kate+speaks

The older I become the more I realize what I really love (and hate).

Years ago I realized I STRONGLY DISLIKE (read: hate) island music. I freaking detest it. I can’t tell you enough. I’m not one to apologize for my opinions, because well—you can completely disagree with me and I won’t expect you to apologize for loving it. Its just personally… I. CANNOT. STAND. IT. Yes, even on the most beautiful and sunniest days at the beach, or cruising during golden hour with the windows down, or even while basking under the Hawaiian sunshine itself.

I just enjoy so much more music than what it has to offer. I would much rather listen to the likes of Frank O., The Weeknd, Yacht, or Dragonette, just among a few picks.

Ohh and this song… cause I’m a sucker for Hip Hop with a love agenda. “She the shit. She the one. She got cold feet—my love will be the sun.”

I am and have always been an anxious person, for the most part. I usually have an agenda, usually have a plan, and I’m definitely always trying to knock shit off my list the most efficient way possible. Blame it on my type-A personality, blame it on my theory that I can problem solve almost anything. And most certainly… blame it on the fact that I’m scheming a Plan B scenario all the damn time.

I’m the girl who was still uneasy while downing rum punches at noon on a beach in Cozumel because I knew I had to be back on my cruise ship in two hours.

I’m the girl who couldn’t relax during her entire wedding vacation until she said “I DO,” because up until then I was wound up tighter than a yo-yo.

If there is something to worry about, bet your ass I know what that something is.

Lately my list consists of life’s benchmarks: have a baby, buy a house, go further with your career, etc. etc. I have been so stressed out by the first one that I forget to chill the f@ck out. I have forgotten that the DINK lifestyle I share with my husband is ticking away. I have recently had to remind myself that this time left is probably the last of my carefree days, the last days of YOLO, the last days of “yes, I’m down for bottomless mimosas on Sunday.” While I will gladly welcome the day God decides to bless the Mr. and I with mini-me’s, I will have to oblige the time left given for us to enjoy.

So yes, I will treat my future-baby-daddy to a date on a Monday night; yes, I will beat last year’s record of Giant’s home games attended; yes, I will drink to that, and that, and that.

And I plan on doing it all while continuing hustle hard, to put away money for that house in the Parkside, the future loves of my life, and that ROTH IRA cause I plan on touring the South Pacific when I retire.

But until that day comes…

Ask me and I’m down for that drink/Vegas trip/Giants game/bottomless brunch/Napa trip/Happy Hour/dinner/etc. etc.

I’m terrible… I have a running list of “must buys” that I plan on purchasing as soon as my Lent sacrifice is over. For the record, this is material crap I’ve been wanting for months. Hah.

I’m definitely going to DIY that last one, save money and hopefully compete a few before Easter. DIY isn’t shopping right? Gahhh.

I take back what I previously said about The Weeknd. He still manages to put my ass to sleep almost every time, but I’ve learned to love.

ESPECIALLY when its an OVOXO combination.

Ohh, and I think this cover of “The Morning” is the fking money.

If there’s one tiny and microscopic word that I get annoyed of, it would be the word “lucky.”

Why? Because I take it under the most literal of contexts. The definition of luck reads: “success or failure apparently brought by chance rather than through one’s own.” Meaning, you didn’t work for anything considered “lucky.” Nothing. Chance is chance, and good chance is lucky.

Well homies, I like to think I have a huge hustle bone in my body and by no means—should luck, get any recognition for my efforts.

Luck doesn’t bring on vacations (unless you happened to win some sort of raffle), luck doesn’t bring on world champion status, and luck doesn’t give you a six-figure salary (ok, ok maybe it does—in some weird instances). But for the most part people hustle HARD to get where they want to be and work for the finer things in life.

I think people use the word “lucky” to show envy, if so—I can understand that, but let’s not deny someone of their true efforts. The BIGGEST compliment to me is acknowledgment of hard work, whether you’re talking about my life, my career, or my marriage. I WORK to get it to where it needs to be.

In the words of Ru Paul, “You better WORK.” Two snaps & everything…

Fact: I like my boys skinny and tall, since forever… Swear. Met my husband yet? Exactly.

Fact: I watch True Blood and Vampire Diaries religiously. I try not to make this apparent, because I believe this is somewhat of an embarrassing fact for a 28 year old woman. I said “somewhat.”

