So, I’ve been absent for almost three months. If I was speaking purely from imagination, I’d tell you now of my amazing vacation around the world. The kind of spiritual journey described in Eat. Pray. Love. Oh, the elephant rides and exotic food. I’m a changed being.

But since this is  place of honesty: I just sort of forgot. For a solid six weeks I genuinely forgot that I had a blog. It’s even saved as a favorite on my dashboard for chrome. I should really consider joining Lumosity. That can’t be healthy.

Last week, I noticed the little WordPress icon at the top of my screen and thought, “Yeah, I should probably get back to that.” If anything, I need to start writing again purely to preserve a little sanity. I quite enjoy my little sharing circle. Where any judgement can be marked as spam. Blogging rocks.

I did complete rehab and it was everything it was supposed to be. I have some drafts saved that I will now get around to finishing and publish. While I was there, I had the delusion that I’d have some free time to write. I was severely mistaken. I’ll talk about that later.

Thank you for being patient with me. I did in fact forget you (sorry), but I’m back. A little late, but here all the same. Like a sequel from Pixar.

xx Courtney


Where’s My Tour Bus?

I have a love/hate relationship with many things. Road trips are one of them.

I love road trips in the nostalgic, seeing America sort of way. Turning up the radio and passing weird things you never knew existed? Pretty fantastic. However, there is nothing fantastic about being in a confined space for hours with noisy people. I believe I was meant to be an artist with a large private tour bus and paid driver.

Living the dream

That, of course, would require singing talent. Or at least autotune. As I am a nineteen-year-old on my way to a hospital rehab facility, the tour bus was not made available to me. Something about “lack of funds.” I was instead offered a Toyota Camry with the accompaniment of my mother and brother.

I love my family. Truly, I do. With the exception of my father, they’re all very outgoing and wildly entertaining. This is great for when you need a good laugh. It is slightly less welcomed when you are in a car that seats five-max.

Now, given the societal impression that women are louder than men, I’m sure you’re thinking it’s my mother who’s voice is still ringing in my ears. You would be wrong. My brother’s voice packs the punch of a sorority alumni meeting. It also reaches the same pitch. It’s quite astounding actually.

Within the first few hours, the sound war had already begun.


“I SWEAR, I’M GOING TO (insert something horrendously violent and out-of-character)!”

“Seriously, just kill me now.”


What can I say? Annoy me and the words that come out of my mouth either double or halve my age.

As of now, I have a constant headache. When doctors ask how many headaches I have a week, the answer is one. I have had the same headache for over three years now. At this point, I should name it. Something bitchy.

This may come as a shock, but loud noises make headaches worse. Very loud noises make me feel like I’m dying. The level of noise that my brother sends into the world makes me homicidal. If you see me in the news for somewhat murderous charges, you will know why.

This particular road trip was divided into three days of driving. My mother and I did it in two last September, but it was just too much. We waited until school ended for the little one and headed to our first stop in Colorado Springs.

Did I mention it was my brother’s sixteenth birthday? I suppose he’s not so little anymore, but it pisses him off when I call him anything referencing him being young. So I will continue to do it. One of my personal favorites is “Baby Mitch,” which I called him when we were younger. I usually drag that one out of hiding when he’s complaining about something stupid. Sisterly love.

We tried to make his birthday as special as possible. Obviously, this was not his first choice of activities. But, it’s just the way things worked out. He picked out the movies to watch in the car (Finding Nemo and The Breakfast Club), and chose what fast food was picked up on the way. Reservations were made at a nice hotel for the night. Standards were far beyond our norm for rest stops. We normally drive as much as we can, then look up a decent place in the AAA guidebook. This one had an indoor pool, restaurants, wii games in the lobby, and a chef working an omlette bar come morning. It had an upscale cabin vibe, given the mountain surroundings. Definitely better than your standard Marriott with continental breakfast. Seeing as most kids in our town just get drunk on their sixteenth, I think his experience was an upgrade.


Could have been worse

The next two days resulted in a lot of laughing, fighting, sleeping, and pill-popping. Being in a small car makes Advil exceptionally desirable. It also makes duct tape and rope desirable. Draw your own conclusions.

