Mango-Avocado Smoothie!

Hey all! It's been, oh, about a millennium since I last shared anything even remotely food related so with the conclusion of my "Am I Even Funny? (And Other Concerns)" series I figured now was as good a time as any to share something health related again! I found the recipe for this DELICIOUS avocado-mango smoothie in Vegetarian Times Magazine. It's seriously such a simple and quick recipe that you'll roll over with a giggle attack after making it for yourself and realizing just how easy it was.

What You'll Need:

1 1/4 cups of coconut water
1/2 medium sized avocado, pitted, flesh scooped out
2 Tbs. walnuts
1 1/2 tsp. lime juice
3/4 cups of frozen mango cubes


Place all ingredients in the blender in the order listed, and blend for 30 seconds, or until smooth. See, I told you that was easier than finding water in the middle of butt crack Egypt. Now, go, go, go! Go make it! Oh, but a quick side note, I didn't have any walnuts on hand when I made it so I skipped out on those and I think it tasted just fine!

Nutritional Information:

Calories: 179
Protein: 3g
Total Fat: 10g
Saturated Fat: 1g
Fiber: 6g
Cholesterol: 0g
Carbohydrates: 22g

E-mail me if you guys try it out and let me know what you think!

Much Love!


Instructions for how to Grieve My Death (No, I'm not dying, just read my creepy post)

Hello chums! How goes it? I wore this cute little star studded sweatshirt yesterday since the weather was supposed to be perfect sweatshirt wearing weather. I say supposed to because Utah has INSANE completely unpredictable weather. The day STARTED out nice and cloudy/overcast, and then by around noon it was windy and overcast. Perfect. At least perfect for this sweatshirt clad girl. Then of course by around one in the afternoon it got all sunny and hot. Bleh. BUT, then around 3 it started pouring rain like crazy. DELISH. That only lasted about thirty minutes, though, before it suddenly got all crazy hot and sunny again. Crazy Utah weather. Anyway, today's post will be the last of the "Am I Even Funny? (And Other Concerns)" series. Yippee! Hooray! Dis Boom Ba! Wait...why are we celebrating this? What's wrong with you all? We should be mourning this, seeing as my series of semi biographical hilarious posts are coming to an end! ;) What will I ever write about now? Huh? Huh?? I'm not too worried, actually. I always have weird little rants just waiting to be shared floating around in my head. Well, to get into proper mourning mood lets discuss how I want all of you to mourn me should I happen to die early. Or you know, just in case one of my stranger than butt crack Egypt exercise fantasies that I mentioned last post should come true. I think there are generally speaking three types of funerals that people say they would like to have. The happy funeral, the respectful funeral, and the cry your eyeballs out from the sheer misery of missing the deceased person funeral. I'm sure you can guess which type of funeral I'd like. My dad, though, is the type of person who doesn't want a sad quiet funeral at all. He's the type of guy that wants the happy funeral. He wants there to be loud salsa music playing and lots of food. He wants to place a ban on the color black at his funeral and have everybody dress either in all white or in super loud bright colors. He wants everybody to celebrate his life rather than be sad that he isn't still living it. My mom, on the other hand is the type of person that wants the quiet respectful funeral. She wants nice reverent music, and well spoken spiritual talks. Nothing too theatrical. It does kind of irk her that once a person dies everyone forgets all of their flaws, though, so at her funeral she doesn't want anyone referring to her as being perfect. She wants honesty.

