Archive | December, 2012

Who Is That Boy Ryan?

28 Dec

The man behind the crazy lady.

As I was watching Batman, The Dark Knight Rises the other night, I had an epiphany. Being married is like knowing who Bruce Wayne really is. All the citizens of Gotham think Bruce Wayne is just some hot billionaire but little do they know he enjoys dressing in tights, wearing a cape and hanging out with wack-jobs in his free time.

Before you get married, you have this glorified vision of what being married is like. Your positive you know who you are married to and will never be surprised by them. But when you get hitched, they surprise the shit out of you! Sometimes in a good way, and sometimes in ways that make your mouth drop.  Therefore, in part two of this blog I want my readers to learn about Boy Ryan and to do this, I think its best to share the things I have learned about Boy Ryan since being married to him.  

Now, before I embarrass the shit out of him and reveal the things that he told me strictly not to talk about,  let me tell you the stuff he would want to me to say about him.  

Boy Ryan is from Virginia, grew up in a decently well off family with good morals and values. He had a typical catholic upbringing, was a super-star jock and is ridiculously good looking. He is a sensitive, quiet guy that is incredibly intelligent. He is very traditional, but bends over backwards for Addison and I. Boy Ryan is very private about his life, let me repeat that, he is VERY private about his life, feelings and accomplishments which makes him a humble person.  He is exactly what we would call, an All-American Boy.  


A Hypocrite Germ-A-Phobe .  BRyan is a self proclaimed germ-a-phobe. He constantly overcooks his meat (for fear of food poisoning) will not touch the dogs without washing his hands (because dogs are dirty) and is a “clean-car” Nazi (if you leave a gum wrapper in his car, you will hear about it). 13522103761952037965_jpeg___1_500_1_500_cb94de6a_However, Boy Ryan missed in important lesson in being a germ-a-phobe; your personal hygiene must be part of your rituals. It was about a year into our marriage I started to notice that he would wear the same pair of underwear 2-4 days in a row. Now, I assume he was trying to save me some extra loads of laundry (very sweet) but because I sleep in the same bed as him, I found this a bit disgusting. I explained to him that you can’t be a germ-a-phobe and re-wear your underwear. It completely contradicts the point and he must pick one personality; Anti-Germ Gerry or Dirty Boy Bob.

A-Don’t Rush Me-Pooper. Boy Ryan is a shitter (excuse my blunt statement). When he has to go, he HAS to go. Just to put this in perspective, at one point during our relationship, I caught him shitting in the backyard (all the bathrooms in the house were occupied). Have you ever looked out of your window to find your boyfriend crouched like a dog doing his business in someone else’s backyard? I’m guessing no. But the important lesson that I learned is from the “Dinner Party Incident”. Ryan of course, decides he has to go to the bathroom, promising that he will be quick. I waited patiently for 2 minutes and knocked on the door to tell him to hurry up. The next thing I know I hear a loud bang and open the door to find him, pants around the ankles, passed out on the bathroom floor. I panicked and woke him up to tell him I was going to call 911. I even offered to wipe his ass before the ambulance came. (sometimes you say things in the moment). He said he was ok and that it was unnecessary to call the ambulance, this sort of thing happens all the time.

Elvis Says, "Only Fools Rush In"

Elvis Says, “Only Fools Rush In”

Now, I’m sure if Elvis Presley were present at that moment, he would of disagreed. After all, the man died on the toilet, but I still thought it was important that he should go to the ER. Till this day I feel responsible for rushing him but it was a lesson learned; Never Rush a Shitter or you might be offering to wipe their ass. 

A Man Who Fears Balding. There comes a time in every male’s life in which they must face the truth that their hair is diminishing.  I think it’s an anxiety similar to women’s fear of getting fat. Ryan has started to realize this and has dealt with the issue head-on. He has started to purchase mass amounts of hair spray so he can “style” his bald spot. He is very particular about his hair and won’t let me within 2 inches of his head (god forbid I mess it up). He even hides his hairspray bottles and goes into a different bathroom to style it, as if he is trying to hide the fact he is going bald. I try and suggest things like buying Rogaine or getting hair plugs, but he gets defensive and says, “O, so you DO think I am going bald?”. I assume this is how guys feel when girls pull out the “I am so fat” card. I feel your pain boys, I get it now. The  best advice I can give him now came from a shirt, “Keep Calm and Bald On”.

