15 again

The Aussie is back!


Last night my friends and I discovered our new favorite activity: reading guys profiles on Farmers Only. Yesterday we found a 50 year old gentleman who was leaving the website because he found his “beautiful cowgirl” and he pretty much made an Oscar worthy acceptance speech encouraging every one to not give up because the one is out there and thanking Farmers for the opportunity to meet all those amazing ladies that somehow changed his life. Apart from reading the profiles we also set a goal – try to find someone who is not from Texas.

While I was holding my phone looking for the best profile I could find to read out loud with my fine Texan accent, my phone vibrated and a little notification popped up: Aussie guy sent you a message. WHAT? It was 2 AM which means it was 11 AM in Melbourne and somehow this guy was thinking about me during this booty call/ first thought of the morning moment! My heart was beating at a crazy speed but this was not only because of this random message! Stay with me for this time line:

  • Two nights ago I dreamed about him.
  • The next day he liked one of my old Facebook photos.
  • Now he’s messaging me.

If this isn’t some weird sign I don’t know what it is. My girly brain by this time is convinced that I’ll move to Australia and marry the guy because clearly he’s head over heels in love with me. Keep dreaming dude.

It took me about 15 minutes to calm down and reply to the message. My friends were loving my teenage girl moment. The message wasn’t anything special but still – knowing that my own Chet Faker was thinking about me on a Saturday night/Sunday morning was enough to make me look like a 15 year old girl that had met her favorite One Direction kid.

I miss January

I miss going to the Waffle House at 2 am.

watching Breaking Bad all over again.

eating jelly beans for lunch.

Sunday brunch.

camping in January while the Missouri river is frozen.

having grilled cheese and tomato soup because we’re too lazy to cook anything else.

walking around Jefferson City when it’s 32 degrees outside.

going to Walmart and be amazed at the amount of frozen food there is in this world.

watching Netflix in my pj’s.

walking around Kansas City at night while keeping track of how many people are wearing KC Royals merchandising.

Boulevard beer after a day in town.

Winstead’s and its ridiculously good cherry limeade.

watching a Tom Brady close up at a Patriots game.

bottomless coffee.

Cap’n Crunch for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Saturday strolls at the park.

Monday’s trivia nights.

hearing someone stating why Kansas City, MO is better than Kansas City, KS.

the look on people’s faces when I say that it’s the first time I have maple syrup.

answering to the question “How is it back in Portugal?” over and over again.

driving for 3 hours like it’s nothing.

kansas-city-missouri-window-tint

I miss January but I’ll have it again.

This is my alternative to a text

I’m just writing this so I won’t text him. 


Shit, every time something about the KC Royals pops on my Facebook feed my heart stops and all the memories rush back. Yesterday the Royals played against the Yankees and won! I know he’s over the moon, that guy lives for KC and specially for the Royals. He attended his first Royals game at 8 months old. Why did he tell me this? Why do I have to know so many details about him if he never intended on giving this a real shot?

I want to text him. I grabbed my phone more than once, clicked on his name and was ready to write until I read our last conversation. I read it one more time. Still, I wrote a sentence. No, I’m not doing this. Delete everything. Last time we spoke was almost two months ago. Last time I sent him a message was a little over a month ago. I was the only one trying. Those little blue ticks on WhatsApp are two SOB’s. So now, instead of texting him I’m writing this.

I know I’ll have more days like today. It’s ok, I’m ok. I’m quite happy, truly. It’s just I really want to talk about the Royals right now.

The band that came to talk to me

Tomorrow I have my finance test. I started studying today. I’m going to fail that class so I decided to write this instead. 