 {H&M: star studded sweatshirt similar; Gap: skinny jeans similar; Go Jane: faux suede booties similar; F21: arrow necklace borrowed from my little sister similar; Chick-fil-a: cow watch}
Me, though? I like the theatrics. I'm a theatrical person. I would want everyone to wear black. Not just because I think it shows proper mourning but because black is slimming and universally looks chic on everyone. I want my funeral attendees looking nothing short of sexy and dapper. I'd want loads of flowers and tons of food afterwards. But mostly I'd want cookies. If there weren't enough cookies at my funeral I'd come back from the dead and haunt whichever misguided person planned the thing. Cookies make people happy and they're just so swasing awesome. When I die I actually do want people to suddenly think I was perfect all along. Mostly, because, um, I am. I kid. I kid. ;) I'd want lots and lots of singing, and if my family could somehow get Yo-Yo Ma to swing by and play the cello that would be totally awesome too. Well, that is assuming he isn't dead by the time I die. He's Asian, though, so he's got strong survival genes he could very well outlive me even though he's got, oh, 57 years on me. And there I go being racist again. Darn it. Was that racist? Yeah, I think it might have been a little racist. I never know. Well, now you all know what my tombstone would say. "Here lies Allexis. Friend, daughter, wife, mother, home girl and little racist. Dis Boom Ba." Also, I think that when I die 80 years from now (Yupp. I plan on living to one hundred and one.) I'd want to die before whoever it is that I end up marrying. Why? Um, because I think I've already proven that I'm not very good at handling loss. Loosing your ultimate loved one would suck. Plus, then I could say that I beat him to the other side, ha! Anyway, that's how I expect you all to mourn me when I die ok? Ok. Now, lets discuss my cow watch, sound good? Good. My little sister had bought herself a Chick-fil-a kids meal right before these pictures were taken. Naturally, when my older sister saw that the toy in my little sisters kids meal was a cow watch she dared me to wear it. I actually kind of like it, though, don't you? There's just something so chic about wearing a cow on your wrist. ;) Oh, and I googled the size of my wrist and it is apparently the size of an average seven year old's wrist. Go figure.

Much Love!


Morbid Fantasies (Or how I envision my tragic untimely death)

Hey all. This past week I was trying to figure a few things out so that I could go to school this semester but they didn't work out so it looks like I'll be taking a semester off. Yuck. Call me crazy, but I love school. I really and seriously do. In other news, this whole week is supposed to be overcast and rainy and it has got me bouncing off the walls! I love the rain!! Plus, the rain gives me a good excuse to wear the crap out of my booties! Which, by the way, when I was at Dunkin' Donuts the other day buying a doughnut for my dad with my sister this totally sweet girl stopped me in my tracks and told me she loved my outfit and shoes! She then proceed to demand that her mother buy her a pair exactly like mine. It totally made my not so great day so much better. Anyway, remember how once upon a time I mentioned a book called Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me (And Other Concerns) by Mindy Kaling? Ya know, the book that inspired me to share all these random little eccentricities of mine through a series of posts?  Well, in the book there's a chapter in which Mindy talks about her workout fantasies. You know, just little fantastical situations she dreams up to keep herself entertained while she works out. It was pretty friggin hilarious, especially since I do the same thing. Only, most of my workout fantasies involve envisioning fantastical situations in which I die heroically. I mean, we all think about our own death/funeral right? Right?? What kind of human would I be if I didn't occasionally imagine the throngs of crowds that would show up to my funeral after I die saving a baby stuck in a tree? (Probably a sane one. I mean, why would a baby be stuck in a tree, and what would cause me to drop down dead after saving it? Clearly it's my flawed death fantasy that makes me not sane here, not the fact that I'm even imagining my own funeral.)

{F21: plaid button up similar, skirt similar; H&M: sheer black tights; Go Jane: faux suede booties}
Let's get started on my creepy death fantasies shall we? Well, that is if I haven't creeped you all out into shutting off your computer and crawling over into a corner of your room to rock back and forth Smeagol style. You should all know, though, that I only ever dream up these weird little morbid fantasies when I'm running. Well, that actually isn't much of a comfort since I run four to five days a week so my death/illness fantasies actually happen quite often. I'm completely normal. Completely.

