The word graduation can be a double edge sword. We live in a generation where we are always on the move, and God forbid for a second we push pause. I’m pretty sure we are convinced the earth will crack. I went through this phase last year to be exact. I thought I NEEDED to move out of my parents’ house ASAP. I remember looking at apartments with That Girl Ryan thinking it would be totally okay to live in a $900/month studio apartment in Morristown with uneven obnoxiously low ceilings and a half kitchen with no oven. This “apartment” was literally a small dumpster. It would have been a death trap for anyone taller than 5’5” to visit. Ryan had to enter with a helmet. The entrance was a steep staircase, but it happened to be in the middle of the apartment. I could only imagine how many head injuries I would have received due to falling down or up the stairs after coming home from a fun night out on the town or from just being my clumsy self. YIKES!! The girl who I would replace slept on her mattress on the floor in a little nook in which sitting up was not an option. You would have to roll out of bed until you got into the middle of the apartment to stand up and even then the ceiling was still only 3 inches taller than me!!! I feel like there should have been directions on the wall kind of like a how to put out a fire…instead this would be how to get out of bed in the morning. The bathroom was actually on a slant— could you imagine putting on makeup in the morning? My equilibrium would constantly be off.  But it’s okay because this shit hole would have been all mine! To think I thought this apartment would have been the promised land…

WHAT THE FUCK WAS I THINKING?!?!?!?!!?!?!

I probably would have lasted about 3 weeks in there, and 2 would have been spent in a hospital due to falling down the stairs.

Although I know most of you think it is best to move out of your parent’s house ASAP, I wanted to make you aware of some “living at home” perks you might not have considered….they could change your mind.

1. The Fridge and Pantry are always magically full

2. Leftover Paradise

3. They are constantly the life of the party

4. Fully Stocked Laundry Room

5. SO MANY KITCHEN GADGETS

6. FREE WIFI

7. Reliable Handy Man

8. Dishes?!?

9. Endless Supply of Toilet Paper

10. Andrea

11. RENT FREE 

12. They are morally obligated to like you

Now I know all of these come across as me being a spoiled brat but in all reality I have been taken off the payroll as Burt and the Boss call it very quickly after graduation. But I cannot thank them enough for actually letting me stay under their roof because without them I would probably be living in that midget apartment. Besides…I have come to realize that these people are actually pretty cool after all. So, to all my upcoming college grads out there…don‘t rush moving out if you can wait. I promise it will all be worth it in the end.

Fuck. It’s Christmas time again.

So not happy

I hate Christmas, I hate Christmas, I HATE CHRISTMAS.

While everyone is running around in excitement, counting down the days with advent calendars, I count down the days until its over.
The only two great things about Christmas are the free days off from work and reminding my kid about “Santa’s Good List” behavior.

Now you are sitting there like, “Omg this bitch! Who hates Christmas besides Satan and The Grinch?”

To answer that, the Jews, the crazy north Korean guy, Kim-Jong-a-something and ME. Most of the other people mentioned have a grudge against Jesus, but that’s only a speculation. I have my reasons, and good reasons why this holiday puts me in a bad way.

1. The Christmas Music. I have a strict, No Christmas Music Tolerance policy.  Apparently, my co-worker in the cube next to me missed the memo. I swear to god, if have to hear “Jingle Bell Rock”, one more time before December 23rd, I’m going to take a jingle bell and shove it up her Christmas-spirited ass.

2. Christmas Movies:I can’t handle sitting through any of the below…

This Red-Nosed Freak

 Listen Rudolph, your nose is like max, 60 watt, Santa ain’t getting anywhere with that dim crap.

And that Elf, Hermey, needs to come out of the closet already…He’s a bigger flamer than Richard Simmons.

These obnoxious fruit cakes.

I might hate this movie because I don’t have this outfit

And especially The Christmas Story…I know I’m in the minority on this one…

but if this kid would have shot both of his eyes with his BB gun, he could of saved us all by ending the movie an hour earlier.

However, I do freaking love this movie…

3. The forgotten giftee: You have been there: you finished all your Christmas shopping and that one person who you didn’t buy for, hands you a gift. Not only is the situation awkward because you didn’t buy them anything, but now it’s clear, they like you more than you like them and THEY know it.  These silent gift-ers are rude catching you off guard like that, because they brought your relationship to a whole different level, the Christmas Gift-List level. Which is strictly reserved for family and close friends. This person just put themselves on that list without your agreement and now you are stuck buying them a birthday gift this year.

4. Décor: Between the endless amounts of dog hair and dust, I have more than enough to clean in my house. Now, when I purchase my Christmas tree this weekend, I gotta worry about the pine needles that fall off mixed in with dog hair and dust. My vacuum only has about one Christmas season left before it dies from hair and tree suffocation.

And the lights, what a pain those holiday lights are! Sure, they look pretty, but putting them up and taking them down are a bitch. Who has the time after Christmas to take them down right away? But let me remind you if you don’t take those things down by January 2nd, you are equally as dammed as not putting them up in the first place. Plus, even I, admitted Christmas hater, get depressed by the post-Christmas tree graveyards on the edge of the curbs…all those trees just waiting to be picked up by the trash man.

5. Christmas Cards: Ok, I might not totally despise this aspect of Christmas because it gives me enough entertainment to last the year. I love getting Christmas cards, especially the ones that come from weird family members with yearly card recaps…

Hey, I never call or write, but it’s Christmas time so I’m sending you this Christmas card to let you know we are DOING GREAT! Just look what our kids did this year…Johnny got his first blow-job at summer camp and participated on his high school football team. And our little girl Cindy isn’t so little anymore, she grew a pair of boobs and finished 7th out of 8th in her annual swim meet.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you and your family.

Merry Christmas From The Walters!

Really, is this necessary? Save the stamps and post a Facebook status update next time, maybe I’ll “Like” it.

6. Work parties: After a long day at work, I just want to go home and be alone. Call me crazy, but I have no desire to stay after work and attempt to have non-work related conversations with work people; especially if it’s a non-alcohol event.

7. Wrapping presents: Wrapping is for talented people that spend their days on Pinterest. It takes a magician to wrap gifts. All my presents come out looking like they were thrown away and my presents always get judged on this factor; and for the record, I give stellar gifts. So why create the extra waste? If it was up to me, the presents would be placed in the same bag they were purchased in. period.

8. Christmas starts in October: Screw all of you who even mention the “C” word in October or November, especially YOU, Walmart and Target. Christmas needs to stay in December, where it belongs. All this hype for one day is nauseating.

9. The meaning of Christmas: Not to get too deep here, but the constant battle between putting “Christ” back in Christmas and the commercialized “Santa” ideology is exhausting. I’m not a religious person, but I can imagine as a parent it would be difficult to teach your children these Christmas religious values. Could you imagine if Jesus and Santa existed in the same time fame?  I could only assume Jesus would have given his mother an IPad Mini this year.

He said it best

10. The words, “What do you want for Christmas”: The day after black Friday, I got an email  from a family member that read this:

“Please reply to this email with direct website links to what you want for Christmas. Coats, Boots, Jackets, Socks, etc.

I need it by E.O.D.”

I tried to understand the point of this message. Sure they wanted to know what I wanted, I get that, but what is the point of picking out my own presents?

Seriously, how would this work?

I would send you the links to my own Christmas presents that I researched… You would purchase them, wrap them up and send them to me in two weeks. Then I would UN-wrap the gift, even though I knew what it was and smile with joy. Should I act surprised? Should I jump for joy with excitement? Should I thank YOU for picking out the gift that I picked out?

Yes?

Then what is the point of that? Just stop asking me what I want for Christmas, you are putting me an awkward spot. Before I answer, there are a ton of factors to consider, like the cost or how acceptable it would be to ask for. Like for example, If I said I wanted a pound of Crack Cocaine and sent you the link to a drug dealers website, would you actually get me that for Christmas?

Million Dollar Question

You know what I really want for Christmas? For it to go back to being simple…Christmas was fun as a kid because I had to make all my presents. I had no idea nor did I care the value of my gifts. What happened to that kind of Christmas?
Is it me or did it get eaten by Holiday advertising and Mariah Carey’s version of “All I want For Christmas is you”?

Until Christmas becomes simple again and grows my heart three sizes… a Cranky Bitch I will remain!

And not that I am counting, but Christmas is in 18 days…so bring it on, bring on the Christmas Cheer!…Ho! Ho! Ho!…Jingle Bells!…

Shoot me…

The Publicist and I are really big fans of the show, Sons of Anarchy. Not only is Charlie Hunnam ridiculously ravenous and we would love to squeeze his ever so present naked ass, but the show has everything you could want to keep you occupied; violence, drama and terrible acting.

Ever wonder why you keep watching this show? So do we. And even though Kurt Sutter does a great job of wrapping up the plots of each and every season, we still have very valid questions; questions that keep us glued to this overly-dramatic, overly-corny FX series….

1. How does Jax keep his white, (UN-stylish) shoes so clean?

For a man who works in a body shop, drives a motorcycle and kills at least 3 people an episode…HOW are his shoes ALWAYS white?

What shoe cleaner does he use? Where can we get some?

2. Does Jax ever wash his hair?

It’s always greasy…like really freaking greasy.

3. Why are we so in love with Nero?

He is a Mexican gangster with some shady friends, runs a prostitution ring and dates Gemma, but we freaking love him!

4. Do Jax and Tara ever have sex?

They probably didn’t even do it in this episode either!

No wonder Tara is wound up so tight, the girl needs a one-way ticket to pound-town.

5. Is it us or is Gemma getting sexier?

Season 1

VS.

season 6

Chest scar, terrible hair dye and wrinkly skin…Gemma went from a 6 in season 1, to a 10 in season 6.

6. Seriously though guys, does Jax ever take a shower?

7. What was with D.A Patterson taking off her wig and saying, “Time to go hood sister“. That was some ghetto shit.

Thank god she got rid of that wig, it was hideous.

8. When is Uncer going to die?

Is that mean? But seriously, he got so creepy.

9. Why do they say, “Jesus Christ” so much?

Jesus Christ, chill out SAMCRO.

10. Fun fact: Did you know the writer of the show plays Otto?  So why did he want his character to get raped in the first episode? What’s that about?

Weird.

11. Will Bobby ever find love?

That belly, that beard, that heavy breathing…the real question is… how is Bobby still single?

12. What does Tara actually do? Didn’t she get fired?

Just go on unemployment…Jesus Christ.

13. Does Teller-Morrow Auto body really make any money?

That be last place in Charming I’d take my car for a tune-up.

14. What is the deal with Ron Pearlman’s head? It’s not normal!

Ron’s head vs. Normal Sized head

Wait, is he even human?

I think not.

Seriously, his head is becoming a distraction

Hey, wait, I googled “Ron Pearlman’s head” and found this…

Ron Pearlman played this character in the 80′s version of The Beauty and The Beast…I think Big-Headed Ronnie is trying to tell us something…

The missing link

15. Remember when Nero gave Gemma two cockatoo birds? And she named them after his dead sister, Carla? When did the Cockatoos turn into crows? And what is with the birds!?

Other people notice it too!

16. What’s the point of Wendy (Abel’s Mom)? Why did they name her Wendy? Can’t they just leave Wendy alone?

Stop trying to make Wendy happen!

17. Will Jax get Thomas’s name tattooed on his right boob?

Dirty or recently showered, I can’t tell.