I’m a huge music festivals fan. I’m extremely cheap in every aspect in my life but if some band I want to see is playing in Portugal, I’ll spend whatever they’re asking just to go to the show. Last year I went to Vodafone Mexefest for the first time. This is a music festival that takes place in Lisbon every November and it has a different concept. This is not an open space kind of festival, it’s in a number of different venues in the middle of the city like theaters and palaces. People have to walk all over Lisbon with a map looking for the venue where the band they want to watch is playing. It’s fun, it combines two of my favorite things: music and tourism. The line up is similar to Pitchfork’s. Last year’s was something like this:

  • St. Vincent
  • Sharon Van Etten
  • Cloud Nothings
  • King Gizzard and The Lizard Wizard
  • Perfume Genius
  • Sinkane
  • Wild Beasts
  • Tune -Yards
  • Palma Violets

You get the point, it was a good line up. I was really excited to see Palma Violets. This is a fairly new British band but their first album was reaaally good. They remind me of a garage band with lots of rock involved. Plus, they’re British kids. A bit younger than me but still…

Groupie is a word that never seemed right to describe me as a music fan. I don’t look like a girl band members want to hang out with, I don’t have the stalking skills necessary to chase a band or to find the hotel where they’re staying. I just dreamed of talking to an artist someday but I never had a plan. Somehow, it happened. No plan needed just an absurd amount of luck I’m yet to understand.

There’s a street in the downtown of Lisbon which you can call the main street of the festival because it’s where the majority of venues are located. As I was getting out of one of those places, I looked at my map to see where Palma Violets where playing. I had about an hour to get there but the not so funny thing about this festival is the capacity of the venues. They were playing in a small place so I needed to be there soon enough to guarantee me a spot, preferably front row. I forgot to mention I was with Margarida, the Best Friend. You know how this will end right? So we were walking on this really busy street because a show had just ended and this guy bumps into me. I looked back just to shout something like “careful next time” and I couldn’t say a word because Palma freaking Violets bumped into me! Well just one of the guys but you get the point, they were all there! They were lost, trying to find the place where they were supposed to play. My stalking mode was activated and I immediately followed them. They stopped somewhere to ask for their artists wristbands but I could hear them asking directions for the venue. I could have helped them! But no…I just sat there waiting for them to get out while making an entire conversation with them only in my head.

I managed to get over that sad event and got to first row of the show. They did great, it was their first time playing in Portugal. Later that night we were at this tiny venue, it was some palace’s room, but was so crowed and hot inside we had to leave. It was November, it rains a lot in November so Margarida and I got in the first pub we saw just to have a roof over our heads. We sat there drinking our beers, talking about all these amazing shows we had watched and I randomly say “It would be awesome if Palma Violets walked in here.”. I swear to God, as soon as I finished this sentence, Margarida starts laughing and I look over my phone and I shit you not, Palma Violets were walking into the pub. Nobody in the pub knew who they were but Margarida and I couldn’t stop staring at them and of course they noticed. I stupidly said “Great show earlier guys” and the bass player, which is the Harry Styles of the band, took a bow at ME and blew a kiss. I died a little inside. This is every teenage girl dream and I was starring in it. They took a seat, we continued to drink our beers as nothing had happened, as no band was in the pub. Next thing I remember, the bass player was walking towards me, he leaned over, put his arm around my shoulders (Yes, this happened) and asked if I knew some place where he could buy some cigarettes. That was it. A band member had come up to me and not the other way around. Sure he made a stupid question but that’s not the point.

I can die in peace now.

What would you think of me judging from my phone

All of the below might be true.


  • This girl must be into some Wes Anderson crazy shit.
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The wallpaper

  • Instagram, Facebook, Snapchat, Vine, Pinterest. She has it all. Wait, where’s Twitter? Is she not on twitter? What kind of person is not on Twitter??
  • How many calendar apps one needs? This chick must be a control freak!
  • Contacts: Alex from Tinder, Ben from Tinder, John from Tinder…..
  • Whatsapp messages: Alex from Tinder, Ben from Tinder, John from Tinder…..
  • Let’s see her music playlists. Who is Chet Faker? Who is Mac Demarco? Who is The Babe Rainbow? I give up….
  • Now the photo gallery: Tinder conversations screenshots, Instagram posts screenshots, random dogs pictures.
  • She doesn’t have any games!
  • If she lives in Lisbon, why is her forecast prediction for Melbourne?
  • 8 new Tinder matches and 3 new messages. Is this an average Tinder day for a girl?
  • Let’s go back to the calendar: Friday – Lunch with Alex from tinder; Saturday – Drinks with Ben from Tinder; Sunday – Brunch with John from Tinder.

(pulls out own phone – downloading Tinder)