story time: my dog is addicted to coffee

My dog, Baxter (also know as Boo-Boo, Bax, Baxy Boo-Boo, + Princess Boo-Boo), is a feisty, 15 year old Boston Terrier-Chihuahua mix.

Baxter is a spry + well behaved coffee addict. Her days of eating coiled DVD chargers, deodorant caps, pens, staples, sticks, stuffed animal squeakers + stuffing are long behind her.

Yes, you heard me right.

Baxter had a very mischievous youth. I never know what to credit all her poor food choices to, like maybe we never gave her enough toys to play with? Maybe she was hungry for attention? Or maybe it was her way of helping me clean up my bedroom? Or maybe she was just stupid.


But there’s no way that eating electrical cords tasted any good.

Over the years, this dog cost my family so much money due to all her belly surgeries that we were forced to get doggy insurance on her. Pet Insurance came at a time when my dad finally cracked. He threatened me, my mom, the dogs, “If ANY OF THEM eat dumb shit again, I’m not saving them. I’ll take them to the pound + let them handle it.”

Then, I yelled at my dad, slammed my bedroom door, locked it, + had one big ole meltdown. I cuddled my Jack Russel named Spot, I tore my room apart, ate an entire loaf of bread, made a lot of noise, + threatened to run away. You know, angsty 15-year-old stuff.

Well, after bringing Bax home from the vet, 6-months or a year went by, + my dad managed to forgive her. Then, she ate something else, + he saved her butt, but didn’t freak so bad, because he wised up + bought her insurance. Also, there’s no way my mom + I would have ever forgave him if he didn’t. The things we do for our pets.

Well, at some point, Boo-Boo stopped her reckless behavior. And I have only one solid theory that stands the test of time.

1. Coffee.

My dog is addicted to the coffee bean just like me.

Just…don’t tell Peeta.

She reminds me a lot of those old grannies who claim to live as long as they do because of their nightly shot of single malt whiskey. No joke, she’s as healthy as a horse + has stayed out of trouble for YEARS.

You’re probably wondering how this all started, so listen closely:

It was my mom’s fault, although it happened 100% on accident.

My mom, Mary, was the sweetest person I’ve ever met (but I’m biased), + Baxter was her BFF. When we brought Bax home as a puppy, she attached herself to my mom’s hip + she’s never let go. Ever.

She followed my mom to the bathroom, waited on the bathroom carpet until my mom finished showering, followed her to fold laundry. Bax followed her for everything. Every time my mom stood up from or shifted a centimeter in her big blue recliner, Baxter was doing the same. It was a never ending game of Shadow.

Mary, just like Bax, was not the healthiest.

This woman had a boatload of health problems, which led to not being able to hear + not being able to see well + not being able to walk all that great either. My mom was supposed to use a walker in the house, but preferred her weighted blue cane. But she preferred walking on her own even more.

“Fuck that cane,” she’d tell her girlfriends on the phone, all while laughing + remaining positive about her situation.

Sometimes, she’d try to sneak around the house without her cane, wobbling all the way, thinking she was fooling me + my dad. News flash: she wasn’t. But of course, Boo-Boo was right there beside her, dodging my mom’s feet as she swayed to the right + swayed to the left. But sometimes, Bax wouldn’t make it out of her way + one of them would always end up cursing at the other.

So now, imagine this but with Mary walking back from the kitchen with an oversized mug filled to the brim with Keurig coffee.

I’d offer my assistance to take her coffee over to the end table, but my mom would always say, “I’ve got it. Isn’t that right, Boobs?” (Another nickname for Bax, which I forgot to mention.) + Baxter would follow behind her, licking up all the coffee that sloshed out of her mug on the way to her chair.

Baxter obviously didn’t know what she was drinking, but as she was a natural begger, there was no way she wouldn’t slurp up  the liquid that tasted more like Coffee-Mate’s Hazlenut creamer than anything else. The next stage of Boo-boo’s addiction came months later, when she’d pounce on my mom’s lap wanting to drink the coffee straight out of the mug. My mom let her, thinking it was cute + funny.

Then, Baxter jonesed for it even more. After a while, Baxter stopped following my mom around the house, if it meant my mom would leave her coffee mug unattended. Bax would wait until she was far enough away or not paying attention to stick her face right into the cup, drink half of it, + pretend not to know why my mom was so grouchy when she came back.

My mom would brew another cup, + the cycle would continue.

That cycle continued until my mom passed away. Then, Baxter latched onto me as her supplier. No joke. Whenever I was home from college, Bax would start growling+ barking at me if she didn’t get a sip. Hey, I can’t blame her though. If I didn’t have coffee for a few months, I’d be a raging bitch too.

And I don’t think it’s all that much of a coincidence that Bax has been a coffee-fanatic for about the past six or seven years + has managed to stay out of major trouble for about six or seven years too.

So that brings us to today.

Whenever I bring Bax over for a sleepover at me + Joe’s apartment, I always make sure to put out her food + water bowl in the kitchen. Then I set down her mini bowl + custom coffee coaster on the floor next to my desk. Before I start working for the day, I pour us both a cup of coffee.

The amount I give her is just enough for a few licks, not enough to hurt her or cause heart-palpatiations. Those happened a few times when my mom would leave her mug unattended. But I give her just enough that she settles down, plays with her blue, angry bird, chew toy, + and falls asleep.

So now, I wanna know! How do you spoil your fur babies? Leave a comment below!