18. If Juice is half black, why does he have those TERRIBLE  tribal tattoo’s on the side of his head?

Is that a black-thing?

19. Why do they have a Chinese Mafia in Sons of Anarchy? Are they even that intimidating? Is that even a real thing?

21. Is it weird to want the Sons of Anarchy vest for Christmas?

Because we really want one… 23. Why does everyone in Sons of Anarchy have terrible Hair?!

Ew. Ew. Ew. Bald.

25. How does Jax make all these brilliant negotiations with law-enforcement?

I’ll deliver the Irish for immunity

Shit, we have boobs and STILL can’t get out of speeding tickets

26. Does anyone REALLY want to be an Old Lady?

Ripping someone’s tits off? That sounds like way too much work.

27. Why is the weather in Charming always nice? Never too hot, never too cold.

The sun suits him well.

28. Why do they insist on always putting some cheesy reflection rock song at the end of each episode?

29. Does anyone else think that Piney was totally an unnecessary character? Besides being one of the “Originals”…what did he do besides carry his oxygen tank around?

30. Why do the character’s still have flip-phones? Isn’t it time for a Smart-Phone upgrade?

Maybe they could prevent SAMCRO problems with some reliable, working cell-phones.

31. Who do you think will be the new Tara?

A. Wendy the Junkie

Shes a beauty

B. The secret “Old Lady”, Margaret Murphy

C. Wayne- unless of course he finally dies

32. Now I know this season finale stabbed you in the heart or should I say, in the back of the head…Was that too soon? But if you watched last night’s episode, you are DEFINITELY asking yourself these two questions:

WHY, KURT, WHY?

AND

What the hell is going to happen next season?

Jesus Christ, just relax Brotha!

SAMCRO will be sure to return with corny rock songs, terrible acting and a scheming plot you can’t resist.

Men of Mayhem Lovers,

That Girl Ryan & The Publicist

Finish The Sentence Friday…This Christmas Season, I will nail the Holiday Greeting.

One thing you must know about me is that I have a large family; 7 kids on my dad’s side and 5 on my mom’s. Throw in 2-5 (sometimes more) “Love children” and you get a whole lot of cousins and a whole lot of family parties. My family is so big, that I don’t really know how many cousins I truly have. It really screws with your head not knowing who your family members might be. I sometimes worry that my husband and I might be related.

My family just knows how to mass produce humans.

We’re related.

So as Christmas draws near, so do the parties, gatherings and of course, the awkward greetings. Last year I went to a family party it took me 20 minutes to say hello to everyone there.

I personally am not a huge hugger, especially when it comes to family members that I haven’t seen in a while. Sure, I hug, kiss and touch my immediate family members all the time (O, boy-that didn’t sound right) , but that kind of intimacy stays within my family unit. (that sounds even worse). You know what I mean….

Truth is, saying hello to anyone whether it’s a stranger, friend or family can be awkward. When I lived down south (with my confederate flag and 30+ slaves) people weren’t so touchy feeling when they said “hello”. They shake hands, maybe even do a side-shoulder bump, but they keep it very subtle..in fact, so subtle, there isn’t room for awkwardness.

But, when I moved up north, EVERYONE kisses and believe it or not, not everyone from NJ/NY is Italian. But on a side note, I do try and limit the amount of Italian friends I have because of this reason.

O Shit, Not the Italians!

My anxiety with family parties do not come from Grandma’s off-handed comments or my Gothic cousin Fred; my anxiety stems from saying my hellos and my goodbyes. I literally dread walking into a room of people just knowing I have to endure 15 minutes of straight awkwardness.

See, everyone has a certain style of saying hi; some people handshake (way more my speed) and some people hug and then some people kiss. And if you don’t know the person that well, you have no idea what kind of greeting they prefer because everyone prefers a certain type of greeting.

Now, you are sitting there like, what the hell is this girl talking about, this shit doesn’t exist, but you are wrong! This shit DOES exist and in many forms:

Types of Greeters:

The Side Hugger: This person gives half-assed hugs that end up being more of like a side-shoulder hug. If you go in for the full hug and they only go halfway, you have got yourself a side-hugger. I think you all know how I feel about this type of hug.

The “Patting” hugger: This person embraces you full force like a lion, which is comforting if it’s your parent, child or spouse, but sometimes it’s your creepy uncle. Anyways, they hug you hard and pat your back more than 3 times, which is too long. You pull away like a normal person, but they are still patting and you respond by going back into the lion-hug embrace. Now, you have been hugging for more than 10 seconds and this has officially turned into an awkward, creepy hug.

The cheek kisser: This person presses their cheek against yours and makes a kissing sound as if your cheeks grew lips over-night. I’m sorry, when did our cheeks grow lips? Sometimes cheeks are greasy and leave residue on your face and that residue clogs your pores and gives you pimples. Cheeks weren’t meant to kiss.

You know Bushy hated this

The Handshake-Side Hugger: This is usually a man thing. Two men grab hands and pull each-other in for a side hug with the opposite arm. It’s cute and it’s how Gangsters say hello, but when one person leans in the wrong way, this handshake-hug can lead into a semi-square dancing show-down.

Gangster intentions turn white-boy square dancing. “Swing your partner, round and round”

Of course the White guy messes this up

The Kiss-Hug combo-er: This person goes for the kiss, then the hug. They are aggressive, which is great for you because you can follow their lead, thus leaving little room for mistakes. However, if you go for the Hug-kiss combo (the opposite order), you end up kissing them on the lips or it rolls into a full-fledged head dance.

The What-If’s…Many awkward issues can arise with saying hello…let’s first explore the full-fledged head-dance:

The Head Dance: happens with kissers, specifically the kiss-hug combo-ers or cheek kissers.

Scene: Your great aunt Maggie and you both walk over to say hello. You go to the left, she goes to the right and now you both are on a crash collision to the lips. You quickly pull back, given that your faster than she is, but she surprises you by quickly switching sides as well. Now you are back at square one.

Until one individual claims a side, this situation can begin to look like this bird on crack.

Height: You knew this was coming…One greeter is too tall, the other is too small…hugs can be awkward. I recommend skipping any type of cheek kissing in this situation because the small person is always going to under-shoot the target and end up kissing your shoulder or boob.

Height with Tall people: As a tall individual, I have grown accustom to being the “Above the fold” hugger. The “Above the fold” hugger puts their arms up high for a hug, while a “Below the fold” hugger takes the bottom portion of the hug. This usually works out fine in a tall-short situation, but never works in a tall-tall situation.

When two tall people both go “Above the fold” they end up with an awkward “high-five” and no hug.

The Handshake Diss: I call this move a handshake diss because it makes you feel stupid as shit.

Typically, this happens with someone you just met, someone you think you already met or a co-worker. Let’s take the co-worker for example. You have worked with someone for a while and now, they are leaving the company. On their last day of work, it comes time to say goodbye. You are legitimately upset because you really enjoyed this person. Maybe they made you laugh or bought you lunch or whatever…the point is you are now upset. As you say goodbye, you go in for the hug and mid-way through the other person sticks out their hand for a “professional” handshake. Now all of your body mass has been displaced toward that individual and it is too late to pull back.  You have been caught and can’t even pretend you were going to tie your shoe or act like you had to sneeze. So you try and redeem yourself by quickly sticking out your hand for the shake.

Awkward for two reasons, #1, you now know that this person doesn’t have the same feelings for you and #2, other people nearby now think you have random body spasms.

With all this in mind, your holiday parties just got really complicated and saying hello is only the start. After the hello’s, you have to worry about things like how stupid you look when you eat, all the wrong things you say at the dinner table and making small talk with people you don’t give two shits about.

My advice, start the party off right by being the better “Greeter”. If you end up getting too drunk or spill food all over your outfit… hey, at least you give killer hello’s.

Have a fabulous party season and remember, your cheeks do not have lips.

Today is Friday and if you live in the North East, it’s a snow day! No work! No School! Plenty of time to read this entirely-way-to-long-blogpost!!

Since I am stuck inside and bored, I decided to participate in Finish The Sentence Friday .

Today’s Prompt: What are your blogging goals for 2014?

Most of these are not true blogging goals, but they ultimately will effect my blog someway or another so whatever, I made it work.

I have been greatly uninspired to write anything in the past two weeks…shocking I know. However, I realized that all the crap I have been doing instead of blogging, actually gave me some insights into my goals and resolutions for 2014…even if it’s a few days late.

So here we are…just me, you, this keyboard and a new year…

I could end the whole post by saying these few weeks have been filled with eating, drinking, being stupid and then some more eating and drinking, but that wouldn’t be so fun now would it? Seriously though, I ate so much that just the other day, I could have sworn my stomach spoke to me:

“God Dammit, just stop it. You have had enough. Put down the food and nobody will get hurt. Was it necessary to consume 1/4 of that cheesecake in between lunch and dinner yesterday? Do you honestly need another latte this morning? Enough.”

OMG CAN’T STOP

New Year’s resolution #1, eat a little less and save my stomach the pain of digesting mass amounts of shit.

Moving on, two weeks before Christmas I got to witness the beauty of my first preschool Christmas pageant. Honestly, if you are on the fence about having children, have them solely for this reason. Attending the Christmas plays and watching your little person perform is priceless. It’s amazing how 3-4 year old’s can be corralled for more than 30 minutes to sing songs, but even more amazing watching them re-intact the Nativity story.

Even though the Nativity story is totally overplayed, somehow watching preschoolers act it out adds a whole new level of excitement.

Addison’s part this year was The North Star; one of the most important characters in the play if you ask me. Without that star, those three wise-bums would have never been able to find the glorious baby Jesus. If they couldn’t find the baby, then who would of even known he was born? The Little Drummer Boy wouldn’t have made it big and Joseph might have even accused Mary of adultery due to the lack of world acknowledgement regarding little Jesus’s birthday.

“Mary, nobody is showing up for this kid’s birthday. You said his birth was an act of god, immaculate conception or whatever, but it doesn’t seem like a big deal so I’m going to say, you’re full of shit.”

So basically, the Northern Star is the reason for the CHRISTmas season.

I had no idea what Addison’s pageant would entail; we were only directed to dress her up in all yellow and practice her line for the play. When I say her line for the play, I mean six words. Have you ever tried getting a three year old to memorize a sentence? It’s like getting your dog to pee in a toilet, they always miss the target…plus their ADD kicks in halfway through.

This was Addison’s line, “I see the Wisemen following me”.

That was it. Easy right? No, every time she would add a spin on it and it always sounded like it had a child-molesting double meaning….for example:

“I see the man looking at me”

“There is a Wise guy following me”

“These three men won’t stop following me”

People these days are so over sensitive and look into everything trying to make it more than it is. I was terrified someone in the crowd would take her messed up line as a subliminal message that she was being abused. I kept imagining her screwing up the line and then hours later getting a knock on the door from the police. So I decided to send out the good acting vibes out into the universe to ensure her success.

Dear Universe, please help Addison nail this line in the play so we can keep her. Thank you.

As Addison entered the stage in her Star costume, I lost it. I laughed so hard I had to literally get up and walk around to keep from disrupting the whole show. Her costume wasn’t even close to what I had imagined it would be. The teachers were glaring in my direction… I just couldn’t contain my giggles. The preschool staff is not the biggest fan of my husband and I. We miss out on a lot of parent-child activities due to work so you can just imagine how well my laughing fit added to my stellar mommy reputation…

Cannot wait to show this kid’s future boyfriend this picture.

