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The Perks of Living at Home

4 Dec

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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.apartment 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

Fully Stocked Refrigeratorpantry

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2. Leftover Paradise

leftovers

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

3. They are constantly the life of the party

steve

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

4. Fully Stocked Laundry Room

laundry room

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

5. SO MANY KITCHEN GADGETS

Kitchen-gadgets

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

6. FREE WIFI

free wifi

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

7. Reliable Handy Man

dad

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

8. Dishes?!?

dishes

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

9. Endless Supply of Toilet Paper

toilet paper

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

10. Andrea

CleaningLady

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

11. RENT FREE 

rent free

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

12. They are morally obligated to like you

they love me

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.

What happens at the Cove, Stays at the Cove.

27 Nov

photo 1 (2)My husband works for a company that hosts incentive trips throughout the year and we have been fortunate enough to attend majority of them.

This past summer was a free trip to Nieves, an island that nobody has ever heard of. I don’t remember much, but I credit that to the island’s signature “Killer Bee” cocktail. The drink tastes so good, but when you least expect it; it stings you!

Then last summer, we went to Aruba, the happiest island in the Caribbean. Why is it the happiest island you ask? Because nobody in Aruba has a real job and therefore is happy.

All those islands were great and all, but my favorite trips have always been the fall vacation to the Bahamas. Not for the location but for the crazy shit that goes down at this place…and this year did not disappoint.

Getting to the Bahamas takes about 2 1/2 hours via plane which has become one of my newest phobias in life.

Such a tiny plane

Such a tiny plane

Ever since a particular nail-biting flight; getting myself on a plane is a bitch. It’s actually gotten so bad that for my flight to the Bahamas this year, I decided to drug myself.

Drug of choice; Dramamine.

photo 3

#NoMakeup

Dramamine is a motion sickness medication, but it makes you loopy as hell so I gave it go.

Boy Ryan tried to convince me that if he distracted me the entire flight I wouldn’t need the medication.

But that turned out to be a total fail ten minutes in….

photo 1 (3)I am so distracted by watching you sleep; what a brilliant idea!

Anyways, the Dramamine did its work and I spent the entire flight writing down all the questions I have about random things (more on this to come) and taking selfies of my face because I was convinced the Dramamine made it look distorted…and I refuse to share those pictures with you all.

When we arrived in the Bahamas and pulled up to The Cove, a very “exclusive” part of the Atlantis Resort. I was honestly floored by the hotel luxuries. Full balconies, a spacious lower living room, a hairdryer and 2 fully stocked mini-bars.

Um, YES.

My Room view

My Room view

As I laid down on the bed to recover from my Dramamine high, I heard the familiar tone Boy Ryan says on every single vacation; “O Shit”.

“O Shit” (said in a high to low pitch) means that Boy Ryan forgot something; as he does every trip we attend. One year he forgot his wallet in airport security. The year before that he left his contacts in a hotel room. The year before that he mistakenly overlooked packing any clean underwear for a two week trip.

So what could it possibly be this time?

“Hun…I forgot my bathing suit.”

Ah yes, the bathing suit. The man packs for a tropical island surrounded by water, pools and beaches and forgets the most necessary item of clothing. Typically Boy Ryan.

So we spent the first day walking around Atlantis in search for a bathing suit. We found one for a “steal” at $80…ugh.

Let me just state for the record, Atlantis is not cheap.

Which is why on the first night, I was more than happy to attend a work event where free food and free drinks were in unlimited supply for the night.

It was at a restaurant called the One and Only Ocean Club.Truly a gorgeous scene; if anyone is looking for destination wedding venues, definitely put this on the list.

The event was held in a garden area with a ton of naked men statues. I know that sounds weird, but they were probably the highlight of all the conversations I had that night.

Work events are always a bit awkward so conversation topics tend to focus on the scenery, food and service quality.

Topic of conversation

Topic of conversation

However, I will make a note about something I noticed regarding Men and any Caribbean island…

Why do men think wearing linen pants are OK on an island?

Can we just dive into this a minute?

