Tag Archives: finish the sentence friday

A Letter From Your Mother

8 May

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To the little girl who calls me mother,

I wanted to write you a letter this Mother’s Day because you are the reason I am being celebrated for my MILF status (I threw in the MILF part).

You are only 4 years old but at 4, you blow me away.

Before you came, my life was like any typical college kid my age. The world was my oyster and my five year plan was as solid as a brick wall. You were a factor that I had never considered.

Doing my typical college thing

Doing my typical college thing

When I found out about you, I was only 20, still a baby myself in many ways. Like the fact that I still didn’t know how to wash a load of laundry without shrinking everything in it.

Two weeks before I took that pregnancy test, I competed in a college Beer Olympics with your dad. I must have drank between 12-15 beers, chugging them as fast as I could. Sorry about that. Your little peanut fetus must have had as much of a hangover as I did. However, your dad and I won the Olympics so that trophy you stare at on the wall was well worth it.

Dad was super excited with his winning Russian hat.

Then there was that time when I was about 7 months pregnant and turned 21.  Instead of getting wasted on my birthday, I got loaded on raw-free sushi. No complaints here, I’m sure you were just as happy as I was that night.

That same week my doctor said I could have a glass of red wine, my first drink of alcohol since the Beer Olympics. I ordered a red sangria…I thought it was red wine with fruit. Sometimes young mothers are stupid. Halfway through that sangria I realized that it was filled with more than just red wine. Between the slight buzz and the angry looks from other people in that restaurant, I should have noticed sooner. My bad.

This explains everything

This explains everything

When you were born, you were not the cutest newborn. You were purple and had a slight resemblance to the asian gas station attendant down the street. I’m sure your dad was a bit concerned but didn’t say a word.

Do you see my concern?

Do you see what I’m saying?

As you filled out and got your chubby baby rolls, you became the prettiest little thing I had ever seen. You had bright blue eyes like your dad, my smile and your own unique laugh that was contagious. You should have been the poster baby for GAP, you made Prince George look like a pile of elephant shit.

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Can’t handle the adorableness…Neither could GAP

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Heart Melted.

When you were about 8 months old I brought you shopping with a friend…a non-baby-experienced, friend. She took you into a dressing room while I finished getting my hair done and sat you on a dressing room table. Of course you fell off and bumped your head. She brought you back to me wailing, your head looked like Worf from Star Trek.

That was a bad day for you.

That was a bad day for you.

I felt terrible, probably not as terrible as my friend but that was the first time I questioned if I was good mother. The minute I coddled you in my arms and kissed your boo-boo, you calmed down and smiled letting me it was ok. I left with my hair half done, but I didn’t have to pay for it so it worked out. Needless to say, my friend will not be allowed to take you shopping until you are at least 10.

By 2 years old, you mastered the art of a taking a selfie before it was even an art to master. You would take my IPhone and snap pictures of yourself for me to find. You don’t know this but your secret selfies got me through Monday mornings.

Awesome in a selfie

Awesome in a selfie

At 3 years old, you were more mature and smarter than most kids your age. You are an old soul. I know this because you asked me one day to stop calling you a baby. You said, “I am 3 years old and should be called a little young girl“. It broke my heart a little bit but it was a fair request.  Or that time you wanted to use your Chuckie E Cheese money to buy a Dora doll. You insisted on using your own money to buy what you wanted. At 3, you already were an independent “little young girl.” Beyonce would be proud.

Independent women don't give a F*$#!

Independent women don’t give a F*$#! in Crayola Factory

Now at 4 years old you continue to amaze me. When we went camping and a wild animal ate all your marsh mellows, I did my best to keep you calm by explaining that we would get you more. You simply looked at me and said, “Fuck it, whatever. It’s no big deal”. I should have scolded you for using profanity or put you in time out but I was so impressed you used it in the right context that I couldn’t. All I had to do was explain that “Fuck” is an adult word and should be used by adults. You now you reprimand me for using it and say, “12 year old girls shouldn’t use that word.” I hope you think I’m still 12 in a couple of years.

"Mom!"

“Mom!”

I love when you make me laugh uncontrollably, which happens often. Especially that time we went for a 5 minute walk and you told me your boobs hurt from walking so much. You told me you wanted to lay down so you could rest your boobs from such a strenuous hike.

After two years, Dad and I finally found the secret to keeping you a clean kid. Who would of known the detachable shower head would be the trick to get you to bathe more than 2x a week. My outlook for your hygiene is now bright.

The god of all clean children

The god of all clean children

As you get older, you are turning into a little me. I worry about your dad’s sanity. Having two of me in one house might be a bit much for him. We may not find most of his jokes funny, but he is crazy about us. You will find out soon enough that he is wrapped around your finger and always will be.  Give him a break every now and again, he tries his best to keep up with your mile-a-minute stories. And I know his dreams of you becoming the first female NFL player are excessive, especially when he times your 50meter sprints in the driveway.  He means well. I will do my best to keep him at bay but wearing his favorite team’s football jersey on Sunday is out of my realm, nothing I can do about that.