After I calmed down a bit, I started to examine the North Star costume a bit further…it reminded me of an outfit I had seen in history class….

Christopher Columbus?

No.

Big Bird?

No, but close.

The Klu Klux Klan?

HA, yes, definitely a Klan member outfit decked out in gold. That pointy hat could be spotted a mile away and my blonde-hair blue eyed looking Aryan child completed the KKK look.

This school dressed my kid up in a Klan outfit and had her star in a Christian play…the irony was just too much for me to handle.

Does anyone see this resemblance?

New Year’s resolution #2: Stop feeling guilty about not being able to fully participate in preschool events due to work. This picture can always be used to question the preschool’s real agenda. 

As Christmas grew near, I returned home one evening to find a business card stuck in the crack of my door. I saw the card was from the local Police Department. My heart literally stopped.

Shit, it must be Levi-the cat killing dog. One of our neighbors must have called the cops on him.

He was recently accused of killing cat #2 just last week (which by the way was never confirmed as there were no witnesses, only speculations. Remember…Innocent until proven guilty.)

Dog Shame

I immediately starting yelling at Levi for being so damn obvious about his cat indiscretions. As his dog mommy, I completely accept his serial cat killing tendencies, but he really needs to be less obvious about his victims. Picking two cats that live across the street from us is just way too obvious, I advised him that going a little further down the street would divert suspicion away from him and onto other dogs.  At least down the street there were more dogs without invisible fences that he could pin the murders on.

Seriously, this dog needs to watch some more Dateline.

As I put the card down, it fell to the floor and flipped over… there was a note on the back.

The note read, in terrible handwriting, “The police advice that you to move your car from Fresh Market (Fresh Market is a local grocery store).”

What in the hell does that mean? Why did the cop misspell “advise”? What an idiot.

The relief was only replaced by fear because not even ten minutes before I found this card, I was shopping at Fresh Market!

How could that cop have seen me at the store and arrived to my house before I got home? How did he know where I lived? Was this some weird joke? Is it even legal to run my plates then leave a poorly hand written note on my home door? If I parked illegally, why not just write me a parking ticket? Why the fuck did he come to my house?!

I called the officer on his line and left a voicemail asking why he was at my house and what the hell that note meant. To this day, he has never called me back…even scarier.

Stalking 101: Leave creepy note regarding whereabouts on door

I can’t say that I am surprised in the least. I mean most officers have terrible handwriting and can’t spell. Plus, I have yet to come into contact with an officer who ever had a decent notepad on them to write a decent note.

Like this one time, a cop came to my house after a neighbor had complained about the noise coming from my old apartment. My friend and her boyfriend were fighting and our nosy neighbor felt the need to intrude on their daily fighting routine. If our neighbor had only known how many times this couple would fight, they would know it’s nothing new. Anyhow, after the cop came in and decided to arrest my friend for her smart remarks (which were very offensive) he asked my husband for a pen and paper to write down the address of the station where we could pick her up after she had been booked. As my husband searched high and low to help out the unprepared officer, my friend made one last remark….

“You are a police officer and you don’t even carry around a fucking pen or notepad?”

From that point on, I have yet to find a police officer who is prepared…And yes, if you were wondering, I am from NJ where people speak to law enforcement like that. It’s a way of life here.

Anyways, back to the point of this story….I have considered all the possibilities as to why this officer left his card and note and given the circumstances…I believe I have a stalker, a law enforcement stalker.

New Year’s resolution #3: Keep an eye out for any and all suspicious activity. Also, tell my readers this story in case I end up dead.

Fast forward to a week later and we come to New Year’s Eve. My sister and her boyfriend scored us all tickets to a “rave” concert in New York City.

What a crazy fun night we had; it was an interesting crowd and scene.

My two observations:

#1. The rave crowd found glow-in-the-dark lights more interesting than my 3 year old.

#2 Everyone was half naked.

It was a pretty cool scene.

Tight Crowd

Me and My Sister

Being at this concert, it came to my attention that my husband is getting too old, too quickly.

He is losing hair at an incredible rate…signs of being too old.

You see, there is this new drug called “Molly” (I watched a Dateline special all about it) and it usually can be found in places like the one we were at on New Year’s Eve. I guess it’s all the rage with younger kids these days.

Of course it was just too priceless that Boy Ryan was offered one by a random guy. It was even better that I had the privilege to hear the whole conversation….

Random Guy: “Hey dude, want some Molly?”

Boy Ryan: “Who? Molly? No thanks, I am married.”

What a guy, right? How can you not love my husband for his ever so innocent response?

Anyways, after my realization of how old Boy Ryan was getting, I decided to do something young and stupid, just to bring me back down to my 20′s something mentality. My big decision to combat “old” mentality…Crowd Surfing.

I informed Boy Ryan of my revelation and while he politely declined to join me, he was nice enough to set the whole thing up by getting the attention of 10-15 drunk guys to catch me. I figured the rest of the crowd would catch on once I started surfing so I took a deep breath and flew off the stage…in my $80 dress, black tights and 3 inch heels into the hands of strangers. They carried me about 2-3 feet and dropped me face first on the floor.

It. Was. Awesome.

After returning to the stage, I felt a sense of accomplishment and embarrassment, but mostly accomplishment.

New Year’s resolution #4: Attend more events like this to keep me young.

New Year’s Day came and went and I missed most of it because I needed a full recovery day, but when I woke up on Jan 2nd, I knew this year was going to be great! And it was until Addison starting hacking out her lungs early that morning. I called out of work and appreciated the extra day off. I debated taking her to the doctor until my work told me that I needed a doctor’s note to be excused from work, so then obviously I had no choice…to the doctor she would go.

Bringing my kid to the doctors on most occasions is a waste of time. After $30 to get the doctor’s note for work and no tangible diagnosis (surprise, surprise) I pulled into a gas station to buy Addison a drink; she had been asking me all day for the “blue” drink at Exxon.

As I started to get out of my car, a policeman whipped in right behind me with his lights flashing.

SHIT. What is it with these fuckers? This guy literally came out of nowhere.

The really important Police Men have something to say

He motioned for me to get back into my car… clearly I was being pulled over. I glanced at Addison and asked her if she could start crying or screaming or coughing dramatically. She told me no because she didn’t want to go to jail.

I have some work to do with this kid…we could make a great team if she could nail down the screaming child act during police pull-overs.

“Hi mam. Driver license, insurance and registration. Do you know what I am stopping you?”

Why do they ask you that? Will any sane person really say, O why yes, because I was speeding or went through a red light? No, idiot, nobody does that….

“No, officer I am not sure why”

“Because you have tinted windows and that is illegal in NJ”

I tried my best not to roll my eyes. Tinted windows…really? You don’t have anything better to do right now then watch cars drive by and look at the color of the windows?

“I’m sorry I bought this car with them on and have not gotten a chance to get them removed.”

“How long have you had the car?”

“Um, about a year or so”

“Really, you are busy girl then.  You couldn’t find anytime to get them off?”

“No sir, I work and when I take off  of work, I have to show proof that I took off for a good reason so that pretty much consumes my entire day-off”

“Ok, well let me check your information and ill be back”

The chances of me getting out of a ticket are slim at this point. I am guessing this guy was so bored, he was probably thankful for the paper work.

He returned with a ticket for the tints and told me to have a safe day.

The only safety I was going to find on the first day of 2014 was in my bed under the covers.

New Year’s resolution #5: No more donations to the local police departments unless it’s for notepads.

2014 has started on a rough note but it could be worse. I am hoping it’s not a bad sign as to what is coming my way this year. However if it is, I have decided my most important resolution this year will be….

New Year’s resolution #6: Find humor in every situation, no matter how shitty it might seem.

And with that, I wish you all a happy, healthy and humorous 2014.

Giving all my bad vibes to you so I don’t have them!

I’m lighting this shit on fire.

I had a thought today while listening to a 2 Chainz lyric. The lyric said, “”Chain hang to my ding-a-lang, Chain hang to my ding-a-lang“. Never mind the fact these two lines are probably the most profound knowledge I have heard in a while but more importantly,   2 Ropes, I mean 2 Chainz is making millions coming up with that crap. Technically rappers can be considered writers, writers who have terrible grammar and no sense of the English language.

We totally have something in common…

Let me just state for the record, I am not entirely illiterate and I do not have a chain that hang to my ding-a-lang, even though the thought of that sounds intriguing. But I Sure Got Some Shitty Ass Grammar skills.  (you see what I did there?)

When I write, I focus on humor and content that evokes uncontrollable laughter. Are there technical mistakes that occur? Tons.

* I am not a writer who blogs, I am a blogger who writes.*

Therefore, I have written a disclaimer for all writers and readers who read my nonsense.

Dear Writers who blog,

Let me first explain that this letter is full of grammatical errors. Let me also explain that the chances of me proof-reading this letter AFTER I have typed it, is slim.  All that I ask is for you to please put aside your anal retentive reading skills for just a moment.

If you read my posts please know….

I still cannot successful spell words like tomorow and wenesday. If spell checker doesn’t catch it, chances are, I won’t either.

Sometimes I make up my own words like, Drunkly.  I’ll use that word in a sentence…Sometimes when I drink too much Tequila, I think to myself, Damn, Ryan you are drunkly. If words like, “Twerking” and “Selfies” are real words, I think Drunkly can certainly be one.  Drunkly is a damn fine word.

Semi-colons are a ton of fun. I constantly put ; where the ; shouldn’t live; because I just; like how they look; on the page;.

My sentences start with conjunctions and end in prepositions. And I think they are the best that they can be.

I also often question the definition of a run on sentence because sometimes I am not even sure it’s really a run on sentence due to the fact that it doesn’t look like a run on sentence but it might be a run on sentence. Is that a run on sentence?

I, am, a, comma, whore.

I…also…overuse…ellipses…

I discriminate against the ‘ because its possessive.

I am aware of the difference between You’re and Your but if I write the phrase, Your a fucktard and you still can’t decipher the difference between “You’re/Your”, well then your a fucktard.

I have proof-read this exact sentence 3 times still didn’t find the left out word. Did you find it?

Verb usage is my enemy. It does, did, will, keep me up at night.

While I highly respect the skills of each and ever writer who blog, My style is My own. So with that, Writers please continue to use your punctuation. correctly. Please continue to use correct subject and verb agreements…and for god’s sake put the ; where it belongs.

The standard of writing is an ever changing landscape. In a world where we speak in #hashtags and abbreviate phrases like BTW and SMH, basic writing rules are a dieing art.

Maybe one day I will be a blogger turned writer. Maybe I will reconsider burning my grammar book and actually read it. But for now, I will just continue to blog and commit terrible crimes against the English language.

It’s a work in progress.

Long live writing, Long live blogging,

That Girl Ryan

I used to have a million dollars but I spent it.

Let me tell you a story…

This is what I looked like with a million dollars.

Last year I was notified by the state department that I had money that needed to be claimed. So I called up the state department to see how much I was owed and nearly fell on the floor.  The  lady on the other end of the phone informed me that 1 million dollars was left to me by an anonymous donor.

Immediately my mind rushed with ideas…I could spend all this money on…Cars? Houses? Saving the whales? Putting it into savings?

I couldn’t land on a concrete decision, although I definitely decided it was not going into savings. This very question kept me awake for days.  I even asked the heaven’s to give me the right answer.

