Back Home And Loving It...

When we were in Lausanne for a couple of nights on our trip, we realized that we could get to France in only 30 minutes by ferry!!  How amazing is that? 

Naturally, in order to feel way more cultured than we really are, we immediately high-tailed it over to Evian, France for a little day trip.

After purchasing a "European Man's Wallet" for 10 Euro for Grant, then immediately realizing that it was made of plastic and smelled like gasoline, we stumbled upon this little gem of a spot for lunch.

After about 7 days of eating Schnitzel and Brats, we were delighted to find salads on the menu!  And not just any salads, my favorite kind!  Nicoise Salad, which I was shocked to discover has rice on it when made authentically in France.

Grant got a salad, on the right below, with goat brie broiled on mini baguette pieces.  It was out of this world!  Then again, most things with melted cheese are.

The Real Deal

I attempted to recreate a few elements of the salads we'd had all throughout the trip last night, in an effort to eat lots of vegetables.  Hmmm, somehow it doesn't look quite the same!

Oh well, still tasty...kind of.  At least I am eating more than meats and cheeses this week.

My version.  Not the same.

Coming back from vacation is the total pits, especially when the clock strikes 2pm at work and your body is ready for steins of beer and something decadent  to eat.   And instead all you have is this:

In-Flight "Entertainment"

As everyone knows, flying is a total nightmare.  Cancelled flights, disgruntled airline employees, pissed passengers, lost luggage.  It all sucks.

But there are a few good things about stuck in the confines of the airport/airplane walls:

- Being able to drink at 10am in the morning because you are already off your usual schedule, and really it's 4pm where you just flew from...but really you just want a beer at 10am

- Eating pizza for breakfast because, well, the airport S'barro is open at 9am and who doesn't want pizza for breakfast.  Nobody has to know that you just got to the airport and have no good excuse for not bringing your own banana and whole wheat toast.

- Free movies!  Sure, it's awkward to cry in front of the other 200 plane passengers when Zac Efron gets the girl in the latest Nicholas Sparks predictable formula Romantic Comedy.  But heck, if I can see the latest Rom Com for free without having to pay for RedBox or Netflix, I'm not going to complain!

But then sometimes, and presumably only if you are on the plane with hundreds of other people who had to have been murderers in their past lives, you get stuck with the worst in-flight movies of all time.  And if your karma is really, really, really bad, they are all playing on the one screen in each section of the cabin, instead of just being an option on your own personal seat-back monitor.

This, my friends, is what happened to me BOTH ways to Switzerland.  Whoever is in charge of selecting the in-flight movies for USAirways both East and Westbound to Europe should be dismissed immediately.  In a series of selections that can only be described as abysmal, this is what the 6 movies were that I could watch on the way to and from Europe.

Eastbound:
- This Means War (totally not bad, loved the movie, but I had literally watched it 2 days before I left.  Of course.)
- The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel (You read that right.  No it's not really erotic.  It's some sort of geriatric movie about flowers I guess?)
- We Bought a Zoo (Animals?  No thanks.)

Westbound:
- Salmon Fishing in the Yemen (Although even the title of this one put me to sleep, it was actually pretty good.  Phew, made it through the first 2 hours of the flight)
- Joe Somebody (Not only is this from 2001, it's stupid.)
- The Toothfairy 2 ("Starring" Larry the Cable Guy.  Shut up.  Just shut up.)

Needless to say I got a lot of reading done on these flights.  Angry, angry reading.

Yodel-a-hee-hoo!

I just got back from a 10 day trip to Switzerland.  It was one of the most beautiful places I've ever been.

However, after ten days of brats and beers, and 18 hours of travelling yesterday, I am most fat and tired.

I am also suffering what I have recently dubbed "TravAcne" - The general failing of one's skin due to over exposure to mass populations of airport travellers and lack of running water that is not from a lavatory bathroom.

Somehow I managed to stay up until 4am "my time" last night and then wake up at 6am "my new time".  I've already unpacked, done all my laundry, changed my sheets, shaved my legs, gone to the gym, and made my list of things to do this week.  You would think that sort of productivity would inspire to wake up before 8:15am on other mornings.  But I ain't frontin' - this was most certainly a one time event.

Either way, this bitch is back!

