Growing up I had a complicated relationship with my Portuguese-ness. I kept seeing everything with this invisible dichotomous line; keeping some parts of my life from mixing once I was mainstreamed into public school.
My boyfriend and I are trying something new here: honesty with each other.
Just like any relationship, there have been times of little (sometimes big) lies between us.
Since I bake everything in real-time and eat everything almost immediately, it’s a little difficult for me to always be timely with seasonal desserts. I like to call this “authenticity”. Ya know, to cover up for the “laziness” in typing.
Remember how my last post was written about how I haven’t really seen my godmother? SURPRISE TWIST: I wrote that post forever ago, and guess what! We now cool again. How fun right? We so cool we even got to go to her house for thanksgiving. She made this… dinosaur of a fucking turkey.
Okay, so I guess these could be called “tarts” or “muffins” if “muffins” to you means “small baked roasty treat popped in your mouth for maximum happiness”. I mean if we’re gonna be throwing “words” around “here” we might as well make this all very “clear”. I make to make sure there’s no room for “misunderstanding”, “capisce”?
First things first: MY BLOG HAD IT’S FIRST BIRTHDAY!! 🎂🎂🎂
She turned 1 on the 2nd of July. Let me tell you, I am pretty damn proud. It’s like keeping a plant alive: if you cry all over it enough it will grow into something kind of presentable!
Err, or something like that.
Last Sunday I went on a date with a buff blond hair green-eyed man, who owns an expensive car and his father’s construction company along with other side businesses. He took me to an expensive restaurant and paid for my dinner and he dropped me off at home right after like in those old-timey movies.
The date sucked.
My friends all went to the beach on Monday and kindly invited me out on Sunday. I declined early because I was still at the Portuguese 4th of July party drinking wine like the world was ending. When my friends asked why I wouldn’t be able to go I
drunkingly told them because I already had too much to drink, so I would be hungover and possibly couldn’t go to the beach the next day.
Confession time: This is a lie. I’m so fucking lazy I couldn’t bare the idea of getting up at 9am so I could leave to go to the beach at 9:30am. Nope nope. Fuck that noise. I ain’t getting up that early. What do I look like to you? An early morning Wizard? There’s a reason I’m unemployed, people.