  1. Linen pants are very difficult to pull off for most men.
  2. Most men do not wear linen pants appropriately. The sizes are always too small and the pants are always too wrinkled.
  3. When #1 and #2 are in full force you know what happens? Men get linen-pant camel toes.

Just from this short visit to the Caribbean, I’ve had enough Linen-Pant Camel Toes to last me a century.

Attention women: Good wives don’t let good husbands wear linen pants.

**Please wear responsibly **

Unless you are this man, you can not wear linen pants.

Unless you are this man, you can not wear linen pants.

Anyways, I drank way too much at that event- probably because I wanted to forget every male camel toe I had just seen– and spent the rest of the night in the Casino playing craps. By playing craps I mean rolling the dice for the craps players.

I have never been a fan of Casinos, but the Atlantis casino has a really great set-up. Between the sports betting area, slot machines and an everlasting flow of free drinks, I give it two thumbs up!

Taking pictures at a casino is illegal, I'm a total badass.

Taking pictures at a casino is illegal, I’m a total badass.

The second day for me was a wash; too many male camel toes and vodka tonics left me a hungover mess. There aren’t enough adjectives to describe the color of vomit that came out of me that day.

Sleep+Sun+Pool=cure

Sleep+Sun+Pool=cure

I’m just thankful it didn’t last long enough for my date with Flipper.

Yes, me and flipper had an amazing date at his place in Dolphins Cay.

At Dolphins Cay, you actually get in the water with dolphins. You can touch them, swim with them and even feed them. I highly recommend you go if you ever visit the Bahamas…even if it’s just to touch the dolphins. Touching a dolphin feels like you are groping a 400lb man in a wetsuit, very amusing to say the least.

The professional pictures taken were like $40,  so i’m too cheap to have purchased any to show you all, but I did try and catch some video to share.

The rest of the trip was a lot of the same; drinking too much, gambling, eating at a famous restaurant called NoBu? Which according to Boy Ryan should be named; No Food. We were still so hungry that after we ate, we went out to eat.

I only recommend this restaurant for aspiring anorexics.

But the last thing I wanted to share with you all is about my experience at The Cove private pool party.

photo 4 (3)

Cove tagline: “Live Your Life”

Things that happen at the Cove pool;

  • People show boob-age; whether they intend to or not
  • People make out wherever they feel like it; group make-outs are also encouraged
  • Rich Ugly Old men hang out with younger, attractive females
  • Sexual Dancing; both good and bad
  • Sex in the bathroom-yes I said sex in the PUBLIC bathroom
  • Patron being poured onto body parts and licked off
  • $7,000 drink bills

Here is how I sum up the party at The Cove pool;it’s a 6-8 hour long orgy every day, any day. Including Sundays! The orgy happens AFTER Sunday Church!

Over a 4 hour period I saw the pool party scene go from classy-cool to drunken-mess fest.

Although I wasn’t cool enough to partake in the festivities, I did capture these Cove party animals in their natural habitat for you all to see:

photo 5

See the younger women relaxing by the watering hole; calm, cool and collective…observation 2pm

photo 4

Watering hole begins to get crowded. More adult beverages are consumed. Animals begin to move around…observation 3:30pm

photo 2 (4)

Fat rich man begins to make his way over to younger attractive girls. He flashes them $100 bills and offers drinks. Young girls take bait….Observation 4:00pm

photo 3 (4)

Younger female begins to stand on chair and dance for fatter man in the pool. Her judgement is off, but she continues to entertain for another round of free drinks…observation 5:00pm

photo 1 (4)Total debauchery ensues. Dancing takes place. Group make-outs and “motor boating” are also observed.  Debauchery doesn’t slow down until well into the early evening….observation 7pm.

If you like a hard-core party scene, resort lifestyle and commercialized experience, then I highly recommend you visit the Atlantis resort. If you’re not entertained by the water slides, casinos, variety of restaurants or dolphins, you will be at the Cove. You might even be cool enough to hang out with the party animals!

Just remember one thing: DO NOT WEAR LINEN PANTS!

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!

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…

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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!

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?

