/Thurs are no-gi days and I don't get as sweaty now that I'm training regularly and not just some lard ass trying to train.

I've been training really hard lately. By really hard, I mean every day this week and I'm going tomorrow with Friday off then Saturday and possibly Sunday. I think I'm going to enter in a Grappler's Quest tournament within the next couple of months and my goal isn't necessarily to place, but to hold strong and not get tapped out right away.

I am so lucky to have have a friend who introduced me to brazilian jiu jitsu and i'm even more fortunate to be with a jiu jitsu gym that fucking kicks ass.

Tomorrow Donny (assistant trainer that does the warm ups) that we would be doing the gnarly circuit work that leaves me sore for 2 days. I need that since Friday night is my night off.

Now I'm just rambling about jiu jitsu. nice. I fucking love it.

Vegas.

(Thong bikini --- the boyfriend didn't approve so I kept the rear covered)


The BF and I went to Vegas for his birthday.

Penthouse floor in upgraded mini suite.
Non-stop margaritas.
People watching at the BRO-INFESTED pool.
Spago and Mesa Grill.
Other good foods at Venetian and Mirage.
REEL MILLIONS (favorite game of all time).
... Did I mention margaritas?

We had such a good time. I guess I can love Vegas... But only when it's with the man I love.

On reserve.

Recently I tried to explain to an 18 year old boy that is like my own little brother about the birds and the bees in adulthood. He was having problems with the same girl he's been having issues with since as long as I can remember, the same girl I told him was a complete waste of time and energy. Over the years I tried to explain to him that he is the 'reserve guy,' the guy in the bullpen waiting to be let out and be a bucking bronco but will never be given that chance; that he will die in that bullpen or be sent out to slaughter, but neither would ever be the opportunity to wow the crowd to get the girl. The rodeo wasn't for him, and it would never be. Whether or not he actually took my advice, I'm not sure.

Trying to explain to a guy that he is a bullpen-bull is no easy task. To explain that he was was caught, domesticated enough to not break free and is always available to be haltered and lead when need be sorta sucks. He was the guy on reserve. Once you're in the bullpen, the chances of you are slim to none of getting anywhere on the lineup. Yes, it can happen. But don't bet on it. Just know you'd be last on the list - when all the other bulls are broken, busted, used and abused.

In essence, the bullpen is where guys go when they're not going to be creme of the crop in a girl's eyes. Every girl on the planet has a bullpen. Well, I guess if the girl is really fat or really terrible looking or a combination of the both, then I guess maybe it's slim pickins' for her, but even she might have one... But just know the better looking she is, the bigger her bullpen is. Every girl, whether she's taken or not, has one. If she's taken, she's more than likely even more aware of it.

Single girls know that a majority of their guy friends they haven't known their entire lives are probably just friends because they're hoping to get naked at some point. Taken girls, however, realize which guys are bullpen guys the moment they're openly taken. The guy friends that once hung around all the time are now gone - those are the ones that know they don't want to be in the bullpen. Then there are the ones that will remain friends (and really have no reason to be friends and no reason to really justify it, either), and said guys will remain platonic friends until said taken girl is having a downer day. When said taken girl is sad, upset, mad, whatever - especially at her significant other - it's like someone unlocked the lock but didn't take it off the chain and the bulls are aware. It needs to be jiggled, shook, slammed against --- but the bulls are waiting for that opportune moment to be let out. What's worse is that said taken girl is aware, very aware, and will walk back and forth in front of the gate, walking around with a bucket of pheromones. Women are teases. That's what we do best.

What do girls want out of their bullpen guys? Nothing other than attention in whatever level they're not getting it. Almost always in verbal form, composed of compliments, reassurance and sheer kindness. Anything that will boost her temporarily shattered ego.

"You're so beautiful, I can't believe your boyfriend doesn't tell you every day. I would."

"I would never do that to you. I can't believe your boyfriend does that to you."

"You don't deserve to be treated like that. He doesn't know how big of a chump he is."

"He doesn't respect you. You deserve respect."

"He has no idea how lucky he is to have you. You are one in a million."

blahblahblahblahblah. Need I go on, or do you get the picture?

The point is that if you are that guy that is friends with a girl and you're waiting for her to be single, don't wait. move on. Know that you are her shoulder to cry on - you are the guy she wants to keep around to rub her back or her feet when she's sad, to bring her stuff when her boyfriend won't, to lift her up and put her on a pedestal because her boyfriend doesn't care, to go on coffee dates with her at a moment's notice because her boyfriend forgot they had plans or is running hours upon hours late. Guys, just know she won't leave her boyfriend until she's finally figured out she's had enough - and that could take years or may never happen. Just know that if you are that guy, be aware that the likelihood of you having her is slim. It could happen, it has happened --- but the chances are rare. The more effort you put it, the least likely you'll get what you've been waiting for.

Also, if you are reading this and find yourself to on the opposite side of the bullpen, a.k.a. the boyfriend, just know that when you're not doing your job the way it should be done, there's a whole heard of guys available at a moment's notice. There are probably guys telling her RIGHT NOW how she can do better. Shit, you might be one of the few unlucky ones to lose her to a bullpen guy. Wouldn't that be a bitch.

