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Southern Boy Living In a Northern World

24 Jan
I love that I have cleavage in this picture

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.

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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 natural 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

New York City

Janine's Confessions of A Mommyaholic

The Bigger, The Better

17 Jan

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.

Whoa.

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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.”

By this point the size of it had sobered me up and all my liquid courage had disappeared. I could hear my mother’s voice telling me, “Don’t you dare! It’s gross! You’ll get a disease!”
I was suddenly feeling rebellious and started to reach down but hesitated once more. “Are you sure this is ok? I haven’t done this kind of thing before so I am not really sure how to do it right.” I questioned.

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.

I closed my eyes and reached my hand down until I felt it. For it’s size, I was actually surprised how soft it was. It tensed up and I could feel it becoming more rigid in my hand. I did exactly as he instructed and started towards the base and then to the top as he had said to do. I repeated the steps again and again while he smiled the whole time. It stopped flexing and inched closer and closer to me. Eventually, the top was touching my stomach.
 
Clearly, I was doing it right and it was pretty easy. The girls in my dorm room had made it sound so much more difficult than it really was.

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 of it!!

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What A Beauty

What A Beauty

The Biggest Cock I Ever Saw.

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

Janine's Confessions of A Mommyaholic

The Hidden Gems In My IPhoto

15 Jan

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.

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.

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.

bachparty

“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.

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“Marshmellow Girl”

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“Alien Princess”

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“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.

Is guy a real person?

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

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.

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“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.

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Day two

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Day three

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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?

How I Spent My Million

10 Jan

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

Let me tell you a story…

AustinPowersTShirt_DrEvilOneMillionDollars_Black_CU_5

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

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

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!

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.

Me N0 Rite G0od, a writing style

6 Jan
Photo on 1-5-14 at 2.33 PM

I’m lighting this shit on fire.

I had a thought today while listening to a 2 Chainz song 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 dumbest two sentences I have heard in a while but more importantly,  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 drives 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 who read my blogs.

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, are 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, love, commas, more, than, chocolate, cake.

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 you’re 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 every writer who blogs, my style is my own. So with that, writers please continue to use your punctuations 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 so I respect those who keep them near and dear.

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

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/01/08/daily-prompt-style-2/

The Cranky Christmas Bitch

6 Dec

Fuck. It’s Christmas time again.

So not happy

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.

tumblr_lwgudvfUYM1qddzljo1_500And that Elf, Hermey, needs to come out of the closet already…He’s a bigger flamer than Richard Simmons.

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These obnoxious fruit cakes.

jinglebellrock

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…

bunnybut 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…

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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.

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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

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

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-grinch

Meet My Publicist

14 Nov

Everyone, meet Danielle, my publicist. I’ve referenced her before in my posts and now you get the pleasure of meeting her. Danielle is my humor buddy, we discuss incredibly important topics like Pooping in Public, Waxing and Ryan Gosling.

I bribed her into writing some guest blogs on That Girl Ryan. This could be the start of a beautiful thing…

************************************************************************************************

Well hello That Girl Ryan followers!!

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First I would like to say how awesome it is to be given the privilege to be a guest blogger on That Girl Ryan today. I have been told that if I do a good job, I may be hanging around a little while. Let’s cut to the chase before I lose followers for her.

My name is Danielle or as That Girl Ryan calls me, “The Publicist”. Who do you think helps Ryan put these awesome posts together?? She has been pestering me to introduce myself to her blog world for quite some time now…I mean I did come up with the title for her blog. You people are lucky for that, she was trying to get all philosophical and name her blog about life and lemons or some stupid crap like that, so you’re welcome.

Ryan and I have known each other since we were 14 years old, and then she got all cool and I became an emo and that would have never worked out well in high school. We re-kindled our friendship this past year during our short stint as media sales reps.

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Now back to me…..

I did the whole college thing; took me five years but hey, I am a proud supporter of the 5 year plan! I mean I turned out just fine according to my roommates. I call my roommates; The Boss and Burt Reynolds (aka my mom and dad). For the past 24 years, I have been leeching life’s secrets off these people- and money and food. You will hear me mention life with The Roomies IF That Girl Ryan lets me come back.

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I’m what you can consider a walking exclamation point! I never grasped the concept of inside voices at a young age. I am loud and so is my laugh; I’m just always happy to be wherever I am. One of my talents is speed texting, I can out text any 16 year old any day of the week. BRING IT, I DARE YOU!