Driving Miss Ferry Confused

Yesterday I had to drive to Southport for work.  I've never been by car, and my GPS is 7 years old, so I went by Mapquest directions on the way there. 

On the way back, I decided to just go with my GPS since I wasn't in a hurry.  I went about 5 miles in the other direction before happening upon Fort Fisher Blvd, which you can only take by ferry.

Come on GPS!!  I know GPS years are like dog years and that you are very, very outdated, but throw me a bone here.  If I am about to have to drive my vehicle on to a boat for an hour+/-, I'm going to need to know that so I can load up on snacks.  I'm ok with you not knowing about the most recent traffic circle, but taking me by sea - not OK.

Needless to say I did an immediate U-turn, coming back the way I came (+ an additional 10 miles from the almost-ferry-confusion).

In other sneaky news, I just saw a car get pulled over by a light green Chevy Traverse.  That's fighting dirty, cops!  You must at least reveal yourself!

Silk Pants and Late Flights

Travelling is so enlightening.

We returned from Aspen late Saturday night to Raleigh. With the combination of an 11pm arrival, a 2.5 hour drive to Wilmington, and Daylight Savings time, we got home at the ripe young hour of 3AM.

I figured we were going to look like Gypsies in the night carrying our bags in the quiet neighborhood. Then I remembered that we have new wildass neighbors that stay up late as hell. They were still awake to great us with their noise.

Back to travelling: I remembered a funny while waiting for our bags to drop on the conveyor belt, where a young boy was sticking his finger on the turnstyles. When I was younger, I went to Bermuda on a family reunion. I was around 10 and/or the age when silk pants from Limited Too were in style...whichever came later.

I was sitting on the conveyor belt waiting for my bag to arrive, when my silk pants got stuck in a crack. I kept moving with the conveyor belt. My pants did not.

Those silk beauties ripped right up the side of one of my legs. Luckily I was carrying my trusty blankie with me (damn, was I still carrying that thing around when I was 10/of silk pants age?), so I was able to fashion a makeshift turnakit to secure my now-high slitted kid pants. That was the last time I ever touched a conveyor belt. Oh, and silk pants. They aren't as forgiving once you pass your 10's.

I also realized this trip that when you're married, the risks of travelling increase by 200%. I used to see my bag arrive on the belt and think, "Screw you, suckas! I got my bag, I'm outta here!" Now I have to think, "Please God let his bag be here too. Or else I'm stuck waiting in line for customer service and the next flight in with him and his bag!"

So to sum up - I'm still adjusting to the new time diff, I no longer wear silk pants, and I'm still kind of selfish but learning to deal now that I'm married.

In New York

More on my trip to the Big Apple...

Well, as many of you know, I've been searching for the perfect wallet for about 3 months now. Remember this awesome exchange with some unexpected jabrones in Shanghai? After 10+ emails in highly broken English with a woman named Cherish, and the loss of a 5% international transaction fee, I was informed that OutletMichaelKors.com no longer had my order in stock. Splendid.

So I did what any low-brow unknowing southerner would do, I went to Bergdorf Goodman thinking I'd find something sensible there! I should have known after seeing the window displays that this was not the place for me.

Pardon the glare on most of these photos, but allow me to describe these confusing displays of fashion.

Below we have a Walrus dressed in a tuxedo, with his friend the Ram, and Lion, on a glacier. It was already about 30 degrees in NYC that day. I find it unlikely that one would be inclined to buy the haute couture on the one human in this display who is sitting on a glacier with well dressed arctic animals...but that's just me.

Next we have 2 albino birds in sparkly silver dresses. Nothing steps up a ball gown like a nice beak accessory. They should probably consider putting on some earrings though. I mean COME ON!

Behold the 3 teeth baring wolves staring at themselves in the mirror, dressed in blazers and fitted slacks. I simply do not remember the fairy tale from my youth that tells of the 3 vain wolves measuring each other's inseams. I must have been sick that day.


I am pretty sure that neon lighting says "Aggressive Night". I'll say! And it is weird that the strangest thing in this display is not the cardinal head? Look at that jacket! You may leave the runway.

Finally! Something traditional! A charcoal suit with a classic diagonal striped tie...on a lion who is bench-pressing in his Sunday best.



Needless to say Bergdorf's was not the home of my future wallet. I just "wasn't in the mood" for Prada or Chanel that day.

Other finds at other stores...