Fast forward to a few nights later when I was awoken by a bright light shining through my window. It seemed to get closer and closer with every second until it was literally hovering above me. Panicked, I shook my husband to wake him but before he could wake up, a voice whispered in my ear…

“THAT GIRL RYAN?” said the whisper.

“Um, Yes?” I trembled.

“You have been summoned by the almighty holy one. Come with me please.”

The light wrapped around my arm and began pulling me out of bed.

“Hey! Stop that, I refuse to be part of your human experiment. Go back to the planet you came from. No, means no!”

The light continued to levitate me despite my protests and out the window we flew.  Up, Up and away we ascended into the air and began rapidly climbing intimidating altitudes. Once we were well beyond Earth’s atmosphere, we reached a large grouping of pure white clouds. As we got closer, the clouds seemed to morph into a small tunnel, not even big enough for a car to fit through.

As we soared through the tunnel quickly approaching the end, I could see a vast valley of hills, clouds and rainbows; it was a beautiful scene. Doves, swans and even flying flamingos trafficked around us as we sped faster to a rusty gate floating in mid-air.

This is the best representation I could find

The light placed me right in front of the rusted, broken gate and instructed me to stay put until a man came to greet me… his name would be: Cory Monteith.

“Wait, Cory Monteith…as in Finn from Glee?”

“Yes, now shut up and stay put” the light replied as he disappeared into thin air.

A few minutes later a chariot of doves descended in front of the gate and they were indeed carrying Finn from Glee. I was completely star struck.

He was adorbs

“Hi That Girl Ryan, It is great to meet you. I frequently read your stuff, always gives me a good laugh”

“Well thanks; I’m honored to hear that…sometimes I just go on and on and wonder who would read…Wait, aren’t you dead? Wait! Am I dead?”

“No, no, no you’re not dead. You are just lucky enough to pay a visit to heaven for a brief conversation and proposition.

Let me explain… I am the CFO here in heaven and I manage all of heaven’s assets and basic yearly budget. Recently, heaven has been experiencing a serious budget deficit and it has left us in quite a financial rut.

As you might have noticed, the pearly gates are not so pearly and need vast repairs.The angels are also up for new wings this year;  you wouldn’t believe how much nerve China has for charging those outrageous universal shipping fees for the wing material!

Plus, Jesus has been begging me nonstop for IPads for his 12 disciplines. You just can’t say no to the son of the “Big Guy” upstairs.  Long story short, we came up with a plan to give certain individuals the chance to buy their way into Heaven and help us fund Heaven’s expenses.”

I sat to ponder his explanation for a moment…

“So you are allowing people to buy their way into heaven? Pay for their sins to be on the Heaven VIP list?”

“Yes, exactly! We haven’t launched a program like this since we paired up with the Catholics, those people will pay anything to get into heaven.  However since the Heaven funds are so low, we decided to open up the opportunity to all religions. This time instead of calling it,  Catholic Guilt , we will call it, Invest and Be Saved!  We seem to think it resonates much better with capitalists these days. “

“Ok I guess? So, why are you asking me? I already have Catholic Guilt. Do I have that much to pay for already? I have only been alive like 25 years; it couldn’t be THAT bad.”

“Well…I am not the sole judge of that but to give you a hint; you have been a total pain in the ass. Wouldn’t it be better to ensure your entry into heaven instead of wondering what actions might have disqualified you?”

“Yea, you have a point. I did just come into some money so how much investing must I do to be saved?”

In classic Finn fashion, he began to snap his fingers and sing … Madonna’s Like a Prayer.

When he got to the line, “I wanna take you there” he waited for me to jump in, but I let him know that I was never a fan of Glee duets. Ignoring my comment, he grabbed my hand and told me to close my eyes…

When I opened them, I found myself inside my old daycare’s living room. I spotted myself at 3 years old, sitting with a group of other children watching Barney, the purple dinosaur. Barney and gang were singing about personal hygiene and showing the group of children how to brush their teeth.

A little boy about the same age as me stood up in front of the TV to get everyone’s attention.

“Hey cootie lovers, I dare one of you to put a booger on the TV. I bet you won’t. I bet you are too chicken.”

All the children sat quietly looking around, staring at who would be the brave one to volunteer first. Little Girl Ryan stood up quickly and shouted, “I’ll do it”.

Even at a young age, I could never turn down a dare.

Little Girl Ryan dug deep inside her nose picking out the most glorious, most green looking booger that any of the kids had ever witnessed. She marched over the television and smeared that sucker till it clouded the screen.

The group of kids belted out in laughter, applauding the event and causing enough commotion to attract the attention of the teacher.

“What’s going on in here?” yelled the burly teacher, “Who did THAT?” She pointed to the booger covered TV screen. “I’m only going to count to 3 and if nobody tells me who did that, you all are going in time out. 1…”

“2…”

At 2 ½ that little bitch Cindy, who was 4 squeaked, “Ryan did it!”. Soon after her announcement, all the other  kids chimed in agreement.

“This was the moment you learned to fend for yourself. It was this event that impacted the beginning of your sinful ways.” Finn’s words interrupted as I watched Little Girl Ryan being hauled off to the time out room…I remembered that moment but surely didn’t think it was significant enough to deny my entry into heaven.

Finn began snapping his fingers to the Glee-Madonna remake and nodded to me to close my eyes.…

This time when I opened my eyes, I found myself in my middle school gymnasium; all my friends from middle school were sitting Indian style on the floor excitedly waiting for an assembly to start. From the looks of it, I guessed it was a D.A.R.E lecture.

Thank you D.A.R.E for keeping ME Drug FREE!

I scanned the crowd to find Middle school Girl Ryan and found her sitting next to a very small, petite brunette girl.  As I observed Middle school Girl Ryan, I saw that she and the brunette seemed to be very close friends. The way they chatted so animatedly was a sure sign of a close relationship.

The teachers began to shush all the students to alert them the assembly was about to begin. The crowds of chatter quickly ceased and a woman took to the stage, “Hello Central Middle School! So glad to have you all here! Today we are going to talk about D.A.R.E and how you can be an anti-drug user! Are you excited?!”

“Yes” the middle school students all chimed in unison.

“But first, since today is the one year anniversary of 9/11, I’d like to have a brief moment of silence to honor those who were impacted and lost their lives.”

The lady bowed her head and the students on the floor followed her, except for one. Middle school Girl Ryan squirmed uncomfortably, shifting from side to side, crossing her legs then uncrossing her legs. When the crowd was completely silent, a loud fart erupted, disrupting the moment of silence. I glanced over at Middle school Girl Ryan whose face was bright red.

Almost immediately, all the children turned to Middle school Girl Ryan and looked in horror. Middle school Girl Ryan clearly knew she was caught so turned her head toward her brunette friend, placing all the blame on her. 

“I didn’t fart!” she announced to the entire crowd, “Ryan tell them! It wasn’t me!”

Middle school Girl Ryan stood up and said, “Gabby, own up to it, you farted!” All the kids gasped in disbelief and then into laughter.

A teacher ran over and grabbed Gabby pulling her out of the gymnasium. You could hear the teacher yelling at Gabby all the way down the hall, “You think that was funny?! How distasteful for a young lady to make such a disgusting disruption during a very important moment of silence. We will see what the principle has to say about this!”

I looked to Finn, “That was Gabby Grapeler. She was my best friend in middle school until that day. I blamed her for the fart during the 9/11 moment of silence. From that day the kids nicknamed her, Gassy Gabby. After graduation, she was so scarred by the ordeal she moved away and we never heard from her again. All that happened because of me.”

“Indeed it did. You ruined that girl’s teenage years. You should have been the better person and admitted to farting. This moment is a pretty big factor in deciding your fate into heaven.”

Once again, he grabbed my hand, sang Madonna and off we went.

Finn brought me to a variety of past events…mainly from high school and college. The worst of which included…

…Streaking naked across campus while being chased by the campus police…Throwing up in a friend’s back pack at a house party…Taking a stranger’s pea coat from a bar…And leaving a bag of dog poop on my neighbor’s doorstep after he had asked me to pick up after my dog. On the bag was a handwritten message that said, “You Are Welcome”. (Finn said the handwritten note did not help the heaven situation.)

I shook my head in disbelief… I really didn’t think my actions throughout my life were all THAT bad.

Finn interrupted my thoughts, “Well, while you haven’t murdered anyone, you have committed some acts that directly resulted in emotionally hurting others… like poor Gassy Gabby.”

“Ok, so what are you suggesting? I pay money to erase everything I have done?” I questioned.

“Yes. I have already put together an invoice for you. I figured you would be convinced after seeing all your past indiscretions.” 

He handed me a piece of paper:

Invoice for That Girl Ryan’s Sins:

1. $200,000 for Gassy Gabby Incident
2. $200,000 for each sin committed during high school and college
3. $50,000 for each alcohol over-indulgence
   
4. $549,980 FSP

Total: $999, 980

“What is FSP?”

“Future Sins Policy. It basically covers any minor sinful acts you commit during the remainder of your life after this day. You can think of them as life-long “freebies”. Examples of minor sinful acts include; Road rage, making fun of small people, making children cry and any bad joke you put into your blog (I threw in the last part myself-wink).”

“Well that leaves me exactly $20 from my entire lump sum” I stated.

“Yes, that is left so you can commit an act of kindness for someone on earth. Give knowledge to someone whose life will forever be benefited.”

“Ok, well take me home and I will write you a check.”

With a flash, Finn and I were back at my house. I wrote him the check and thanked him for his time tonight and for the Invest and Be Saved opportunity.

“Congrats That Girl Ryan, you’re not a bad person anymore! O, and before I leave, what are you going to do with that $20?”

“Well, I am going to the liquor store to buy a REAL pack of beer for a good friend of mine, Don at DonOfAllTrades. He thinks Bud Light Lime is the best beer out there but once he has a sip of some real beer, like Samuel Adams or Harpoon, I think his life will forever be changed for the better.”

“Well done, friend, well done.”

And like that, Finn from Glee took off with my million dollar check and guaranteed my entry into Heaven.

True Story.

Part of Finish The Sentence Friday! Check out all the blogs posted today.

Do you ever wonder why you choose to take pictures of certain things and people?

No? You have a life and don’t have time for stupid thoughts like this? Kudos to you.

I don’t, so I think about these things.

I rarely snap photos, I find it to be a hassle. So when I do take pictures, it had to be very important to me during that moment. Last night I desperately wanted to avoid doing anything that involved washing dishes,  cooking dinner or reading “Brown Bear, Brown Bear” for the 100th time, so I hid in my computer room. I ended up going through 3 years worth of photos I had taken.

And this what I found….IPhoto Gems.

“Obama’s Booty Call”

Date: Fall 2008

Location: JMU Auditorium- 6:00am

Re-cap: During Obama’s first Presidential Campaign he visited JMU to give a speech. Me, being super liberal in college like all the cool liberal arts kids, decided to wait in line at 5:00am to get a front row seat to see Obama speak. I wanted to be so close that every time he said, “Yes, We Can”  the spit from his mouth would drop on my head showering me in Obama holy water.  Anyways, I snapped two pictures; one of Obama during his speech and the other of this:

If this is your ass, let me know so I can tag you.

Clearly it was worth the photo.

“The greatest bull riding coach ever”

Date: Summer 2012

Location: Atlantic City, Mechanical Bull Riding Pit

Recap: I was drunk in Atlantic City (surprise, surprise) and spotted this tiny man (4’9) walking around the casino. I decided to ask him to be my mechanical bull riding coach for the evening.   He obliged and took a picture with me before my record-breaking bull ride of 39 seconds.

