I am a Greek girl living in the 2nd largest state in the U.S. Yes that means Texas. Born and raised. My life more or less revolves around our family business ( A restaurant, imagine that Greeks who cook and love to feed people) my boyfriend (Cheese) and my life long dream to get the hell out of this town!
Here you will find out about this blog, it’s intentions and a life story, conveniently rolled into one.
I would love to say this blog is here to do x,y and z. Not so. I am a self admitted A.D.D skizz. I love music, food, everything beautiful from decorating, clothing, to silly details. And if it isn’t pretty I wanna fix it.
I am a Libra. I am convinced Libras are enamoured with Aesthetics, Attention, Adoration, Balance, Indecision, Love, Love, Love and making the world a more beautiful place. Oh and they generally make great Actors and Musicians.
I am none and a little bit of everything listed above. So to pin me to a certain type of blog, would be soul sabotaging. Did I mention they are generally a bit melodramatic….
I myself am very conscientious, but sarcastic, quiet but loud, thought driven, deep thinker who hates to plan and loves to live day-to-day. I enjoy writing, listening to music with good lyrics hopefully sang by someone who is also playing their own instrument.
I come from a crazy talented and just plain crazy Greek family. Yes, it is very much like the movie. I in fact work for our family restaurant. I am nearing 30. My brother thinks it funny to call me Fortula. My dads name is Nick as are about 50 of my other relatives. You can pretty much guarantee you will never leave a family function hungry. It is likely someone will disagree with someone else. They will yell, a lot and loud. Yelling in my family is not considered to be an expression of anger as much as shear communication.
After my mom and dad divorced, when I was 2, he spent the next 24 years not speaking to her. After all a greek man with a bruised ego, ha, you don’t even want to go there. Naturally, I became the family go between. Have I yet to mention I am unsure of what my parents actually had in common other than both being so ungodly beautiful. I also believe I regretfully heard I was the product of a night where the Cristal was flowing like P.Diddys all white party. Thanks Dad.
My Mom is the polar opposite of my dad. She is a little like the BBC show absolutely fabulous. “Ohhhh dahling why don’t you run along and get mummy another drink” She is not british, no discernible accent that is until she gets a glass in her hand. All of a sudden she becomes Angelina Princess of York. She grew up in Burleson.
My dad has absolutely no filter. I learned early not to embarrass easily. I went to a very small very Baptist school. It was bad enough I was far from Baptist, after all my parents drank, we didn’t attend church. Basically I was the poor little child they were praying around the clock to save her soul. The days dad was picking me up were unlike the days my mom would basically be so late she forgot me. Dad no he showed up so early in fact I was often still in class. I look up only to want to disappear as I see him in his cowboy boots, khaki shorts and a shirt that somewhat resembled Hawaii until you noticed the naked ladies in the trees. I would slink out only to find his old yellow Benz in the middle of the parking lot loudly idling, dog in the backseat. Never had a wanted a mini van soccer mom more.
After my mom remarried she was more or less the breadwinner, so my step dad would pick up the slack off after school duty. Was he timely? Yes. Did he have a normal car. Yes. Did he pick me up with a beer koozie in his hand. Yes. Prayers to save the devil childs soul must have gone into overdrive.
In case it wasnt blindly obvious, I had no choice but to be the adult, it was clear to me I was being raised by idiots. There began my distrust in the world. With self-deprecating tendencies, someone had to make my life funny.
Fast forward a few years, my mom has become a bit more of a lush, my step dad, brewed his own beer, tended to his bees, as if that were a job, and was sure to enjoy his happy hour known as all day long.
Somewhere in all this my sister was born. I lovingly nicknamed her the poster child for birth control. I was ten.
She was everything I was not. Loud, attention starved and a little bit evil. I was certain she was satans spawn. They thought she was cute. Cute to the tune of over 100 home videos dedicated to Poohs daily life. Including but not limited too. See pooh poop. See pooh dance. See pooh throw a fit. See pooh wear her bathing suit year round.
Her favorite videos to watch happened to be Michael Jackson black or white. The entire chucky horror series. Need I say more. Not that I was jealous. We had plenty of pictures of …oh wait…sorry maria but cameras weren’t as readily available when you were little. Mom I was born in 1979!!! Well its all your father’s fault of course. Patent divorced parent answer.
I spent the vast majority of my life convinced I may be the only sane person in my family. Life continued on as it oftens does if you are one of the lucky ones. By the time 15 rolled around my mom had divorced my step dad and moved right along to another boyfriend pure Anna Nicole style. White hair and all. Yes mom clearly this is love. Excuse me while I clear my throat. whatever at that point I just wanted a car to have some freedom from these freaks. I had been riding my bike for years but it unfortunately was not highway friendly.
So BOB as we will call him. Evidently trusted me so much he would give 15 yr old $50 and the keys to the Benz. Just so happened this is what lead to me meeting my boyfriend. Yes, it was love at first bite. No not vampires, he worked at dominos. Which just so happened to be conveniently located right next to my other love sugar ice, I mean snow cones. How much greater can life get? I wasnt stalking him, I was getting my daily sugar fix. Thankfully I was too young for it to all go straight to my ass.
So almost daily when BOB would visit, I would get the go ahead to take the car and scram….I mean her honey go have fun while your mom and I “visit” that was about as subtle as a gun.
With a car comes popularity, with a Benz at 15, you become a god. Worked wonders on my soon to be boyfriend, hot girl, hotter car….every boys dream. I could even drive him to Taco Bell. That my friends is love.
We spent the next 9 years inseparable. By inseparable I mean driving each other crazy all the while being crazy about each other. Remember the scene in the notebook where Noah says to Alli “Well that’s what we do, we fight… You tell me when I am being an arrogant son of a bitch and I tell you when you are a pain in the ass. Which you are, 99% of the time. I’m not afraid to hurt your feelings. You have like a 2 second rebound rate, then you’re back doing the next pain-in-the-ass thing”
Nicholas Sparks I couldn’t have said it better myself. I ended up being that pain in the ass and broke up with him. We lived apart for four years. Did we ever completely separate. Of course not. It more or less allowed me the freedom to live out the freedom I missed all those years I spent not being a kid. We all know what that means. Partying like its 1999, oh wait it probably was…..
All is well that ends well…he made his life….I almost took my own…we briefly reconciled ..we then made the decision to separate for good this past year. Amicable could have been the word I used for the breakup, had he not told me to go away and die in a fire. Some of us just never grow up. Which brings me to now, I am still begrudgingly working my arse off at the family business, dating one hell of a man, still secretly plotting world domination to get the hell outta this town. If only I could find my talent…or a sugar daddy….
As it is blazingly obvious, I can not conform to one thing to chat about daily. I assure you my food choices are not going to be of that much interest. If it is particularly fascinating or beautiful I will make the extra effort to post otherwise you may just have to suffer through my views on life that day. Could be skewed and funny could be deep and insightful. Could just plain suck. Either way you don’t have to bitch about it, just simply don’t read. Go find a blog that is more vanilla, boring , sunny and always contains plenty of salivating and perfect dishes.
If you have gotten this far, you are far cooler than I thought. It also seems you might even have a sense of humor.
Sit back, relax and get ready to laugh at me..err with me..