Dick Whipped and Happy.

There exists times when you just can't keep mush out of your blog. Maybe this is where you un-follow. This totally, could be one of those times because you know what... I'm driving dwn a metaphorical fucking highway of domestication and publishing listographies like, stupid happy shit that i'm looking forward too.

I have a rad roomette. Who knew those existed!? Well, they do, and i have one! 

But i am mad antsy... 

(because i don't have a job) (and i haven't seen my lover in almost two months)

I am srsly ready to acquire a few basic adult-like things in my life you know! Example:
 

To live with my bf and make him nutritious bran zucchini muffins that i bless with my vibes.

To have a job, get dressed for job, interact with people while doing said job. To be told i am bad ass at my job.

Arizona's winter weather. Arizona: heat, cactus, thrift, running trails, new shit. Whatever. I'm even happy that i can be like, "oh hey, i went to AZ for the winter."

When my bed and my bf's bed, is the same bed and i can hear his sweet ZZzzZZzz and snores.

Simply to be busy, to have life of fullness, plans, to be tired.

Lift weights, with a gym membership, that is mine.
A "long day" followed by a gym sesh, fucking pounding it out, followed by a big fat go home and do dishes with a happy face because how could i help it, I'm pretty rad at this point.

Excited and ready as rainbows to share mutual friends, family occasions, and life, with bf.

Ready for nights/mornings when i look effortlessly bangin, and my bf is there to witness with a big boner for me.

Blasting (appropriately) my music that is beachy but in a Baja-Mexican-like way, in my car, in my house, in very warm weather.

Making fucking money!
Not smelling like a smoker (this is huge) because i will be a continued non-smoker with like, no smelly hair, without paranoid feelings about my hair smelling like a crack casino. 

Being in the same place as other people for an extend period of time, making chill palz because i live somewhere too and I'm able to commit to doing things, investing, being meaningful, with others.

To bone. And quiver and pant and make animal noises, in orgasms, in orgasmic aftermaths.

For my belongings to have a place. Really.
Learning Spanish/Spanglish.

Muh own fuckin place! 

Baby, 

I am lameness: I just wanna play house sometimes and make you some mad slow cooker vegan vanilla fig oatmeal topped with baklava filling.

Slow Cooker Vanilla Fig Oatmeal Topped with Baklava Filling!

fat free vegan recipes link, CLICK.

I'll stop about being all dick whipped. You understand, I have an ultimate-soul-mate-lover-stud-partner-made-for-you-person-guy and I'm gonna geek out and whore my societal gender based role, sometimes, maybe much more than I ever anticipated. And obviously, i'm re-blogging vegan recipes now.