The toeless leather boat. For those chilly winter days when your body wants to be warm, but your heart wants to be a slut a show some unnecessary skin.

This one is hard to make out, but rest assured, the woman in the background was wearing ALL of her hair on one side of her head. And she had a LOT of hair. (The woman in the forefront is my #1 supporter of all things blog related. And my mom.)

Well gosh. I guess that's all! New York City is wonderful but most def not going to be my "forever home". I cherish things like backyards, glasses of wine under $15, and the ability to call a cab 15 minutes in advance, knowing that a toothless or over talkative country boy will pick you up and be your best friend by the time you reach your destination.

Unsuccessfully trying to hail a cab for 20 minutes, and/or running after a stranger I thought was my sister and getting in the wrong cab is just not good for my confidence.

I heart NC!

Spirit in the sky

AKA, Airborne Ghetto.

If you want to experience a nerve-wracking, unsanitary travel situation, I have a recommendation for you.

Fly Spirit Airlines. But not just out of anywhere. Fly it out of Myrtle Beach, SC.

I flew to NYC this past weekend and it was gross.

My flight was full of nothing but Street Rats and Sort-of-thugs. I knew for sure that if Natural Selection applied to the open skies, that plane was surely going to blow up. And if not that, I thought for sure there would be a riot before takeoff. People were already not happy about something. It was an all around uneasy feeling.

Grant, who usually doesn't mind flying (much unlike me), even commented when we got on the plane, "Oooh great. Someone defacated on the seat next to me." The seats, which were covered in gunk and dirt, were also so small that I thought the large lady next to me might actually be stuck for good.

There were more weaves on that flight than in Wendy William's personal collection. And also there was this:

Do you see those nails?!?! This woman not only had skunk streaks in the front of her hair, and a set of headphones that suggested she thought she was in a Call Center, she also had 4 inch nails. I should have known when I saw her in the waiting area that she would be sitting right across from me.

It was equal parts disgusting and bizarre. The underside of those nails looked like crusty charcoal and will haunt me for ages. So really it was 90% disgusting and 10% bizarre.

Extreme Closeup!

She started off by pounding a Double-Vodka Cranberry on our return flight at 11:30am on a Sunday. Then she ate a Sausage, Egg, and Cheese Croissant from Dunkin Donuts. To which she added 7 packs of salt. (Not exaggerating).

Then when she got snackish a little later, she ate what appeared to be a cheese flatbread. To which she added 2 packs of mayonnaise. And then, (commence dry heaving), when a little mayo squeezed out the sides because there was soooo much mayo, she would use her gross long nails as a shovel to scrape up the excess mayo and place it on another spot, lest she waste a mere ounce of lard. VOM!

I do, however, feel like I should commend her on the dexterity of her knuckles. But that's about all she could use.

Next time I'm going to pony up the extra hundy and fly a non-budget airline out of a non-trashy city. Flying is already a nightmare. I don't see the point in adding insult to injury.

Caress Me Down

I've flown kind of a lot recently and heard a lot of bitching about the whole pat down, pseudo -molestation thing with airport security.

Well I'm here to tell TSA that you ain't hurtin' me.

Hell, I like the pat. I'll take any free massage I can get. Even if it is a cheap 10 second rub-down from a stranger.

I think I do have heightened senses when it comes to back rubs, but I also LOVE free stuff. So this is just a win-win for me.

Try again Government regulations. Mamacita prefers the TLC from a blue-shirt. Just don't give me the see-through-clothes-machine please! There are some areas that not all the situps in the world can mask...even in a computer generated 3D simulation.

London Town! (Read from the bottom up, as blogger is ghetto and not at all British)

Please read this in reverse order, as Blogger is not my friend and I can't figure out how to make them in the right order....So scoot on down...way down!

And that's all she wrote...I hope you enjoyed your divalicious trip across the pond! Happy Friday and Happy travels.

This trip was easy and wonderful. Aside from the kicky Indian kid that sat next to me and karate chopped my seat and tray table for 8 hours. I finally reached my limit after 7 hours and told him to stop. It didn't work.

My cousin had permanent disco balls installed. I couldn't make that up if I tried. Even with a British accent.

Everybody Dance Now!

This was more babysitting. (Out of order b/c computers are stupid). The only rule of our babysitting club was that if you stop dancing you have to go to sleep. L'trally. We are so strict!

