Of Course I'm Poor and Leaving for Europe Next Week

Blog. I've been trying so hard to save money and it's just not working. Right when I get a handle on building up my savings, the United States of America comes in and is all "GIVE ME MONEY. AMERICA HUNGRY FOR CASH." and I'm suddenly wiped out of all the progress I've made over the past three months. So now I start over.

Sure I didn't need to get that coffee at Starbucks this morning. Nor did I need to eat that Jimmy John's sandwich for lunch. And you know what? Calling overseas tends to be expensive and a fun fact is that expensive things tend to drain my bank account faster than necessary. I can only imagine how rich I would be if I wasn't looking for excuses to call England all the time.

Rein it in Samantha. Rein it in.

I mean, I'm not completely broke, but I'm certainly not gaining any ground here. I was getting so motivated by seeing the number in my savings rise to a point where I was getting excited about the growing possibilities before me. But now that number has been slashed in half, and as much as I can blame myself for irresponsible spending, I'm also going to just go there and throw America under the bus while I'm at it since it just took $438 from me... and for what? No. Don't tell me. I'd rather not know what stupid shit my money is going to. I'd rather fabricate some story of it giving orphaned children a mansion with a swimming pool and playground in the back yard so they can have all the joys that the rich, unorphaned children have.

Isn't that the way though? Every time I go overseas, I'm broke. Last time I had a whole $50 in my account when I landed in England. This time it's going to be more like $200. I'll get paid while I'm over there... after 5 days. Good thing my brother revealed to my mom and I today that we can stay in his spare apartment for free. I don't know what that means, but if it's not costing me anything I'm going to roll with it.

I guess if I had to find a bright side in all of this it would be that the day I do get paid, I'll be in England where the dollar is worth even less than when in Italy. This means one thing: ENGLISH SPENDING SPREE.

Samantha. Remember? Rein it in.

I guess I should stop being a spoiled brat and acknowledge that the other bright side to this situation is that I get to go to Europe at no cost to myself. I'll just be responsible for food, alcohol, and whatever useless crap I want to buy. It's a pretty sweet gig when you put it that way and having $200 in Europe seems to be less awful.

Yoga time blog!

It's a Strange Island, but I'm Willing to Look Past It

Blog. If you live on the island pictured below, underwear are pants and pants are trousers. Fries are chips and chips are crisps. Pounds are money and stones are weight. God takes a back seat to the Queen and no questions are asked. Most importantly though, you are the luckiest because if you live on the island pictured below, despite of the backwards language and weird politics, you are within driving distance of a guy named Clive.

This island is called England, BTW.

Even if you have to drive on the left side of the road to get to him, it's totally worth it. And blog, three weeks from now I get to go to this island and not only teach Clive that pants are what you wear on the outside of your underwear (obviously), but I also get to see him in person once again. Finally. After five long and cold months of waiting from the moment I left him in a hotel stairwell back in December. Doesn't that make us sound like a classy duo...

Video Embedding for the Win!

Ok blog, I'm not one who is savvy with pop culture by any means, especially music. I like music. I listen to music. But I know nothing about music nor do I know about the people who make said music. I don't even know words to songs. I just know the songs that I like, the songs I can have on in the background, and the songs that I despise.

So it comes as a surprise to me when I make a musical connection like I did tonight. I have my grooveshark up, which if you are like me and like music, you should totally grooveshark it since it is the best thing ever. Anyway, my grooveshark is groovin', playing tunes and jamming out and some Nina Simone comes on. Now the only reason I know about Nina Simone is the same reason I know about pretty much any other music I have on my grooveshark. I heard a song of hers once on The Current and then looked up her name on Grooveshark and randomly added a bunch of her songs to my playlist. Done and done. I know she tends to sound like a man, can play the piano like a bitch, and is no longer alive. That's about it.

So tonight when this song of hers, Sinnerman, came on I was surprised because suddenly I wanted to buy a cell phone. HTC (and I don't even know what HTC is) totally stole the main lick of this song for some stupid ad campaign of theirs! The funny part is I always liked the little tune they used in their commercials and always wished I could find the actual song they were playing for it. But alas, I accepted the fact that I'm pop culturally illiterate and would never even know where to begin with obtaining such precious knowledge. The end.

And here I am knowing a whole three things about the woman who made up and even played said lick! I continue to amaze myself with this shit time and time again.

Anyway, take a look (or perhaps just a listen) for yourself, blog.

HTC's catchy commercial:

 

And Ms. Simone's 10 minute masterpiece complete with clapping!

I was going to write about how I successfully unclogged my drain tonight, but I'll save that nastiness for another day. Speaking of nastiness though (and for my new found ability to embed videos into you blog), here's a gem that I have no one else but Trisha Grover to thank for:

Monday Night has Turned Unproductive

Blog, I want to write so much to you right now, but all I can think about is that a month from now I'll be in England and the feeling I have about that can't be put into words. Unfortunately. So here's a picture of my adorable yet unphotogenic niece:

 

 Don't worry y'all. She's with it.

Here's Some Stuff...

Listening to Wye Oak and drinking Gazela is probably the best thing ever right now. Even if the Gazela smells a little bit like feet. It totally tastes like rainbows and magic so I'm willing to look beyond it.

I just realized two things, blog. The first is that the next time I go shopping at Heartbreaker in Uptown, I want to bring a flask filled with some sort of alcohol and take a sip every time I hear the word "cute" as I stand in line for the dressing rooms.

I had nothing to do tonight, so I decided to shop for some fun spring clothes since it's like fucking summer outside (which reminds me; I graciously accept the loss of my bet that I had stated only a month ago when I went slightly crazy and was convinced the snow would hang around until May... though we're not out of the woods yet as it is April y'all). I'm finding my wardrobe is suddenly non existent because I've been wearing the same three sweaters since November and this isn't going to work out if it's going to be 60 degrees outside. I mean, I damn near got a sunburn on my lunch break today. It is time for some fun spring sassiness! So this is why I found myself standing in line at Heartbreaker this evening waiting for a fitting room, all the while being bombarded from all directions with "well that's cute", "oh the back of that is so cute", "yeah, just pull it over the belt a little bit, so cute". Cutecutecutecutecutecutecute. CUTE. The word doesn't even sound like a word anymore.

I'm guilty of this along with every other English speaking female who has ever commented on anything aesthetic that another female (English speaking or no) is wearing/presenting/has within a 10 foot radius of her. And maybe it was because I was by myself and just wanted to see if these tops that were rocked by hangers had any potential of being rocked by me. I didn't have any desire to comment or judge what others were trying on, but I wanted to punch everyone in the face; save this one sassy black woman who came out to look at this little lace number she had tried on without a bra underneath. Now that's entertainment folks. The best part was when she exclaimed from within the fitting room "oh now I look like a broke ass stripper". Perfection.

The second thing I've realized tonight is that I'm currently wearing my shorts inside out. Oops. I initially was going to just write about this, but that's about all there is to it, so I thought back to my Heartbreaker experience and threw that in there for some substance, because that's exactly what it is blog. Substance.

Time for bed. This has been a crazy Friday night for sure!!! PARTY.