What to expect when you’re expecting

24 Oct

Why is everyone pregnant all of a sudden? Everywhere I turn I see a sea of bulging bellies and waddling women. Is there a nation-wide pregnancy pact going on that I don’t know about? If I find out there is, I’ll be pissed. Where were all you pregnant ladies when I was the lonely knocked up girl three years ago? I could have used a “Bun in the Oven” buddy. Thanks a lot you bitches.

Have you gotten the latest copy of, “What to Expect When You’re Expecting?”…throw that shit out of the window. It’s useless information that you can easily learn from your mother. That book doesn’t cover vital topics, topics that are actually worth  learning about.

They say we all have secrets, but pregnant women have a lot more…when your growing a human, things can get weird.

Like this belly

Kim Kardashian don't got nothing on this booty

Kim Kardashian don’t got nothing on this booty

1. You Crave Strange Things

Not things like mayo and pickles or potato chips and orange juice; in-edible objects and materials.

I had a particular wanting for textured items…like cat litter. Yes, I craved cat litter. The smell, the look, the way in emptied into the litter box. I would imagine cupping a hand full out, throwing into my mouth like it was granola. Long story short, I gave into my temptation once and the cat litter was anything but delicious and crunchy. Surprise. Surprise. But your pregnant mind will do evil things to you.

I highly recommend this brand

I highly recommend this brand

2. Natural Birth Are For Super Humans

I don’t know who thought giving birth in a bath tub or bouncing on a ball during labor would make a natural birth easier, but I think these people most likely take acid on a daily basis. I’ve had the honor of meeting a couple of women who did naturally give birth and I think they have some incredible powers.

I had a moment during labor (probably an evil mind lapse) that made me want to try and do everything naturally. Not because it was healthier for the baby or my body or whatever they say these days, but so I could say, Hell yes, I did that.

I completely underestimated labor-pains.

Imagine someone pulling your pelvis in two directions and being stabbed in your gut all at the same time. That’s what it feels like. Labor was no big deal until about 2 hours in when you start to ask for the epidural or for death.

I also made my husband take a picture, as a reminder. A reminder that natural births are incredibly overrated.

That is not a fat suit, that is just me.

That is not a fat suit, that is just me.

3. No Story You Will Ever Tell is As Good As Your Birthing Story

Have you ever met someone who shared their birth story about 5 minutes into meeting them? Happened all the time when I was pregnant. I heard each and every moment from the dilation of centimeter 1 to centimeter 10. Usually the climax of the story came when they pushed out the baby.

“And then, I pushed and pushed…Pushed so damn hard I pooped on the nurse! But after 3 hours of pushing, Little Johnny popped out! His head was so big, the doctors gave me fifteen stitches! Johnny’s father sure doesn’t mind though, wink”.

Thanks, for the info lady!

My advice to expecting mothers… find friends that had C-sections.

4. Babies Are Ugly

Ew.

I’m thinking of my kid when she came out. The nurse propped her on my chest and I started to cry.  My kid looked like a cross between the Indian guy at the gas down the street and my Great Uncle. She was purple and blue and had bigger lips  than Fat Albert. I’m sure my husband had a moment when he doubted the fact that this creature was HIS kid, hell I even doubted it; the way she came out I would have believed I was raped by an alien.

I remember my mom posted a facebook picture immediately after she came out; poor kid still had goo all over her face. I had no idea until I saw all the comments from my facebook friends saying, “She is so beautiful!“. Look I’m not retarded, I know its socially polite to say Newborns are “Gorgeous”.

I mean, I have yet to see anyone comment, “O My GOD! what IS THAT?“. You people arn’t fooling anyone, us mom’s with ugly newborns, are well aware that our kids are ugly.

Case in Point:

I was scared for this kid's future

I was scared for this kid’s future

And then this…

100% sure from this picture, she would never get married

100% sure from this picture, she would never get married

Eventually she fluffed out and got really cute. She still is to this day.

Phew…that was a close call:

This Baby Mama don't make ugly babies

This Baby Mama don’t make ugly babies

5. Leaky Nipples

Breast feeding or not, your girls turn into leaky faucets. When I left the hospital they gave me these bra pads, but I thought I didn’t need them because I had no intention of boob feeding my kid.