What a guy.

AKA: Pablo Balls.

“Faceless Bach”

Date: Summer 2010, night after Bull Riding Incident.

Scene: Atlantic City, bachelorette party

Re-cap: No clue. All that was left was this picture. Please note the little blonde gremlin on the bottom licking my leg.

Yes- we are still friends.

No- she does not have a leg-licking fetish.

“Photos of a Newborn”

Date: Spring 2010

Scene: My room in my parent’s house

Re-cap: Boy Ryan and I spent our Saturday nights taking pictures of our kid and found ways to distort her face.

I have about 30 photos of her as a newborn and over 100 photos of her as a newborn, with a distorted face.

I swear I am a decent mother.

“Marshmellow Girl”

“Alien Princess”

“Plastic Surgery Gone Wrong”

And eventually when the photos got boring, this happened:

She turned out to be a great kid.

“The Monster Face”

Date: Sometime in 2011

Scene: first apartment

Re-cap: Addison’s infamous Monster Face. When we discovered she could make THIS face, we bribed her with candy for months to do it for the camera.

This video is the product of 5 sweet tarts, 7 M&M’s and 3 Fun Size Snickers.

Parenting at it’s finest.

“Random Stranger”

Date: Summer 2013

Scene: A bar in New York City

Re-cap: Let me just state, I have a ton of pictures with random people I don’t recall ever meeting, but this one takes the cake.

Who is the random dude in this picture? Where did he come from? Is he human or alien?

Whatever, I’m just glad I snapped a picture of the strangest looking person I have ever seen.

Bitches Be Like, For Real?

“The Best Decision of My Life”

Date: Senior Prom 2007

Scene: Jersey Shore

Re-cap:  When I turned 18 I decided to celebrate by piercing whatever body part I wanted. I chose my nose and took this picture to remind me of my newly gained independence. When I uploaded the picture to IPhoto, I named the photo album, “Best Decision of my life“. I hate the 18 year old version of me, what a douche bag.

Yes, I totally shared this

“Stoner Dog”

Date: Winter 2008

Scene: College apartment

Re-cap: Party at my place.  A friend of my husband’s, then my boyfriend, was instantly infatuated with my dog, Joba. I believe he used the words, “Spiritually Connected” and asked to take Joba for a walk.

An hour later, he brought Joba back and Joba was a new dog. Joba was calm, quiet and peaceful for the first time since I brought him home. I snapped a picture to capture the rare behavior.

Little did I know until later that night that Joba was stoned off his ass.

This is a picture of my dog high as a kite while wearing a green sweater.

“Sasquatch Sightings”

Date: Spring 2009

Scene: Spring Break, Panama City

Re-cap: I nicked named this old man “Squatch”. “Squatch” would roam the beach everyday while we were on Spring Break. He was on a mission to score some booty with the College Female Spring-Breakers.  He was so obvious and so awkward about his intentions, I captured his picture daily.

Hunting for college booty all day, everyday, since 1890.

Day two

Day three

Day four

I think I will go through my pictures more often now.  A picture really is worth a 1,000 words.

Do your pictures have stories behind them?

The day that I saw it, it was a Tuesday and I had been drinking heavily for a Tuesday. Had I known that on this particular Tuesday I’d be seeing something this large, I would have slowed down on the boxed wine.

I first noticed him staring at me like an owl would watch it’s prey high above the tree tops; fixated, ready, waiting for the moment to strike. I pretended I hadn’t seen him and concentrated harder on the dull conversation I was having with a girl whose boobs were hanging a little too far from her shirt. She was going on and on about her recent boob implants. Right about the time she began describing the difference her implants make during a motorboat, she abruptly stopped to alert me that I was being watched.

“Uh, like that dude is totally staring at you.” she said as she nodded in his direction.

“Yea, I see. I think he might be that guy from last weekend. I was at a party and flashed my chest to a bunch of frat brothers. I think he probably recognizes me.”

Uninterested by my comment, Boobies continued on with her implant story and I leaned in closer to avoid the boy staring at me. Suddenly, he began walking over in my direction and stood above me and Boobies waiting for a break in our conversation. “May I borrow this little lady for a moment, mam?” He asked Boobies while extending a hand to me.

“Um whatever, Yea I guess“. Boobie answered.

Upon taking his hand, he walked to me opposite side of the room where the music wasn’t so loud. I had really hoped he wasn’t part of the flashing last weekend. He couldn’t have remembered them…after all, my boobs were about as large as a pair of fat male’s, they couldn’t have made THAT much of an impression.

He interrupted my thoughts, “I think I have seen you around here before. Maybe another party across town? Or last weekend?”

“Um, no I don’t really hang out outside of campus that often, so I doubt it.”

“Well, I think you’re pretty and this party is lame. Want to get out of here?”

“That actually sounds awesome right now, let me get my stuff.”

I was grateful to be excused from the conversation with Boobies and my drunk confidence was peaking…I needed to make the most of it.

After he drove about 40 minutes he stopped his car in front of an old, red barn. I had no idea who this guy was but for whatever reason I felt comfortable enough to be out in the middle of nowhere with him.

“Come with me.” He directed

He led me to a corner of the barn that was covered in leftover piles of hay. I noticed his demeanor immediately change from calm to uncomfortable. His palms and forehead began accumulating beads of sweat and his speech stuttered with every word.

“Do you want to see something really big?” he asked me nervously.

“Um, ok?” I replied.

He smiled with relief and walked behind a stall door. “I’ll be right back, I just have to get it ready. Stay there.” He disappeared for a few moments, fumbling around. Suddenly he moved the stall door and that’s when I saw it…the biggest thing I’d had ever seen.

My mouth dropped to the floor in shock…like this

Whoa.

Speechless

Holy Mother of God, what the hell was that?!  I thought to myself. What does he think he’s going to do with that thing and me?

Now, before I continue, I want to be very clear about something. I have never considered myself sheltered; I’m no prude, but I wasn’t expecting to be put in such an awkward situation so suddenly.

I stared at it in amazement. I didn’t even know what to do or how I should react. Part of me was so intrigued, while another part of me was petrified. He could really hurt me with that thing.

Sensing my confusion, he quickly blurted out, “Do you want to touch it? Most people see it and want to touch it.”

“I’m not sure…”

“Haven’t you done this before?” he questioned

“No, I uh, grew up in a suburb outside the city. Suburb-girls don’t get out much. I have pretty strict parents.”

“I think you will like touching it. Go ahead, give it a good ol’ stroke, I promise it won’t bite ya.” he joked.

I might have asked him to take me home if I was sober, but I was hammered and didn’t care whether it hurt or gave me some terrible disease, so I inched overly slowly and reached my hand down, “Good God it’s so big!? “

I had no doubt it was the biggest I had ever seen, it must have been some kind of world record.

“They really know how to grow them big out here in the country.” I blurted out to break the awkwardness of the situation,  “Have you…have you ever measured it?” I asked.

“Pa and I took out a tape measure one day because Pa had noticed it was strange-looking. If you can believe it, it didn’t break the world record by a long shot. The record is held by a bigger, black one. Them black ones are always big, so no surprise there. But it’s still real impressive for a non-black.”

“It’s easy, I do it myself all the time when I’m bored.” He began to show me by pointing to one end of it. “Start at the base of it and slowly work your way to the tip of the head. It’s that easy.”

After we were finished with a little petting and light stroking, I made sure to go inside and wash my hands. It certainly wasn’t clean and left a sticky residue.

Note to self, next time I do that, I am going to need gloves or something but at the time, I really didn’t care because I enjoyed the whole experience. My first experience with the biggest I had ever seen.

As I was dropped off at my dorm room, I thanked my host and told him we should do it again soon.

“Next time, I won’t be so scared of it.” I said as I threw him an eye wink. He giggled as he wished me a good night.

That memory will forever be ingrained in my mind. Since that day, I’ve opened up and seen all different types, from black ones, to white ones, ones from Mexico and even some in the park, which is pretty unusual. But none of them compare to the one I saw in the barn that evening.

To this day, the biggest cock I ever saw was that drunken night in the old, red barn.

Scroll down to see the picture!!

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What A Beauty

Part of Finish The Sentence Friday! See more here! Come play with us there!

After working in retail all throughout college I can say I have observed some serious fashion distractions, ranging from the peek a boo thong sitings to the dumpy white Reeboks. If you got that instant paranoid feeling, then I’m glad I got your attention. Keep in mind I am a woman of mistakes as well and there were times when I was guilty of some of these fashion distractions but I realized that 90% of the female population is guilty of committing terrible fashion crimes. So I decided to create a list of 10 things that Distract me in Women’s fashion. I promise I will not think less of you if you are guilty of one or more of these on my list that is, ONLY if you have intentions of fixing these distractions. Shall we begin…..

1. The See Through Legging

LADIES THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE! I know that you can’t see your butt entirely but do yourself a favor and bend over in front of a mirror. A little bend could go a long way. I can’t begin to tell you how many times I’ve seen some bottom of the drawer underwear because you did not bend and check before you left the house.

2. Over used UGG boots

WHY WHY WHY!!!! Do you see how stupid you look? I have seriously lost track of how many women I see walking around with uneven over used Uggs boots. I know they are expensive but guess what, that’s why knock offs were invented. I promise you I can hardly tell they are not the real deal. Please retire your Uglies immediately!

3. Holey Socks

For the record, I want you to know I nearly dry heaved while trying to find a picture of this. I’m not quite sure why but socks with holes just get to me. You’re probably wondering…well if my shoes are on….how can you see them? It’s when you take your shoes off and you enter my space, you are entering the NO-NO zone. Socks don’t cost much. Do me and the rest of the world a favor…get some new socks.

4. Pit Stains

Now this is a sensitive subject because I’m pretty sure we are all guilty of the occasional Pit Stain every now and then. Trust me I am guilty of these on a daily basis. What kills me are the girls out there who don’t know when it’s time to retire the Pit Stained shirt. I promise, you will find a basic white tee again for less then $10 at HM.

5. Baby Deer Syndrome

If you can’t walk in your shoes….guess what..that means you shouldn’t be wearing them. There is nothing worse then seeing a gorgeous girl who cannot walk in newly purchased Sam Edelman’s or better yet her obnoxiously high Christian Louboutin’s. If I wanted to see a baby deer I would watch Disney’s Bambi. I’m no expert in high heel walking but that’s why I keep it at 3-4 inches max.

6. Bra Back Fat

I believe there are 2 types of Bra Back Fat…You’re either overweight or have no idea what bra size you are. If you are in category 2 of Bra Back Fat…we can all tell the difference between a 34C and a 32C. The smaller size ain’t doing you or the person behind you any favors, go get measured.  Trust me, bra back fat is not a good look.

7. Camel Toe

Now if you expected this not to be on the list then you were terribly mistaken. Unfortunately, camel toes are still sweeping the female wardrobe nation 1 crotch at a time. The only fix to this is just stop wearing your pants so far up your vagina. If you’re not comfortable with your body then get mid-rise like I do. The beefcake in my life always makes fun of me for it…but guess what this homegirl doesn’t have a muffin top or a camel toe! If I helped eliminate 1 camel toe today then I did my job.