And my sister got jealous and got them too. We think our parents will be really proud.

They made me get hair extensions as part of my contract.

Then I got discovered by a modeling agency...For obvious reasons.

Yay I love flowers and giant beers!

This was just weird.

So we rode those bitches for 2 Pounds a go-round. Best over-priced money I've ever spent.

And the sassy rejected step sister JANET!!!!!!!!!!

Prince William

We also met the royal family. Princess Catherine.

This was just the pinnacle of my life. NBD. Screw Jared, my sister and I are without question the #1 Subway fans in the Universe. If there was a way to test it I swear I'd prove it.


My cousin lives in England and we babysat her kids one night. First of all, British kid accents are sooo much cuter than American. If they were ever being annoying, I had no idea because their accents are so sophisticated. My sister is also a bedazzled bag lady sophisticated.

Chit Chattin in a real British phone booth...that smelled like donkeys.

Mmmmm...lunchtime....Oh, and that's Big Ben.

The world's smallest one-ass-cheek Subway seat.

2nd Row baby!

Oh this was just amazing. We went to see Jersey Boys and ordered a glass of Rose each before the show. The bartender then informed us that we could buy the rest of the bottle and it would be waiting for us as the Interval (aka intermission). It's basically like a coat check for theater-going alcoholics.

If you are what you eat, then apparently British kids eat lumpy scoliosis.

This just seemed fancy.

My pseudo-narcoleptic sister seemed really jealous when she realized she hadn't ever thought to try this sleeping position.

Which involved a full fledged parade, band, horses, and more. Oops, our bad.

We thought that one man standing in front of the palace was the actual changing of the guards. Thank goodness we stayed around looking at mullets and scrunciis for 30 minutes because we ended up seeing the actual changing of the guards...

Apparently this is what the apocalypse looks like. Meet the apocalypse salad.

Looking for the changing of the guard and I found this sparkly scrunii. Win-Win!

I went to visit my sister in London last week and here are some of my diva related/note-worthy finds. Please enjoy your vicarious trip through London above! Cheerio!

Shop Diva

Guess what?

Chicken Butt I'm in London right now visiting my sister! She's at work right now so I have one mission and one mission alone.

To find the store pictured above. She sent me this picture a few weeks ago and I want to see if I can just follow my nose to find the store called just "DIVA".


All roads point to DIVA!

Donde Estamos?

On my trip to MD last weekend my mom's GPS started to act erratically. As in, it told us it would take us 6 hours to go 230 miles. When in actually it took us 8 hours to go over 400 miles. It was way wrong on all fronts.

And as the picture above indicates, it also told us it would take us 0:00 minutes to go 26 miles. Now that's just silly.

All of the dramz with the GPS made me reflect on my family's extensive and absurd relationship with our GPS's (what is the plural of GPS??).

I think the first one of our family clan to get a car with a GPS was my sister. She bought a car from a dealership around DC that was called Radley Acura. This, coupled with what can only be called THE SUMMER OF MARIAH, served as the basis of a fairly lengthy biography that we created for the imaginary person giving us directions. We called him Gary Mariah Radley.

His background was dramatic to say the least, including a lifelong fight to prove his masculinity despite his parents insistence that his middle name be Mariah. He remains a bitter man with major mommy issues, and is now for sale with my sister's car. He will be missed for sure!

My director is a woman and I named her Laufaunda, a la Napolean Dynamite. By far the least interesting name of the GPS family.

My mom currently calls her car captain Lady Largo. I assume this is inspired by her 20+ drives to Key Largo over the life of her car.

But Lady Largo wasn't always Lady Largo. For a time my mom called her Rhonda, as in "Help me Rhonda, Help, Help Me Rhonda!"

That will always be my favorite.

Who knew that Global Positioning Devices could be such an important part of one's family history!? Thank you Lafaunda, Gary Mariah, Rhonda, and Lady Largo for a combined 15+ years of getting us places we might otherwise have had to use a map to get to!

Love is MObile

I saw this beauty on my 8 hour trip to Cambridge, MD this weekend for a family reunion.

The beauty of this declaration of love is not just that it's romantic. It's also very versatile and can be used for pretty much any relationship with any human who belongs to any gender...as long as one of them is a "her".

Love isn't just in the air...It's on the highways and byways! <3