Then one day, my boobs decided to have a wet t-shirt contest in the middle of English Lit 101. It dawned on me that nipple pads are very necessary.

As if my stigma of being a pregnant college girl wasn’t enough, the two wet spots located on my boobs buried any chance of social redemption that I had left.

All I have to say is, thank god for the Mary Katherine Gallagher pose! Not only does it allow you to check your armpit sweat, but it also covers your leaky nipples…SUPERSTAR!

superstar_molly_shannon

6. People Ask You The Most Retarded Questions

There is such thing as asking a dumb question, I’ve heard them…

How did your get your body back to normal?

I’m not sure, my body just deflated. However, I’m sure my vagina would argue the definition of “Normal”.

OR
(Horrified face)
If you’re back at work, where does the baby go during the day?!
Great question! Hmm well some days I lock my kid in a closet, throw Cheerios on the floor and pray she doesn’t crap her pants. Works like a charm!
At what point in our human evolution do we stop being so stupid? It’s called Daycare and it’s mans best invention.
7. You see a new side of your significant other.
I love when I hear expecting mothers say, “I don’t care what gender I’m having as long as it’s healthy”.
That is a lie.
Every woman secretly wishes for a certain gender. Me…I wanted a boy.
When I found out I was having a girl, I was pissed…I grew up with all girls; two sisters, multiple female cousins and 7+ aunts…enough estrogen to last me a lifetime.
Plus, I married a “Mans-Man”.
He has always been awkward and quiet around girls. Lucky for him when we dated in college, I thoroughly enjoyed my vodka and didn’t notice his strange behavior around women.
So obviously, I was a bit worried he wouldn’t have any type of bond with our daughter.
I was completely wrong.
Who knew my “Manly man” could play barbies and tie pony tails in ways I couldn’t imagine. It’s adorable.
From this:
100_0133
To this:
100_0475
8. Sleep leaves you…forever
As a mother-to-be, sleep gets harder. Imagine sleeping with a basketball underneath you, its impossible. They say lack of sleep helps you prepare for a newborn, but I think that’s crap. It prepares you for the rest of your, no-sleep life. Even after that screaming, no toothed infant sleeps through the night, as a mother you never sleep again. Every peep, every missed breath,every creek in your house awakes you. I used to be able to sleep through it all but now if my kid farts in the other room, I wake up.
On a positive note, 3am tends to be a very lively time; not only are the drunks just returning from the bar, but a ton of mothers like myself, can be found playing Words With Friends.
I guess it’s not so bad.
I miss those days...

I miss those days…

9. Adult Diapers Suddenly Make Sense
During labor, you can shit on the table and not even know it. Your numb from the drugs so you can’t feel yourself poop, but the nurse and your partner sure do. Talk about the type of blackmail they can forever hold over your head. Not only that, but it makes you wonder about which celebrities might have shit during labor.
Personally, I would really like to know if Duchess Kate slipped out a turd while giving birth to the new prince. Now that is News-worthy.
I know, now your like, “Who cares about the labor pains when you have to worry about shitting during birth!”
Trust me, it’s not as bad as the threat of peeing your pants 24/7.  I’ve talked about this before, but I literally can’t get over how much my bladder sucks, post-pregnancy. Activities such as; jumping on a trampoline, jumping jacks and hopping on one leg (basically jumping) can quickly go from a “Great Exercise” to “Holy shit, I just peed myself.
Even the simplest conundrums in life can turn into a wet-yourself-disaster, like coughing or sneezing. I have found the best way to avoid peeing your pants when this happens is to cross your legs and hope for the best.
I used to sneeze like this:
No Big Deal, just a sneeze

No Big Deal, just a sneeze

Now I have to sneeze like this:
Holy Shit, I just peed

Holy Shit, I just peed

Ah yes, pregnancy is weird and disastrous all at the same time, but when you push that little or big human out, the fun only begins. Just wait until that little person turns into a toddler.
Good luck to all of you who plan to embark on this journey, I hope your bellies swell and your births are full of epidurals.
Happy Birthing!

