Here it is…my comedy routine!
I’m an inpatient bastard and couldn’t wait any longer to receive the professional taping of my routine, so I’m posting the footage one of my fans (aka my dad) captured on the night of the show.
This is the entire routine minus the last 3 seconds…it’s just missing 4 words.
Enjoy!
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
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.
2. This is considered educational so I spend a lot of time watching it.
3. She claims she is tired when she wants Daddy to make dinner. That’s just plain #LAZY.
4. I’m only allowed to drink water. She says juice is for sick kids.
I don’t believe that.
5. She hates cleaning.
6. She throws away my artwork because it “clutters” the house.
7. Her other “kids” can sleep in her bed…
I am not allowed.
8. I am the photographer for her blog postings…
and I don’t even get paid for it.
9. This is my favorite picture…
My mom says I can’t hang it up because it creeps her out.
10. These do not fit me…
but I wear them anyway.
11. According to my mom, taking a good selfie is a life skill…
I have mastered it.
12. She hides from our neighbors…
and makes me hide with her.
13. Baths only happen once a week…
and so does brushing my hair.
14. She usually never has enough food in the house…
but always enough beer.
After she presented her case, the judge made her final decision….
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.
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.
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!
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.
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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Just for the record, I respect other people’s passion for important things like world peace and feeding the homeless but given my thoughts on American football, I happen to find this particular obsession just down right hilarious.
In my many past-posts about Boy Ryan I have highlighted the fact that he is a die-hard football fan who is very shy and quiet. When he has something to say, it’s rare. However, last night, during the biggest football game of the year, Boy Ryan had quite a bit to say. Nobody else gets to see this side of Boy Ryan which is why many people think I am a liar when I tell them this man has football tantrums. So this year, instead of focusing on commercials and spectacular football plays (which I heard was nothing great anyway) I decided to record the comments Boy Ryan made during the Superbowl…quote by quote. Please note, the comments get progressively worse as the Bronco’s continued to get an ass whooping.
Scenario 1: NFL announcers discussing past Superbowl records…
Boy Ryan’s Comment: These NFL announcers make records out of everything…guy rushes 40 yards in the first quarter, it’s a Superbowl record. I swear, next they are going to be like, “Peyton Manning just farted on the 30 yard line during the 1st quarter. America, that’s a Superbowl record!“.
Scenario 2: Bronco’s make a defensive play…
Boy Ryan’s Comment: Nice Penetration! Did you see that penetration, babe? Wow, these guys really know how to penetrate.
*I have never once heard my husband use the word penetration…not even in the bedroom.
Scenario 3: Thoughts on Russell Wilson’s ethnicity…
Compared to the man in the back, I see his point.
Boy Ryan’s Comment: What is Wilson? He looks Indian but they say he’s half black…of course he says he is half black because why else would you draft a half-Indian? At least being half-black makes you halfway decent at playing football.
Scenario 4: Thoughts on Pete Carroll (Seahawks coach)…
Boy Ryan’s Comment: Pete Carroll is such a cock, actually he is a grey-haired, old ugly cock.
Scenario 5: Joe Buck makes a comment about a Seahawks play…
Boy Ryan’s Comment: Are you kidding Joe Buck? Hey Joe, have you ever been to a real NFL game or do you just sit in your office and jerk off to indoor arena football all day?
Scenario 6: I make a comment about my excitement for the half-time show…
Boy Ryan’s Comment: See that is problem with “football fans”, they all just watch the Superbowl for the half-time show. You people aren’t real fans, it’s a disgrace what this country is turning into. If they aired {American} football in Canada, I’d move tomorrow.
Scenario 7: I make comment about the Redskin’s terrible record this season…
Boy Ryan’s Comment: Why do you always have to talk about the Redskins like that? You have a short memory, last year they were really good. How can you be so hateful to them. Did you know that in 1997….(insert fact about Redskin’s record here)
Scenario 8: Response to Addison’s prediction that the Seahawks will win the Superbowl (She liked the Seahawk’s colors better than the Bronco’s)
If you want to speak such profanities in this house, you are going straight to bed little lady. I have had enough of your fresh mouth. While you’re at it, take off the Redskins jersey and put on your Giants jersey. I will not tolerate any remarks like that from a fellow Redskin fan while wearing the jersey.
Scenario 9: Boy Ryan’s comments throughout half-time:
At least he brushed her hair
Scenario 10: Boy Ryan watching me write down all of his comments during the Superbowl…
Boy Ryan’s Comment: Stop writing what I am saying…this better not be going in your blog. Seriously Ryan, this is not funny.