As of now, I am officially in Minnesota. Let’s just hope this week is easier than the drive.

xx Courtney


They Tried to Make Me Go To Rehab…

I’m going to let you in on a secret:

I am headed to rehab.

Nope, not that kind of rehab. Although I have objected with a speech surprisingly similar to that of Amy Winehouse, I will not be checking in for substance abuse, sex addiction, or to fulfill a court order. I’m going for a rehab trend that has yet to hit the Hollywood Hills: physical rehabilitation.

Yes, ladies and a few gentlemen, there is a facility designed for those who are in constant pain. My fairly impressive medical history has given me the insurance approval to travel to freezing-as-balls Minnesota for a month. Lucky me!

The rehabilitation is through the Mayo Clinic (shocker, right?). Mayo Clinic has three locations: hot and sunny Arizona, hot and beachy Florida, and there-is-not-enough-clothing-to-make-me-warm Minnesota. So where do they decide to set up shop for the already afflicted? Minne-freakin’-sota. Who the hell was in charge of that?! I know that my emotional reception would be so much greater if I could have ocean breaks. Fact.

Unfortunately I am not on the board that makes such decisions. I’m just the pawn, buying into the hopes of feeling better. So, to Minnesota I go! I suppose if I can get my life back, or rather start a new life, I can tough it out for four weeks.

Luckily, this is an out-patient program. If I had to live at the center, I would then need to add something else to my calendar: full-on psychiatric intervention. I just know that there will be some people there that I’ll definitely need a to get away from. I’m all for misery loves company, but sometimes misery needs a break. Preferably a break with food and Real Housewives.

What I am truly dreading is waking up early. Call time is 8:00. What does the world even look like at 8 AM? I could describe in great detail what 3 AM looks like, but early daylight hours are nothing but a distant memory. Like Lunchables and MASH. A bit of time has passed since I last had to be up at a specific time everyday. Especially such an early time. Even the last few years I was in high school, I never had a first period class. My days have not started before 9:30 AM since I was a sophomore.

It was decided that my mother and I will be road-tripping this one for all 1,200 miles. That’s a grand total of 2,400 miles for a round trip and approximately 40 hours of driving. Going with my mother isn’t all that bad. I’m just really awful at sitting still for any amount of time. I’ve always had trouble staying in one place and I have Restless Legs Syndrome (it’s a real thing, I swear). With all the actual baggage I have to bring with me, flying would’ve turned into a nightmare. We also needed to have a car. You know, to go places other than a hospital.

For the first week, my brother will be joining us. After all, what teenager wants to spend spring break on the couch doing nothing?

How I'm spending Spring Break. .. THAT CHIP COMES BACK

He is flying back after a lovely week of blood tests and inevitable group therapy with me. So much better than endless hours of television. You’re welcome, little one.

I have expectations for the outcome, but none for the process. Let’s just hope no one wants me to dress in more than yoga pants.

xx Courtney

The Best of Jorn Tromolto, err, John Travolta

Unless you’ve been barred from any form of social media or human interaction, you know about the wonderfully botched introduction at the Oscar’s. For those who are unfamiliar (or just love watching it as much as I do), here’s John Travolta’s welcoming prelude to “Let it Go,” as performed by IDINA MENZEL.

Note: The video I originally linked was taken down. It has been updated!

Get it together, Travolta. We all screw up, but Adele Dazeem? That isn’t even close! I was forced to watch the Oscar’s on Sunday, so I saw this screw-up in all its live glory. There are reports that John Travolta is dyslexic and misread the teleprompter. I get it. My brother is dyslexic and often mispronounces things when he reads, as well. My personal favorite is when he mixes up “Santa” and “Satan.” However, wouldn’t you know who you are introducing? It’s called practicing. If someone has a name you are unfamiliar with, ask. Don’t take your dyslexic chances and wing it.

As I expected (and prayed for), the internet has reacted in the most spectacular way.

Quite a few twitter accounts were started right after the awards. They have been continuously updated and fabulous. My favorite is @adeledazeem.

 My favorite movie is Freezing.

