Tag Archives: Marriage

The NFL’s Biggest Cry Baby

3 Feb

The award for the NFL’s biggest cry baby goes to…

My husband, That Boy Ryan.


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.

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:


  • Burno Mars is like 5 ft tall. He looks like a woman.
  • What is with his hair?
  • Why is this guy’s music even popular? It sounds like a per-pubescent boy singing.
  • Let me know when this shit is off the T.V. screen.
  • The Red Hot Chili Peppers look old as shit and got really fat.
  • Addison, let’s brush your hair so I don’t have to watch this crap on TV right now.

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

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.

Southern Boy Living In a Northern World

24 Jan
I love that I have cleavage in this picture

I love that I have cleavage in this picture

I did the one thing I told myself I would never do, I married a southern boy. I also told myself I’d never get knocked up before marriage, but I did that too…by a southern boy who I said I would never marry. Go Figure.


Only the southerns drink beer while feeding their children

I’m not sure why, but I just really have this disliking for southern folk. I was born in Virginia but moved up north at the age of 13. Maybe I was brainwashed but I fully embraced the northern way as my way of life. Even on my first day of school in the north, I knew I would love it here.

Me: “Hi I’m Ryan, the new girl. Can I sit with you at lunch?”

Northern Girl: “No, and don’t ever fucking ask me again. You’re too blonde and too nice, you won’t last a day in this part of town.”

It was love at first curse, I immediately knew northerners were my kind of people. I dropped that southern accent faster than you could say “CAWWFEE”.

When I met my husband in college and learned first hand how southerns really work, I despised them…and all of their traditional ways. Let’s break it down, southerners like to get married before the age of 28 and have at least 2.5 children before the age of 32. They buy houses with a lot of land and white picket fences and wear riding boots with scarves. Plus, they all dye their hair blonde which is offensive to us natural blondes. Of course I was married with a child before the age of 28 but I don’t count that because I’m not a fan of riding boots with scarves, white picket fences or fake blonde hair.

So when my husband decided to move to New Jersey and live in my world, he found out rather quickly what he was getting himself into; a cesspool of non-traditional thinking…

Thoughts from a northern-southern marriage

1. Cooking is the job of __________.

Boy Ryan (S): Women should be cooking most nights of the week. The only exception is during the summer, then it is a man’s duty to cook on the grill

Girl Ryan (N): Fact: most female serial killers, kill their victims by poisoning the victim’s food…Men should cook just as much as women to ensure they are not being poisoned

2. Decision Maker

Boy Ryan (S): Men should be the ones to make majority of family decisions

Girl Ryan (N): Men never should make decisions. If they do, the idea came from the woman

3. Children

Boy Ryan (S): Your twenties are for birthing children

Girl Ryan (N): Your twenties are for drinking, sleeping and doing stupid things

4. Marriage arguments

Boy Ryan (S): Couples should have calm, quiet discussions behind closed doors

Girl Ryan (N): The more tears, the more screaming, the better


Boy Ryan (S): You should never curse in public

Girl Ryan (N): Fuck that shit

6. Working

Boy Ryan (S): Woman should be at home raising children while men go to work

Girl Ryan (N): Women should work so they don’t strangle their children

7. In-laws

Boy Ryan (S): I hate my in-laws

Girl Ryan (N): I hate my in-laws

8. Parenting

Boy Ryan (S): Parents should always be an example for children

Girl Ryan (N): Parents should sometimes be an example for children, but sometimes be just as annoying

9. Quotes to live by

Boy Ryan (S): Life is a journey so work hard and be respected

Girl Ryan (N): Life is short, so fuck it

10. Personal life

Boy Ryan (S): Personal life is private, never share the details of marriage or life with anyone

Girl Ryan (N): Umm…why do you think I started this blog…exploit it all!

Since the beginning of time, the North and South have been at odds. I find it only appropriate that I, a loud anti-southerner would marry a real, traditional southern boy. It’s like my destiny to learn to work with these annoying people. Even though my husband is traditional at heart, he has a wild streak that keeps him sane. I don’t know how we do it,  but we make it work. Our differences in tradition make us That Boy Ryan and That Girl Ryan.

So to you traditional southerners, take your white picket fences and shove it, we all know who’s the better breed of humans.

New York City

New York City

Janine's Confessions of A Mommyaholic

Who Is That Boy Ryan?