Being that That Girl Ryan is wifed up and is the mother to Queen A, as I call her; she sometimes loses touch with what it’s like to be young and free-like me. Don’t worry everyone I promise I won’t disappoint; I’m brutally honest and have the humor of a teenage boy. Relax, I know how to keep it classy. I look forward to telling you all about terrible first dates, life as a 20 something and just the shit you wish you could say out loud. Until next time….BAI!

A Little Of This…A Little Of That

6 Nov

It’s been almost a week since Halloween 2013 and I am still devoured by my utter disappointment.

What happened to Halloween? It has turned into the red-headed step sister of Thanksgiving and Christmas  the Holidays (that was for my Jew friends).

The decorations were weak and so were the amount of tricker- treaters. My street looked like a creepy ghost town and I live in a neighborhood with tons of children.

Here Kiddies, Kiddies, Kiddies

Here Kiddies, Kiddies, Kiddies

Apparently, it’s cool now to go trick-or-treating before 6pm? How convenient.

Who had this brilliant idea? Stay at home parents? NOT THAT THERE IS ANYTHING WRONG WITH STAY AT HOME PARENTS!

At 3pm, all the working people are at work and therefore cannot give out candy. Plus kids with working parents get the shit end of the deal since they miss out on the early bird candy specials.

Nonetheless, my little monster trekked the neighborhood streets after 6pm like a bad-ass. She and the 4 teenagers, who were way too old to be trick-or-treating, walked that neighborhood like bosses.  She did pretty well considering she missed the 3pm Halloween rush. Definitely scored enough candy for me and my husband to chow down on for at least a couple of weekends.

Perks of putting your kids to work.

Perks of putting your kid to work.

Whatever, Halloween sucks now, but this video clip is so well worth it. We may have missed submitting this video to Jimmy Kimmel, but it’s a winner in my book. One day, my kid will thank me for videotaping all the mean pranks I pull on her…

Some Other highlights of the night…

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She was under the impression that her costume was “BatMan” and Joba the turtle, was her loyal side-kick. Kid’s got imagination.

Our other dog Levi, thoroughly enjoyed his costume

Our other dog Levi, thoroughly enjoyed his costume

Speaking of the kid, her latest pre-school rumor really did a number on my parenting reputation.  When I picked her up from daycare this week, she decided to let all the teachers at school know that she is expecting a sibling. Yes, she told her entire pre-school that she was going to be a big sister.

Imagine the look on my face when a rush of teachers came to congratulate me on my non-existent pregnancy.

On the ride home, I had no idea as to how I was supposed to properly handle this situation…I decided to just be honest with her.

Me:Why did you tell everyone your going to be a big sister?”

Addison: “well lily and Jackie are going to be big sisters, so I wanted to be one too.”

ME:Being a big sister is kind of overrated.

Right now, between me, dad and you, we are a family of first borns, “the cream of the crop”, if you will.  Bringing in a younger sibling would only lower our family status.. First-borns are truly the rulers of the world. Plus, having a younger sibling would mean sharing the T.V. and I know how much you love your T.V.”

Addison:NO! not the TV, that’s my TV. Nevermind, I don’t want to be a big sister.”

Controversy Avoided, That Girl Ryan Parenting, a success.

While we are on the subject of parenting success, I wanted to share my most recent visit to NYC this weekend; courtesy of my mom, Mama O.

Mama O. brought me and my “less-supreme-younger-sibling” to the city for some shopping. We went on a “Fashionista Tour” sponsored by The Elegant Tightwad, if your interested: Details HERE

Basically, this fashion tour guides you through the not so typical shopping experience around the East Village. The stores we visited were eccentric and unique to say the least. Each shop varied in range of clothing options and prices, but the overall experience was priceless. In one of the stores, a custom hat boutique, I uncovered a new found love for hats.

(Not just like, I am totally into hats, but more like,  I now have this weird obsession with hats.)

"Younger Sibling" I gave her permission to try this on.

My middle sister modeling off her favorite piece.

I wanted every single hat in that store but paying $300 for hat?

Pshhh, that’s why China-town was invented.

When I found a suitable hat in China-town, I also found the world’s best sales-man. This little Indian shop owner saw my interest in a particular hat and was pushing hard to sell it to me. Every second that I stayed silent, he came down on his price. It was a truly brilliant sales technique.

Eventually he threw in a second hat for the price of one and we had a deal.

One hat for me, one hat for Mama O.

I just fucking love hats.

I am available to model. Please contact me if interested.

I am available to model. Please contact me if interested.

