Booty, Bums, & City Smarts.

I've never lived in a city before. I've always found myself more comfortable in the sweet ease of the burbs. BUT as I have embarked on this new venture where I become a much chicer, fun, cultured, and - if this is even possible - more FABulous version of myself while living in the heart of a major city, I promised myself I would go out, explore, and try new things. So far my explorations have resulted in the following:

•  Massive 1998 suburbans backing up from stoplights to compliment how hott my bod is (I mean...duh!) as I schlep the 290348023842038 load of my never ending wardrobe into my three story WALK UP. Yeah, thanks buddy, not a great time but enjoy the view of my ass sweat as I walk away.

• 3 AM wake-ups from my apartment buzzer being pressed by the drunk bro in my building who apparently can afford to get blackout on a MONDAY but can't remember his keys which lead me to logically conclude that I was about to be tortured then cut into tiny pieces and disposed of in the dumpster behind my building. Needless to say the baseball bat that used to just sit on the floor next to my bed is now what I spoon at night.

• Early morning meetings with the bum who has taken up residence in the foyer of my apartment building. Yes, at 7AM as I was in the midst of trying to fire myself up for yet another day of a new career I still don't fully understand I was greeted by the smelly and mildly terrifying homeless man sleeping on the floor in my building. How did I handle this situation? Like any other city-savvy woman - I spoke aloud to myself saying "Oh my! That dude just scared the shit out of me." Normal.

• Walking to the grocery store for the first time in my life only to realize that, oh hey it decided to still be summer out so my leggings, riding boots and FLANNEL shirt were not only unnecessary but inappropriate. This, along with my forgetting my canvas shopping bags, resulted in the 5 star hottass mess that was my walk back home. Let me give you a visual. A 5'10", blonde, sweat monster throwing out eff bombs like I got paid 50 bucks a pop. I served as several brunchers morning entertainment and probably spoiled more than a few of their meals. 

Guys. Not one of these things made me feel chicer, cultured or faboosh, yet I'm enjoying the added flavah.

NONE of these things would have ever happened to me in my comfort zone of the burbs and all the ridiculousness makes me feel like I'm really grabbing this new adventure by the balls and rolling with the punches. Now THAT, that fact makes me feel better than chic, cultured, and fab - it makes me feel adventurous, ballsy, and mildly badass. So, if we can just start sprinkling in some glamorous happenings, I'll be seeing my fam at Thanksgiving feeling like a mixture of Carrie Bradshaw and Lara Croft Tomb Raider. I'm diggin' the possibilities. 

Alright cit-ay, lets do the damn thang.