A Man With A Secret Alter-Ego. My husband has an alter ego when he hangs out with Jack Daniels. When he drinks with Jim Beam or Johnny Walker, it’s fine, but Jack is the worst. Let me explain a little further; he always takes off his shirt, pees on everything and has even spent an entire concert in “concert jail”. But the best example of Boy Ryan’s alter ego was the night after our rehearsal dinner. There had been quite a party with all of our friends and when we had gotten home, Boy Ryan realized he had forgotten the keys to our apartment. My friend and I suggested calling the cab and getting a ride back to my parents place to spend the night, but Boy Ryan’s alter ego

A picture of the Alter-Ego

A picture of the

insisted he would find a way in because after all, he starts to believe, “He is the Most Interesting Man in the World”. I waited by the door hoping that he would realize there was no way into the apartment but was shocked to see him open the front door smiling (that “I am so smart” smile). That night I went right to sleep and didn’t think anything of it. I woke up the next morning to two people chatting, LOUDLY, outside:

Nosy person #1: “Wow, we should call the cops. It looks like someone broke into this apartment!”

Nosy person #2: “Yea, let’s go call, I’m sure the tenants would be happy that someone called the cops for them.”

It suddenly hit me, Boy Ryan’s alter ego had busted the window to break in and unlock the door to our apartment.

I won’t even go into the explanation I had to give to get us out of that one.

The Worst at Hiding Secrets. Men need to learn that Women are smart. Men can’t hide anything and get away with it. We notice everything, I mean everything especially if you have a shared bank account. So when our 2 year anniversary came around, I looked on our bank statement (to snoop) and found a purchase for a jewelry store on our card. I got so excited and went out to buy Boy Ryan an equally nice anniversary gift. He had mentioned that weekend he was taking me on a “surprise”. We found ourselves at a cute little Bed and Breakfast for the weekend. All weekend he had planned activites and dinners for us to celebrate our anniversary, but never gave me my anniversary present. So on our drive home, after I had given him his gift, I found myself disappointed that he hadn’t given me the jewelry (what was he waiting for?!). My mind starting to go to crazy places and I was reminded of the many Lifetime Movies I had watched that month. I know what it means when a man buys jewelry but doesn’t give it to you. He must be giving it to SOMEONE ELSE! Then I thought a little deeper…How could he possibly have a girlfriend? How would he have time? With his clothing choice…who would want to date him?! How dare he!

I sat the whole ride home in silence and got angrier as the hours passed.

Boy Ryan: “Are you ok? You seem a little mad?”

Me: “No, not me. I’m not mad, what COULD I POSSBILY BE MAD ABOUT?!”

Boy Ryan: “Wow, ok? You must be hungry then. I’ll stop for food.”

Me: “No, but I do want to know who SHE IS!”

Boy Ryan: “Who’s who? She? Whose she?”

Me: “You bought HER jewelry, I saw on OUR bank statement.”

Boy Ryan: “O, About that…yea. Um, I lost my wedding ring last weekend and I didn’t want to make you mad so I bought the same exact wedding ring from the same exact store. I thought you wouldn’t notice…I guess I should of mentioned something…”

Yes, correct Boy Ryan you should have mentioned something. Guys, if you buy jewelry and don’t give it to your girlfriends, our minds do go to these thoughts, we are all products of Lifetime Movies.

A Brand-Name Virgin. One of my fantasies about being married used to be that I could shop for my husband and dress him in nice clothes, but unfortunately I married Boy Ryan. Boy Ryan is what I consider a, “Never Grow Up Dresser”. He constantly wants to wear sport-team shirts, ripped

No, Means No!