Adele shouldn’t get all the attention. Give it up for Mr. Tromolto.

this deserves endless reblogs.

This is certainly one of my favorites. After all, Idina Menzel is “wickedly talented.”

Okay, I laughed at this one for a pretty solid amount of time. The second I saw “Bumperstump Cabbagepatch” I burst out laughing.

10 John Travolta Quotes Updated After the 2014 Oscars John Travolta totally nailed his introduction of Idina Menzel (aka Adele Dazeem) at the Oscars last night. What if he’d delivered his most famous movie lines the same way?

Funny or Die updated  some of John’s best quotes after the Oscar’s. You can find all of them here.

Elsa is not amused.

So, I just made this after remembering Travolta failing at the name Les Miserables last year. I couldn’t resist.

You would think that Travolta would have learned to rehearse his introduction after botching the name of the well-known musical last year. I’m seeing a pattern.

I’m talking to you, John Travolta.


“Maybe if I say it really fast, no one will notice.” -The Mind of Travolta

Bonus! There is a website that will “Travoltify” your name. You may call me Corey Pay-ne.

I think the moral of the story is to practice when you will be speaking in front of a live audience, as well as millions of viewers. I certainly hope that John Travolta can laugh at himself. But if not, we’ll just have to do it for him.

xx Courtney

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I’ve Worn Real Clothes for Four Days and the World Has Yet to End

Apparently, most people get up and get dressed in the morning. I am not one of those people. I prefer to stay in my pajamas until I take a shower, after which I change into different pajamas. It’s pretty awesome. I don’t see why more people don’t do it.

My lovely grandparents came into town last Friday. I don’t feel the need to go all-out, mega impressive. However, it is not considered okay to walk around in pants printed with Christmas trees. (Yes, I am aware that Christmas is over, and no I will not stop wearing Holiday-themed pajama pants. Everyone knows that the most comfortable sleepwear is produced in winter.) After trying to find a way out of it, I was left with only one option: actual clothing.

Plus, I knew the would want to do things like go out and leave the house. I know there are some that find it socially acceptable to exit their home in nightwear, I do not. I have some dignity left. Seriously, unless there is a major emergency, you should at least be wearing track pants. Get it together, high school girls. It’s not cute. I remember driving up to school once and I saw a freshman get out of her parent’s car and wave goodbye. As soon as the vehicle drove away, she took off her baggy sweatpants to reveal a pair of Hello Kitty pajamas underneath. Really?!

Anyways, after I went shopping for some “normal clothes,” I was prepared for a very different kind of weekend. I was going to have to things that I am so not used to.

I woke up on Friday with a large to-do list. I completely put off was too busy to get it all done beforehand. My stuff was all over the house and I was still in my attire of choice. With only a few hours before their arrival for dinner, I got to work. Lucky for me, everyone else was out of the house for a while. I seem to get more done when I’m by myself. I scrambled to put my boxes of God-knows-what into what has been deemed the “hoarder’s room.” It’s basically the room where everyone puts their crap that doesn’t seem to have a place. The fact that we still have boxes all over the house after living here for three years is a bit pathetic.

After making the common areas look presentable came the moment of truth. No yoga pants, no lounge wear, no sports bras. I stared at my dark-wash jeans wondering if there was still any way to get out of it. Do my jeans even fit? I think I may have worn them in January?

But, I did my makeup, pulled my hair half-up (baby steps), and put on those straight-legs. I even wore a sweater, breaking the mold by layering with something other than a hoodie. I also put on some earrings and a bracelet. My grandfather is a jeweler by trade, so showing up without some bling would be heavily frowned upon.

My extended family stayed for about four hours that night. Enough time to eat dinner, play cards, and listen to embarrassing stories about my father’s childhood. They had a long day of flying and layovers, so we didn’t expect them to stay too long. I got to bed late (shocker) and ended the first of four days in real clothes.

The rest of the weekend presented a few challenges. For one, I had to wake up early. Well, early for me. I didn’t want to be inconsiderate, rolling out of bed whenever I felt like. On top of that, I genuinely enjoy the company of my grandparents. They were only staying until Monday (today), so I wanted to take full advantage of the time I had with them.