8. Sports Bra Gym Whore

I have one thing to say to this girl or any girl who dresses like this at the gym…PUT A TEE SHIRT ON AND PULL YOUR HAIR BACK YOU STUPID GYM WHORE! Even if I had a body like this girl in the picture-who by the way should add more weight to her squat-I wouldn’t dress like her. I dare you to put some clothes on and put a crease in that recently washed hair of yours. You will be surprised the type of positive attention you will receive.

9. Ripped Tights

AHHHHH!!!!!! I want to shove my hair in my mouth to calm myself down when I see this on the street. Who told you this was a good look!?! Please tell me! Because I would love to slap a bitch and then buy each and every one of you a new pair of tights! “I saw it in an Urban Outfitters catalog”…well, clearly you don’t pull it off well because now you just look like a homeless hooker.  Just be honest, you’re too lazy to buy new tights. God dammit, JUST BUY THEM!

10. Jewelry Hoarder

Is it really necessary to have 4 rings on 1 hand or better yet 20 bracelets on at all times. This reminds me of my emo days. Take note of my wrist in the picture below….

NOT A GOOD LOOK PUBLICIST!!!

Unless you are about to go into a girl fight there is no reason to wear this much jewelry on your body at one time. It just looks dumb. Keep it classy ladies…that’s all I got to say.

I hope I didn’t embarrass too many of you with this post or lose any friends…My goal is to help the female population by creating 1 less fashion distraction at a time. Plus, I can finally focus on what’s important, like squatting with my hair tied back.

Dear Mr. President,

My newest complaint is of epic proportions which is why this letter is worthy of your attention. After a recent episode, I sense there are some fishy things going on in the medical world that you should know about…

This past summer I was self-diagnosed with Leukemia, Crohn’s disease and/or Celiac disease. According to WebMd, I had the symptoms for all three. I won’t go into detail about my concerns but let’s just say I could not travel too far from the restroom and obviously, that complicates things for me. I wanted to confirm my self-diagnosis so I made an appointment with my nearest physician, specifically a gastroenterologist; also known as a butt doctor in laymen’s terms. The doctor’s name was Dr. Gassenbutt and I will not admit, on the record, that I chose him because of his last name, but I did. He was a tiny man, no more than 5’0 and had a nose the size of the Wicked Witch of the West. Whatever, it doesn’t really matter, Angie’s List said he was highly qualified.

Creepy? No, of course not.

Meeting him for the first time was interesting to say the least. He greeted me then asked me to get fully undressed. I gave him some credit, for a tiny man of 5’0, he got right to the point. First he felt around my stomach and then on my abdomen which tickled a bit. When I started to giggle, he also began to giggle and asked me to turn on my side to examine my back. He wasn’t so bad for a butt doctor, hideous yes, but overall a decent guy.  Then he did something that nobody has ever done… he went a bit too far, too fast. Without any notice, he stuck two fingers right in my back door. There was no warning, or, “hey girl, prepare for entry“, he just went for it. I would have at least appreciated a head’s up because I believe the, “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy does not apply in this situation.

Next time I’m bringing my rape whistle.

After the violation examination, he sent me on my way, told me to pick up a “stool sample” pack at the lab and come back next week for a colonoscopy.  If I would have known what I was getting myself into, I would have left and never returned.

At the lab, I was handed a bag of 16 cylinder tubes and told to read the directions on the back of each bottle. I found out rather quickly what a “stool sample” really was and that it has to be repeated 16 times.

16 bottles of stool samples…Impossible.

I’m not a pigeon, I don’t just walk around shitting when I feel like it. There was no way I could possibly fill up all 16 tubes. Did anyone consider that I am a girl? Girls have a variety of factors that determine whether or not they can efficiently “go to the bathroom.” I can’t just go when I think it, I’m not a dude, I have standards for that kind of thing.  But when there is a will, there is a way and I found “the way” at McDonald’s. After digesting 4 Big Mac’s in one sitting, let’s just say, 16 bottles was a piece of cake. Who would have known that MacDonald’s makes the secret potion for filling up sample tubes. Maybe they should put that next to the calorie counts or something.

So, the Big Mac’s were a blessing in disguise or a blessing in a bottle, but I still had one bigger obstacle to overcome; finding the right time at home to complete my tube-task. There is something you must understand, I am a mother which means I get no peace and quiet, even when I lock myself in the bathroom. In fact, every time I walk into the bathroom, my kid will barge in as if it’s an open invitation for a hang-out session. I swear that this kid has some freakish type of sixth sense. As if that isn’t bad enough, I have two dogs that need to be next to me at all times and going to the bathroom with a kid talking and two dogs staring at you never ends well. Going to the bathroom is just not the same as it was when I was single and child-less.

To be blunt Mr. President, I haven’t taken a decent shit since before I had my daughter. That is four years of back-up. Try and be a decent human being with four years of back-up.

So my point is,  at the very moment I was standing over the toilet, placing my materials into the last tube, BOOM. The door swings open and there she is followed by the rest of my furry dog pack. “Mommy…Moommmmyyyyyy…I need...” She stopped mid-sentence when she realized what I was doing and said, “Mom, you shouldn’t play with your poop“. My 3 year old just told me it was wrong to “play” with my poop. That is what we call, “A Rock Bottom” moment, I’m not sure my life could get any lower.

It is one thing to scoop out your own samples, but it is an entirely different thing to get reprimanded by a child while doing it.

Dropping that shit off (pun intended) at the lab was a relief up until I was handed two packs of prep drink-powder. Now it was time to prepare for my colonoscopy…

“Take this the night before your colonoscopy and the morning of your colonoscopy“, directed the lab technician, “Make sure you don’t eat too much before taking both packs.” She wished me luck and sent me on my way. I should have know right then and there that my life would forever change.

This is an understatement.

I’m recapping this part for you Mr. President to shed light on the types of medical drugs that are being given to innocent Americans like myself. In short, after drinking that prep-powder..my next few words will be chosen with delicacy…I experienced a horrific, graphic and death-defying ordeal. Let’s just say, Niagara Falls could have been considered a stream after the velocity I had witnessed. No human being should ever feel that kind of power; it’s could be dangerous. Imagine if the terrorists got their hands on that stuff and used it as a weapon?

We would all die of bowel-suffocation!

Bottoms Up!

I don’t know how I did it but after re-gaining some consciousness post-prep, I finally made it to the colonoscopy center. I sat in a waiting room with 7-8 other, old people who looked like they would keel over at any moment. How the hell did they survive after digesting that prep drink?  I wondered…I’m sure people have died from drinking that stuff…that would be one hell of a news report… Man, 81 dies from prep drink that exploded his heart…OR…Man, 81 passes away drinking a substance that burst his head open. 

After thinking about that for 30 minutes, I was more than pleased to have the anesthesia knock me out. Upon waking up, I believe I told my nurse that I was “single and ready to mingle“. When she had asked me how to spell my name, I spelled the name of Jennifer Lawrence.

Just taking a look…

You know what was bad? The part when I got my medical bill from this whole fiasco! Mr. President, are you aware of the prices being charged? Is it even legal to charge this much?!

$700 for Stool Sample

$1400 for Colonoscopy

$50 for in-office visit

Let’s just examine the break down for a moment…

$700 stool sample…$400 of which went to “LABOR COSTS”. WHAT LABOR WAS NEEDED FOR A STOOL SAMPLE? If I am correct in my thinking, I was the one who ate all 4 Big Mac’s. I was the one who excreted those Big Mac’s and I was the one who shoveled the remnants of those Big Mac’s into 16 tubes. WHAT ADDITIONAL WORK WAS NEEDED? Next time, I’ll take a shit right in front of the lab technician and save myself the $400.

$1400 colonoscopy. In definition, a colonoscopy is a tiny camera that is inserted into your butt to examine your insides. So how is it that porn actors, who by the way do this for a living, aren’t paid nearly as much as my bill? Is there really that much of a difference between a medical camera and a plug? I think not.

$50 in-office exam visit. I’m not going to re-visit the two finger memory, but if I wanted to pay someone $50 to do just that, it sure as hell wouldn’t have been Dr. Gassenbutt. I would have at least expected a nice dinner  and maybe an intellectual conversation before-hand. For the record, I have a very nice behind and usually don’t allow any guy under 5’0 go anywhere near it. But now, Dr. Midget-Hands wants to charge me $50 for it?!

And what really puts the icing on the cake is that my $2000 diagnosis was nothing more than a case of an “upset” stomach. Well, thank you Dr. Ass-Hat for a brilliant investigation…I just paid $2000 for you to cop a feel up my butt, almost kill me with my own bowel movements and fund an adventure into the depths of my ass.

Are your health bills this much Mr. President? Perhaps I should check out the healthcare.gov website and switch my plan because my insurance is literally a pain in the ass. I think we can both agree this insurance thing is all George Bush’s fault…he screws up everything. Only an idiot would make healthcare this much of a hassle.

After reading this letter I’m sure you feel obliged to make a donation to pay for my upset stomach. Just a small donation will do, really and if you can’t find it in your heart to send money, the least you can do is tell me if aliens are real. I think I have gone to through enough to finally know the truth about that.

May God Bless America,

A Broke, Healthcare Victim

I love that I have cleavage in this picture

I did the one thing I told myself I would never do, I married a southern boy. I also told myself I’d never get knocked up before marriage, but I did that too…by a southern boy who I said I would never marry. Go Figure.

Only the southerns drink beer while feeding their children

I’m not sure why, but I just really have this disliking for southern folk. I was born in Virginia but moved up north at the age of 13. Maybe I was brainwashed but I fully embraced the northern way as my way of life. Even on my first day of school in the north, I knew I would love it here.

Me: “Hi I’m Ryan, the new girl. Can I sit with you at lunch?”

Northern Girl: “No, and don’t ever fucking ask me again. You’re too blonde and too nice, you won’t last a day in this part of town.”

It was love at first curse, I immediately knew northerners were my kind of people. I dropped that southern accent faster than you could say “CAWWFEE”.

When I met my husband in college and learned first hand how southerns really work, I despised them…and all of their traditional ways. Let’s break it down, southerners like to get married before the age of 28 and have at least 2.5 children before the age of 32. They buy houses with a lot of land and white picket fences and wear riding boots with scarves. Plus, they all dye their hair blonde which is offensive to us naturally blondes. Of course I was married with a child before the age of 28 but I don’t count that because I’m not a fan of riding boots with scarves, white picket fences or fake blonde hair.

So when my husband decided to move to New Jersey and live in my world, he found out rather quickly what he was getting himself into; a cesspool of non-traditional thinking…

Thoughts from a northern-southern marriage

1. Cooking is the job of __________.

Boy Ryan (S): Women should be cooking most nights of the week. The only exception is during the summer, then it is a man’s duty to cook on the grill

Girl Ryan (N): Fact: most female serial killers, kill their victims by poisoning the victim’s food…Men should cook just as much as women to ensure they are not being poisoned

2. Decision Maker

Boy Ryan (S): Men should be the ones to make majority of family decisions

Girl Ryan (N): Men never should make decisions. If they do, the idea came from the woman

3. Children

Boy Ryan (S): Your twenties are for birthing children

Girl Ryan (N): Your twenties are for drinking, sleeping and doing stupid things

4. Marriage arguments

Boy Ryan (S): Couples should have calm, quiet discussions behind closed doors

Girl Ryan (N): The more tears, the more screaming, the better

5.Cursing

Boy Ryan (S): You should never curse in public

Girl Ryan (N): Fuck that shit

6. Working

Boy Ryan (S): Woman should be at home raising children while men go to work

Girl Ryan (N): Women should work so they don’t strangle their children

7. In-laws

Boy Ryan (S): I hate my in-laws

Girl Ryan (N): I hate my in-laws

8. Parenting

Boy Ryan (S): Parents should always be an example for children

Girl Ryan (N): Parents should sometimes be an example for children, but sometimes be just as annoying

9. Quotes to live by

Boy Ryan (S): Life is a journey so work hard and be respected

Girl Ryan (N): Life is short, so fuck it

10. Personal life

Boy Ryan (S): Personal life is private, never share the details of marriage or life with anyone

Girl Ryan (N): Umm…why do you think I started this blog…exploit it all!