No, Means No!

shirts and high-water jeans. He also refuses to wear certain brands.  Some to name are; Express Men, H&M and (my personal favorite) Calvin Klein. These brands to him are “Gay” and “Fruity”. Now, let me explain what I have to go through to get away with buying him clothes from the stores listed above:  I have to strategically get rid of the bags/tags or any evidence related to the brand name. Sometimes if I am lucky, he will accept the outfit and not look too hard at the shirt tag to see where it’s from. If he does notice where it came from, I have to tell him that it was on clearance and I couldn’t pass up the sale price and then he MIGHT accept the brand.

The shit I go through to make sure that husband looks hot…poor me.

There. Now that you all know about Boy Ryan, you can decide for yourself what you think of him.

If he reads this and decides to file for divorce, then I guess that shall be my next  topic.

Knocked Up…Ryan Style

20 Dec

My co-worker/Publicist has brought to my attention that my readers don’t know the story behind That Girl Ryan. So I thought I would take the time and dive a little into my story…with a humorous touch of course because you just can’t take all this shit too seriously. Perhaps this will give you a better idea of why I write the nonsense that I write.

It also occurred to me that I haven’t really gone, in-depth about my husband, Boy Ryan (don’t worry, he’s well aware that his blog debut is drawing near). So I decided to make this a two-part blog, the first being a little background about me and part two about, That Boy Ryan.

We can go into an in-depth analysis on boy Ryan later…moving on…. Boy Ryan and I started hanging out-at first- on the weekends; mainly partaking in one of our favorite activities- college binge drinking (which, I’m not so sure we really gave up). Now, not to spoil too much about part two, one thing you have to understand about Boy Ryan is that he is a man of little, outward emotion. He does not openly express himself like normal human beings. This is probably why I was attracted to him the first place. He was like a pet project; it’s always a mystery to find out what the man is thinking. As you can imagine this relationship did not begin in a normal fashion.

I know, we look so normal.

I know, we look so normal.

Now as us gals know, we over-analyze everything with men. So working with little hints here and there, I started to notice that Boy Ryan was into me for more than just my impressive keg-stand record.

Like this one time we were at a party (we had no idea whose party, we just saw a party and walked in) and I of course, cut the line in beer pong. I strategically scratched out the next contender’s name on the list and inserted my own. The next contender was not enthused when she saw this. She asked her boyfriend to explain to me how a beer pong line list works. Well, the boyfriend decided to use the word SLUT to refer to me, more than a few times. I just starred blankly at him thinking quickly for a come back. But Boy Ryan stepped in before I had the chance to embarrass myself. Being the southern gentleman that he is, asked me to kindly go downstairs for a moment. I walked out of the room and went downstairs to wait for him. The next thing I know, Boy Ryan comes barreling down the stairs, his shirt ripped in half and behind him, a mob of Perry, boat shoe-frat boys. As we ran out of the house, Ryan grabbed my hand and it dawned on me that whatever happened up in that room was done to defend my honor. Even though I DID indeed cut the line, he still defended me. This little gesture continued throughout our relationship and I still, to this day think it’s adorable even if it is a tad violent.

OR another example…

One time I went to his house for a party and regrettably drank 2 cups of lethal “JMU Jungle Juice”. If you attended JMU and know about the jungle juice its probably because you encountered it at a baseball party. But like any good drinker, we always blame it on the juice. Well it was a long night, or short night, whichever perspective you choose to take, but basically it was all a blur to me. I woke up in Boy Ryan’s bed and realized I had peed his bed. No, I’m not kidding I peed the kid’s bed. I was more than mortified and quickly left his house not expecting any kind of communication to continue between us from that point on. But, can you believe that crazy idiot called me the next day? Now if someone peed my bed after only 4-5 weeks of hanging out, I would have never called them again, maybe only to ask for money to buy a new mattress. To this day I can’t comprehend why he called, maybe he just really liked the fact that my name was Ryan, or maybe he thought I was marking my territory and was flattered by that gesture.

We have had romantic moments (the kind that Hollywood defines as romantic), but for some reason, out of all the dates, flowers and jewelry, these moments are the ones that I always remember and love the best.

