Wonderful Wanders @adventurequeenz - Tumblr Blog

World's most beautiful places

When I stumbled across this link, I just knew I was going to love it. Stunning pictures of a host of places I just have to see. I've been to 9/100 so far, and I think it's a pretty great number to be at so far.

http://www.escapenormal.com/2012/06/23/the-100-most-beautiful-places-in-the-world-in-pictures/

My future, as told by Fran

My crazy biotch roommate #Fran took it upon herself to map out the various paths she can foresee for my #impendingfuture. Although for many this is a daunting and often scary task, Fran seems to have a special knack for predicting the future. Needless to say, any of the possibilities, were they to come true, would definitely leave me with an unending supply of things to rant about. Her ideas went as followed:

a) Holistic lifestyle, reproduce like a mormon, spend life on farm.

Fran made sure to paint a truly mesmerizing picture when describing my life as a farm wife. I would find myself a nice plaid, granola man namely with a long beard of sorts, marry the shit out of him and his farm, learn the ropes of being constantly covered in mud and reproduce faster than the rabbits we would no doubt have as pests or really pets. However, while I might still have a little dirt under my fingernails, I would also seamlessly be able to craft things and create a stunning "wild" yet refined farm house all the while making perfect packed lunches for my children to take to the hippie school they no doubt would walk to. At first this may seem like a massive leap back in time (aka Laura Engel anyone?) but to Fran, this seemed like the perfect way to match my need to be a little dirty while still creating a beautiful family worthy of an L.L.Bean catalogue or dare I even say Ralph Lauren fall photo shoot? While juggling my many tasks such as pickling, making jams and knitting Weasley-esq sweaters, I would be salting the meat for the "long winter ahead," as well as teaching my children to ride our various farm animals. Fran made sure to point out this would be ideally done in a rural, yet still somewhat accessible country village town somewhere in the North East or perhaps even the wild wild west.

b) Crazy hippie, hemp-clothed, philanthropist, english teacher:

Fran's second plan for me was to move to some sort of tragically poor, yet stunningly beautiful island (Fiji or Thailand perhaps?) and become a soulful yet strong hippie queen. I would live in a hut on stilts so as to be close to nature, allowing the ever-moving waves of the majestic ocean to pass beneath me as a constant reminder of the constant change we all must bow to in life. I would own only organic products mostly picked from my love garden, wearing clothes made of hemp and leaves. To cook, I would use my clay and mud oven built for me by my island lover. Although my main job would be spreading joy and love to every soul and being I had the privilege of meeting, my side job might include teaching english to the multitudes of students I would undoubtably treat as my own offspring. Fran made sure to point out that although my glowing tan and radient skin might enhance my current beauty, my hair care might take a slight downturn and turn to dreadlocks. As I would be living a life far removed from modern hair products my only hope would be the olive oil I would make from the olive tree in my love garden.

c) Stripper working her way up the stripper ladder, or pole if you will:

My life as a stripper would begin truly at its lowest, 40 miles outside of Las Vegas at a rather tragic joint where questioning my death would become a daily occurrence. However, luck would be on my side. Only weeks after truly getting my stripper legs, a powerful man driving into town would change my life forever. He would stop at my terrible club, only to see me on stage working what my mama gave me. And as with any classically cliche tale as this, he would notice my unbelievable tallent (Burlesque really can happen to us mere mortals, turns out we don't have to be Christina Aguilera). Taking me along with him to the city where all secrets stay, he would introduce me to the owner of a big league "gentlemen's club" where I would blossom and become a main attraction. Although I would draw crowds, after years of taking my clothes off and living a drug-hazed yet magical life, I would be ready to hang up my absolutely minuscule thong in order to pass on my tremendous gifts to my lower, less talented counterparts. I would become the most renowned teacher of mans favorite pastime second only to football. Wait...that cant be right...anyway, Fran did come up with a few more rather intriguing options, but the above three were deemed most likely to come true :)

#impendingfuture #Fran

"Go home bush, you're drunk"