28 Dec

The man behind the crazy lady.

As I was watching Batman, The Dark Knight Rises the other night, I had an epiphany. Being married is like knowing who Bruce Wayne really is. All the citizens of Gotham think Bruce Wayne is just some hot billionaire but little do they know he enjoys dressing in tights, wearing a cape and hanging out with wack-jobs in his free time.

Before you get married, you have this glorified vision of what being married is like. Your positive you know who you are married to and will never be surprised by them. But when you get hitched, they surprise the shit out of you! Sometimes in a good way, and sometimes in ways that make your mouth drop.  Therefore, in part two of this blog I want my readers to learn about Boy Ryan and to do this, I think its best to share the things I have learned about Boy Ryan since being married to him.  

Now, before I embarrass the shit out of him and reveal the things that he told me strictly not to talk about,  let me tell you the stuff he would want to me to say about him.  

Boy Ryan is from Virginia, grew up in a decently well off family with good morals and values. He had a typical catholic upbringing, was a super-star jock and is ridiculously good looking. He is a sensitive, quiet guy that is incredibly intelligent. He is very traditional, but bends over backwards for Addison and I. Boy Ryan is very private about his life, let me repeat that, he is VERY private about his life, feelings and accomplishments which makes him a humble person.  He is exactly what we would call, an All-American Boy.  


A Hypocrite Germ-A-Phobe .  BRyan is a self proclaimed germ-a-phobe. He constantly overcooks his meat (for fear of food poisoning) will not touch the dogs without washing his hands (because dogs are dirty) and is a “clean-car” Nazi (if you leave a gum wrapper in his car, you will hear about it). 13522103761952037965_jpeg___1_500_1_500_cb94de6a_However, Boy Ryan missed in important lesson in being a germ-a-phobe; your personal hygiene must be part of your rituals. It was about a year into our marriage I started to notice that he would wear the same pair of underwear 2-4 days in a row. Now, I assume he was trying to save me some extra loads of laundry (very sweet) but because I sleep in the same bed as him, I found this a bit disgusting. I explained to him that you can’t be a germ-a-phobe and re-wear your underwear. It completely contradicts the point and he must pick one personality; Anti-Germ Gerry or Dirty Boy Bob.

A-Don’t Rush Me-Pooper. Boy Ryan is a shitter (excuse my blunt statement). When he has to go, he HAS to go. Just to put this in perspective, at one point during our relationship, I caught him shitting in the backyard (all the bathrooms in the house were occupied). Have you ever looked out of your window to find your boyfriend crouched like a dog doing his business in someone else’s backyard? I’m guessing no. But the important lesson that I learned is from the “Dinner Party Incident”. Ryan of course, decides he has to go to the bathroom, promising that he will be quick. I waited patiently for 2 minutes and knocked on the door to tell him to hurry up. The next thing I know I hear a loud bang and open the door to find him, pants around the ankles, passed out on the bathroom floor. I panicked and woke him up to tell him I was going to call 911. I even offered to wipe his ass before the ambulance came. (sometimes you say things in the moment). He said he was ok and that it was unnecessary to call the ambulance, this sort of thing happens all the time.

Elvis Says, "Only Fools Rush In"

Elvis Says, “Only Fools Rush In”

Now, I’m sure if Elvis Presley were present at that moment, he would of disagreed. After all, the man died on the toilet, but I still thought it was important that he should go to the ER. Till this day I feel responsible for rushing him but it was a lesson learned; Never Rush a Shitter or you might be offering to wipe their ass. 

A Man Who Fears Balding. There comes a time in every male’s life in which they must face the truth that their hair is diminishing.  I think it’s an anxiety similar to women’s fear of getting fat. Ryan has started to realize this and has dealt with the issue head-on. He has started to purchase mass amounts of hair spray so he can “style” his bald spot. He is very particular about his hair and won’t let me within 2 inches of his head (god forbid I mess it up). He even hides his hairspray bottles and goes into a different bathroom to style it, as if he is trying to hide the fact he is going bald. I try and suggest things like buying Rogaine or getting hair plugs, but he gets defensive and says, “O, so you DO think I am going bald?”. I assume this is how guys feel when girls pull out the “I am so fat” card. I feel your pain boys, I get it now. The  best advice I can give him now came from a shirt, “Keep Calm and Bald On”.