Fast forward about 11 months later and WAM, we found out I was pregnant. Now this is always the part that people ask me that stupid question, O-M-G, how did that happen? And I always answer…“Well I think it happened with little Birds and Bees and a wild Cinco-De-Mayo that year”.

We created a monster.

We created a monster.

A gorgeous one at that!

A gorgeous one at that!

When we found this out, I was miserable, embarrassed and just down right disappointed. Not only did this little Oopsy not fit into my five year plan, but I was still in college and I had to quit track. There is nothing more awkward than telling your track coach that you got knocked up and can’t compete anymore. “Coach, I wont be coming back to track this year. I sort of have this-let’s call it a disease, that requires me to get fat, crave ridiculous things like pickles and mayo and eventually push out a live human being out of small hole. SO…The whole track thing-yea I just don’t think its going to work out this year. Go Dukes!!”

I'm making a come back when I turn 40.

I’m making a come back when I turn 40.

The only thing that got me through this tough time was the award winning show, 16 and pregnant. Watching that train wreck made me feel better about myself. As I watched faithfully every week, I found that things could be a lot worse. My personal favorite life lesson came from Amber. Amber taught me that beating up your baby-daddy is NOT a good idea. Thank you MTV for that televised inspiration.

During this time I also reflected on why I was so embarrassed to be in this situation. I always wanted to be popular and liked by everyone. I wanted my story to be a successful one, the golden, all American girl themed story, similar to Carrie from Sex in the City. I wanted to be that girl at the party that was just enough fun but never over the top (however, coming from a family with a long history of alcoholism, just enough is really never enough, so that plan went to shit.)

My life took an unconventional path and going through this event, I soon realized that I’m more comfortable with being a tad different than I am with being normal. Like for instance, I had always imagined when it was time for my marriage proposal, it would be this magical thing. Fireworks would sparkle and these guys with guitars would sing and I would look so beautiful because I would have a killer outfit on that night. But remember, I married Boy Ryan and my proposal was anything BUT.

Boy Ryan is the worst at planning things out-Like throws a party and doesn’t remember to pick up the beer-worst. For my proposal, he took me out to go geo-caching. Geo-caching is like a scavenger hunts for adults but way, way nerdy-er. I was about 5 months pregnant at the time and he thought it would be such a great idea to hike up a hilly trail to get to the right spot. Well, after 45 minutes of hiking and a nasty case of swamp ass, we were at the “perfect” spot. He pulled out his GPS Geo-caching app on his phone and told me to follow him down a rocky ledge. This ledge was covered in rocks, steep and slippery. It lead right to the edge of a waterfall-Again, not a good idea to make the woman carrying your child to climb down a ledge.

Actually, thinking about it now, he may have been trying to kill me and thought “if this pregnant girl makes it down this ledge, I’ll propose to her” Well, lucky man that he is, I made it down the hill with my fat self and there he was kneeling, face red and grinning from ear to ear. At that moment, all my fantasies of being proposed to with fireworks and guys with guitars seemed so…blah. This proposal was not the picture I had created in my mind. But you know what, it was so Boy Ryan to do something like that. He wouldn’t think ahead of time that pregnant women couldn’t hike up hills or climb down steep ledges. He wouldn’t think to make sure I wore proper shoes or dressed in pants that wouldn’t show my sweaty ass marks. The whole thing was so funny and backwards that it will always be memorable.

This whole backwards thing has been a hell of a fun ride and I have no idea where it will take us. From this epiphany, I’ve unlocked a great secret that perfection is boring. Because nobody is perfect. If you watch enough 20/20 episodes, you’ll see relationships are not always what they seem.

Such an awkward photo, I had to share it.

Such an awkward photo, I had to share it. Of course Boy Ryan looks out of his ring like it’s a telescope.

So with that being said, I write what others are too afraid to admit. I also write because my therapist thinks it’s the best thing for my Adult ADD. But now that you know a little about me, you might understand the perspective I choose to take.

I strongly suggest you stay tuned for part 2 because I am going to have a blast telling you about my husband.


WHO IS THAT BOY RYAN…coming soon.


11 Dec

For some reason this topic has come up in conversation over the past two weeks. I feel that this is a sign from the universe. I can no longer avoid the topic, It’s time we addressed this.

