http://www.lipscurvesandwords.com

it amazes me how “ok” i am with certain things as i get older.
just recently, there was easily cause to have a breakdown over some stuff in my life, but somehow i didn’t. i didn’t fall into hysterics, or stay in bed for days, or lash out at everyone around me for something they had nothing to do with. i accepted what was unexpectedly thrown at me, and surprisingly, it only made me feel better…which, given the circumstance, i wasn’t sure was possible.
that said, i’ve never been more excited to go to london than right this second…obviously for luke pickett, haha, obviously for my birthday, and obviously for some harry potter love. but i have plans to see some people i haven’t seen in years, months, or… never at all.
should be a fantastic time :)
a little over a month away!
the next few weeks better fly by.

also? follow me on twitter if you wish.
@jbongiorno

two old loves of mine below… i used to listen to both songs a good 10 times a day.

8ar5zxymjs

the fold – hey rebekah

national product – love me

lastly… i’ve been trying to write this book in whatever free time i find lately… but the problem is not having any. haha. i’m gettin there though.
just a random excerpt… and fyi, wordpress is a fucker… it won’t let me copy and paste this from microsoft word, and keep the formatting. so it looks like its one big paragraph below.. its annoying.

but anyway…

Waving an orange foam finger and bags of cotton candy, Matt introduced himself first, joking with me about our random messages from earlier that afternoon.
“Ha ha, you’re the one I’ve been emailing!” he exclaimed; his adorable British accent overpowering his words.
He was tall and lanky, with freckled porcelain skin; his arms covered in gorgeous black and white tattoos; strawberry blonde strands of hair sticking out the sides of his backwards hat; and a smile nothing short of contagious. I could see now why Lauren had me performing ninja tactics to locate him the day before.
“Hi, I’m Jack.”
I barely heard him, but I caught his shy smirk. He did a little rocking motion back on his heels when he said hello, and his obvious meekness was rather adorable, actually. Thin framed with almost pixie-like features; Jack’s hair was louder than his voice. Shades of ginger with highlights of blonde, it was fantastically chopped and stylishly messy. There were bold, bright colors of ink decorating his skin as well; conflicting in a way with his introverted expressions. He was definitely the kind of guy that could get away with murder, just because he smiled.
Shia broke the slightly awkward air as she came barreling down the stairs to be a part of the action. She jumped up on our guests, obvious in her excitement to see new faces. I yelled at her to get down, but she blatantly ignored me and went leaping from one couch to the next. This was my dog’s way of celebrating the fact that she was out of the crate.
Sometimes I could picture her shouting, “I’m free! I’m free!”
Matt was laughing at her circus act, when she suddenly jumped up trying to get Patrick’s attention.
I couldn’t exactly blame her.
He was alluring.
Rest assured, I would have done the same thing if I could get away with it, having four legs and a tail.
“Whoa… ha ha, easy pooch”, he pushed her down, and while still petting her, reached out his other hand to finish the introductions. Catching his glance, I watched his mouth move.
“I’m Patrick.”
“Hi…I’m Jessica…did you just call her pooch?”
“Yea…pooch.” He gave me a look as if I should just know this, so I asked again just to be sure.
“Pooch?”
Choosing to make things even more complicated, he responded with, “Poochie.”
I pictured this going on for the next hour, so I simply smiled and began analyzing him in less than ten seconds.
Patrick was the epitome of physical contradiction. His hair was a light brown, and swept to the side in a very traditional style that I would never like on anyone else. On him, it was endearing. His eyes were the darkest shade of blue I’d ever seen, until they hit the right angle of light and were practically translucent. There were a pack of cigarettes in his front left pocket, clearly outlined by the jeans he seemed to have poured himself into, and every time he smiled, the expressions on his face were a combination of boyish charm, and I’ll beat you senseless if I have to.
This made me wonder about the jeans. How could he possibly get into a brawl in such tight pants?
The things I ponder.