A Man With A Secret Alter-Ego. My husband has an alter ego when he hangs out with Jack Daniels. When he drinks with Jim Beam or Johnny Walker, it’s fine, but Jack is the worst. Let me explain a little further; he always takes off his shirt, pees on everything and has even spent an entire concert in “concert jail”. But the best example of Boy Ryan’s alter ego was the night after our rehearsal dinner. There had been quite a party with all of our friends and when we had gotten home, Boy Ryan realized he had forgotten the keys to our apartment. My friend and I suggested calling the cab and getting a ride back to my parents place to spend the night, but Boy Ryan’s alter ego

A picture of the Alter-Ego

A picture of the

insisted he would find a way in because after all, he starts to believe, “He is the Most Interesting Man in the World”. I waited by the door hoping that he would realize there was no way into the apartment but was shocked to see him open the front door smiling (that “I am so smart” smile). That night I went right to sleep and didn’t think anything of it. I woke up the next morning to two people chatting, LOUDLY, outside:

Nosy person #1: “Wow, we should call the cops. It looks like someone broke into this apartment!”

Nosy person #2: “Yea, let’s go call, I’m sure the tenants would be happy that someone called the cops for them.”

It suddenly hit me, Boy Ryan’s alter ego had busted the window to break in and unlock the door to our apartment.

I won’t even go into the explanation I had to give to get us out of that one.

The Worst at Hiding Secrets. Men need to learn that Women are smart. Men can’t hide anything and get away with it. We notice everything, I mean everything especially if you have a shared bank account. So when our 2 year anniversary came around, I looked on our bank statement (to snoop) and found a purchase for a jewelry store on our card. I got so excited and went out to buy Boy Ryan an equally nice anniversary gift. He had mentioned that weekend he was taking me on a “surprise”. We found ourselves at a cute little Bed and Breakfast for the weekend. All weekend he had planned activites and dinners for us to celebrate our anniversary, but never gave me my anniversary present. So on our drive home, after I had given him his gift, I found myself disappointed that he hadn’t given me the jewelry (what was he waiting for?!). My mind starting to go to crazy places and I was reminded of the many Lifetime Movies I had watched that month. I know what it means when a man buys jewelry but doesn’t give it to you. He must be giving it to SOMEONE ELSE! Then I thought a little deeper…How could he possibly have a girlfriend? How would he have time? With his clothing choice…who would want to date him?! How dare he!

I sat the whole ride home in silence and got angrier as the hours passed.

Boy Ryan: “Are you ok? You seem a little mad?”

Me: “No, not me. I’m not mad, what COULD I POSSBILY BE MAD ABOUT?!”

Boy Ryan: “Wow, ok? You must be hungry then. I’ll stop for food.”

Me: “No, but I do want to know who SHE IS!”

Boy Ryan: “Who’s who? She? Whose she?”

Me: “You bought HER jewelry, I saw on OUR bank statement.”

Boy Ryan: “O, About that…yea. Um, I lost my wedding ring last weekend and I didn’t want to make you mad so I bought the same exact wedding ring from the same exact store. I thought you wouldn’t notice…I guess I should of mentioned something…”

Yes, correct Boy Ryan you should have mentioned something. Guys, if you buy jewelry and don’t give it to your girlfriends, our minds do go to these thoughts, we are all products of Lifetime Movies.

A Brand-Name Virgin. One of my fantasies about being married used to be that I could shop for my husband and dress him in nice clothes, but unfortunately I married Boy Ryan. Boy Ryan is what I consider a, “Never Grow Up Dresser”. He constantly wants to wear sport-team shirts, ripped

No, Means No!

No, Means No!

shirts and high-water jeans. He also refuses to wear certain brands.  Some to name are; Express Men, H&M and (my personal favorite) Calvin Klein. These brands to him are “Gay” and “Fruity”. Now, let me explain what I have to go through to get away with buying him clothes from the stores listed above:  I have to strategically get rid of the bags/tags or any evidence related to the brand name. Sometimes if I am lucky, he will accept the outfit and not look too hard at the shirt tag to see where it’s from. If he does notice where it came from, I have to tell him that it was on clearance and I couldn’t pass up the sale price and then he MIGHT accept the brand.

The shit I go through to make sure that husband looks hot…poor me.

There. Now that you all know about Boy Ryan, you can decide for yourself what you think of him.

If he reads this and decides to file for divorce, then I guess that shall be my next  topic.

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