Pooping in Public or PIP is a serious phobia that strikes a lot of women, enough women that we could form a group called WAPP (Women Against Pooping in Public). If you feel this way, YOU are not alone; there are a lot of women out there who fear PIPing.

Now you would think this phobia would strike men as well due to their public bathroom set-up. They have urinals AND they have stalls. We all know which activity is used for each. Basically, when your in a urinal everyone sees what your doing. And when your in a stall, everyone knows what your doing. It’s like a public shame room, how do men live under this kind of pressure?

Apparently, according to men (well really my husband who might as well represent all men), this public knowledge doesn’t seem to bother them. I’ve even heard a rumor that men TALK to each other while they are in the stalls, even at work! I just couldn’t imagine speaking to a co-worker while I’m PIPing.

“So Sally, how bout that meeting today…pretty intense huh. PLOP

“I know, do you think they are going to fire Jeff?” PLOP


“So, great day were having, huh”
“hmmm, you can say that again. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name..”

WTF? How fucking weird is that? I mean I talk about not shaving my legs and Dutch ovens, but hey, I still got a bit of decency compared to that.

So I decided to explore this potty situation a little deeper. Why do women have a fear of shitting in public? Is it the thinness of the stalls? Is it the fact that other people know your shitting? After speaking with some friends and family, I have complied a few scenario’s of how this phobia affects the “ bathroom situation”.

Scenario #1: You thought you were alone in the bathroom and let your guard down. Unexpectedly a Poop Intruder walks in and the loud “PLOP” is now unavoidable. The gig is up…. What do you do?

A. You remembered that you packed your “poop flats”. These flats are designed to hide your identity while you are in the bathroom. IF the intruder that walked is someone you know, they will not be able to identify you by your shoes.

B. You forgot your poop flats because you never thought of packing poop flats (brilliant). So now you quickly pull your feet up on the wall of the stall and wait until they enter their stall before you exit yours. You avoid being recognized at all angles.

Scenario #2: You are in the bathroom and just about to PIP and an intruder walks in. The intruder enters the stall and sits quietly. You soon realize that this is a stand-off situation. Your not leaving because you’re waiting for the intruder to leave and vice versa…what do you do?

A. You remember that thing in history about Attrition warfare… Attrition warfare is a military strategy in which a belligerent side attempts to win a war by wearing down its enemy to the point of collapse. You decide that today you will engage in battle and stick it out for the long haul. Wait until the opponent realizes that she doesn’t have the luxury of time and decides to stand down. Win for you, Loss for intruder.

B. You realize you have a time limit and there will be no battle for you today. So now you decide to pull out a Flanking Maneuver. Flanking Maneuver is an attack on the sides of an opposing force. If a flanking maneuver succeeds, the opposing force would be surrounded from two or more directions, which significantly reduces the maneuverability of the outflanked force and its ability to defend itself.

Your Flanking Maneuver… flush the toilet excessively until you are…finished. This accomplishes a few things; the smell, the noise and distracts the intruder from realizing what you are actually doing. When you exit the stall, you exit in a timely manner. Because after all, you have accepted the fact that the other person has won the stand-off battle to begin with. It’s just common courtesy.

Welcome to the Jungle

Welcome to the Jungle

Scenario #3: You’re at a friend’s house and the feeling hits. You can’t hold out till you get home, so you have to make a quick decision…what do you do?

A. You wait until the last possible minute, and by that I mean until a turtle appears, and quickly excuse yourself to go the bathroom. You do your business and flush in a record time of 2 min. 45 sec.

You have accomplished two things; you haven’t exceeded the time allotted for peeing, and you haven’t stunk up the bathroom enough to require any use of Lysol or Febreze. Situation avoided. Success.

B. There is no other option. You must revert back to option A and make it work. If you took your time like you do at home, someone might send a search party to “check on you” and you know that kind of embarrassment is worth the wait.