I got nothing to do with this.

I got nothing to do with this.

I often wonder why you chose me to be your mom and am so incredibly grateful that you did. I will never be the perfect mother and you will never be the perfect child but you are certainly perfect for me. One special thing we will always be able to share is that we are growing up together. The bond you and I have will never be duplicated by any future siblings you may have one day, it’s only for you and I .

I can’t wait to see what great things you will do. You will fail and you will make mistakes in life and me and your dad will fail and make mistakes but we will always love you unconditionally.

I promise that I will always be honest with you and tell you like it is. I promise that I will always do my best as your mother. I promise that you will not like every decision I make for you or that I will like every decision you make for yourself. All I ask is that you promise me to do what makes you happy and that will always make me happy.

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On this Mother’s Day I’m not thankful to be a mother, I’m thankful to be YOUR mother. I wouldn’t replace you with any kid out there because for me, you are the most perfect “little young girl” I could ever ask for.

Love,

Mom

I fought the law and the law kicked my ass

11 Apr

I got slapped with a speeding ticket this week. Doing 91 in a 65 is apparently too fast…who knew?

I’m from Jersey. When you have a sign that says, 65 MPH it’s safe to assume the normal speed is at LEAST 85mph which means I was only going over by 6 MPH.

Logic people, logic.

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Speed Demon

By the time I saw the officer in my rear view window, it was too late. That fucker caught me.

I swerved over to the shoulder and collected my necessary identification, waiting for the officer to approach. I glanced in the mirror to fix my lipstick and realized I had forgotten to put on makeup this morning. Shit.

This was going to be tough to get out of with no makeup on. To make matters worse, I hadn’t had my coffee. My bitchiness levels are always high before coffee.

I took a deep breathe and said to myself, “Ryan, be a nice girl. Be sweet and flash a smile.

But in reality I thought:

cchsurhz

My thoughts were interrupted by the short midget Mexican cop knocking on my back window, “Ma’m, roll down your window

I rolled down the passenger side window.

Ma’m, roll down your back window and put your hands on the steering wheel where I can see them” he was anxious and looked nervous.

I felt the bitchiness levels rising at a rapid pace…”Well, OFFICER OF THE LAW, I can’t roll the back window down if my hands are on the steering wheel. This car has bluetooth, not fucking mind-reading-tooth

Ma’m, just roll down the window

I complied as the officer peeked in to find anything illegal stashed in the back.

All he found was a left over bag of Doritos and a car seat.

I was annoyed at this point because this man felt threatened by me. Granted I had no makeup on, I’m sure he was a bit scared but still, white girl with a carseat…come on bro.

We had some unfriendly banter back and forth…

He questioned me asking why I thought I had gotten pulled over.

I responded by questioning him, why he questioned me, since he was the one who pulled me over.

He sat perplexed, which was my original plan…confuse him with questions and it worked. He smiled knowing he had been defeated and walked back to his car. He came back to the window after fifteen minutes and handed me a piece of paper…

Have a nice day. Ma’m. I cut you a break today

You cut me a break? How? You still gave me a ticket? And now you want me to have a nice day? Sure, I’ll have a nice day when you pull back on the highway and get run over by an 18 wheeler.

Kidding, I would never wish that, but seriously if it happened, I would smile a little before taking my time to call 911 on your behalf. The rage I feel for traffic cops could crush the Great Wall of China…

I sat for a minute and looked into the mirror and said…

Who could ticket this face? Who?

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I flashed myself a smile to get back on a positive note and that’s when I saw it…a massive piece of kale left over from my healthy “green” smoothie.

Fucking, kale…you ruined it!

No wonder why I got a speeding ticket, not only did I not have make up on but I had a large thing of kale just hanging out. How can anyway take you seriously with a bunch of kale shoved up in your teeth?

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Can YOU spot the kale?

I wished at that moment I had a time machine. If I had a time machine this would have never happened to me…I would go back to the age of 6 and make this all alright.

*Flash Back, circa 1991*

Now Ryan, wear this retainer every night till the age of 10. You will have perfect teeth and we will close that gap up nice and tight! Nothing will get in or out!

“Yes Dr. Orthodontist

Fuck that shit, I’m not wearing it.

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If I had just listened to the damn dentist that day, I would have been happily driving myself to work on Monday morning. Humming along, thinking of a better blog post to write for this week.

AND if I had worn my retainer, I wouldn’t have shot juice through my teeth in 10th grade.

If I had not shot juice through my teeth in 10th grade, I wouldn’t have gotten made fun of by my classmates making me bitter about my teeth.

If I wasn’t bitter, I would have not been driving like a mad woman down the highway.