Since the beginning of time, the North and South have been at odds. I find it only appropriate that I, a loud anti-southerner would marry a real, traditional southern boy. It’s like my destiny to learn to work with these annoying people. Even though my husband is traditional at heart, he has a wild streak that keeps him sane. I don’t know how we do it,  but we make it work. Our differences in tradition make us That Boy Ryan and That Girl Ryan.

So to you traditional southerners, take your white picket fences and shove it, we all know who’s the better breed of humans.

New York City

Do you ever wonder what if? What if you had made one decision differently? How would your life change?

Maybe you would be a rock star right now. Or maybe you would be a millionaire. Maybe not, but you never know.

The possibilities of “What If” are endless.  Everything in this moment IS the way it IS because of tiny small decisions…Whoa, deep thoughts for a Thursday, I know.

Cinco-De-Mayo in 2009 was most likely the night my surprise daughter came about. Drenched in Tequila after a day’s worth of drinking, Boy Ryan and I would have never guessed our little Mexican celebration dance would result in a series of events that would become our life.

Tequila+ Stupidity=Children

I often wonder, “What if my daughter was never born?” Not in like a bad way, actually sometimes, when she throws tantrums, but most of the time as just a thought. What would my life be like If I didn’t have children? Would it be better? Would it be worse? My life would probably be a lot easier and I’d be way cooler.

Who am I kidding, my life would be awesome. There are so many perks to being a child-less person…

1. I would never have to share the T.V…

instead, I have to watch this shit

What the F#$% is this anyway?

2.  I could sleep off all my hangovers…

Instead, I have to wake-up to this:

3. I wouldn’t be so lame…

Instead, I get excited about…

7pm…

PARTY TIME….

4. I would never have to answer to the name, “Mommy”…

Instead, I have to hear it over and over and over again

5. I would have real hobbies…

Instead, my hobbies are Barbies and dress-up

Ariel and Eric’s Wedding…3rd time this week

I’m always cast as Mary Poppins…not bad eh?

6. My biggest worry would be my social calendar…

Instead, I worry about well balanced dinners

This is healthy right?

7. My goals would be more adventurous:

1. Travel the world

2. Hike Mt. Vesuvius

3. Wear a bathing suit thong in public

Instead, my goals are totally unrealistic:

1. Stay up past 11pm on a Friday night

2. Teach my kid to wipe her own ass, correctly

3. Have a clean house for a week

8. My house wouldn’t be such a disaster…

Instead, I brace myself when cleaning.

Styrofoam underneath pillows

Dirty underwear in my bed.

I asked my kid why she didn’t put her dirty underwear in the laundry bin. She replied, “This is dad’s underwear.”

Note to self: If my husband is wearing Cinderella underwear in size 4T, I may have to re-evaluate the marriage.

SURPRISE! Can you tell what this is? No, let’s take a closer look…

Yep…That is a band-aid. Specifically, a used band-aid

9. I would sleep all night, every night…

Instead, I wake up to nasty feet in my face

10. Nobody would publicly embarrass me…

Instead when I have a visible booger in my nose, everybody hears about it

I know, poor me, my life is such a fail, I could have had such a beautiful life…

Damn Cinco-De-Mayo and all it’s devilish temptations.

But when I get down about my perfect, child-free, non-existent life, I come home and see this face.

What a mug!

For whatever reason I just can’t help but think…Thank gosh for Tequila and shitty birth control!

A funny thing happened on the way home from a track meet…

I think I have mentioned before that me at 18 was nothing short of a total douchebag, I apologize to my parents everyday for it. Before I tell this story, I will apologize again, I’m really sorry for being a douchebag.

It was winter track season of my senior year in high school and I was on my way home from a track meet. About 30 minutes into my drive, I hit a stretch of traffic that left me in a slow crawl for 15 miles. Hitting random stretches of traffic in New Jersey is not unusual.

FACT: New Jersians spend half of their life sitting in traffic.

Driving, doing my thing

Luckily, my teammate was carpooling home with me and helped to pass the time with Rent duets and celebrity impressions. To set the scene a little further, it was pouring rain and we had both finished a taxing track race; the 400 meter hurdles. If you are familiar with track, the 400 meter hurdle race is harder than childbirth, you might as well jump off a building when you find out you have to run it.  Anyways, as we passed the time…we came to notice an admirer driving a Honda Accord next to us.

He was probably about 23 or so and had big blue eyes with curly blonde hair styled like Matthew McConaughey’s. My teammate and I were instantly captured by his smiles. The flirting was subtle at first, his car would pull up next to us, he would flash a smile and take off again. We would inch up to his car, blow a kiss and giggle as we pulled away. After about 20 minutes or so of this traffic flirting, things started to get more complicated. We began writing notes and putting them up against the window for him to read like, “UR HOTT” or “HONDA’S GOT BACK”. One even read, “HONK IF UR INTO US!”. Childish yes, but so much fun up until my stomach started growling. As I was getting closer to a Red Lobster restaurant, my hunger could no longer be avoided.

“Damn, i’m starving.” I said to my teammate.

“Me Too! We should stop for food at Red Lobster, get some cheesy bread”.

“You just read my mind but I’m broke, I spent my last $10 on hair spray last night. I wanted to go all out for 80′s day at school tomorrow.”

“Ugh I’m broke too, I have about $5 left in my bank account.”

Then an idea hit me…I wasn’t sure if it would work but I was willing to try. After all, Red Lobster cheesy bread was at stake here.

“How bad do you want cheesy bread right now?” I asked.

“I might sell my leg for just a bite.”

I rolled down my window as we caught up again to Mr. Honda and motioned for him to do the same. “Hey there cutie! We were going to grab something to eat at Red Lobster, want to join?” I yelled across the lanes.

“Uhh, ok? Yea Sure, meet me in the parking lot.” He yelled back.

Sweet, Mission Cheesy Bread was in motion.

When it comes to cheesy bread…no stopping me

We figured out early in life that men will do whatever necessary to get laid, even if it means buying dinner for complete strangers. A free meal at Red Lobster was going to happen.

First things first, we needed fake names and cover stories because after all, this guy was a complete stranger. She would be Carmen, the 23 year old zoologist. I would be Carrie, the 24 year old Park Ranger. We tided up the details of our stories and prepared to exit the car with our new identities.

When Mr. Honda stepped out of the car, I immediately regretted my decision to go through with the plan. He was 5’2, almost the size of a large hobbit. I also noticed his left shoe was higher than the right shoe and he parked in a handicap spot. “Why hello beautiful ladies, what an honor it is to eat with you BOTH.” He said with a slight lisp as he limped toward the entrance to the restaurant. I put my head into my hands as he opened the door for us. I will definitely be going to hell for this one, I just wasn’t above using a handicapped man with a lisp for free cheesy bread.

As we sat down, the cheesy bread was delivered to our table, my teammate and I scarfed down all 6 rolls. Mr. Honda Hobbit was too busy talking to notice. We found out his name was Howard and he was born with one leg shorter than the other. It never stopped him though. He went on to describe how he played basketball on the weekends with his wheelchair buddies. He also worked in construction building houses for charity. He did mention however, that currently he was suspended from his job due to a pending criminal investigation, which included some sort of assault with a nail gun.  He was asked to quit work until it resolved. Cool, Howard the Honda Hobbit was a dangerous handicap criminal and here I was sharing a meal with him.

Howard really wasn’t so bad, minus the assault thing but when his instinctual male-mind kicked in toward the end of our dinner, things got weird, “So what are you ladies up to tonight? I was thinking we could move this party to my place.”

Trying to be as nice as I could, I made up an easy-out excuse, “Well, Carmen has to get home to see her parents, its been a while and she misses them.”

Howard then replied, “That’s a shame, well if Carmen can’t make it, then how about you and I go back, Carrie? I’ll take you home, wrap you up real nice and make you squeal like a piggy!“.

When you say those words, I see this man.

I almost vomited in my mouth. Not only did Howard just quote Deliverance with a lisp but he was pushing hard to make sure this dinner was worth his money. This was check-mate. How would I get out of this? If I told him to get lost, we would be stuck paying for the bill with our non-existent money and if I went home with him…well, that was never an option. I wasn’t going anywhere with some criminal, half-midget in a Honda named Howard.

Acting quickly, my teammate grabbed my hand and held it to her lips, “Actually Howard, we are a couple. Carrie is coming home with me to meet my parents and we are worried about how they will react to this whole thing so we just wanted some company to keep our mind off of it.” She squeezed my hand to get me to play along.

“Yea, we are most definitely a couple. We aren’t into guys, strictly girls. We are totally on the straight and narrow…erh in a gay kind of way.“  I answered.

Thank god Howard the Honda Hobbit had a heart, he smiled with sincerity and said, “My pleasure ladies, sorry for the mix-up. However, I’d love to hear how you two met. I’ll throw in dinner with dessert if you can stay a little longer.“

So there we were sitting with Howard over dessert explaining the intimate moments of how we met and became to be a lesbian couple. Carmen shared her coming out of the closet story and I, as Carrie, shared mine. Howard was intrigued by our experiences and even got a little choked up at one point as we described our future dream wedding together; we had both decided to wear wedding dresses. Mine would be pink.

After dessert was finished, Howard paid the bill and walked us out to our car, hugging us goodbye. He thanked us for the company and wished us well. We got into my car and sat for a moment to adjust to the entire situation.

“Did we really just do all that for cheesy bread?” My teammate asked me.

“Yea, Cheesy bread just turned us into lesbians.“

I started up my car, turned on the Rent soundtrack and continued my drive home in silence.

The award for the NFL’s biggest cry baby goes to…

My husband, That Boy Ryan.

Just for the record, I respect other people’s passion for important things like world peace and feeding the homeless but given my thoughts on American football, I happen to find this particular obsession just down right hilarious.

In my many past-posts about Boy Ryan I have highlighted the fact that he is a die-hard football fan who is very shy and quiet. When he has something to say, it’s rare. However, last night, during the biggest football game of the year, Boy Ryan had quite a bit to say. Nobody else gets to see this side of Boy Ryan which is why many people think I am a liar when I tell them this man has football tantrums.  So this year, instead of focusing on commercials and spectacular football plays (which I heard was nothing great anyway) I decided to record the comments Boy Ryan made during the Superbowl…quote by quote. Please note, the comments get progressively worse as the Bronco’s continued to get an ass whooping.

Scenario 1:  NFL announcers discussing past Superbowl records…

Boy Ryan’s Comment: These NFL announcers make records out of everything…guy rushes 40 yards in the first quarter, it’s a Superbowl record. I swear, next they are going to be like, “Peyton Manning just farted on the 30 yard line during the 1st quarter. America, that’s a Superbowl record!“.

Scenario 2: Bronco’s make a defensive play…

Boy Ryan’s Comment: Nice Penetration! Did you see that penetration, babe? Wow, these guys really know how to penetrate.