I’m sick of having to deal with these scenarios. The nonsense we go through. There should be changes being made for all women across the world to combat this anxiety. We need to ban together and make some demands…For instance:

  1. All bathroom stalls must be the size of handicapped bathrooms. These sized stalls are much more comfortable for PIPing. They provide ample leg room, a place to hang your purse and a sturdy hand rail (in case one may need that extra support)
  2. Eliminate all automatic flushing toilets; because I will flush when I am ready.
  3. Soft toilet towels. Preferably the brand with the cuddly Snuggle bear on it.
  4. The latest copy of People Magazine
  5. Automatic toilet seat covers, because hovering over the seat is just not ideal in a PIP situation.

We will call these demands, the PIP Amendments for WAPP

We should all start to strive to be THOSE women who “go to town” in public bathrooms, they don’t care who knows it! Well power to you sisters, I hope we can all learn a thing or two about your courage.

But until that day, for those of us who hide behind our Poop Flats, flanking maneuvers and quick-minute-shits…Hang in there and PIP ON!

Caution! I Will Judge Your Facebook Status.

4 Dec

As I peruse through Facebook every day, I have begun to learn from most of my Facebook Friends their PFS (Predictable Facebook Statuses).

It may be that I have too much time on my hands, yes I am well aware, but I found this quite amusing and decided to share my stereotypes with you all because I assume I am not the only one out there  judging others based on their facebook statuses.

However, I asked myself, what if we started to respond to these posts? Yes, Instead of pressing “like” because you know it’s polite, what if you went crazy and wrote what you are REALLY thinking?

Well, I am not that ballsy yet, but If I was, this is what I would say.

1. Dear Abby Mothers

Dear Abby mothers are women who have recently become mothers. They post everything about their kids and usually ask for advice. It’s cute to see their kids pictures, but sometimes their posts just get too…well, graphic….

Karen’s Status: Ok, Facebook Moms! Johnny is almost 3 weeks old and won’t latch on! Any advice how I can get this little angel to latch on the right nipple?!

Listen Karen, Little Johnny is cute, and if you want him to milk you like a cow that’s your deal, but I’d recommend getting a book. I don’t need a visualization of that shit. Thanks.

2. Facebook Hoochies

My personal favorite. If Facebook hoochies and ever got together, I think it might be a money maker. These girls have the need to “Facebook photo” themselves at every waking moment. I am still trying to figure out why they do this. You know it’s bad when you log into your newsfeed and think for a split second you logged into to porn site.

Sample Facebook Hoochie Post:

Yes, I was guilty of being a Facebook Hoochie back in the day.

Yes, I was guilty of being a Facebook Hoochie back in the day.


3. The “Inviters”

I wish I could delete the inviters. The inviters “invite” you to join some dumb facebook app that sends notifications to your Iphone. I get all excited thinking that someone wrote on my wall or commented on my facebook hoochie photo, but nooooo, I get this:

Facebook Notification: Cindy has invited you play Farmville! Click here to join her.

Listen Cindy, I don’t want to play fucking Farmville. I don’t know why anyone on earth would want to pretend to be a fucking farmer. I deal with pigs and clean up enough shit at work so I think I’ll pass on this one.


4. My Life’s a Lyric– Those people who post a lyric for what ever situation they are going through in life.

Ronald’s Status: More Money, More Problems – Biggie Smalls

Ronald, you don’t make enough money to post this lyric, you’re a floor manager at foot locker.


Stacey’s Status: “Go on now, go, walk out that door! / Just turn around now / cause you’re not welcome any more / Weren’t you the one who tried to hurt me with goodbye?”

Ah, No! Another break up Stacey? He needs to treat you with R.E.S.P.E.C.T/Find out what it means. AMEN girlfriend.

5. Status Teasers

Now, i’m not going to lie, facebook IS a stalking mechanism, but that is such a creepy word, so we use “staying in touch” (sounds better). I frequently “stay in touch” with people and know what happens in their life. As I scroll down my newsfeed, I can see Rebecca got engaged to that nasty guy Tom and that Gary has a new job, YEA! Way to go Gary!

But it’s those people who “Tease” us with their statuses that drive me nuts. They don’t give you enough information and its not like you can call them up and ask because you haven’t spoken to them in years….