Saturday was spent in Santa Fe, as my tiny town only has so much to offer. We divided our day by looking at old churches, walking in heavy rain, and going into my favorite oil and vinegar store. The night ended perfectly by eating at a lovely Italian restaurant that was booked solid. My grandfather has unmatched charm and quick thinking, which got us in right away and without a reservation. It was wonderful.

On Sunday, my brother was presented with his Eagle Scout award. This was the main purpose for my family’s visit. We listened to endless speeches and watched various people distribute an unusual amount of pins and recognition pieces. The highlight was my grandfather’s introductory speech. It was short, sweet, and so beautiful. My mom cried. It was really nice to attend such a special event of my brother’s. I haven’t always been able to go to his award ceremonies and celebrations. This is the “big deal” award ceremony, so I was happy to be able to support him.

Following the talking and a bit of cleanup, we came home and watched the Oscars because my grandparents like the Oscars. I’m indifferent towards award shows. I like the dresses and the highlights. I get all I need to know from social media and Fashion Police.

Then Monday comes around (cue Switchfoot song), and I am once again subjected to the ways of the convential. Getting up and getting dressed is hard. How do you do it everyday?! But I’m wearing jeans again and the world appears to still be intact.

I met my grandparents at their hotel for breakfast for some final laughs and goodbyes. Because they live in California, I don’t have the luxury of seeing them often. Whenever I have the opportunity to have them around, I treasure it. Besides, I always walk away with a few blackmail stories regarding my father.

Subsequently, the long weekend has left me very tired. I participated in so much more than I typically do. I don’t see myself taking on so much everyday from this point forward, as I would burn out very quickly. All the doctors that I’ve had, the good ones anyways, have stressed the importance of not over-doing it. Of course, there is the exception of having family in from out of town.

Now that the visit has passed, I kind of missed my comfortable clothes. You can’t blame me, right? I wasn’t scared, necessarily, of putting on real clothes. Because that would be crazy. I, like in a lot of things, had become too comfortable in my surroundings. But in the end, I accomplished quite a bit. I joined civilization and put on some concealer. Plus, I learned that putting on a pair of jeans every once in a while isn’t going to kill me.

xx Courtney

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Is “Get a Hobby” an Insult if it Comes from Your Doctor?

sad bored hobby

My doctor was much kinder, but the message is essentially the same.

It might be time to reevaluate your life when even your doctor is telling you to get a hobby.

I will be going back to Mayo Clinic in the coming months for a three-week program. Before my dates were set, I had to be “approved” by someone who works there. Basically, they were just making sure I wasn’t a drug addict or someone with violent tendencies. During the phone call, the man asked, “What do you do for fun?” Because I have a rule about lying to doctors/medical professionals, I replied honestly.


As I spoke the truth, the answer burned. My reality was upsetting for many reasons. I hadn’t consciously chosen to eliminate enjoyable things from my life. With all of my medical issues, I just didn’t have time. My world revolved around the specific goal of getting better. Adjectives formerly used to describe my life were replaced with different words, like recovery, treatment, and therapy. In the process of making room for the aspects of my new normal, something had to give. Fun was that thing.

I was sad because this wasn’t my choice. This wasn’t the result of teenage angst or rebellion. My life was turned upside down in the blink of an eye. You know how celebrities say that their lives changed over night once they got their big break? Mine changed overnight, too. Except, when I woke up I didn’t have fans and magazine covers. I had blood tests and doctor’s appointments.

Last September, my doctor made it clear that I need to focus on me. For the past five years, my health has been my only priority. In that sense, I was decent. As far as remaining happy and working on myself as a person? Not so much.

I used to have lots of hobbies. I was in drama club, swim team, writing academy (a story for another post), and a slew of other moderately impressive activities. I also actually had a social life and went out on the weekends.


I’m a believer in doing the things that you want. What I wanted to do was stay home, wear yoga pants, and watch Supernatural reruns. Apparently, this is not acceptable for everyday life.