I was out with two of my main gurlz (shall we call them "Trashy" and "The State") having a fabulous tipsy time. We had been at the bar, but after hearing of a flat party taking place down the road, decided it was time to move the party elsewhere. We "borrowed" a box of cruisers and went on our tipsy way. After trying to force a taxi driver to take the 6 of us down the block in a 4 person car with no luck, we were forced to walk in the wintery cold. We arrived and immediately found the alcohol and dug ourselves right in. I began to realize I knew some of the people from my dorm the previous year, and started making rather ridiculous accusations of their previous behaviours. After a few minutes, it was made quite clear that one guy in particular wanted to take the party somewhere else. One thing lead to another....and I found myself around the corner hiding in some shed. I couldn't tell you why we chose that spot, but it seemed right at the time. Until he thought it was ok to make moves and began to assault my mouth. I mean seriously...common. Anyway, I escaped and ran inside to find that "Trashy" and "The State" had already dipped for town. Naturally, I knew I must follow and set off right away. As I neared town, I must have started to feel tired. These things happen to the best of us...and as I passed the grocery store, I decided I just couldn't go on...sleep was hitting fast, and I wanted a nap immediately. I decided to snuggle myself into the bushes right outside the truck delivery lot only meters away from the bar. I zipped my puffer coat up to my chin, put on the hood and squashed myself into the dirt. "Trashy" was frantically attempting to find me, and with my last text I informed her I was simply "in the bush." Luckily, when she came to find me, my jandled foot stuck out from behind the bush where I was hiding. As she scooped me out from my napping place, I told her she really didin't have to bother, I was just going to stay there for the night. But, with her (slightly) less impaired judgement, she took me out of my wild home, and into the bar where I proceeded to have a wonderful night partying away. It took weeks to live down my little sleeping spot, and to this day, whenever passing that bush my friends give me shit for it.

One of last week's adventures including arising before the sun to scamper down to see the inauguration of Mr. Obama. Just as I woke up from nap #2 (on the ground might I add) I was blessed with this incredible view.

Classes are for Squares

I begin writing from my dorm room...but you can immediately eradicate any image you have of an angsty, acne-covered college girl, unable to "find where I fit in" blah blah blah. I am rarely any of those things (Queen Kourtney K, thanks for your mostly unfailing inspiration to give no fucks). Until recently I was living in New Zealand...but I'll get into that later. Once I realized I was being dragged back to college to graduate or whatever, I figured starting with a story from uni might be the best way to jump off this whole blogging thing. Because of that, I bring you this rather odd story of one of my many trials here at THE George Washington University (and yes, I guess we are that up our own asses that the "the" was absolutely necessary-got almost as much shit about that as I do my last name, so thanks for that). I signed up for a class called "The goddess in India and beyond." I should have known with a title like that, something bizarre would occur. At 9:25 on a Tuesday morning, I had just rolled out of bed and to the coffee machine only minutes before and stumbled across the street to this class. I sat in an empty classroom, watching the time tick by. One, two, ten minutes after the class should have started and I was still the only person in the room. I was just about to pack up my laptop and run back to bed, when the door opened. In walked an ancient looking man, definitely nearing 85. Let's just say he was not what I had pictured. AT ALL (cut to a small, young indian-esq looking woman). He shuffled over to me sitting alone in the third row, mumbling inaudible words under his breath. He struggled with olympian force to turn a desk around to face me and let me tell you, that was uncomfortable to watch. When he shuffled out to get a tissue for his dripping nose, I quickly checked the registrar, and yep, I was one of two people signed up for the course. Why on earth hadn't it been canceled? Clearly "they" aren't on top of their shit with class planning. He came back into the room, and began to mumble again. I gathered he was talking to me, as he was looking in my general direction, so i nodded along. It was definitely airing on the side of the nightmare we all deal with when at family christmas, and grandma and or grandpa just can't get their shit together. He handed me a syllabus (he had conveniently brought two) and began to talk to me about the class. Why hadn't I just left when I had the chance? I thought about ditching, sneaking my way out but the truth is, I really felt sympathetic to this sweet old man (he looked so much like my grandpa, and what my dad is quickly beginning to look like) so I sat there, counting the seconds until I could safely escape. He told me about his life and the many odd jobs he had had before settling on studying goddesses (of all things?) and found his true calling. It was interesting to know that he had worked underground on roads right after graduating...I mean we all have those jobs right? I painted houses for a summer for god's sake! He joked about how impossible it would be to have class just us two. ummm no shit, and that was assuming I was even going to do the readings! false. I dreaded to think of him showing up next week to an empty classroom, completely alone and cold from his wintery walk. Therefore, later that afternoon, I emailed him politely stating that because of a "scheduling conflict" I would be dropping his class. To be honest, I needed to tell him something, even if it was a lie. I knew that after 9 months away from uni, starting back up again might have it's ups and downs but I definitely hadn't anticipated such a quirky start.

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

Wonderful Wanders