ONE: This fantasy involves me getting some sort of terminal illness that for some reason causes me to have to go into a coma. Of course in this fantasy all my friends and family are crying over my limp coma ridden body. Of course. Then, when I miraculously awake from my coma months later I'm somehow fully cured but require intensive physical therapy to get my now pixie thin body into functioning shape. Of course my physical therapist turns out to be Hottie McHotHot and we end up falling madly in love all Florence Nightingale Syndrome style as he helps my disease weak little body recover with his hulking biceps.
*This fantasy usually lasts me up to three miles, depending on how detailed my mind decides to get on mine and Hottie McHotHot's nuptials. So...this fantasy equals about 300 calories burned.*

TWO: This second fantasy usually only occurs when I happen to run by a creepy looking person or a cop. It goes as follows. I'm running, blood pumping, muscles feeling strong in the running rhythm that they're so used to, mind completely blank when I happen to run past a suspicious looking person. Then I ask myself, what if that isn't just a suspicious looking fellow? WHAT IF that suspicious looking fellow is actually an escaped criminal and he's secretly holding a knife in one of those suspicious looking pockets? WHAT IF as I ran passed instead of just giving me a weird look he had pulled out aforementioned knife and completely stabbed me in the gut? What then, huh? Then the real fantasy begins and of course in this alternate reality when the creepy looking fellow stabs me in the gut he doesn't succeed in murdering me (Which was his intention. Obviously.). He fails in his murder attempts because in this alternate reality I'm proficient in Jiu Jitsu and I manage to give him a good beating before he takes off running into the distance, leaving me behind with a stab wound miles away from home with no phone. Of course I manage to heroically run the last 3 miles home with a stabbed gut that's bleeding profusely. Then the fantasy ends with me being hailed as the "heroic runner who survived stabbing" on the nightly news. OR, if I don' happen to run passed a creeping person, which is rare, then I usually happen to run passed a cop car which then changes the fantasy a lil' bit. If I happen to run passed a cop instead of a creepy person then the fantasy becomes, WHAT IF I get kidnapped at sometime during my run and that cop I just passed is the last person to see me before I go missing? AND THEN, when he sees the report of my missing persons case on the news that night he recognizes me and is able to lead the search team to my rescue! Of course he was aided in finding me by the string of clues I so "intelligently" left strung across the roads.
*For some reason I only ever seem to pass cops or creepy people when I'm on my long runs so this fantasy can usually last 8 to 10 miles, give or take a couple. Calories burned:800-1,000*

THREE: This fantasy is really the only one in which I die. It usually starts by me getting some sort of random ache in the stomach area while I'm running which will then cause me to wonder, "what if this pain isn't just a simple little cramp caused by running"? WHAT IF I actually have some sort of rare cancer? Oh my gosh. I have cancer. I totally have cancer. (Because to my running brain that's all hyped up on endorphins me having cancer is much more logical as apposed to having a simple cramp. Much more.) What will I do now that I have cancer? Well, I can't afford to have cancer so my mom would probably get me to go on an all green diet that she read somewhere would cure me. I'd keep running through it all. Obviously. The green cancer curing diet would work and I'd be hailed as the "runner who beat it" and I'd even have a feature in Runners World Magazine. It's all about the fame here people. ;) BUT just when everyone, myself included, thought I was cured I would die. Then I'd have a completely tragic funeral full of tears that everyone I've EVER met would attend. Everyone would say completely awesome things about me and then there would be a little photo montage of my young life playing on a giant screen to Passion Pit's "Take a Walk" song. Oh, and then of course Hottie McHotHot would be there completely heart broken to declare his love for me over my casket. In this scenario Hottie McHotHot was a nurse who met and fell in love with me through all of my doctors appointments. The end. 
*This fantasy lasts up to 5 miles. Calories burned: 500* 

Now, I don't want you all to think that I only dream up freaky little Spanish soap opera style fantasies when I run. I do occasionally dream up scenarios in which I'm in a mega cool band and/or a lauded Oscar award winning actress. Or ya know, there is the 90% of the time in which I'm thinking of nothing other than running. BUT, since I'm so gracious and all, feel free to borrow any one of my fantasies for your own exercising needs. I've already given you all complete calorie burning information for each of them. ;)

Much Love!