And last, That Boy Ryan’s post-game remarks…
Well, that sucked. The Seahawks basically won the Superbowl based on a bunch of fluke plays. Now Russell Wilson will tell all the reporters that god helped him win and Malcolm Smith, who I have never heard of, will win MVP. Seahawks didn’t deserve to win, they all suck like their cock of a coach. Can’t wait till I see all the annoying bandwagon fans who are going to buy Seahawk jerseys now so they can act like they actually enjoy football. Lame. Totally lame game. Lame commercials. Lame season.
(shuts TV off and rolls over on his side. Light sniffling is heard throughout the night.)
Such a crybaby
Things I have learned about my husband; he is a very sore-loser and might love football more than he does himself. However as for me, I couldn’t be happier that the NFL season has come to a close…finally my life can get back to normal without having to comfort NFL’s biggest baby.
A funny thing happened on the way home from a track meet…
I think I have mentioned before that me at 18 was nothing short of a total douchebag, I apologize to my parents everyday for it. Before I tell this story, I will apologize again, I’m really sorry for being a douchebag.
It was winter track season of my senior year in high school and I was on my way home from a track meet. About 30 minutes into my drive, I hit a stretch of traffic that left me in a slow crawl for 15 miles. Hitting random stretches of traffic in New Jersey is not unusual.
FACT: New Jersians spend half of their life sitting in traffic.
Driving, doing my thing
Luckily, my teammate was carpooling home with me and helped to pass the time with Rent duets and celebrity impressions. To set the scene a little further, it was pouring rain and we had both finished a taxing track race; the 400 meter hurdles. If you are familiar with track, the 400 meter hurdle race is harder than childbirth, you might as well jump off a building when you find out you have to run it. Anyways, as we passed the time…we came to notice an admirer driving a Honda Accord next to us.
He was probably about 23 or so and had big blue eyes with curly blonde hair styled like Matthew McConaughey’s. My teammate and I were instantly captured by his smiles. The flirting was subtle at first, his car would pull up next to us, he would flash a smile and take off again. We would inch up to his car, blow a kiss and giggle as we pulled away. After about 20 minutes or so of this traffic flirting, things started to get more complicated. We began writing notes and putting them up against the window for him to read like, “UR HOTT” or “HONDA’S GOT BACK”. One even read, “HONK IF UR INTO US!”. Childish yes, but so much fun up until my stomach started growling. As I was getting closer to a Red Lobster restaurant, my hunger could no longer be avoided.
“Damn, i’m starving.” I said to my teammate.
“Me Too! We should stop for food at Red Lobster, get some cheesy bread”.
“You just read my mind but I’m broke, I spent my last $10 on hair spray last night. I wanted to go all out for 80’s day at school tomorrow.”
“Ugh I’m broke too, I have about $5 left in my bank account.”
Then an idea hit me…I wasn’t sure if it would work but I was willing to try. After all, Red Lobster cheesy bread was at stake here.
“How bad do you want cheesy bread right now?” I asked.
“I might sell my leg for just a bite.”
I rolled down my window as we caught up again to Mr. Honda and motioned for him to do the same. “Hey there cutie! We were going to grab something to eat at Red Lobster, want to join?” I yelled across the lanes.
“Uhh, ok? Yea Sure, meet me in the parking lot.” He yelled back.
Sweet, Mission Cheesy Bread was in motion.
When it comes to cheesy bread…no stopping me
We figured out early in life that men will do whatever necessary to get laid, even if it means buying dinner for complete strangers. A free meal at Red Lobster was going to happen.
First things first, we needed fake names and cover stories because after all, this guy was a complete stranger. She would be Carmen, the 23 year old zoologist. I would be Carrie, the 24 year old Park Ranger. We tided up the details of our stories and prepared to exit the car with our new identities.
When Mr. Honda stepped out of the car, I immediately regretted my decision to go through with the plan. He was 5’2, almost the size of a large hobbit. I also noticed his left shoe was higher than the right shoe and he parked in a handicap spot. “Why hello beautiful ladies, what an honor it is to eat with you BOTH.” He said with a slight lisp as he limped toward the entrance to the restaurant. I put my head into my hands as he opened the door for us. I will definitely be going to hell for this one, I just wasn’t above using a handicapped man with a lisp for free cheesy bread.
