Like Ripping Buttons Off A Shirt

When you're a famous blogger and people actually read your shit there are two things you will learn sooner than later: 1) You can't please everyone. 2) Pleasing yourself is always more fun (and by that I mean doing what you want and not touching yourself even if that always proves to be more than self-gratifying).

Of course I'm not saying that I'm famous (yet) but it seems like the more people who read my blog the less likely I am to make everyone happy and that makes me feel sort of nostalgic for the days when only my best friends and dogs read my drivel.

I lie.

I love you guys. Even you, Anonymous.

Now! On the the things I did this weekend because I haven't written one of these posts in a while :)

Friday

• Realized the flowers in my beautiful green vase were dead.
• Knew I was too poor to buy fresh flowers every week.
• Went on a hunt for "natural" looking fake flowers.
• Aware natural looking and fake don't go together in the same sentence.
• (Except in breast enhancement commercials.)
• Found some fake calla lilies.
• Very satisfied with the end result.

(All of this happened before work because when I want something I'm psychotic and it has to be right then and there, damn it!)

• Left work at two in the afternoon for my third nipple removal surgery.
• Get to the doctor's office to be informed there was an "accidental fire in the operating room" and my surgery was rescheduled for the end of April.
• Wondered why they didn't call me, then realized I have no insurance and there's a reason why I chose said facility.
• Called Penelope & Miguel to meet for drinks.
• Wish I remembered more than Penelope saying "I have to go to church so I'm only having one drink" and then she had six.
• ... But I don't.

Fade To Black...

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Saturday

• Promised Britt to watch the "basketball" game at Sandbar.
• Britt's late (as usual) so Ryan and I go buy vodka slushies for the ride over.

I wish I could keep this post going but I just had an incredibly long dinner of tapas and wine and now it's Sunday and almost midnight and I'm trying to write something like a responsible blogger but apparently being responsible is not my forte.

Here are the highlights: I bought kitty cat glasses for $6.00 at Target and I am in lurv with them.

Ryan was so sick on the way to Sandbar on Saturday afternoon that he threw up his slushie and chicken nugget combo on the sidewalk of a darling Coconut Grove street. Once he was done and I was over feeling sorry for him, there was an older man limping in the rain selling peeled oranges in a bag. And I was all, "Ryan, can we buy oranges from the guy with the limp."

Ryan: But his hands are all dirty.

Me: It's raining! Poor dude.

Ryan: His hands are dirty, Annah. Do you want to eat dirty oranges?

Me: I don't want to eat oranges at all. I just wanna buy 'em so he can go home and drink a beer.

Ryan: He has three bags. He's not going home any time soon.

Me: Please! Pleeeeeeeeeeeeease. I want oranges. Please? Buy two bags.

I'm very convincing when I want to be.

Then I want to say something really exciting happened after that but mostly we just went to Sandbar and had beer and some of us drank Coca Cola because we were too hungover for liquor and Britt said she was going to California for a wedding in May and everyone thought it'd be fun to purchase tickets on their phones to fly to Cali.

So we did.

Then we made plans to go salsa dancing until the sun came up but instead we went home and passed out at seven in the evening and didn't wake up until noon the next day.

Yeah...

Nothing else of interest took place because Sunday is family day as you should already know if you pay *any* attention to this blog whatsoever. I finished my Dia de Familia at six in the evening and came home to flip through magazines and found an old version of Traveler's which mentioned a restaurant in Miami named Bin No. 18. I then texted my boyfriend with "There's a restaurant named Bin No. 18 and I really want to go."

And he replied with "Whatever bin you stick yourself in is bound to be interesting" and I silently cursed the day I decided a long distance relationship was a good idea (yet again) but also thought I was blessed to have friends whom I annoy enough to go with me to places called Bin No. 18 and buy dirty oranges.

I took pictures:

We drank three bottles of wine. And they had this incredible manchego cheese with slices of guava and all sorts of ham and chorizo and wow, guys.

A culinary orgasm just bursting in your mouth and not the type that induces vomit, but moreso the kind that makes your eyes roll back involuntarily and think, Ay Dios mio!

I came home after that and ate an orange.

A man with dirty hands peeled it for me.

Hyper Smash