After being told that my way of life is, in fact, not a way of life, I had to reexamine. Sure, I didn’t have hobbies. That’s a relatively easy fix. What really concerned me is that I wasn’t particularly interested in getting one. There are definitely some days that I really can’t leave the house. When it feels like you’re being consistently stabbed in the head, even breathing seems like a chore. Get up and do something? Nope. Not happening. When I really thought about it, there are some days when I find that I could go out and do something, but I don’t want to.

This left me with two problems to sort out.

1. I had no hobbies/enjoyable things to occupy myself with.

2. I didn’t care.

I quickly learned that getting a hobby wasn’t going to be my biggest obstacle. Finding the motivation to get one would be.

As I said before, my prescription for fun was handed to me back in September. It was renewed during that phone conversation with the hospital. I neglected to fill it until this year.

Since I have been feeling a little better due to my regular acupuncture, I have a restored sense of living. I want to try things. I want to do things. One of my resolutions was to get a hobby. So, I decided to stray from the crowd and actually stick to it! No time like the present, right?

I am working on some posts to share the things that I’ve done in continuation with my previous alternative therapies post. It should get interesting.

In the past month, especially, I rediscovered the motivation I lost years ago. I don’t feel like I’m getting back to the old me, but rather forming into a better version of the person I was always meant to become.

xx Courtney

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Needles and Golden Pills: A Month of Alternative Therapy (a Mulan GIF Presentation)

I’ve been absent from the blogosphere in order to be a more functional person on Earth. I’ve told you all before that I have a chronic illness that is not entirely under control at the moment, and it was time to do something about it.

Okay, maybe not this dramatic.

I’ll premise my past by saying that medication of any kind does not work for me. For starters, I am allergic to basically everything. Its hard to weigh the benefits when your airways are rapidly becoming smaller. The (very) few pills that don’t cause anaphalactic shock just have zero effect on me. Its like taking sugar pills. Really horrible sugar pills.

When I was in Minnesota to visit the Mayo Clinic last year, I found doctors who understood that a prescription was never going to solve my problems. It was the first time that an M.D. really discussed the different types of alternative therapies. Sure, I had doctors recommend other things before (i.e. yoga, tai chi), but never truly approached the idea of secondary medicine. Sorry doctor, but sometimes diet and exercise just isn’t going to cut it.

I was told to slowly incorporate many different forms of treatment. One of the top recommendations? Acupuncture.


I hate needles. Most people do. When my mom was working in a hospital, she even met heroin addicts who were terrified of needles. Go figure! Because of my rather extensive medical history, the majority of my life has been spent as a test subject. Between injections, IVs, and blood tests, I have had quite a bit of experience with pokey objects. I’ve had some pretty awful situations that have deterred me from needles completely.

My immediate family has been wanting me to try acupuncture for about two years. My grandfather has also been actively pushing me to go for a solid three.  Once the  doctor demanded it last September, my fate was solidified. I may be a legal adult, but I knew I wasn’t going to have much choice in the matter. It would only be a matter of time before I was dragged taken to the acupuncturist.

That time came about three weeks ago. The patience of my mother was at a low point, while the pain in my neck was at a high point. When you are in an excessive amount of pain, you’re willing to do pretty much anything to make it better.

To be completely honest, the first thing I thought about after making the appointment was the “Ancestors Awakening” scene from Mulan.

“My children never caused such trouble. They all became acupuncturists!”

The second was this:

I feel ya, Ping.

But sometimes, you have to suck it up. If there was a possibility that this could make me feel better, I had to at least try. My neck was in excruciating pain and I was desperate. As for the fear? I was just going to have to get over it.

The day of my first appointment made me anxious. On one hand, I really wanted to go. I wanted to feel better. If this is what was going to help, awesome. On the other hand, I wanted to hide under a blanket, call in sick, and unlearn (is that a word?) the meaning of acupuncture.

My sentiments exactly.

But when I make a commitment, I make a commitment. My plan was to go into that office pretending I had no reservations whatsoever. I was a praised actress in drama club, I could certainly pull off the “no fear” act. The acupuncturist would never know I was practically crying on the inside.