*I have never once heard my husband use the word penetration…not even in the bedroom.

Scenario 3: Thoughts on Russell Wilson’s ethnicity…

Compared to the man in the back, I see his point.

Boy Ryan’s Comment: What is Wilson? He looks Indian but they say he’s half black…of course he says he is half black because why else would you draft a half-Indian? At least being half-black makes you halfway decent at playing football.

Scenario 4: Thoughts on Pete Carroll (Seahawks coach)…

Boy Ryan’s Comment: Pete Carroll is such a cock, actually he is a grey-haired, old ugly cock.

Scenario 5: Joe Buck makes a comment about a Seahawks play…

Boy Ryan’s Comment: Are you kidding Joe Buck? Hey Joe, have you ever been to a real NFL game or do you just sit in your office and jerk off to indoor arena football all day?

Scenario 6: I make a comment about my excitement for the half-time show…

Boy Ryan’s Comment: See that is problem with “football fans”, they all just watch the Superbowl for the half-time show. You people aren’t real fans, it’s a disgrace what this country is turning into. If they aired {American} football in Canada, I’d move tomorrow.

Scenario 7: I make comment about the Redskin’s terrible record this season…

Boy Ryan’s Comment: Why do you always have to talk about the Redskins like that? You have a short memory, last year they were really good. How can you be so hateful to them. Did you know that in 1997….(insert fact about Redskin’s record here)

Scenario 8: Response to Addison’s prediction that the Seahawks will win the Superbowl (She liked the Seahawk’s colors better than the Bronco’s)

If you want to speak such profanities in this house, you are going straight to bed little lady. I have had enough of your fresh mouth. While you’re at it, take off the Redskins jersey and put on your Giants jersey. I will not tolerate any remarks like that from a fellow Redskin fan while wearing the jersey.

Scenario 9: Boy Ryan’s comments throughout half-time:

• Burno Mars is like 5 ft tall. He looks like a woman.
• What is with his hair?
• Why is this guy’s music even popular? It sounds like a per-pubescent boy singing.
• Let me know when this shit is off the T.V. screen.
• The Red Hot Chili Peppers look old as shit and got really fat.
• Addison, let’s brush your hair so I don’t have to watch this crap on TV right now.

At least he brushed her hair

Scenario 10: Boy Ryan watching me write down all of his comments during the Superbowl…

Boy Ryan’s Comment: Stop writing what I am saying…this better not be going in your blog. Seriously Ryan, this is not funny.

And last, That Boy Ryan’s post-game remarks…

Well, that sucked. The Seahawks basically won the Superbowl based on a bunch of fluke plays. Now Russell Wilson will tell all the reporters that god helped him win and Malcolm Smith, who I have never heard of, will win MVP. Seahawks didn’t deserve to win, they all suck like their cock of a coach. Can’t wait till I see all the annoying bandwagon fans who are going to buy Seahawk jerseys now so they can act like they actually enjoy football. Lame. Totally lame game. Lame commercials. Lame season. 

(shuts TV off and rolls over on his side. Light sniffling is heard throughout the night.)

Such a crybaby

Things I have learned about my husband; he is a very sore-loser and might love football more than he does himself. However as for me, I couldn’t be happier that the NFL season has come to a close…finally my life can get back to normal without having to comfort NFL’s biggest baby.

Before you watch the video, I’d like to give a brief background on the Hashtag #HOE.

Definition of a hashtag hoe: a female who overuses hashtags as picture captions on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. Why do they do this? So strangers can look at their pictures.

You all know who these people are and if you don’t, you are most likely one of them. If you are one of them, shame on you and for the love of God, stop it. Most hashtag hoes post the most ridiculous pictures and frankly the pictures only require one caption….#Why? Why are you publicly embarrassing yourself?

The publicist and I have explored a variety of hashtag hoes and separated them into 3 categories; #GirlsWhoLift, #InstaChefs and #TBT (Throw Back Thursday).

#GirlsWhoLift: Ahhhh, the gym whores, personally my favorite type of hashtagger. Typically gym whores are hot, I will give them that but my god, if you are that hot why are you posting half naked selfies on social media EVERY OTHER DAY!? How much attention do you require???! I mean it’s entirely unbelievable to us viewers that you actually work out with your hair down, lets be real. Are you really working out, or are you building up a portfolio for a porn audition? I can never tell. Please sister, put your clothes back on do a real workout. We all know #RealGirlsWorkOutInClothes. Right now, none of us are admiring your gym progress, we are just down right embarrassed for your mother. #IamTotallyJudgingYou.

At least she shaved her armpits. #Kudos

#InstaChef: Some instachefs snap pictures of every single meal they consume on a daily basis. Have you seen spaghetti before? Have you seen peanut butter and jelly? Of course you have so who gives a flipping shit about what it looks like in an instagram filter? Half your hashtags don’t even relate to food! What does #Love have to do with bread? What does #Home have to with meat?  If you are going to crowd my feed with your stupid food pictures, I might just leave a comment about how many calories that meal really is…hey fatty you know that’s like 3000 calories per serving? You might want to go to the gym, workout with your hair down and then tell us how you burned off those calories.

Bread?!! OMG how creative!

The #TBT Junkie-Throw Back Thursdays should have picture guidelines. If you are posting a picture from the day before that is not considered a “Throw Back“. Throw backs pictures are from your awkward teenage stages in life so the rest of us can laugh and make fun of how ugly you were, not from your underwear shopping spree yesterday (Yes, someone actually did that).

TBT? Na, just another half naked selfie.

This hashtag rant couldn’t end with just a written lecture…we brought it to a whole new level by creating a video. Our personal speculation of how hashtag hoes go about creating a classic hashtag picture post.

Rest assure, we made a point NOT to leave #One #Fucking #Thing #Out.

Enjoy Bitches.

Linkup Your Sentence Prompt Posts Here!!!

1. Janine\’s Confessions of A Mommyaholic {Hostess}

2. Another Bottle of Whine (Host)

3. Finding Ninee (hostess)

4. Mommy, for Real (Hostess)

My kid told me she was taking me to court.

According to her, I was guilty of taking too many “Mommy shortcuts” and it was time to bring me to justice once and for all. She was nice enough to offer me a plea deal in exchange for lesser jail time. Her deal was simple, if I would give her 3 candy bars a night for the rest of her life, she would drop all the charges held against me and destroy the evidence.  If I didn’t take the deal, I would be looking at some serious jail time…Jail time in Mommy Shaming prison.

I refused her deal, I might take shortcuts here and there but I’d be dammed if she was going to turn into a little fat kid! So, I told her I would take my chances in court.

The next day we found ourselves in the courthouse where she made her case. Below are the court transcripts from the actual trial…

Please rise for the honorable Judge, “Queen Addison“.

Guilty or Not Guilty

Today we are here to decide on a ruling for case #34656, Addison Vs That Girl Ryan. You will hear Ms. Addison layout her case as to why her mother should be found guilty of cutting corners in motherhood. We know that all parties are innocent until proven guilty. However if the opposing party should be found guilty, the defendant will be sentenced to a full term in mommy shamming prison, aka a full hour of playing barbies and making friendship bracelets.

Ms. Addison, please present your case.

Addison took the stand and presented the evidence…

1. My Mom calls this shit, dinner.

2. This is considered educational so I spend a lot of time watching it.

3. She claims she is tired when she wants Daddy to make dinner. That’s just plain #LAZY.

4. I’m only allowed to drink water. She says juice is for sick kids.

I don’t believe that.

5. She hates cleaning.

6. She throws away my artwork because it “clutters” the house.

7. Her other “kids” can sleep in her bed…

I am not allowed.

8. I am the photographer for her blog postings…

and I don’t even get paid for it.

9. This is my favorite picture…

My mom says I can’t hang it up because it creeps her out.

10. These do not fit me…

but I wear them anyway.

11. According to my mom, taking a good selfie is a life skill…

I have mastered it.

12. She hides from our neighbors…

and makes me hide with her.

13. Baths only happen once a week…

and so does brushing my hair.

14. She usually never has enough food in the house…

but always enough beer.

After she presented her case, the judge made her final decision….

That Girl Ryan you have been found GUILTY.

I was immediately taken into custody and went to Mommy Shaming Prison where I played Barbies and made friendship bracelets for a full hour.

It. Was. Hell.

I have a secret talent that I don’t share with many people, only those who are included in my most intimate circles and sometimes random taxi-cab drivers after a night of heavy drinking.

At the age of 17, I discovered that I was a professional..

Interpretive Car Dancer

What is interpretive Car Dancing?

It is a form of dancing a person does with only their upper body while driving a motor vehicle. It sounds dangerous and it is but that is why it’s an important talent. Only the best talents are dangerous. If you are a white girl like me and can’t bust a move on a regular dance floor you might just have a shot at becoming a professional interpretative car dancer. You won’t make any money or dance on a pole but you will definitely make a few friends on the highway: SEE Lesbian Cheesy Bread.

I video taped my interpretive dancing for you all to see my amazing moves.

*PLEASE DO NOT TRY THIS UNLESS YOU ARE A PROFESSIONAL CAR DANCER. You might crash into someone or worse, you might get pulled over by a cop.

Feel free to leave me comments on my skills.

Hello? Is anyone still out there?

It’s me, That Girl Ryan.

I wanted to check in and let you know that I did not die or lose my hands, I just abandoned my blog for 3 weeks.

Terrible, I know but I did upload my NEW blog logo!!! Don’t you love it?!

My unrealistic expectations took me in a different direction once again to…Stand-UP Comedy Class.

Making an asshole of myself online wasn’t enough, I needed to get on stage and do it in person.  Let me tell you, it’s harder than it looks.

Look at me trying to be cool

Next week is my official “graduation show” where I get to do my whole bit in front of a real audience – trashy New Jersey locals – but still, even trashy NJ locals can be an intimidating bunch.

I wanted to share some things I discovered about the world of comedy…

1. Male comedians are perverts/horn dogs…can’t help but love them

I won’t go into detail but I will say this…

Ladies, if you are single and want to date a male comedian, take my advice and do not shave, do not wax the “area”. There is a group of men out there who will fully appreciate you as a woman in her natural state; pubes and all.

I haven’t seen anything quite like it…

2. The uglier and older you are, the more you get away with…it’s not fair

This is the first time in my life I wish I was born fat, ugly and funny because then I’d get away with saying anything…like newborns are ugly and look like old men. For some reason, that line just doesn’t have the same effect as if an older, grey haired, overweight lady said it.

Ugh.

3. It’s hard to write comedy material

I spent the last three days thinking up different ways I could explain the benefits of being a Tranny

I missed a meeting at work because I was practicing my voice impression for Steve Urkel

I spent 45 minutes searching all the synonymous for VAGINA

WTF has my life become?

4. You become a narcissistic

I’m ready to bitch slap myself

5. You are not as funny as you think you are

Like that time I went to an open mic and nobody laughed at my jokes…Most awkward 5 minutes of my life.

6. Stage fright gets re-defined

Flight or Fight has become…Flight, Fight and piss your pants

Wish Me Luck this week…I will return to back to my blog soon!

Here it is…my comedy routine!

I’m an inpatient bastard and couldn’t wait any longer to receive the professional taping of my routine, so I’m posting the footage one of my fans (aka my dad) captured on the night of the show.

This is the entire routine minus the last 3 seconds…it’s just missing 4 words.

Enjoy!

What did you think!?