As we sat down, the cheesy bread was delivered to our table, my teammate and I scarfed down all 6 rolls. Mr. Honda Hobbit was too busy talking to notice. We found out his name was Howard and he was born with one leg shorter than the other. It never stopped him though. He went on to describe how he played basketball on the weekends with his wheelchair buddies. He also worked in construction building houses for charity. He did mention however, that currently he was suspended from his job due to a pending criminal investigation, which included some sort of assault with a nail gun. He was asked to quit work until it resolved. Cool, Howard the Honda Hobbit was a dangerous handicap criminal and here I was sharing a meal with him.
Howard really wasn’t so bad, minus the assault thing but when his instinctual male-mind kicked in toward the end of our dinner, things got weird, “So what are you ladies up to tonight? I was thinking we could move this party to my place.”
Trying to be as nice as I could, I made up an easy-out excuse, “Well, Carmen has to get home to see her parents, its been a while and she misses them.”
Howard then replied, “That’s a shame, well if Carmen can’t make it, then how about you and I go back, Carrie? I’ll take you home, wrap you up real nice and make you squeal like a piggy!“.
When you say those words, I see this man.
I almost vomited in my mouth. Not only did Howard just quote Deliverance with a lisp but he was pushing hard to make sure this dinner was worth his money. This was check-mate. How would I get out of this? If I told him to get lost, we would be stuck paying for the bill with our non-existent money and if I went home with him…well, that was never an option. I wasn’t going anywhere with some criminal, half-midget in a Honda named Howard.
Acting quickly, my teammate grabbed my hand and held it to her lips, “Actually Howard, we are a couple. Carrie is coming home with me to meet my parents and we are worried about how they will react to this whole thing so we just wanted some company to keep our mind off of it.” She squeezed my hand to get me to play along.
“Yea, we are most definitely a couple. We aren’t into guys, strictly girls. We are totally on the straight and narrow…erh in a gay kind of way.” I answered.
Thank god Howard the Honda Hobbit had a heart, he smiled with sincerity and said, “My pleasure ladies, sorry for the mix-up. However, I’d love to hear how you two met. I’ll throw in dinner with dessert if you can stay a little longer.”
So there we were sitting with Howard over dessert explaining the intimate moments of how we met and became to be a lesbian couple. Carmen shared her coming out of the closet story and I, as Carrie, shared mine. Howard was intrigued by our experiences and even got a little choked up at one point as we described our future dream wedding together; we had both decided to wear wedding dresses. Mine would be pink.
After dessert was finished, Howard paid the bill and walked us out to our car, hugging us goodbye. He thanked us for the company and wished us well. We got into my car and sat for a moment to adjust to the entire situation.
“Did we really just do all that for cheesy bread?” My teammate asked me.
“Yea, Cheesy bread just turned us into lesbians.”
I started up my car, turned on the Rent soundtrack and continued my drive home in silence.
Do you ever wonder what if? What if you had made one decision differently? How would your life change?
Maybe you would be a rock star right now. Or maybe you would be a millionaire. Maybe not, but you never know.
The possibilities of “What If” are endless. Everything in this moment IS the way it IS because of tiny small decisions…Whoa, deep thoughts for a Thursday, I know.
Cinco-De-Mayo in 2009 was most likely the night my surprise daughter came about. Drenched in Tequila after a day’s worth of drinking, Boy Ryan and I would have never guessed our little Mexican celebration dance would result in a series of events that would become our life.
Tequila+ Stupidity=Children
I often wonder, “What if my daughter was never born?” Not in like a bad way, actually sometimes, when she throws tantrums, but most of the time as just a thought. What would my life be like If I didn’t have children? Would it be better? Would it be worse? My life would probably be a lot easier and I’d be way cooler.
Who am I kidding, my life would be awesome. There are so many perks to being a child-less person…
What the F#$% is this anyway?
7pm…
PARTY TIME….
Ariel and Eric’s Wedding…3rd time this week
I’m always cast as Mary Poppins…not bad eh?
This is healthy right?
1. Travel the world
2. Hike Mt. Vesuvius
3. Wear a bathing suit thong in public
1. Stay up past 11pm on a Friday night
2. Teach my kid to wipe her own ass, correctly
3. Have a clean house for a week
Styrofoam underneath pillows
Dirty underwear in my bed.
I asked my kid why she didn’t put her dirty underwear in the laundry bin. She replied, “This is dad’s underwear.”
Note to self: If my husband is wearing Cinderella underwear in size 4T, I may have to re-evaluate the marriage.