After filling out some paperwork and being thoroughly questioned on my reasons for being there, it was time. She started my session by giving me some Chinese herbs “to relax.” They were in pill form and very strange looking. It was oddly shaped and golden in color. I don’t know about you, but I have never taken pills that looked like they were coated in gold leaf. I had no idea what the herbs were, but took them anyways. When my mom was in college, her roommate’s mother used to send Chinese herbs from Taiwan. This roommate would always give her some, and the effects were apparently wonderful. I think there’s a rule to Chinese herbs. You’re not supposed to know what they are, you just take them. I then removed my shirt and waited for the inevitable. She brought out a scary-looking electric massager. It probably looked scary to me because I HATE massages. I don’t have anything against other people touching me, I’m just very sensitive. Most are really into the whole “deep tissue” thing, but it is incredibly painful for me. She could tell I was not enjoying this particular therapy, as could my mother who was situated in the corner of the room, but she continued. I didn’t know at the time, but it was going to make me feel much better. I don’t know what it is about acupuncturists, but they just know what you need. You’re hurting, but they just smile knowing that you won’t be soon. No pain, no gain, right?

After torturing my back and neck in the kindest possible way, it was the moment of truth. I heard her opening the package of sterile needles and started to calmly panic. She had told me in the beginning that she would start slow, as to not send my body (and my psyche) into overdrive. She tapped on my back three times and placed the needle into the upper part of my right shoulder blade. I felt it for a few seconds and then- nothing. Seriously. It was a very anticlimactic moment. I had protested and procrastinated for years to avoid absolutely nothing. I’ve felt more pain from a paper cut.

I now have appointments twice a week. On Mondays and Wednesdays, I look forward to going in for the most relaxing hours of my life. I can tell that it is working because these massages hurt less and less each time. I’m like a completely different person. Today, I actually liked the massage.

I would highly recommend acupuncture to anyone. I can certainly say that acupuncture no longer scares me. I enter the building confident and ready.

Stick ’em in, doctor.

When I leave, I am so relaxed. After my appointment today, I told my lovely acupuncturist that I had never felt so calm in my life. The world’s problems melt away when I’m there. It feels good to not only have less pain, but to have conquered a major fear of mine. I’m still scared of needles and will avoid them in any other situation. With acupuncture, though, I will happily make an exception.

xx Courtney

Have you ever gotten acupuncture? Would you consider trying it?

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Nutter Butters Make Me Nauseous (and other adult revelations)

Things are different as you grow up. Likes and dislikes change, how you view the world changes, as well as most everything else. In my opinion, everyone should always maintain a healthy amount of childishness. Who says you can’t have brownies in the shapes of stars or that sprinkles are just for kids?

With that said, I am happy to no longer be an adolescent. I’m perfectly content with the age that I currently am. Every once in a while, I will revisit various favorites from my childhood only to come to a startling conclusion: my said former favorite is horrendous. What the hell was I thinking? I don’t care how young  I was, how did I find that appealing? Sometimes, bringing up things from the past isn’t nostalgic, it’s traumatizing. I am now referring to these as things I liked in my past life. I refuse to believe that I am the same person as my elementary-school-aged self.

On the other hand, things that I once despised turned out to be pretty good after all! Gaining a few years can introduce you to some really awesome things. I guess brain development really does open some pretty cool doors.

In the spirit of an incident involving a particular manufactured cookie, I thought about some food opinions I consider to be pretty adult:

Nutter Butters Make Me Nauseous (and other adult revelations)  SheWearsManyCrowns.com

1. Nutter Butters are disgusting. I used to love those peanut-shaped cookies. When I got them in my lunch, it was a special occasion. The other day, I discovered some mini Nutter Butters in the pantry that my dad had brought home. “I used to love these!” I thought. “I’m sure they still taste good,” my delusional self continued. So I sat on the couch and opened the bag. It was the first time I had tried one in probably eight years. Those precious treats from my childhood had somehow turned into peanut butter demons. Seriously, what do they put in those?! I don’t know if the recipe has been changed or if my palate was actually that underdeveloped. Either way, I am ashamed to say that I ever liked the abominable, sickeningly sweet, artificial peanut devil cookies.

