Tag Archives: Silly

She Got It From Her Mama

9 May

Re-Posting this from last year, it’s too priceless not to share again!

Enjoy Mother’s day Weekend Everyone!

 

If you haven’t gotten your mother anything by this point in time, its too late. Running to CVS to buy a last minute bath set is TOO obvious. You might as well make a card and write a nice poem, mothers always seem to enjoy that.

Available at your local CVS Store

Available at your local CVS Store

Although, if my daughter grows up and writes me a poem for a gift, I might be offended. Let’s see- I pushed you out , stayed up many nights with you while you threw up, shit, and drooled all over me and all you can write is a poem? Yea, maybe that’s not the best idea, stick with the CVS bath-set.

Anyways, id thought this year I’d do something special different for my mom.

She has been tip-toeing around me, on her best behavior for fear that my next blog post would be about her and her darkest secrets…

Well mom, the wait is over, NOW is YOUR moment!

momaddy

Let me just say, my mom is an amazing woman. She is the best person I know and I wouldn’t be me without her. She has taught me to be strong, motivated and to never apologize for being myself. She has also been my best friend since the age of 20 (because during the teen years, your supposed to hate your mom).

That being said, Ive learned a lot from my mother and there are some things I think are worth sharing.

1. Saturdays are for cleaning

In school Fridays were never about Pizza Day or the day before the weekend. Fridays for me were The day before cleaning day. Saturday was ALWAYS cleaning day. If the apocalypse hits on a Friday, your still shit out of luck because your ass is getting up at 7am on Saturday and cleaning. When we finally got a cleaning lady I thought all my chore problems would go away but no, Saturdays became the day to clean before the cleaning lady.

2. Girls Always Wipe From Front to Back

I’ve always wondered why? No idea, but it might have something to do with my vagina. 24 years and counting of Yeast infection sobriety. Thanks mom.

3. Fashionably late never exists

My mother shows up everywhere 30 minutes early. Know those people in your life that you show up late to EVERYTHING. Like you send them a different party invite with the start time earlier than it is? Well my mom is the opposite. She is the person you change the invitation to say 30 minutes later…

4. Never shave the tops of your legs

I listened to this advice till about 8th grade. Then one day I wore shorts and I was deemed “Hairy Tops”. I never got why she thought you shouldn’t shave the tops of your legs, until I noticed the tops of her legs aren’t the only thing she skips out on shaving. Now, I understand.

5. Photogenic ability is a gift, not a right and sometimes my mom just doesn’t have it…

Like this…

409768_1780863924967_1402334692_n

Or This…

Resemblance?

Resemblance?

And Finally This…

Well nobody looks good in this one.

Well nobody looks good in this one.

6. Once you go black, you never go back

This was in reference to a white girl dating a black guy. I always assumed it was negative. Then I started hearing the rumor that black guys got big “Disco Sticks”. Now I’m starting to see the truth. Once you have had black, there Aint NO REASON to go back to white. You Go Mama-O

7. Never put a TV in your bedroom, it’s unproductive

According to Mama-O, the bedroom is for sleeping and “something else”. The minute I moved out, I put a TV in my bedroom and realized that watching TV in bed while doing “something else” is multitasking.

Speaking of “Something Else” that reminds me:

8. The “Sex Conversation” doesn’t have to be a conversation at all

When I learned what sex was at the age of 7, I went home, disturbed, and ask my mother

“I learned about sex today…you and dad don’t do that do you?”

“Yes we do and you should feel lucky that your parents still have sex very regularly after this many years of marriage”

-END CONVERSATION-

9. She Puts All Hand Talkers to Shame

10. You Can Run, But You Can’t Hide

I remember a day when my mom owned that ugly box 90’s van, light blue to be exact. My sister and I ran away from home, I was 7, Sam was 2. We packed our barbies in a suitcase and planned to skip town. We made it to the local playground and hid out. After about an hour (Yea, it took an hour for her to notice her bundles of joy were missing)I see my mother’s van speeding up and down the street like a mad woman. By the way she was driving, she was mad-I mean pissed off- gunna kick my ass -mad. She found us partly because it was dinner time and I was hungry and because two blondes hiding in a slide were a dead give-away.