SURPRISE! Can you tell what this is? No, let’s take a closer look…
Yep…That is a band-aid. Specifically, a used band-aid
I know, poor me, my life is such a fail, I could have had such a beautiful life…
Damn Cinco-De-Mayo and all it’s devilish temptations.
But when I get down about my perfect, child-free, non-existent life, I come home and see this face.
What a mug!
For whatever reason I just can’t help but think…Thank gosh for Tequila and shitty birth control!
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.
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…
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
Dear Mr. President,
My newest complaint is of epic proportions which is why this letter is worthy of your attention. After a recent episode, I sense there are some fishy things going on in the medical world that you should know about…
This past summer I was self-diagnosed with Leukemia, Crohn’s disease and/or Celiac disease. According to WebMd, I had the symptoms for all three. I won’t go into detail about my concerns but let’s just say I could not travel too far from the restroom and obviously, that complicates things for me. I wanted to confirm my self-diagnosis so I made an appointment with my nearest physician, specifically a gastroenterologist; also known as a butt doctor in laymen’s terms. The doctor’s name was Dr. Gassenbutt and I will not admit, on the record, that I chose him because of his last name, but I did. He was a tiny man, no more than 5’0 and had a nose the size of the Wicked Witch of the West. Whatever, it doesn’t really matter, Angie’s List said he was highly qualified.
Creepy? No, of course not.
Meeting him for the first time was interesting to say the least. He greeted me then asked me to get fully undressed. I gave him some credit, for a tiny man of 5’0, he got right to the point. First he felt around my stomach and then on my abdomen which tickled a bit. When I started to giggle, he also began to giggle and asked me to turn on my side to examine my back. He wasn’t so bad for a butt doctor, hideous yes, but overall a decent guy. Then he did something that nobody has ever done… he went a bit too far, too fast. Without any notice, he stuck two fingers right in my back door. There was no warning, or, “hey girl, prepare for entry“, he just went for it. I would have at least appreciated a head’s up because I believe the, “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy does not apply in this situation.
Next time I’m bringing my rape whistle.
After the violation examination, he sent me on my way, told me to pick up a “stool sample” pack at the lab and come back next week for a colonoscopy. If I would have known what I was getting myself into, I would have left and never returned.
At the lab, I was handed a bag of 16 cylinder tubes and told to read the directions on the back of each bottle. I found out rather quickly what a “stool sample” really was and that it has to be repeated 16 times.
16 bottles of stool samples…Impossible.
I’m not a pigeon, I don’t just walk around shitting when I feel like it. There was no way I could possibly fill up all 16 tubes. Did anyone consider that I am a girl? Girls have a variety of factors that determine whether or not they can efficiently “go to the bathroom.” I can’t just go when I think it, I’m not a dude, I have standards for that kind of thing. But when there is a will, there is a way and I found “the way” at McDonald’s. After digesting 4 Big Mac’s in one sitting, let’s just say, 16 bottles was a piece of cake. Who would have known that MacDonald’s makes the secret potion for filling up sample tubes. Maybe they should put that next to the calorie counts or something.
So, the Big Mac’s were a blessing in disguise or a blessing in a bottle, but I still had one bigger obstacle to overcome; finding the right time at home to complete my tube-task. There is something you must understand, I am a mother which means I get no peace and quiet, even when I lock myself in the bathroom. In fact, every time I walk into the bathroom, my kid will barge in as if it’s an open invitation for a hang-out session. I swear that this kid has some freakish type of sixth sense. As if that isn’t bad enough, I have two dogs that need to be next to me at all times and going to the bathroom with a kid talking and two dogs staring at you never ends well. Going to the bathroom is just not the same as it was when I was single and child-less.
To be blunt Mr. President, I haven’t taken a decent shit since before I had my daughter. That is four years of back-up. Try and be a decent human being with four years of back-up.
So my point is, at the very moment I was standing over the toilet, placing my materials into the last tube, BOOM. The door swings open and there she is followed by the rest of my furry dog pack. “Mommy…Moommmmyyyyyy…I need...” She stopped mid-sentence when she realized what I was doing and said, “Mom, you shouldn’t play with your poop“. My 3 year old just told me it was wrong to “play” with my poop. That is what we call, “A Rock Bottom” moment, I’m not sure my life could get any lower.
It is one thing to scoop out your own samples, but it is an entirely different thing to get reprimanded by a child while doing it.