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.

The Real Housewives of the Gym

24 Sep

Women are such interesting animals…Yes, animals. You have to wonder how men have co-existed and kept up with these crazed mental patients for so long. I mean if you really think about it, can you really blame them for suppressing the female population for as long as they did? Poor guys just couldn’t keep up…

But there is a particular group of woman who have brought a whole new definition to Mind-games. I’m no historian, but I believe the 50’s and 60’s social structure provided a prime environment for these women to evolve into mind-fucking masters, I’m talking about housewives. Dangerous, Devious and Dainty all in the same sentence.

housewife_happy

Now before all you housewives reading get your panties in a bunch and start throwing Dr. Oz’s latest recipe in my face, let’s at least admit you look forward to other activities that don’t involve cooking, cleaning or children…activities like the gym. I’m not saying it’s pathetic…I know for working women, the highlight of our week is casual Fridays so were not that far off. But when I joined a new gym this year and saw first hand how housewives interact with one another, my perspective on this group of women has really changed.

I’m not a fan of the gym and if it wasn’t for the multiple self-loathing sessions about the jiggly packs on my ass, I’d never set foot in that fat-burning hell hole. Eventually, reality sets in; you can’t eat like a 700lb man trying to maintain a 140lb stature without a little work-out here and there. Thus, I take group fitness classes (hell ya!) with a bunch of 40-50 year old housewives and have developed a whole new set of middle-aged girlfriends! This is exciting, because I believe middle-aged friends are better than 20 something-year-old friends, I just learn a lot more from them.

They teach me all about menopause, divorce and why 40 truly is the NEW 20. I even found out the reason why our trainer doesn’t incorporate any jumping exercises into our workouts. It’s because the older women almost always pee their pants. Apparently, after having a couple of children, jumping up and down makes you wet yourself.

A Great Motto To Live By

A Great Motto To Live By

These home warriors are a force to be reckoned with; once you piss them off, its war. Housewives have the time for a good, long battle so you can’t underestimate their power to fuck with your head.

Let’s digress…

Housewives have silent conflicts. They don’t exchange confrontational words or physical beatings, but instead use passive aggressive tactics to ruin your life. Sometimes, you don’t know your in a conflict until one day you walk into workout class and no body will talk to you, then you know the damage has been done.
Recently, I have gotten tangled up in this mess and it’s actually quite amusing! But before I dive in, let me first introduce you to my middle-aged workout friends…

Plasty

Plasty is purely plastic. Her boobs, her lips, her ass are all fake. She dyes her hair blonde and wears make-up to work out. PLASTY never sweats. According to her, ladies don’t sweat because ladies don’t need to work that hard, that’s what men are for. For a woman who doesn’t sweat, Plasty is as thin as a match-stick probably because she just eats steam and injects plastic into her veins to keep from absorbing any fat.

Plasty also gets really mad when she is behind me in circuit-station workouts (moving from one exercise to another). I sweat a lot and she gets annoyed that my sweat is sometimes left behind on a yoga mat or weight bench. She has never said this, remember silence is key here, but her eye rolls and disgusted sighs tip me off to her sweat displeasure. I, in return, leave as much of my sweat behind as possible.

Mama

Mama goes to the gym because she is trying to loose her “baby-weight”. Her youngest child was born 7 years ago. Mama also rocks a mean-camel toe…I’m talking her spandex is screaming for help because it’s at the point of no return. Mama of course drives a half SUV/half mini-van (with turbo) completed with the animated avatars of her family members on the back windshield.

Queefy

Queefy’s name might give away her claim to fame. Queefy always Queefs (vagina farts) in workout class. Usually it happens during our ab and core exercises. When it happens, she always giggles and tries to play it off, “My silly shoe keeps making that silly noise!

I like Queefy, but someone needs to tell her the truth. We know you just Queefed, Queefy and hey, its happens. but seriously, it’s awkward. I think you need to get some sort of plug…I’m sure a tampon would do the trick.

And finally, this brings us to the last gym lady-My enemy…

She might as well look like this

She might as well look like this

Competitive Connie

Competitive Connie is my enemy and I am hers…but we haven’t verbally established this, again silence is key here.

