Cheerfully Charmed

So if you follow me on Instagram and/or Twitter at all, you would know the only thing I have been living in recently is my new Cheerfully Charmed necklace.

I'm mildly obsessed. And by mildly I mean I considered wearing it to work, dinner, and church. Only. No clothes, no nothin', just the necklace. Because sometimes you have to do these things to get your point across about how much you love something.

Anyhow--I am sure you have seen these bubble necklaces everywhere {cough J Crew for $150 cough} Umm. No thank you to that. $150?! I wouldn't spend that on a pair of premium denim. Or amazeball heels. Or anything for that matter. Which is exactly why I don't take my dog to the vet.
You did not just read that.

Thank goodness Cheerfully Charmed sells these suckers for $39 only.
That my friends, I can handle. I can especially handle when they are Buy 2 Get 1 Free.
That spells BOGO friends. Well it really spells BTGO. We aren't really keeping track of that though.
That would mean all of the above for $78.
Hello pretty necklaces, I think I just might.

Here are some more pics of me flaunting my yellow balls.
I mean yellow bubbles.
That was awkward.
At least my necklace wasn't blue if you catch my drift.
Yeah, that just got a heck of a lot more awkward.
shirt: Miss Chic

So tell me--what color would you buy from Cheerfully Charmed? I'm curious.
{hint: say all four. I will think you are a genius my friend. genius.}

Happy weekend pickle heads. {anything that I really love I refer to as a pickle. And I hate pickles. Weird right? Anyhow--all you need to know is that I love you. Pickle heads.}



Dear Whoever Reads This,

Dear boy who works at the Chinese restaurant {yeah you—the one who not only grabbed my butt twice while picking up my chicken fried rice, stalked me at my place of employment, and continued to call my cell phone from a blocked number}, I will call the cops on you. Again. Just to scare the living daylights out of you and watch you run like you are trying to qualify for the 2012 Olympics.

Dear hot dog, I ate you. And you were dang good. That’s really all.

Dear Strapless Bras, I hate you. You wouldn’t be so bad if you actually stayed up North. But no, just like all of the old people who live in Indiana, you head South when you want a break from reality. My girls don’t appreciate your “breaks” every 2 seconds. On the bright side your annoying habits make for glamourous portraits of myself...

Dear Sleep Number Stores, you have no idea how badly I want to just come and hang out at one of you sometime. Preferably for a few hours. Minimum. You supply the bed, I’ll supply the body.

Dear Grandpa, my dearest apologies for being dressed in a nikibiki tank, no bra, and the shortest shorts known to mankind the other night when you showed up unexpectedly. While my neighbors are used to me in this attire, you are not. Again. My apologies.

Dear Hallmark, you’ve got nothin’ on me.

Dear Miss Chic, I might be addicted. But I think we already knew that.

Dear Margarita In My Stomach, you were oh so good while you lasted in your bigger than my head glasses.

Dear Taylor & Dana, I can’t believe I am actually going to MEET you IN PERSON in a few short weeks. Expect a minimum of at least 39 questions to come your way. And probably a hug or two. I’m kinda the Queen of that. Unless I take too many shots out of nervousness. In which case expect to find me in the corner of the roof top bar sound asleep.  

Dear Giuliana & Bill’s Baby, I want to buy you a present and deliver it to the restaurant that your parents own. But my husband thinks that would be insanely weird. I don’t get it either.
I think it’s just the beginning stages of his jealousy coming out over the relationship you and I will have. I love you baby Rancic.

Dear Bathroom Mirror, without you I would not be able to take multiple outfit shots in one day to post to Instagram {follow me @livinginyellow. Or else.}
Necklace: Miss Chic//Belt: Target

Dear Mall Floors, I don’t appreciate you causing me to slip three, THREE, times the other night when shopping for Shawn’s gift. The whole throwing my arms up in the air and gasping loudly gets old after awhile.

Dear Channing Tatum, sorry I’m not sorry that I’ll be drooling over your existence Saturday night while watching Magic Mike. I could go on. But I won’t. I love you Shawn.

Dear Blogs, thank God for your existence. I can’t imagine how productive lame my life would be without you.

Dear Readers, leave one of your own "dear ____" in the comments. It'll be fun. Whoever comes up with the best one will get announced on my blog. Yes, I just made this a competition. #itson.




You're Like A Fine Wine Baby.