No dogs were harmed in the writing of this blog post.

the subtle art of not giving a f*ck

The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck: A Counterintuitive Approach to Living a Good LifeThe Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck: A Counterintuitive Approach to Living a Good Life by Mark Manson
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Ok. So. 12/10. That’s what I would give this book if I could, even though logistically that doesn’t work.

I think it’s a rarity for me to give books beyond perfect reviews, but here’s why I loved this one.

Manson got me into shape. Like metaphorically, he gave me abs. He’s the asshole trainer we all hate to love because he pushes you, and he’ll make you work for it. There are no “standing in front of the mirror and telling yourself you’re in great shape” sessions with Manson, which I feel like a decent chunk of self-help coaches get off on. Sure, sometimes a relaxing yoga session or light cardio is great. I’m all for it.

But damn, Marky Mark.

He basically came up to me and said, “You’re not going to get results by doing just that.” AKA the Yoga. AKA the affirmations/positivity/visualizations. Then, without even asking, started correcting me and telling me what to do.

And let me tell you guys, he was more annoying than my ex when he tried to get me into lifting. (I get very pissy when told what do or that I’m doing it wrong).

And like fuck. I wanted to shout at Mark, “This isn’t what I signed up for!!!” even though I very clearly bought the book and started reading. So, I guess I *kinda* did.

But, awful gym metaphor aside…

As someone who has drunk the #selfhelpkoolaid, I love how this book (through lots of wit and lots of cursing) was able to take me on a journey to a place that seemed too terrifying to go on my own. Manson slammed in some hard to choke down truths of failure, death, people sucking, and whether or not my existence matters in the way I think.

I read this book over the course of about a month for a couple reasons:
1.) I was slow on the uptake of Manson’s counterintuitive approach and couldn’t tell if I could get behind it, and
2.) Life was stressful as fuck, so the only solid time I could find time to read was on my lunch breaks at work.

OVERALL, I am so glad I read this at a slow pace.

It truly helped with Manson’s lessons sinking in, and after about a week of letting myself receive, I was able to start seeing all of his lessons swarming around me in everyday life, pointing out things that I had been neglecting to address for weeks in fear of inconveniencing other people/ pissing them off.

Like…putting in my resignation notice to start my own business. (Thank you, Mark.)

So, if you’re looking for a book to whip your ass into shape and give you some tough love, start reading this today.

View all my reviews

how to rock: a maxi romper

Lets be real, the Spring and Summer seasons are practically synonymous with graduation parties and weddings. And I’ve always dreaded them. There’s a delicate balance between looking nice but not too nice. Incorporating fashion for the season while keeping warm, dry, and comfy if you’re smacked with some unruly spring rain, ominous clouds, and lots of wind.

So what’s a peep to do?!?!

The solution is to rock a maxi-romper!

In this photo, I’m wearing one from Francesca’s that I scored on sale! Then, I completed the look with my classic Madden Girl strappy heals (one of my wardrobe staples) and a blazer from H&M (another bomb-ass staple).

The outfit, FYI, was pulled together for a University Theatre Banquet–and omg I felt so CONFIDENT + comfy in my own skin all night long. Also, IDK if it’s clear from this pic, but me and my squad had a lot of fun. 🙂

The whole goal of this outfit was to be able to wear every piece more than once, and I know that by the end of the summer, I’ll have worn this romper out. How could I not? It’s perfect for the beach! Fun trips with friends! Concerts! Dinners! Dates! Banquets!

The list goes on!

(Also, shout out to Jergens Natural Glow Instant Sun for saving my pasty ass skin)

music mix: covers galore for a cozy night in

When I was in high school, I always imagined spring break as the opportune time to spread out on a beach blanket, on a yacht, and drink frozen daiquiris.

Ok, I knew it never would actually happen because I’m a high key, broke-as-hell theatre student. But what I didn’t expect was to be trapped inside as Winter Storm Stella took her toll. Kinda awful. But kinda right up my ally (like I need another excuse to stay in and read or watch a Lord of the Rings marathon).

However, I’ve decided to take a few minutes and be the productive blogger that I am.

You know what that means?

As I’m curled up in bed with a cup of tea, I’m sharing with you some covers that I can’t stop grooving to. I didn’t plan to include three Ed songs…it just happened. But they’re damn good. So, get listening!

why i strive towards extreme minimalism

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Last summer, I spent six amazing weeks as a camp counselor at Interlochen Summer Arts Camp in Northern Michigan, and a part of my identity among both my coworkers and my campers was that I was striving to be a minimalist. One night during bunk-talk, me and my co-counselor asked all of our campers to assign their bunk mate what animal they are. When it came around to me and my co, we had all of our campers shout (shout-whisper?) what they thought we were in animal form.

For me, they thought I would be a turtle. When I asked why, they said, “Well you’ve always talked about being able to carry everything you own in a backpack and suitcase, so it’s like you have your home with you just like a turtle has their shell.”

For the past seven months, that comment has resonated with me, and it has helped me take more active steps to becoming an official “turtle” so to speak.

It hasn’t been an easy journey though as camp life and college life are polar opposite in terms of fashion and general hygiene upkeep. Throughout the summer, I was limited to a uniform and 1-2 outfits of “rec/street clothes” and only had a few minutes each day to wash my face and shower. And on top of that, makeup was just not a thing anyone had time for. However, in college, I love to look well put together and professional on a daily basis.

This factor equates to owning and needing more material goods, which makes it a lot harder to fit everything in a suitcase and backpack. But I refuse to stop trying.

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