Tag Archives: Girl

How I Spent My Million

10 Jan

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

Let me tell you a story…

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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.

2014, Can I Get a Re-Start?

3 Jan

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

OMG CAN'T STOP

OMG CAN’T STOP

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I see the man looking at me”

“There is a Wise guy following me”

“These three men won’t stop following me”

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

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

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

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

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

Christopher Columbus?

No.

Big Bird?

No, but close.

The Klu Klux Klan?

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

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

Does anyone see this resemblance?

Does anyone see this resemblance?

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

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

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

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

Dog Shame

Dog Shame

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

Seriously, this dog needs to watch some more Dateline.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stalking 101: Leave creepy note regarding whereabouts on door

Stalking 101: Leave creepy note regarding whereabouts on door

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My two observations:

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

#2 Everyone was half naked.

It was a pretty cool scene.

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Tight Crowd

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Me and My Sister

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

He is balding at an incredible rate...signs of being too old.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It. Was. Awesome.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ugh O, the really important Police men have something to say

The really important Police Men have something to say

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

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

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

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

“No, officer I am not sure why”

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

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

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

“How long have you had the car?”

“Um, about a year or so”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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…

tumblr_lv8pd4sVyw1r6s6i5o1_500

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.

xmas2

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

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!

The Turtlenecks Have Landed

12 Nov
I am trying something new folks, spice up the blogger write-life a little bit.
Every so often, I am going to dive into some of the worst fashion “Trends” out there to date. I can’t count the number of popular fashion bloggers that the internet currently hosts. Everything from “Must Haves” to “How to style yourself” posts are obviously very popular.
And because my fashion sense sucks, I might as well be labeled as a fashion-failure, I am going to bring you a different perspective on specific fashion pieces; because let’s face it, we all wear shit we hate.
The TurtleNeck and family

I tried to make it work

Brace yourself, the turtlenecks have arrived…Again.
I hate everything about them; the way they slowly suffocate you throughout the day, the way they accumulate excessive pit sweat, even how fat they make your face look.
I can totally relate to this cat

I can totally relate to this cat

 I tried to get rid of all mine this year during my annual, do good by donating clothes, but I kept one. Just one for a, just in case these dumb things come back in style, type of scenario.
And to my surprise, Glamour.com named the Turtle and Cowl neck as the season’s “must have” style for fall 2013.
WTF? Haven’t the fashion gods had enough of these things? When do the necks go into retirement? Platform shoes have been ousted out off the runway, but turtlenecks are still surviving? How does that happen?
Just Die Turtleneck, DIE!

Just Die Turtleneck, DIE!

But have no doubt, I have found OTHER ways Turtlenecks can be utilized.
Case in point:
1. Make a “White-Girl” BlueTooth. Add the accessories of a “Ghetto BlueTooth”, throw in a turtleneck and BAM, you have a “White Girl” Bluetooth. Ideal for excessively long conversations and hand talking.

FotoFlexer_Photo2

2. Try out a hair length BEFORE you cut! Don’t you hate when you want to do something “Drastic” to your hair and have no idea how it will look?
Problem Solved.
FotoFlexer_Photo

3. Animal hair issues? Not with a turtleneck. Your furry friend and his hair will no longer clog the vacuum.

Desheder

Screw you FURminator

4. Spend some quality time with your child; because sometimes close just isn’t close enough.

photo-45. Or use it as a new type of time-out

photo-5

3 minutes of silent time-out

6. Cover up your double, triple or quadruple chins.

Double Chin

Seriously, chins can be a problem

7. Shield your nose when someone in the office farts. Trust me, it works.

Steve from Accounting just dropped a bomb!

Steve from Accounting just dropped a bomb!

8. OR sneak in a quick nap at the office.

Photo on 11-5-13 at 6.45 PM


Nothing to see here, hard at work.

9. When you do all the above and still can’t get enough, you can now make any t-shirt a, Turtle T!

turtle t-shirt

10. For the laziest of the lazy, Cowl Necks (close cousins of the turtleneck) are ideal for feeding yourself without having to put in much effort. Holding bags of chips, packs of cheese and cans of popcorn are all compatible with a Cowl Neck.

cownecks

Turtlenecks are really a fashion nightmare. So make your life easier by re-purposing them for other things! It opens up a world of possibilities for those who wear them.

Make sure to tune in next time for Fashion Nightmares, where we will be discussing, bottom button onesies!

WHAT, is the purpose of them?

How did they get here?

What shall we do with them?

Uncomfortable, awkward and unflattering.

leotard

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….

housework

Blogger Idol 2013-I need your help!

19 Sep

To my loyal That Girl Ryan readers,

If you have never read one of my blog posts… then this is still probably not the one to read.