Just in case you weren’t aware--today is in fact, your birthday.
28 short years ago today your momma popped out the bluest eyed bandit I’ve ever seen {and I am oh so glad she did}. Life has dealt you some high highs and some low lows, all of which have shaped you into the amazing man that you are today. I couldn’t be more excited to be the woman who gets to celebrate with you year after year. I admire so many qualities about you, including but not limited to: your intelligence, your hard work and discipline, your incredible good looks, the way you can fix anything, your ability to make me laugh at all times, for offering to beat up the little Chinese boy who hit on me when picking up my carry out yesterday, and all of the other 365 reasons I told you roughly 10 years ago.

Your father would be so proud of the man you have become.
I love the heck out of you.

Happy Birthday Lover.
Go make it the best year yet.

….While I am out celebrating this great day of existence, go make yourself comfortable over here. You’ll like her. Trust me.



Ummm So I Ummm Vlogged Again.

My title could not be any more appropriate.
I say "umm" a lot. And touch my hair like it's going out of style.
End of story.

Like a genius I asked for questions to answer for today's vlog from you lovely readers and then realized that Ashley and Nicole had their own little agenda for me to go through.
So, instead of answering your questions, I am answering theirs.
You win some you lose some.
You just lost.
Don't worry though--I will get those answered. At some point in time.
When I have no other brilliant ideas to write about. So probably like tomorrow.

Anyhow--here you have it. Me in all of my ummmm glory. Not to mention greaseball haven. I had just returned back from a flea market in mid 80 degree temps. Sometimes heat and my face don't get along. Unless you have like a squeaky door or something that needs fixed.
In which case my face comes in real handy.

K, so that was fun.
Moving on--a few of you asked some questions from yesterdays post.
First one being--where did you get that chevron swimsuit {that your boobs are hanging down your bellybutton in}?
Short Answer: Target.
Drawn out answer: Target approx 1-2 years ago on major clearance. We're talking like $3 clearance.
Good luck finding that one kids.
Second question was "how do you make that amazeballs sangria??!"
Take 1 bottle white wine (I used Pinot Grigio) and 3 bottles of original Fresca.
Cut up some fruit (I used strawberries, peaches, and an apple) and waaa-la.
Deliciousness in a cup.

As for the dress I just bought from Target--I can't find the link either on their website.
Looks like you are going to have to make a trip to the store.
Have fun spending way more than you intended......#targettruth.

This post is officially....

Go link up with Ashley & Nicole here.





I Need A Weekend From My Weekend.

That’s exactly how I feel.
Like pheeeeeeeew. With exactly 8 e’s.
I wish you could have seen how close I had to get to my computer screen just to count how many e’s were scrunched into that word. I think that’s a sign I need glasses.
That or a sign I need to stop drinking a bottle of whiskey before writing a blog post.
Psych. I haven’t had any whiskey kids. Although now that I mention it…
{Father—that is a joke. No need to pick up the phone to tell me that I really shouldn’t drink a bottle of whiskey..}

So back to what I was saying. This weekend was 100% amazeballs.
Speaking of, my husband threatened to say a really bad word every time I say “amazeballs”.
He thinks the word is stupid. Clearly he has no brain. Or taste in the English language for that matter. However I threatened to kick him in the “you know what” if he did. And then I realized that would end any sort of hope we have when it comes to producing children.  Although now that I mention it, we are planning on adopting so I better get kicking. Sorry husband.
If you just weren’t so amazeballs….

Two times I have gotten off subject now.
Good work Erin.
And now I am talking in third person. I should probably end this post now.
Okay but seriously. This weekend was fantastic. And full of Friends. Sunshine. Family. Boats. Drinks. Water. Laughter. Motorcycle Rides. Sleep (barely). Food. Pictures. And last but not least, Luke Bryan. Okay, so he was only in my dreams but still.
You know it’s really good weekend when you find yourself drinking margaritas with 80 yr old neighbors at 10 pm on a Sunday night.
Party animals we are, I know.

Here are a frick ton {translation: a lot} of pictures from the weekend.

 Tank//Skirt//Sandals: Target {Recent} Necklace: Banana Republic

 Ring: Miss Chic//Watch: Charming Charlies//Wine: In my stomach
 Dress: Target {recent}

Tank//Shorts: Kohls

...And the fun didn't end. Monday evening I hosted book club. We kinda forgot to discuss the book we read and just drank sangria instead. Gosh, I love book club.

Sleep. You sound pretty darn appealing right now.
Watch out because I’m coming to get ya…..

Ugh. I just envisioned myself getting tickled really bad.
Remind me to tell you my “stop tickling me” tactic sometime.
It may or may not involve me screaming rape at the top of my lungs.
With the windows open in our house.
Needless to say, our neighbors don’t talk to us much.
Except the 80 year old margarita drinking ones.
They know how to get down.