Mama O. thought her hat was a great purchase as well. She insisted on wearing it like a Muslim Brotherhood Member.

Mama O. Being stylish

After the tour, we did some shopping of our own and came across some interesting characters…As often as I go to New York City, I am still fascinated by the weirdo’s I come across.

Like this homeless man selling marijuana kitchen accessories…

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Who needs Ikea after looking through these gems?

OR these Mormons singing about eternal damnation…

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And we can’t forget about the random vandalism that New Yorkers call, “ART”….

20131105-114956.jpg

Perfectly good Tea Plates glued to the wall.

OR this…

20131105-114708.jpg20131105-114728.jpg

And finally, the gay black man, dancing through the East village with his boombox…

His dance moves were ridiculous

His dance moves were ridiculous

I mean seriously, how can you not love this place?!!

So between my disgust with Halloween, my invisible pregnancy and my new hat; This week was pretty eventful.

Until next time my friends…

That Girl Ryan

The Reflection

30 Oct
Growing up is about eating nasty shit.

Growing up is about eating nasty shit.

Does the number 25 mean anything to you, today? To me it means, I’m officially 25.

Yep, its my fucking birthday.

Happy birthday to me.

Did you remember to write on my FB wall, send me an E-card AND shoot a quick text to my phone? Well, here is your chance to do so without me thinking you forgot.

This is the first year that I haven’t looked forward to my birthday. Granted, the last two birthdays weren’t the best. Mother Nature decided to shit on the entire East Coast with some pretty hefty super storms. I was expecting some kind of monstrosity this year but nothing yet. Forecast looks stellar so far. I wouldn’t be surprised if an asteroid hit the earth in a couple of hours though, we shall see.

As a teenager, imagining myself at 25, I had some goals I expected to accomplish. Not all of my bucket-list items are checked off but for the most part, I guess I got pretty close. I’m employed, I am happy, I am decently fit and decently good looking. That’s most of them right there. I am also married with a kid, that’s definitely something I never factored in, so we shall consider these events as cherries on the 25 year old cake.

Something about turning 25 frightens me. Perhaps it’s the fact that I am officially in my mid-twenties or that I am half way to the age of 50…both are pretty intimidating.

I guess 25 also means that my metabolism will slow down, I should expect grey hair in 2-3 years and I am no longer in the 18-24 demographic.

But here is some exciting news..now I can rent a car!I think I will just head on over to Enterprise and rent the entire fleet. WOW, life is great.

Nah, still not feeling the 25 age.

I have done a lot of reflecting this week on the past three years…they have been such a crazy roller coaster for me personally and I am amazed as to how far I have matured. Like the fact that I don’t feel the need to drink as heavily as I used for every event that requires drinking (my vomit-free toilet and drunk babysitter-husband are very pleased about that). Assessing the pain of being hungover to 3-4 more drinks actually happens now.

Way to go maturity, way to go!

But with maturity comes great…fear. Like the fear of realizing you can die at any moment. I don’t mean to get all dark on you, but I am now scared of things that never crossed my mind during the ages of 16-23. A couple of years ago, I was thrilled by the thought of wreck-less driving, jumping out of airplanes and leaving my house unlocked. Now, I’m practically an agoraphobic. When I fly on a plane, I think its going to crash or when I drive on a bridge, I’m convinced it’s going to collapse. Hell, I can’t even turn on the oven without considering the possibilities of an explosion.

Do you ever wake up in the middle of the night convinced a mass murderer broke into your house and is hiding in your attic ready to strike while you sleep? Or that you will spontaneously burst into flames watching TV? I do, all the time. Space junk could land on me at any moment and yet I spent my younger years being reckless. It’s a surprise I have stayed alive this long.

Anyways, the point is, I have seen some changes in myself over the past few years; some good, some bad.

I look back on to my 21st birthday which should have been spent drinking my head off, but instead, I was 6 months pregnant, planning a wedding while in college. Or my 22nd and 23rd birthday when I was a newlywed, juggling work, college homework and an infant. On each of my birthdays, I had so much going on that I never took a moment to be grateful. Instead I resented that fact that I had to be so grown up during the years of my life when it shouldn’t have been expected of me. I just accepted that life happened without really understanding what a great gift I had been given.

On my 24th birthday last year, I decided that I needed to do something to re-invent myself; I was tired of being angry and resentful for the past 3 years of my life. It was time for me to do something for me, not because it was expected or responsible, but because I enjoyed doing it. I wanted to finally be able to do something that would change the way I looked at life.