BUT if you love my blog, I need your help!

I am campaigning to be a contestant on Blogger Idol 2013.

What is Blogger Idol?

Blogger Idol is the premier blogging contest for bloggers. Based on the popular singing reality show, American Idol, the contestants audition and are then narrowed down to a Top 12. At that point, they compete weekly, using writing prompts created by a panel of judges. Each week, someone else is eliminated. The final contestant is crowned the ‘Blogger Idol’, and wins the Grand Prize.

Now that I have tried out, I need you all to tell the judges that YOU, THE PEOPLE, want to see That Girl Ryan on Blogger Idol this year.

Here is How:

1. Post this on to your Facebook Status:

I want to see That Girl Ryan on #BloggerIdol #WritersArethenewrockstars

AND

Go directly to the facebook page and say I Want That Girl Ryan to be on Blogger Idol!

http://www.facebook.com/bloggeridol

It’s time we tell the world, what we really think!

Help me do it!!!!!!

Stay Classy Friends, I look forward to representing you all on Blogger Idol 2013!

Toddlers Are Evil

13 Sep

I have been neglecting my blog…I sincerely apologize to those of you who have sent emails asking where I have been. But this little person in my life has been keeping me quite busy lately.

Bingo!! It’s my daughter, who has recently been taking full advantage of being a terrible toddler.

Listen, I have never been a fan of kids, I think they are a lot of work. Don’t get me wrong, I love my own kid and don’t mind the work because shes like a mini version of me, but kids in general…eh.

As my daughter gets older, she teaches me a lot about little people (little people like children, not midgets-but if anyone knows more about midgets, please, educate me.)

Like the fact that infants are boring, babies are adorable and toddlers are evil. No, I’m not kidding, toddlers are fucking evil. Gosh darn they are so cute and seem innocent, but if you live with them, you know what I’m talking about.

Of course some people would disagree, but only because they probably don’t have little ones.

You see, there are two kinds of people in this world; those who have kids and those who don’t. There is a clear distinction. Like the fact that people with children have to have a great sense of humor.

Why? you ask.

Well because chances are they have been peeded on, vomited on and definitely shit on. Would you continue to work a job if someone shit on you? Probably not, yet parents continue.

Take my advice, once someone poops on you and you still love them anyway, you see everything in a different light.

So when my daughter was finally potty trained, I thought we had gotten thru hard times, but like most of my time as a parent, I was proven wrong.

We have entered into the gates of 3-year-old Hell. My bundle of joy is starting to become a hand bag of demons. I know that sounds harsh, but just the other night I had a very interesting conversation with my toddler:

Her: ” I want to tell you something”

Me: “Ok…what?”

Her: “I want to eat your brains”

At first I giggled it off, assuming she said something else that I misinterpreted, but then she came into my bedroom one night, leaned over my bed and said, “Mom, I want to eat your brains“.

What innocent human being says I want to eat your brains? What the hell is that about? All I know if this Zombie thing DOES happen, we know whose side she is going to be on and now I’m considering buying a helmet to wear to bed.

Brains...I mean beans anyone?

Brains…I mean beans anyone?

Found this protective-brain helmet on sale for $9.99!

Found this protective-brain helmet on sale for $9.99!

Speaking of brains, toddler’s think in a very different type of way, borderline OCD. Like when it comes time for hygiene, something my child doesn’t believe in, there is a ritual that must be completed or the whole thing goes to shit.

It took me over 3 months to figure out, but I believe I have it down now:

Step 1: the word “Bath” or “Shower” MUST NOT be mentioned before 7pm; or else she still has energy to fight it.

Step 2: each bath toy, which include: A Ken barbie with chewed feet (kudos to our dog, Levi), two mermaids that are topless (again kudos to Levi) and a rubber duck, must be shown, introduced and placed on the side of the bathtub.

Step 3: DO NOT EVEN ask her to remove clothing by herself. She tries once and screams bloody murder that she can’t get it off and she can’t breathe because its on her body. Even though its been on her body all day-now its extremely constricting. I must remove clothing myself.

Step 4: enter her into the bath slowly, one toe at a time. It doesn’t matter that this procedure takes 5-10 minutes, it must be completed this way.

Step 5: YOU MUST immediately scrub underneath her armpits to make her laugh

Step 6: The drain switch has to be turned on and off by her only-or you will be paying for it all night.

Step 7: Towel must cover all body parts and she must be carried to her room like a “baby” (which means like a small infant).

If you follow these steps, you will have a successful bath.

So when people question why I only wash my kid like 2-3x a week; I tell them to shove it.

And You Thought Rain Man Was Annoying...