Tessa’s Status: I could seriously scream right now, back at the hospital…

What happened Tessa? You were doing so well! You just got a new car, moved into a new apartment, why are you at the hospital?! OMG, don’t leave me hanging here.


6. Closet Republicans

These people surface around election time. It’s those facebook friends that you never expected to be a republican, and,  A LOUD Facebook republican at that.

Ted’s Status: I voted the RIGHT way because I want a better economy. No more OSAMA.

O shit, not you Ted! Dammit, I really liked you Ted. How did I not see this? Really, a republican? Well, I guess I wont be asking you to lend me a couple bucks for lunch, sheez.


7. Facebook Bridezilla (Pre and Post Wedding)

We ALL have one of these girls, some of us have been these girls. They are just about to get married, or just have, and turn their facebook page into a fucking promotion.


Pre-Wedding Bridezilla

Alyssa’s status 12 days ago…43 days and 12 hours till I marry my best friend!

Alyssa’s status 2 days ago: 12 days, 30 minutes and 43 seconds till I marry my best friend!

Alyssa’s Status 3 hours ago: Tomorrow I get married! Omg!

Hey, so are you getting married? I wasn’t sure…

Post-Wedding Bridezilla:

Alyssa’s status 3 days ago: First Friday night watching 20/20 with my hubby!

Alyssa’s Status 2 days ago: First Christmas dinner eating steak at 6pm being married!

Alyssa’s Status 6 hours ago: Happy 3 week and 72 hour anniversary. Love you!———With Mike Palindas

 Dear Alyssa, So happy for you that you got married, best wishes, but your wedding was 17 days, 5 hours and 43 minutes ago, and its time to move on. Thanks.


8. Insta-Fatty

Ah, the Insta-Fatty. Let’s see, these people are OBSESSED with taking pictures of their food. I don’t get how food can get so much play on Facebook, but Insta-fatties make it work!

Peggy Status: At that new Thai Restaurant! Yum, look how great this looks!


Looks great Peg! But we all know you’ll be on the toilet bowl 24 hours from now. Won’t be saying how great that Thai Pad was when your ass is on fire. But hey, enjoy!

9. Long Lost Friends

This category is exactly what it is, those childhood friends you reconnected with later on in life. The moment you see the friend request you get all excited!

Me and Fred used to play school at his house. OOO and we put on a puppet show for my parents at my house! This is great, my best childhood friend found me!

But then you see what they REALLY have been up to all these years…

Fred: Been smoking weed all day long… ya heard?>!

O, Fred, you really went down hill after I moved in third grade didn’t you? I guess D.A.R.E didn’t really resonate too well eh?

10. The Unknowns

These are the people you have no idea how you became friends or who they are, yet your too lazy to delete them on Facebook.

Facebook Notification: Chenny Kirk has sent you an invite to: PARtY RoCKInG! Friday, December 29th, 2012!

I’m sorry have we met? WHO ARE YOU!?

Yes, So there you have it, My Facebook Sterotypes.

Comics Grinder

comics, pop culture and related topics

Barb Taub

Writing & Coffee. Especially coffee.

The Nomidian Texts

Everything that Is, Was, and Will be Again.

jesus was a primate

a small insight into my life: wife-mom-football-fitness-politics-religion~upcycle

Bucket List Publications

Indulge- Travel, Adventure, & New Experiences

20somethings Blog

Stories of men and women in their twenties

A Goode One

Armed with nothing but coffee and a sense of humor

Ben's Bitter Blog

"We make bitter better."

Sick and Sick of It

But Still Living The Life

Playing Your Hand Right

Showing America how to Live

King of States!

I'm Michelle. This is my blog. I write about women and fatness, expound upon semi-coherent thoughts I have in the middle of the night, and offer tough love to those in whom I am disappointed; they are legion.

The Goldwoman

Buffet-eater, bodysuit-enthusiast, bad-bitch.

A Buick in the Land of Lexus

fresh hell trumps stale heaven

The Bromance Diaries

The riveting inner-workings of two souls riddled with bromance.

Really a Waitress

let's not pretend