Linking up With: The Pleated Poppy


Best Friends (and other mishaps)

 "Do you know what sucks about getting older? Your friends have known you way too long, they got too much on you. I want friends who still lie to me because they don't want to hurt my feelings." -New Girl. Oh friendship, such a beautiful thing aint it? Be warned that I'm about to get all Kumbaya on your butts, BUT before I do I have to make something clear. I'm the type of friend who will lie to you because I don't want to hurt your feelings. No matter how long we've been friends. Just ask my older sister. She no longer trusts my opinions on things very much because she knows that I'll always tell her things are sunshine and daisies and that yes she looks fabulous just to avoid hurting her feelings. I just hate hurting people's feelings. It makes me feel all yucky. Plus, what's the harm in telling someone that no, their slightly messy hair doesn't look bad, it looks fabulous? Nothing, I think. I'm just boosting people up. Right? Right?? People hear enough rejection on a day to day basis anyway so I figure there's nothing wrong with telling people what they want to hear every now and then. Or always. Yes, I'm not dumb, I see the gaping flaws in my sunshine and daisies way of thinking but old habits die hard people!! Anyway, onto the Kumbaya, share s'mores around the campfire discussion on friendship that's about to ensue! Aren't you all so thrilled that we're back to my mini biography here? ;)

My first best friend ever was my older sister Allison. I remember one time when I was about two or three going to preschool in Guatemala I was sitting in my classroom during recess eating my snack. I don't know why I wasn't outside with the other kids but for whatever reason I had elected to eat my snack in the classroom. As I was in the classroom eating, one of the boys in my class came in and started teasing me about the food my mom had packed for me as my snack. Who knows why, but at that moment Allison showed up and basically told the kid to shove off. As cheesy as it sounds (I warned you I'd be getting all Kumbaya on you) that was the moment that I realized that Allison wasn't just my older sister, she was my pal, my sissy, my best friend. Then of course two more siblings came into the picture and we all just kind of became insta best friends. In the wise words of my baby brother, "We're not friends. We're brother and sister. We're more than friends. We're more than enemies."  I swear he actually said that and actually came up with it in his own brain. Outstanding, right? The kid never ceases to impress me with his Yoda like wisdom.

Throughout Elementary School I had a plethora of different friends here and there. No friendship that really qualified induction into the best friendship hall of fame. That is, until 5th grade and enter a one Lindsey B. The new girl in the school and somehow the one who managed to unite an unlikely group of five girls. We weren't the cool girls by any stretch of the imagination. I mean, we read books obsessively and imagined up odd little games to play during recess hours. We were the bookish creative types. Our little friendship of five had an untimely death, though. As in the friendship died, no literal deaths here. Lindsey B. moved away at the end of 5th grade and the rest of us entered the 6th grade separated into different classrooms. Of course, all that was nothing compared to the on coming friendship killer that is prepubescence. Oh, hormones. Sly little friendship killers.
Anyway, fast forward to a P.E. class in the 9th grade. The class that introduced me to my high school best friend and possibly the best friend that's had the biggest influence on my personality. A little rascal otherwise known as Angelica. I can't even remember how it was that we ended up meeting and talking to each other, maybe our mutual weirdness just drew us in? Who knows. The thing about Angelica is that she is SUPER out spoken. She will say precisely what is on her mind precisely when it crosses it. No reservations. She is the complete opposite of shy, so in other words she was the complete opposite of my young teenage self. It was exactly what my fourteen year old self needed. She taught me how to break through my shy bubble and *gasp* talk to people I didn't know! High school with this chica was so ridiculously fun. We'd walk through the halls giggling, mmm no giggling isn't quite the right word. Angelica doesn't giggle. We'd walk through the halls boisterously laughing at the weirdest things. I tempered some of her more extreme opinions and she taught me how to be more outspoken. She had my back through all of the weird little ventures I'd shove us into due to my MAJOR crush on a boy we cleverly nicknamed "Frosted Flakes". Ya know, cause Frosted Flakes are "grrrrrrreat!" and he was most definitely "grrrrreat!" Clearly we were major cheese balls. Our Sophomore year she was right there next to me at EVERY. SINGLE. DANCE. as I waited to see if Frosted Flakes would make his appearance. I don't think he ever did. I guess dance's weren't his thing. Typical. She was there to text me how incredibly stupid I was when one day after tennis practice one of the soccer cuties gave me his jacket while I waited for my ride and I...wait for it...gave it BACK when my ride got there oh, about a minute later. Even HE was surprised at my lack of a brain in flirty situations. Anyway, without this girl I'd probably still be ridiculously quiet and reserved. 