And You Thought Rain Man Was Annoying…

I wish that was the worst of it, but we are just getting started. My toddler has made ME and my husband very bad people. Bad because we have had no choice but to become pathological liars. I think I tell at least 10 lies between the time when I arrive home from work and the time I leave for work in the morning.

Explaining simple reason to a 3 or 4 year old is impossible, they don’t accept anything you say as truth because… well… you saw the bath ritual right? Enough said.

So I have to lie about certain things, like when my kid asks me why she can’t sleep in my bed, I tried to explain that it’s not healthy to sleep in bed with your parents. Plus mom and dad like to cuddle, talk about their day and do…other things. Clearly, this answer was not good enough, so i had no choice but to tell her that I have a monster under my bed who might eat her if she sleeps with us. I have yet to be asked that question again.

Here some other bullshit that has worked…

Toddler Question: Why do I have to take a shower?

Parent Answer: Because your hair will get so dirty it will fall out.

Toddler Question: Why do I have to sit in my seat at the restaurant until you and dad are done eating dinner?

Parent Answer: Because the manager will come over and make you wash dishes for the rest of your life.

Toddler Question: Why do I have to stop asking you the question why?

Parent Answer: Because if you don’t I might throw you out the window.

The bottom line is…this shit works. Don’t Judge.

Ain't Nothing Wrong With a Monster under the Bed.

Ain’t Nothing Wrong With a Monster under the Bed.

Ok, Ok, so clearly I am not striving to be the PERFECT parent…but I always hoped to be a decent one that my kid would appreciate. Yet, as she gets older, I can’t help but notice she makes me look like an asshole to complete strangers.

I was always under the impression that it was a parent’s job to embarrass their kids, something I am completely looking forward to, but again, I stand corrected.

I have a toddler that can’t keep secrets and hasn’t learned the rules of “What is said at home, stays at home.”

Before moving to preschool this year, my daughter’s last babysitter was of Asian decent. She has an accent, is about 4’9, around 50 years old and is the cutest woman EVER. My husband and I have a special imitation of her because she is a notable character. Obviously, our impression included an Asian accent. My toddler never took any interest in the impression and never acknowledged that it even existed. So we would do it, frequently at home, for a good laugh.

I think you know where I am going with this, so let me re-inact this classic event…

Scene: Babysitter’s house

When: After work

Who: My Toddler, Me and The Babysitter

Toddler: “Hey Miss babysitter, your Chinese… did you know that?”

Babysitter: “Why yes, I am Chinese how did you know that?”

At this point in the conversation, I immediately recognized that it was too late to stop the train wreck about to happen. For a brief moment, I considering running out the door, never to return.

Toddler: “Because my mom and dad said you walk and talk like this…hong kong chong ching fhong…”

The feeling of embarrassment from that moment surpassed anything I had ever felt in my entire lifetime.

That crazy kid said what?!

That crazy kid said what?!

So what have we learned so far, My kid is 3 and she’s devious. Sure, I think that’s a fair assessment, but what’s worse is that she is smart, WAY too smart for her own good.

I love shopping and treat myself every now and again to expensive purchases…like shoes. From previous experiences, I have learned not to bring my kid with me to the mall when I can help it. But this one particular time, i needed some new shoes and brought her along.
All went well until she announced that she had to throw up…like throw up right NOW.

Now, there is an innate parental reaction when your child says these words. You grab the first bag you can find or scurry over to the nearest trashcan. Not wanting another bad parenting scandal, I raced her out of the store to avoid vomit chunks landing on any articles of clothing and leaned her over the nearest mall trashcan. Not only did I look trashy as hell, but I was screaming at her to throw up IN the trashcan. I then realized that chances were, my kid’s vomiting aim was no where near the skill of a post-college adult and would need a second vomit barrier than just the trashcan. So in my moment of panic, I threw my $190 pair of heels on to the mall hallway floor so I could use the bag as a catcher.

As I lifted her up to throw up in the bag over the trashcan, I noticed a variety of silent bystanders watched in total disbelief; disbelief over the fact that an expensive pair of shoes were lying in the middle of the mall floor or that I was holding my 3 year old over a public trashcan. As I braced myself for the upheaval of a chicken finger lunch, my daughter started laughing hysterically and said, “Got you mom. I don’t have to throw up!”

I went home that night and Googled; Is Parent-Abuse a real thing?

Guess what, It is.

Puke Happens.

Puke Happens.

So the point of this is to show you the kinds of shit I do in my free time- hold my kid over public trashcans and worry about her eating my brain. But also, that the real life lessons you learn are from Toddlers. So pay attention America, I think we all could take a little direction from these tiny demons.

Now all of you need to go and thank your mothers for putting up with all your shit.

There She Is...and SASS is her middle name.

There She Is…and SASS is her middle name.

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