2. Escargot is wonderful. I remember watching my mother eat it in my developmental years and always responding with, “Ewwwwww!” Now, I can truly appreciate this wonderful French delicacy. I was actually tricked into trying them. My mom had made a pasta topped with “special mushrooms.” Looking back, I really should have inquired more about these mushrooms. At this point in my life, if anyone says they put something “special” in my food, I’m going to assume its drugged and run away. Anyways, I tried these “mushrooms” and loved them. Shortly after I finished my meal, my father broke the news to me. I was hysterical. I’m not really big on being deceived. I was able to get over it, however, when I started craving Escargot the next day. Just as a personal preference, I only eat escargot imported from France. I have an uncle that is from France, so he always brings a ton home whenever he visits. Because my family appears to love me, they share! Nowadays, it is not uncommon for my brother and I to share a whole bunch of escargot with butter, garlic and herbs for dinner. Mmmmm.

3. American cheese is not real cheese. Remember that Kraft commercial that said, “a country is only as good as its cheese?” If that were found to be true, we are the most appalling country on the planet. When I went to McDonald’s as a kid, I always ordered a cheeseburger. I thought they were fantastic! Now, I’m all about the good stuff. Goat cheese or bust. There is no way I will ever revert to putting that artificial, flimsy, faux-cheese on anything I eat. There are so many good cheeses in this world! Eat those instead! I don’t know about you, but I think a grilled cheese with gouda or a serving of baked brie sounds a hell of a lot better than “processed cheese squares.”

4. There is more to pizza than pepperoni. Most kids order the standard cheese or one-topping pizza. Why would you want to put anything on there? Because it’s delicious, that’s why. Sometimes, I even get pizza with salad on top. Oh, the horror! Pizza is awesome with pesto, spinach, chicken, peppers, pineapple, and so much more. I don’t think I’ve ordered a plain pizza in years. My current favorite is called a Calypso pizza, which I get at my local pizzeria. It has Canadian bacon, pineapple, chicken, bell peppers, onion, and smoked bacon. It sounds a little weird, but the combination is so, so good. Another favorite of mine is pretty much anything with goat cheese.

Has your taste in food changed over the years? What do you like now that you didn’t before? Let me know in the comment section!

xx Courtney

P.S. My blog is now available on Bloglovin’! Feel free to follow me here!

My Favorite Off-Air Shows

I like to become obsessive over shows that haven’t aired a new episode in years. There isn’t a support group for it, so I’m just going to believe its healthy and normal.

Here are my favorites:

1. Buffy the Vampire Slayer

{Source: Pinterest}

{Source: Pinterest}

If you haven’t seen this show, you should. The writing is witty and Buffy kicks ass! Seven seasons aired, as well as a spin-off show “Angel.” It is a show that appeals to most everyone. There’s fighting, friendship, comedy, and normal, human problems. The title makes it pretty obvious that there is going to be some death involved, but it’s not gory. Joss Whedon made the show masterfully violent. She’s fighting evil without every scene revolving around her battle skills. Also, a study suggests that watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer could make men less sexist. Who said television had no purpose? Re-runs air occasionally on FX.

2. Pushing Daisies

{Source: Pinterest}

{Source: Pinterest}

This is one of the most charming shows I have ever seen. I have watched every episode multiple times and I still cry during the finale. No joke. It aired two seasons and was cancelled mostly due to the writer’s strike in 2008. The basic premise of the show is that the main character, Ned, is a pie shop owner who can bring people back to life simply by touching them. However, if the person remains alive for more than one minute, someone else dies. It sounds morbid, and it is, but the show is simply spectacular. I suppose it does fall into the crime and mystery category, but it is nothing like your typical, run-of-the-mill crime scene show. Pushing Daisies is light and cheery. Plus, the love story of Ned and Chuck (his childhood crush that he brought back to life), is perhaps one of the most underrated, beautiful love stories of all time. Re-runs are shown sometimes on Chiller.

3. Lizzie McGuire

{Source: Pinterest}

{Source: Pinterest}

Ahh, the Disney Channel glory days. This was my favorite show when I was younger. I use the word obsession with its full definition in mind. If Lizzie McGuire was on TV, I watched it. If a shirt had Lizzie McGuire on it, I bought it. The soundtracks? Yep, have those too. I still find the show relevant. It dealt with real issues about growing up and being in school. A part of me still wants to grow up to be Lizzie McGuire. Besides, basically all the Disney Channel shows from when I was a kid are immensely better than what is on now. Phil of the Future and Kim Possible? Awesome! Dog With a Blog? No. No. No. No….No.