{Ross: Pooh Bear sweater, cute Disney character options here, here, and here; H&M: corduroy skirt similar, black sheer tights; Go Jane: faux suede booties similar; Watch: borrowed from my brother similar}
Now, in my early twenties I'm lucky enough to have best friended the two girls who are making the roaring twenties so...roaring! A couple of giggly girls known as Romina and Alisha. These ladies are just incredible. Together we can be goofy, serious, funny, and/or weird. Romina and I both perpetually live in the clouds so when it's just the two of us there's generally a lack of attention to the outside world which gets us into awkward situations. Like being offered weed in exchange for train fare. True story. Luckily the guy who was trying to strike up this deal with us got so frustrated with our "whats?" and "huhs?" that he left us alone. Ours is the type of friendship that we can look at each other and start hysterically laughing for no other apparent reason than we both obviously think the others face is funny looking. Alisha, on the other hand is the person that gets the quiet, reserved, shy, and prudish side of me perfectly. With this chica there's no need to pretend that I'm not just a nerdy, weird, serial non-dater. Not to mention the fact that for some reason my brain seems to think everything that she says is pure comedic gold. Seriously. She could say what's up and I would crack up. Well, that's my Kumbaya shpeel about life changing best friends and the fact that "friendship is like wetting your pants. Everyone can see it, but only you feel the true warmth."
"We're weirdos. But that's who we are and that's fine."-New Girl (Yeah. I know. I quote this show way too much.)

Much Love!

P.S. (I know. This post is already longer than a 90's saggy mom butt, so why the heck am I adding a post script? Trust me. It's needed.) This skirt cost me a whole 5 buckeroos! Whammo! How awesome is that? Also, I know this look is 100% fall but it was an extremely windy, overcast, and slightly rainy day so I figured it'd be perfectly acceptable to go full on fall. Oh, and ha! I tricked ya! That wasn't a needed post script at all. ;)

Linking up with: Because Shanna Said So, Fashion and Beauty Finds


Good JuJu

Lets take a break today from the mini biography I've been boring you all with. ;) I have some thoughts that have been pressing on my mind as of late that keep begging me to share them. This summer was kind of a hard one with the passing of my grandma. Saying goodbye is always so very hard, even knowing that it isn't permanent. Compartmentalizing the ache of missing someone into a manageable crevice of your heart is hard but once you manage it the day to day gets easier. The focus shifts from, "they'll never get to see me do this or that", or "they won't be there when this or that happens", to, "maybe they won't be there in person when this or that happens but they will be there, and they'll be rooting for me every step of the way".

The other day when I was writing up this post about Peter Pan I came across this quote that completely touched my heart.
Those who love us never stop loving us even after they've passed through the veil of death and they're never far out of reach. What a comfort. 

Anyway, on to the thoughts I was having! Last Thursday I went to The Twilight Concert Series with a group of my best friends. We went to see Ludacris even though 90% of our little group had only ever heard, oh, about one of his songs. I think we mostly went because most of us are concert addicts and we just plain old like each others company. Anyway, the concert ended up being a bust. We ended up ducking out early to go to a belguim waffle restaurant across the street. Despite the not so great concert the night ended up being pretty fabulous anyway. Waffles and friends? So fun.