And if I was not driving like a bitter, mad woman, I wouldn’t have gotten pulled over for speeding with kale stuck in my teeth.

And If I didn’t have kale stuck in my slight-gaped tooth, I would have successfully gotten out of my speeding ticket.

Kale may be the god of all vegetables but it will ruin your life, especially if you didn’t wear your retainer when you were 6.

Janine's Confessions of A Mommyaholic

 

We Are The Stick People

4 Apr
Untitled

This is an original drawing

I never understood the stick family phenomenon.

You know, those stupid family conglomerates stuck on the back of minivans?

I live in a typical suburbia environment where minivans rule the road. I know I’m getting close to home when I start to see the plethora of stick people dance across my line of vision.

The population of my town has been reduced to stick figures and no one seems to care.

This might sound crazy but I think there is a competition going on with this stick family obsession.

The more stick people that populate your back windshield the better! Let the stick kid breeding competition begin!

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I frequently ask myself, where did this begin?

I think I also found the answer:

America Loves Stickers

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I saw a van the other day that had 9 stick kids.

Yes, 9.

Why would you want to tell people you have 9 children? When I see you have 9 children, it makes me want to drive up next to you and scream, “Stop breeding stick people”.

Plus, if you drive a minivan I already assumed you have a mass litter of kids.

The irony of the whole thing was that this particular minivan had an additional bumper sticker that read,

Proud supporter of my neighborhood watch program

Well,  you’re not doing the neighborhood watch any favors by inviting every single child molester in the area to follow you home. Basically your family decal is  putting your litter of stick kids in danger. While you think it’s cute to have stickers on the back windshield, to a pedophile you are saying, “Hey, we have kids! And lots to spare! Come by and join the fun!”

The sticks have gone to your brain.

If I were to post my family stick status, I would have a mommy stick, daddy stick and baby stick. I would also include two doggie sticks, one cat stick and one rabbit stick.

People would officially know that I am an animal hoarder. This is why I am not a stick fanatic.

The only benefit to this stick family obsession is that it can be a great source of gossip for the rest of us…and who doesn’t love a little gossip?

Just last week, I found out that my daughter’s classmate has TWO dads.

How?

I saw this:

My_Family_DINK

Dad-to-Dad Parenting

And then I noticed a change in my neighbor’s stick family situation.

She added an additional stick child (she is expecting) and removed her stick husband (they are getting a divorce).

The big X just gave it away.

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You can learn a lot when you pay attention.

Shockingly, this trend has caught on in non-suburban cities like Newark too!

Typically in these parts of town, I expect to see death decals:

 

Debbie Downer Stickers

Debbie Downer Stickers

However I was presently surprised to see this:

 

9krDTnA

Hard Core Jail Time

Baby mama has custody of the kids while baby daddy does jail time…O, and they have a dog.

Honest, entertaining and to the point.

I love it.

But the fun doesn’t end there, I am starting to see some really creative stick family decals that I think are worth mentioning…

Everyone has a little family dysfunction

DFMSyvo

Dysfunction at it’s finest

Why be stick people when you could be a family of tight-ass chickens?

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Even the Single-Cat Lady wanted to partake in the fun!

Any takers?

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Proud and Loud Mormons

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And finally, what’s a family without a little passive-aggressiveness?

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Those damn hoes wreck everything

I will never understand the point of this trend.

Maybe it’s along the lines of putting reindeer antlers on cars at Christmas time. Or maybe it’s a deep seeded need for humans to feel validated by the use of stickers; anyone remember Kindergarten Star Charts?

No, that’s not a memory we would like to re-visit, I agree.

So many sticks, so little time…

 


 

 

Janine's Confessions of A Mommyaholic

Mommy Conviction

14 Feb

My kid told me she was taking me to court.

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

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

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

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

Guilty or Not Guilty

Guilty or Not Guilty

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

Ms. Addison, please present your case.

Addison took the stand and presented the evidence…

1. My Mom calls this shit, dinner.

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

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

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

I don’t believe that.

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5. She hates cleaning.

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

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

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I am not allowed.

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8. I am the photographer for her blog postings…

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and I don’t even get paid for it.

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9. This is my favorite picture…

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

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10. These do not fit me…

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but I wear them anyway.

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

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I have mastered it.

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12. She hides from our neighbors…

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and makes me hide with her.

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13. Baths only happen once a week…

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and so does brushing my hair.

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

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but always enough beer.

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

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That Girl Ryan you have been found GUILTY.

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

It. Was. Hell.

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Janine's Confessions of A Mommyaholic

Hashtag #Hoes A Video Blog

7 Feb

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

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

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

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

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

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At least she shaved her armpits. #Kudos

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

Bread?!! OMG how creative!

Bread?!! OMG how creative!

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

TBT? Na, just another half naked selfie.

TBT? Na, just another half naked selfie.

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

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

Enjoy Bitches.

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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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