Hangover.

I've had a god damn hangover all day. ALL DAY.

The amount I drank yesterday was ridiculous. I forgot that Jamie and I went and saw a movie at Muvico. We saw The American... And I was honestly too drunk to even remember more than George Clooney making a gun. The night before we were there too and we saw The Town which we loved - GO SEE IT - but yeah. Yesterday was shenanigans with my boyfriend. We bounced around from restaurant to restaurant to movie to walking around the mall aimlessly trying to 'walk off the drunk' to no avail. If it weren't for the fact that we had movie tickets I'm positive we would have never gotten off the gigantic bean bag chair at that memory foam store. Now it's a 'must buy' on our list of things to buy. IT WAS FUCKING COMFORTABLE AS HELL.

AND NOW I AM DISTRACTED because I'm play fighting with Jamie so I must leave blogger world to put him in a triangle choke. The thing I love most about training in jiu jitsu is being able to use it on unsuspecting people - like my boyfriend. :)

I'll never be her.

Sometimes I get wrapped up in my brain and pause on certain moments in time; those moments are still images that I can't burn without leaving a silhouette of a memory that is there to haunt me.

This blog drives me crazy. I never know what direction I want to take it. I find myself wanting to post very personal things on here and I don't because I feel like I have this tough, 'i don't give a shit' persona that only exists within me on occasion but always on this blog. It's not that I'm afraid of being vulnerable, it's just I always find myself blogging in those moments where I'm feeling sky-high and shove my low moments to the wayside. Then, of course, in those moments where I'm not feeling my very best I turn to my blog to write and find myself with no direction or course to take those moments. Those moments borderline don't make sense and certainly don't fit within this blog. I suppose when one loses direction in a blog, it becomes nothing more than a diary. My blog is without focus, without purpose and without logic. I write because I want to write. I guess that's it.

I'm in one of those moods where I'm being an absolutely stupid and stereotypical girl where I'm looking in the mirror and thinking I'll never be good enough. I'll never be her - if you know what I mean. The one that got away, the one that meant the most, the one that is actually the one. You know, her. The one whose name you default to in your sleep. her. that one. the one that isn't me. the one i'll never be.

It's funny how much a couple of drinks can make you think - and it's funny how much that thinking can effect so much in such a short period of time. I hate it. I hate thinking. Sometimes when I'm losing my mind and I'm not remembering words or things I just did, I get happy knowing I'm losing my god damn mind. It's like finally, my brain is letting go, and then I find myself rethinking all the things I didn't want to, all the things I wanted to let go, all the things I wanted to forget about forever. Suddenly here I am, reliving it all over again.

I am so bothered by so much in this world. I'm bothered by people's actions - and lack of actions. I'm bothered that I can't come to terms with certain things and I'm bothered that I have to. I'm bothered, just in general at this point.

I have such an incredible life, and don't get me wrong - not even for a second - I am a very lucky and fortunate person. In this world of bullshit, I have it easy. I have it easier than 99.99999% of this world. I have it all. If you write it down, I have everything a girl could wish for.

So what's missing? And why do I feel so empty?

Slutty Bikini.

I ordered this stupid fucking slutty ass bikini a million years ago. Well, apparently it decided to finally show face in my mailbox yesterday. So, thanks for finally showing up.

Okay... Change of plans.

I feel like since I woke up this morning, I've had entire change of life-plans.

I hate when I feel like updating but I can't because I don't want to jinx anything. Well, fuck!!!

Boyfriend and I have big plans. That is all.

Why?

Am I wasting my time again?

The Great Escape.

Sometimes I feel like the only person on the internet brave enough to post pictures of themselves looking like a pile of wet, steaming dog shit. I guess if I am not worthy of being looked at without a made up face, don't bother looking at me at all.

Anyway.

Withdrawal is a bitch. Not drugs, not alcohol - but rather, life withdrawal. In specific, Spain withdrawal. I'm going back this year, and on the same days I was there last year. Strange how an entire year has passed right before my eyes. I've done so much since my last visit.

I wish school was something that kept my interest long enough that it could consume my life in a mentally and emotionally positive way. I do it, I do it very well, then I get bored to tears because what I want in life doesn't come with a .edu e-mail address. I do it because I feel obligated, not because I want it. Life is short, and life is too short to be tied down to a life you don't want. I admire my friend Jeffer in many ways, he lives the dream pretty well. Just packs up and goes, and I admire that a lot about him. He puts his happiness first - and that is the dream: to be happy. The other day we were talking about how we're just going to end up old people surrounded by no one other than our dogs, and we're okay with that. There's more to this world than inanimate objects and life is a journey that is only completed when you die.

"Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need. We're the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War's a spiritual war... our Great Depression is our lives. We've all been raised on television to believe that one day we'd all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars. But we won't. And we're slowly learning that fact. And we're very, very pissed off." - Tyler Durden (Fight Club)

"You're not your job. You're not how much money you have in the bank. You're not the car you drive. You're not the contents of your wallet. You're not your fucking khakis. You're the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world." - Tyler Durden (Fight Club)

I am planning my great escape - and I'll be gone before you know it.

From couch to bed.