4. The Simple Life

{Source: Pinterest}

{Source: Pinterest}

This is definitely a guilty pleasure of mine. I still find this reality TV gold to be totally enjoyable. My mother had me watch when I was younger. I distinctly remember her saying, “If you ever act like Paris Hilton, I will never stop crying.” Solid advice there, Mom. There were so many wonderfully tragic moments throughout the series. I especially love the episode where Paris and Nicole worked at Sonic. Their choice of wording for the sign was comical. Nicole was, without a doubt, my favorite. I found her to be much more interesting than her ditzy counterpart. Because of this show, I am completely determined to name my next dogs Honey Child and Foxy Cleopatra.

5. United States of Tara

{Source: Pinterest}

{Source: Pinterest}

I absolutely love this show. Toni Collette was simply spectacular in her role as Tara, as well as a few others. Tara is a woman with Disassociative Identity Disorder, formerly known as Multiple Personality Disorder. She has many “alters” including a 50’s housewife, rebellious teenager, and redneck man. My personal favorite is Gimme, an unidentified animal who wears a red poncho and once peed on Tara’s father. It was hilarious. She struggles with being a wife and mother to her two children, Kate and Marhsall. Her life is literally overtaken by other people. Her alters usually appear when she is under stress, as DID is a rare and extreme coping mechanism. The bottom line is that this show is both genius and wildly entertaining. I laugh during every episode.

What are your favorite off-air shows? Have you ever watched the ones I like? Let me know in the comment section.

xx Courtney

The Psychology of Favorites

I have trouble committing to my favorite things. When someone asks me which food I love the most or the color I couldn’t live without, I have always had trouble answering.

Some psychologists believe that people who cannot decide on their favorite things have at least one of a few issues:

  1. This is the beginning stage of commitment issues. If you can’t commit to something as small as a  song, you couldn’t possibly commit to a person.
  2. You are unfulfilled. You subconsciously feel that you do not have enough life experience to make a decision.
  3. You are emotionally underdeveloped, therefore incapable of syncing an internal response with an external thing.
  4. You are a control freak. Because you have not listened to every song or tried every type of pasta, you feel as though any answer you gave would be either dishonest or without indisputable evidence.
"So, you can't decide if your favorite food is pizza. How do you feel about that?"

“So, you can’t decide if your favorite food is pizza. How do you feel about that?”

Perhaps if you are having problems with one of the above things, indecision is a symptom. I’m not saying that these psychologists are wrong, but I think one more reason should be added to the list:

  1. You are human! You are allowed to change your mind! If this week your movie of choice is Moulin Rouge, but then you see Frozen and decide its better, who says you can’t give a new answer?! Your taste buds change all the time, why can’t your choices change with it?

For most, I don’t think this is an “issue.” I think this is normal! If you never changed your mind, your life would be very boring. When I was younger, I loved American cheese and struggled with any color that wasn’t pink. If my likes and dislikes never strayed from a list I developed at age three, that should be considered emotionally underdeveloped. Amiright?

Concluding my rant, I will continue to change my mind. If I want to wear leather today and go with all floral and lace tomorrow, I will! By the week, by the day, I will alter my favorites to suit whoever I decide to be.

Who knows? Maybe I'll decide my favorite thing to do is dress up like an ice cream cone and chase unsuspecting adults in parking lots. I DO WHAT I WANT! Source: thecostumeland.com

Who knows? Maybe I’ll decide my favorite thing to do is dress up like an ice cream cone and chase unsuspecting adults in parking lots. I DO WHAT I WANT!
{Source: thecostumeland.com}


So whenever someone asks me about my favorite things, I have learned to respond with, “It depends on the day.”


xx Courtney

P.S. I do not know where the psychology information officially came from. I read about it while I was taking a psychology course. The information provided was repeated through my mostly reliable memory!