Competitive Connie is the one woman who needs to compete for everything and anything.

Have a great joke to tell? Competitive Connie has a better one. Just upped your weight in bench pressing? Competitive Connie’s been doing that for months.Met a celebrity and got something on sale? Competitive Connie met three and got it cheaper. YOUR story is NEVER as GREAT as Competitive Connie’s…

Hence, why no one likes Competitive Connie…

I don’t like her because she goes out of her way to make everyone look stupid.

The other ladies don’t like her because she hired a cleaning lady 4x a week (apparently, this is a no-no in the world of housewives).

Maid Gives Thumbs Up for Cleanliness

Long story short, one day, the ladies got so tired of it, that they nominated me to try and OUT-DO Competitive Connie.

For days during my drive to and from work I planned my strategy. Since I couldn’t defeat her physically, I would do it with a story she couldn’t outshine. A story so powerful, there was nothing she could say to Top-it.

When the day had arrived, I took a deep breath as I sat on to my mat and lifted my medicine ball, preparing for abs. I gave a nod to Plasty, Queefy and Mama letting them know it was time. They excitedly looked at one another; This was the day their nightly phone conversations had waited for, the day That Girl Ryan would defeat Competitive Connie and give hope to all the housewives of the world (Well, in a 15 mile radius at least).

I licked my lips and began my story….

ME: “So Connie, I was excited to tell you that I just found out I’m related to Miley Cyrus. She is a cousin of mine through a distant relative who just happened to also invent the vacuum, you know the vacuum that whirls in a circle and pivots behind couches? I believe you told us you have one of those no? Anyway, when I found this out, I decided to vacuum my living room. When I emptied the vacuum bag, I discovered $50! That same day after the dishes, laundry and lunches were completed, I went to DSW and bought these $50 heels that were marked down from $150”.

By the time I finished my verbal strike, I was out of breath. There was no way she was going to out-shine THAT story. Competitive Connie stopped her exercise and turned directly in my direction; she understood that I had just declared war.

The ladies and I waited in silence holding our breath, Queefy holding hers a little more, I’m sure, because we were doing crunches.

Would Competitive Connie collapse from defeat? Or would she take the bait?

That fucker took the bait.

Well, that was quite a day for you, That Girl Ryan and such an interesting story! (SMILE) It actually reminds me of the time I went to my uncle’s house, who is also Babe Ruth’s son. He invented the broom! The broom came BEFORE the vacuum, if I have my facts in order. Speaking of the vacuum you referenced, I just threw it out..pity. It actually is a crappy, horrible vacuum and i wouldn’t recommend it to MY WORST enemy. (SMILE). You should probably focus a little more on completing your abs, your only at 55 and I am already on 75 and almost done.

As she trailed off on her bullshit, I sat in total disbelief that I had lost to a housewife. I crafted that story over a 3 day period just to make sure I could out-do her and she thought of that shit in 30 seconds.

This is accurate

This is accurate

Not only that, but I had let my gym ladies down. Now their day would continue to be boring, surely they were looking forward to their phone-gossip schedules that would have lasted well into the evening before their husbands returned home from work.

The next few days, Competitive Connie really ramped up her plan for total destruction. When I would lift a weight, she would get a bigger weight and lift it longer. When I would jog instead of walk to my next circuit station, she would sprint. I even ran into her at the grocery store a few nights ago. She smiled (obviously fake) and I smiled back (even more fake). We chatted about the weather and wished each other a nice evening but in my mind, I knew there was a different meaning…

The weather seems quite odd latelyTranslation: You are really going to try and out-do me?

This sunshine won’t last long, its about time the temperature starts to lowerTranslation: You may be the under-dog that Queefy, Mama and Plasty are rooting for, but you will never defeat me.

Have a good night, I will see you bright and early!Translation: Bring your game, bitch.

I have never had an invisible housewife conflict so I am a bit lost when it comes to these things. But sooner or later, I’m going to set the gym ladies FREE, away from the reign of Competitive Connie.

But until that time, the drama continues….

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