An interesting tidbit about me – I am a big fan of adventuring. I love them. I have a bucket list a quarter mile long full of all the places I want to go, Instagram worthy walls I want to pose in front of, and food I want to try right after I take a picture of it. Thrillist is my bible. Guy Fieri is my God. I am all about adventures.
All about talking about them..
I’m all about adventures the same way Triston Thompson is all about Khloe Kardashian. Like..only kind of, when its cool. Buuuuut not really when it comes down to it. I’m all about laying around my house and DREAMING up adventures and then coming up with excuses as to why they can never happen.
For example, I have been dreaming about doing one of those “Pack up and Go” surprise trips for an entire year now. At least once I month I text Nick and say “WE’RE DOING IT!” And then-we don’t. Because of …well…groceries…and bar tabs…and Vans…and haircuts…you know. It’s a vicious cycle of talking ‘bout it and not being ‘bout it. Mostly because I’m a big ol’ wuss. And my good credit has a paralyzing hold over any flicking wrist motions.
Honestly, I envy the trigger pullers. The ones that love adventures but not from afar or the screens on their phones. The ones who I look at through the screens of my phone and think about how much I want to visit that place. The ones who say they are going to, and then they DO! What? How? How does one ‘do’? If I am being honest here, if it weren’t for my mother, Nick and I would never have even spent our honeymoon in Key West. I am no trigger puller. Instead, I am the one who cocks the gun, looks around, takes it apart, cleans it, puts it back together, decides it isn’t the right gun (it just doesn’t feel right, ya know?), picks a new one, cocks the new one, and never pulls that fuckin trigger. Repeat. Forever. Until. I. Die.
I can absolutely talk myself out of anything, especially if it costs money or involves exercise or dieting. But about a month or so ago I found an article on the Huffington Post about a boss ass lady named Shanzey Afzal who renovated a Shasta trailer and turned it into a very intimate tattoo parlor. A cute little safe haven for women so there is no discomfort when you are getting a tattoo that requires you to be partially nude. So super dope, right? I stumbled across this article and my obsession to pick the brains of all females who are doing their damn thing was kicked into high gear. I had to talk to her. And I did!
For 500 words sake, that Huffington Post article turned into quite an exciting adventure. Saturday morning Nick, Kevin and I packed into the car and headed out to Rockaway Beach, NY to meet the Ink Minx herself. I not only got a tattoo from her, but I also interviewed her for an article I will write in the coming weeks.
But guys….I did it! I found an adventure I wanted to go on, planned it, and made it happen! Is this what being wild and free feels like? I’m so badass.