 {H&M: top similar, skirt similar; Steve Madden: shoes similar; Banana Republic: belt similar}
Anyway, after waffles we all hopped into our car -a Suzuki Sidekick- pulled the roof down and drove off into the night. As I sat in the backseat of the car, in the company my friends, with the warm summer night breeze gently tickling my cheeks and brushing my hair back into the starlight night I just felt so overwhelmed with a sense of peace. A peace that made me feel that, even though things had been hard the past few months (or years), there was so much ahead of me. In that moment of perfect tranquility on a summer's night I was overcome with the knowledge that I have so many incredible people that love and appreciate me, I'm young, and there's just so much living left to do and I need to enjoy that. I just felt this warm sensation in my heart that things would start falling into place. Maybe not in the exact way or time that I want but that things would work out. It's funny how moments of such perfect tranquility and clarity can come at such unexpected moments. I'm happy for the feeling of hopefulness, though, because it helped me realize that things have and do always work out. Maybe not always as quickly or in the way that I would like them to but they always have a way of working out. In the meantime, I need to enjoy these moments in my life when I'm young, and relatively free so that five, six, seven, or ten years down the road I can look back at these fun moments spent in the company of friends and know that I enjoyed every minute of it and not have any regrets about squandered youth. Well, those are my thoughts for you. Here's to feelings of good juju! Ja feel?

Much Love!

Linking up with: The Pleated Poppy, Because Shanna Said So, Fashion and Beauty Finds


Wear Watcha Wanna Wear

Hello dears...I know, I know. It's been a while. I meant to post this on Friday but then I got lazy and decided to read a book instead. Then I meant to post this on Saturday but then I had to work and when I got back I decided to finish aforementioned book instead. (I was reading The 5th Wave, in case you were wondering. I highly recommend it. Thrilling, action packed, a little bit fear inducing, hilarious, and a touch romantic.) THEN, I was going to post this on Sunday, BUT then I got lazy again after church and decided to take a nap and start watching One Tree Hill on Netflix instead. One of my best friends has been trying to cajole me into watching it for quite sometime. I kept saying I would but never got around to it. I finally did because I found out that one of my favorite characters off of White Collar, Hilarie Burton, was on the show (remember how I mentioned White Collar in this post? Ya know, the show with only about the most beautiful man I've ever seen. Just look at him again. Smoldering).
I think the reason I wasn't that interested in the whole One Tree Hill thing at first is because I was only 11 when it came out so dramatic love triangles didn't quite interest me yet. A decade later and the dramatic love triangle thing is totally up my alley! Chad Michael Murray as a momma's boy troubled basketball player? Yes please! Anyway, after that huge side track, now here we are on Monday and I'm FINALLY posting. Yay for me! Today's subject? The wonderfully grammatically incorrect tongue twister of a title up there. Wear watcha wanna wear.

{F21: plaid button up similar; A&F: dress similar; GoJane: faux suede booties; H&M: flower hair pin similar; Watch: borrowed from my little brother} 
As I mentioned in one of my first "Am I Even Funny" posts here, when I was a kid I dressed way too fancy for my age and I stuck out like a sore thumb because of it. All of those years of sticking out taught me something important though: wear what you want to wear and shuck whatever everybody else thinks. In my opinion there's nothing more attractive and fashionable than somebody that feels happy, confident, and comfortable in what they're wearing. So what if some people think my outfit combination is odd? If I feel confident in it, that'll show and that's what will radiate more than the opinion of a few. Confidence is key. Feel beautiful and you'll be beautiful. Maybe tucking a plaid shirt into a poofy blue dress when it's still 90 degrees outside is weird, but I don't care. I liked it, and I felt good in it so I wore it and I felt dangus kong good in it! Never mind that I was sweating buckets. ;) Weather has never impeded me from wearing whatever strikes my fancy. Booties and plaid button ups in the summer? Skirts and frilly dresses mid winter? Pshh, puhlease my style knows no weather. My body, on the other hand, does and repeatedly hates me for making it be hotter than and/or colder than it needs or wants to be, but I'm just teaching my body to be weather proof. ;) I believe that if I'm wearing something that I don't feel good in it'll show and I'll be a sourpuss but if I'm wearing something that I feel swasing awesome in that'll show too and I'll be a more enjoyable person to be around. Anyway, there's my two cents on what I've learned about confidently wearing whatcha wanna. 

Much love!