And the best idea I could come up with was this blog.

As funny and pathetic as that may sound, trust me, it has been one of my better ideas.

On this day last year, That Girl Ryan, the blog, was born and what an eye opener it has been….

It’s not the fact that I just write whatever the hell comes to my head…this blog is so many things to me because all the people like YOU, who read it.  You are the driving motivator behind this blog. Your laughter, your emails, your comments keep me writing about things nobody will talk about.

You bring out the voice that makes you giggle, the voice that says exactly what you won’t, the voice that refuses to be susshed and dismissed. YOU are all, That Girl Ryan.

So as I reflect on my birthday today, I just want to say, THANK YOU!

Thank you for reading. Thank you for laughing. Thank you for helping me grow.

This past year has been one of my best and I have all you to thank for that.

25 will be a great year,  unless of course I get murdered by the psychopath hidden in my attic.

Happy birthday to Me, Happy Birthday to That Girl Ryan.

What else do you need in life?

What else do you need in life?

A Message to 20 Somethings From a 20 Something

9 Oct

unico

Do you envision a successful future, similar to the one captured above? Do you consider yourself special compared to other people? Do you want to be someone amazing?

Yes?

Then you are probably a 20 something.

I’m sure we have all heard the bitching that goes on about Generation Y. Lazy, unrealistic and overly hopeful are usually the chosen adjectives when describing this eclectic group of individuals. But who could blame us? We don’t know where we are going in life and we’re fresh out of college, trying to move out of Mom and Dad’s house…I totally get it. Our life is hard and a lot of work.

Let’s not even discuss work. Most of us are coffee runners for hot shots in the big cities. We excel at making copies, setting up calendar invites and stapling together presentations. And what would a company be without the person who knows to how staple projects together; the whole thing would go to shit with loose papers flying everywhere.

To us, it sucks, no body gets a college degree to make copies, yet we continue these jobs to receive, brighter, bigger promotions in the future.

According to the “Old” generations (and yes, I’m calling you people old), we aren’t patient enough and expect promotions immediately. We leave our jobs if we don’t like them and make careers into blogging and posting YouTube videos.

Pathetic, the “Old” crowd says.

And while I don’t necessarily agree with the “Old” generations, I have to say I get where they are coming from. But is it really our fault? Weren’t we raised and mentored by these old people?

 I am different, I am special and I am going to be somebody. My parents, my teachers, my coaches and that purple dinosaur BARNEY always led me to believe this. So why is it when I get into the real world, this same “Old” generation now giggles at my aspirations to be a CEO at 35? The “Old” generation made me and my peers into what we are today; ambitious dreamers looking always looking for the better opportunity.

Nevertheless, I decided to understand the other side of the argument; a way to punch holes in the “Lazy Generation Y” theory. This is how I discovered a select group of individuals who I believe are living in a 20 something fantasy world.

Discovering this not only evoked irritation and made me feel shameful for being among this age group, but also gave me some great material for my first (and probably last) video blog. Feelings this strong, could only be accurately portrayed in the form of a video.

The discovery came when I was perusing Facebook one day. A viral fiasco broke out and of course I needed to investigate the drama myself. A particular blogger (who I won’t say) wrote a post about being a 20 something. She said ludicrous, outlandish and purely naive statements that made my mouth drop to the floor. Of course I would have let the whole thing go if she didn’t happen to draw the attention of other stupid 20 somethings.  90 comments posted on her blog solidified my theory that there are indeed 20 somethings who are a total embarrassment to the rest of us. These are the people who live life in a fairy tale, riding off into rainbows accompanied by Unicorns.

I almost vomited by the out-pouring of comments that read, “You totally understand what I think about on a daily basis”.

Long story short, I created a video blog to share specific parts of the “20 somethings” blog I wasted five minutes of my life on. Of course, I have included my comments and reactions to her pathetic thoughts.

DISCLAIMER: That Girl Ryan is clearly not a movie producer or creator…this will not win an Oscar nor will it be seen as professional video….I am well aware of this.

What have we learned from this?

GENERATION Y’s, specifically the 20’s somethings are not all idiots. Some of us actually have a brain with a mind and will certainly end up being intelligent, contributing members of society. Sure, we may all ride on an Unicorn from time to time  but have no doubt, not all of us are total ass wipes.

And to the “20 something” blogger who decided to broadcast your stupidity to other stupid “20 somethings”…

This is not Disney World and you are not fucking Cinderella…please grow a pair and dis-mount your Unicorn. It’s about time you get with the program.

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