Dropping that shit off (pun intended) at the lab was a relief up until I was handed two packs of prep drink-powder. Now it was time to prepare for my colonoscopy…
“Take this the night before your colonoscopy and the morning of your colonoscopy“, directed the lab technician, “Make sure you don’t eat too much before taking both packs.” She wished me luck and sent me on my way. I should have know right then and there that my life would forever change.
This is an understatement.
I’m recapping this part for you Mr. President to shed light on the types of medical drugs that are being given to innocent Americans like myself. In short, after drinking that prep-powder..my next few words will be chosen with delicacy…I experienced a horrific, graphic and death-defying ordeal. Let’s just say, Niagara Falls could have been considered a stream after the velocity I had witnessed. No human being should ever feel that kind of power; it’s could be dangerous. Imagine if the terrorists got their hands on that stuff and used it as a weapon?
We would all die of bowel-suffocation!
Bottoms Up!
I don’t know how I did it but after re-gaining some consciousness post-prep, I finally made it to the colonoscopy center. I sat in a waiting room with 7-8 other, old people who looked like they would keel over at any moment. How the hell did they survive after digesting that prep drink? I wondered…I’m sure people have died from drinking that stuff…that would be one hell of a news report… Man, 81 dies from prep drink that exploded his heart…OR…Man, 81 passes away drinking a substance that burst his head open.
After thinking about that for 30 minutes, I was more than pleased to have the anesthesia knock me out. Upon waking up, I believe I told my nurse that I was “single and ready to mingle“. When she had asked me how to spell my name, I spelled the name of Jennifer Lawrence.
Just taking a look…
You know what was bad? The part when I got my medical bill from this whole fiasco! Mr. President, are you aware of the prices being charged? Is it even legal to charge this much?!
$700 for Stool Sample
$1400 for Colonoscopy
$50 for in-office visit
Let’s just examine the break down for a moment…
$700 stool sample…$400 of which went to “LABOR COSTS”. WHAT LABOR WAS NEEDED FOR A STOOL SAMPLE? If I am correct in my thinking, I was the one who ate all 4 Big Mac’s. I was the one who excreted those Big Mac’s and I was the one who shoveled the remnants of those Big Mac’s into 16 tubes. WHAT ADDITIONAL WORK WAS NEEDED? Next time, I’ll take a shit right in front of the lab technician and save myself the $400.
$1400 colonoscopy. In definition, a colonoscopy is a tiny camera that is inserted into your butt to examine your insides. So how is it that porn actors, who by the way do this for a living, aren’t paid nearly as much as my bill? Is there really that much of a difference between a medical camera and a plug? I think not.
$50 in-office exam visit. I’m not going to re-visit the two finger memory, but if I wanted to pay someone $50 to do just that, it sure as hell wouldn’t have been Dr. Gassenbutt. I would have at least expected a nice dinner and maybe an intellectual conversation before-hand. For the record, I have a very nice behind and usually don’t allow any guy under 5’0 go anywhere near it. But now, Dr. Midget-Hands wants to charge me $50 for it?!
And what really puts the icing on the cake is that my $2000 diagnosis was nothing more than a case of an “upset” stomach. Well, thank you Dr. Ass-Hat for a brilliant investigation…I just paid $2000 for you to cop a feel up my butt, almost kill me with my own bowel movements and fund an adventure into the depths of my ass.
Are your health bills this much Mr. President? Perhaps I should check out the healthcare.gov website and switch my plan because my insurance is literally a pain in the ass. I think we can both agree this insurance thing is all George Bush’s fault…he screws up everything. Only an idiot would make healthcare this much of a hassle.
After reading this letter I’m sure you feel obliged to make a donation to pay for my upset stomach. Just a small donation will do, really and if you can’t find it in your heart to send money, the least you can do is tell me if aliens are real. I think I have gone to through enough to finally know the truth about that.
May God Bless America,
A Broke, Healthcare Victim
Do you ever wonder why you choose to take pictures of certain things and people?
No? You have a life and don’t have time for stupid thoughts like this? Kudos to you.
I don’t, so I think about these things.
I rarely snap photos, I find it to be a hassle. So when I do take pictures, it had to be very important to me during that moment. Last night I desperately wanted to avoid doing anything that involved washing dishes, cooking dinner or reading “Brown Bear, Brown Bear” for the 100th time, so I hid in my computer room. I ended up going through 3 years worth of photos I had taken.
And this what I found….IPhoto Gems.