No. I do not have a crush on Boone Carlyle (”LOST”). I have the fattttttest crush on Damon Salvatore. FATTEST. FAAAAA-TESSSTTTTT. He looks best with the littlest bit of stubble, just a little.

Fact: Good girls really do like bad boys. FACT.

On that cougar status though…

Jeremy Gilbert just gets better with age.

SIGH HEAVY…

I’m kicking my husband off my Top 5 list, he’s automatic, its unfair he’s taking up space. Welcome, Ian Somerhalder. =)

I am SERIOUSLY considering getting “yolo” tattooed somewhere on my body.

If not… “Mischief Managed” would make a great ribcage tattoo.

I’ve been sleeping on that last one for YEARS.

I will get one or the other. My last year of my 20’s is coming up soon. I better not sleep any longer.

I have THE BIGGEST aspirations for 2012.

I got an unexpected raise at work. I can’t tell you enough how I’m looking forward to starting my family. Our debt is practically paid off and there is money in the bank. My year is starting off strong.

I have few resolutions to speak of, but here they are:

_ I will give out hello/goodbye hugs much more frequently. I’ve been lacking on handing out displays of affection my entire life. I usually get stuck in awkward pauses with semi-aquaintances and I hate it. There is no need to over think that type of shit—I just need to give out the freaking hug. Agreed? Agreed.

_ Take at least ONE international trip. I have Costa Rica on my mind, but I’ll see what the cards have in store for me.

_ Put MORE money in the bank.

_ Continue to enjoy life to its capacity until my dynamic duo becomes a trio.

[I realize its been THE LONGEST time since my last post. Is anyone even reading this still? If so, thanks for your patience!]

I would like to share with you a chronological timeline of events which made my second grown-folks trip to Vegas a memorable one.

I won’t add any context, so feel free to ask me the story behind it all if you’re curious. HAHA. Note: the days bleed into nights and vice versa.

Arriving in Vegas with only three hours of sleep / Daiquiris at Fat Tuesdays / Drunk shopping at Michael Kors / More drinking / Losing $40 at the roulette tables at Planet Hollywood / FINALLY eating at the Wicked Spoon Buffet in The Cosmopolitan (<3) / Catching Mayer Hawthorne's soundcheck at the Book & Stage Lounge (by complete LUCK) / Beatle's "LOVE" show at the Mirage / Drink-party with an amateur UFC-MMA fighter and his brother / Buzzed-drunk / Take a limo to a strip club at 4am / Tip a stripper $6 in her g-string while Big Sean's "Marvin Gaye & Chardonnay" plays (absolutely no joke) / GTFO of the strip club by 6 am... the sun is beginning to rise / 6:30 am, get home to the hotel KTFO / Wake up at noon / 9 pm, check into our NYE club / 10 pm, buy VIP bottle service for 9 people / Pictures... pictures... more pictures (before we start looking sloppppppyyy) / Drink... drink... and drink some more / Midnight kiss—I love everyone within a 5 foot proximity to me / 2 am, DONE / 3 am-?, yakking my brains out on the bathroom floor and swearing to myself that I will refrain from alcohol for the rest of my life / 8 am, yakking some more / 10:30 am, abruptly woken up and in a panic that my ass will have to get out of bed, ready and packed within 30 minutes with the WORST hangover of my life / 2:30 pm, finally up and running at 60% / Dinner to celebrate the birth of my wonderful mother at Max Brenner's / Mayer Hawthorne show @ The Cosmopolitan (again, for free) / Good times with some local hosts-family / Random local club off the strip / Back to the hotel room at 4 am / Check out of the hotel room by 10:30 am / 12:45 pm, depart Vegas can't wait to get the hell home

IT. WAS. GREAT. TIMES.

Happy New Year folks!

In hopes of writing more + my endless journey of self-discovery I’m starting a “Bucket List” category.

I get stir-crazy when I don’t have a trip in queue. I take pleasure in knowing I will be some where different from my day to day routine, even if that only means I’m headed to Napa or Monterey for the weekend. Note: I work harrrd for my money, I buy plane tickets at the cheapest price possible, and I book hotels only a few days in advance so I can get the best last-minute deals.

1. San Paulo + Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

2. Bora Bora / Tahiti

3. Bali, Indonesia

4. Santorini, Greece

5. Alaska to see the Northern Lights / Aurora Borealis