Date: Fall 2008
Location: JMU Auditorium- 6:00am
Re-cap: During Obama’s first Presidential Campaign he visited JMU to give a speech. Me, being super liberal in college like all the cool liberal arts kids, decided to wait in line at 5:00am to get a front row seat to see Obama speak. I wanted to be so close that every time he said, “Yes, We Can” the spit from his mouth would drop on my head showering me in Obama holy water. Anyways, I snapped two pictures; one of Obama during his speech and the other of this:
If this is your ass, let me know so I can tag you.
Clearly it was worth the photo.
Date: Summer 2012
Location: Atlantic City, Mechanical Bull Riding Pit
Recap: I was drunk in Atlantic City (surprise, surprise) and spotted this tiny man (4’9) walking around the casino. I decided to ask him to be my mechanical bull riding coach for the evening. He obliged and took a picture with me before my record-breaking bull ride of 39 seconds.
What a guy.
AKA: Pablo Balls.
Date: Summer 2010, night after Bull Riding Incident.
Scene: Atlantic City, bachelorette party
Re-cap: No clue. All that was left was this picture. Please note the little blonde gremlin on the bottom licking my leg.
Yes- we are still friends.
No- she does not have a leg-licking fetish.
Date: Spring 2010
Scene: My room in my parent’s house
Re-cap: Boy Ryan and I spent our Saturday nights taking pictures of our kid and found ways to distort her face.
I have about 30 photos of her as a newborn and over 100 photos of her as a newborn, with a distorted face.
I swear I am a decent mother.
“Marshmellow Girl”
“Alien Princess”
“Plastic Surgery Gone Wrong”
And eventually when the photos got boring, this happened:
She turned out to be a great kid.
Date: Sometime in 2011
Scene: first apartment
Re-cap: Addison’s infamous Monster Face. When we discovered she could make THIS face, we bribed her with candy for months to do it for the camera.
This video is the product of 5 sweet tarts, 7 M&M’s and 3 Fun Size Snickers.
Parenting at it’s finest.
Date: Summer 2013
Scene: A bar in New York City
Re-cap: Let me just state, I have a ton of pictures with random people I don’t recall ever meeting, but this one takes the cake.
Who is the random dude in this picture? Where did he come from? Is he human or alien?
Whatever, I’m just glad I snapped a picture of the strangest looking person I have ever seen.
Bitches Be Like, For Real?
Date: Senior Prom 2007
Scene: Jersey Shore
Re-cap: When I turned 18 I decided to celebrate by piercing whatever body part I wanted. I chose my nose and took this picture to remind me of my newly gained independence. When I uploaded the picture to IPhoto, I named the photo album, “Best Decision of my life“. I hate the 18 year old version of me, what a douche bag.
Yes, I totally shared this
Date: Winter 2008
Scene: College apartment
Re-cap: Party at my place. A friend of my husband’s, then my boyfriend, was instantly infatuated with my dog, Joba. I believe he used the words, “Spiritually Connected” and asked to take Joba for a walk.
An hour later, he brought Joba back and Joba was a new dog. Joba was calm, quiet and peaceful for the first time since I brought him home. I snapped a picture to capture the rare behavior.
Little did I know until later that night that Joba was stoned off his ass.
This is a picture of my dog high as a kite while wearing a green sweater.
Date: Spring 2009
Scene: Spring Break, Panama City
Re-cap: I nicked named this old man “Squatch”. “Squatch” would roam the beach everyday while we were on Spring Break. He was on a mission to score some booty with the College Female Spring-Breakers. He was so obvious and so awkward about his intentions, I captured his picture daily.
Hunting for college booty all day, everyday, since 1890.
Day two
Day three
Day four
I think I will go through my pictures more often now. A picture really is worth a 1,000 words.
Do your pictures have stories behind them?
I used to have a million dollars but I spent it.
Let me tell you a story…
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
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
“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!
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:
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.
comics, pop culture and related topics
Writing & Coffee. Especially coffee.
Everything that Is, Was, and Will be Again.
a small insight into my life: wife-mom-football-fitness-politics-religion~upcycle
Indulge- Travel, Adventure, & New Experiences
Stories of men and women in their twenties
Armed with nothing but coffee and a sense of humor
"We make bitter better."
But Still Living The Life
Showing America how to Live
I'm Michelle. This is my blog. I write about women and fatness, expound upon semi-coherent thoughts I have in the middle of the night, and offer tough love to those in whom I am disappointed; they are legion.
Buffet-eater, bodysuit-enthusiast, bad-bitch.
fresh hell trumps stale heaven
The riveting inner-workings of two souls riddled with bromance.
let's not pretend
That Girl Ryan 