When you saw this, it was all over

When you saw this, it was all over

11. No dinner table conversation is off limits

My family has the most inappropriate dinner conversations. Some topics have included; how big my sisters poop was, the importance of using condoms. But the one that takes the cake; My mother bragging that my father didn’t need Viagra at the age of 49 in which my youngest sister replied, “What’s Viagra?”

More Sausages anyone?

12. Punishments get easier with sibling order

My sister and I grew up during a time when spanking was still OK. It was never considered child abuse. We would stuff towels in our pants before we knew we were going to get spank to ease the hand of my parents. Our little tactic worked well until my sister started laughing hysterically while she was getting spanked-mom caught on real quick.

Now I see my youngest sister get punished and there is no spanking, not even a threat of spanking. Her punishment is “Go to your room and play your with your kindle-your punished” I was definitely born in the wrong order.

13. You will always be responsible for raising your male spouse

This is so true and I wished I listened to this piece of advice a little more. Not only do I have remind my husband to change his underwear, but I also have to shop for his outfits and teach him how to chop onions. Step it up Boy-Mothers, your children are killing us women.

14. There are two types of people in this world, those who are Chowns and those who want to be Chowns

Chown is my mother’s maiden name. I always thought this saying meant Chown women were long legged, tall and have gorgeous million dollar smiles. But recently, my sisters boyfriend clued me into what this REALLY means. When my sister asked him:

“What do us “O” girls have in common with our mom”

To which her boyfriend replied:

“Everything. Your boobs, you all have nice boobies”

AND That is what it means to be a Chown or want to be a Chown- It’s all in the Boobs.

15. White Girls Can Dance

16. Love is a Choice

The best and last thing I have learned from my mother is that Love is a Choice. You don’t fall in love, you choose to love and this piece of advice I TRY to live by everyday. There are some days that this choice is difficult and days that it is impossible, but I wake up each day choosing to love not only my spouse, but everything and everyone around me.

Mom, I hope you can choose to love me after this blog post.

Happy Mother’s Day everyone!

girlsqd

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/05/12/daily-prompt-mom/

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!

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.

Closet Smoker

13 Aug

So far this summer has been productive for me…I went on a few vacations… got a new job…drank more alcohol than Don Draper…

AND

came out of the closet.

Here I Come World

Here I Come World

Hello world, I am That Girl Ryan and I’m a Closet Smoker.

Phew, that felt great, my therapist would be so proud right now.

I never identified myself as a smoker for obvious reasons. Smokers get treated like lepers by the general population. They give judging looks of disgust and obnoxiously cough. It got to be so annoying that I felt like putting out my cigarette butts in their eyes.

But the worse by far are the ex-smokers. These people feel obligated to walk up to you and inform you on all the harmful effects of smoking…

Ex-smoker: “You know, smoking is so bad for you. Your going to get wrinkles, bad breath and CANCER!”

Me: “Oh. My. god. Your kidding? I can get cancer from smoking? Smoking is bad for you? I have to stop right this minute, thanks for letting me know.”

Don’t we wish it was that easy…but let me just state for the record to ALL non-smoking idiots…

1. smokers are aware smoking is bad for your health.

2. If you are a human that uses a microwave, plastic bags, breaths air, talks on a cell phone or eats meat…you also have a high possibility of getting cancer.

So while we appreciate your thoughts, chances are your going to die just as soon as we are. Get it? Good, now get over yourself.

Anyways, I started to notice I had an addiction when I tried to convince myself I didn’t have an addiction. One day, I made a mental list of the circumstances in which I felt it was necessary to have a cigarette.

Like…

·        When drinking alcohol

·        When others are smoking

·        While driving

·        When I’m angry

·        When my fellow closet smokers don’t want to smoke alone

·        When I’m really excited

·        After work

·        When I have a decision to make

·        After watching a full season of Mad Men

·        When I’m bored

Clearly, I have limitations…Right?

Well according to society, these limitations would deem me an addicted smoker. And once your “addicted” its socially expected that you must quit.

(Actually, I’m finding most pleasurable habits such as drinking, eating and using profanity are deemed “must-quit activities”. Welcome to life, it sucks)

Being a good, socially abiding citizen, I did what was expected of me and quit…kind of.

I first tried to limit myself to only having a cigarette when I drank alcohol, but I soon realized that being drunk by 6pm everyday was turning into another “must quit” activity.

Then I tried to only smoke when I got home from work and that turned into a chain smoking fiasco between the hours of 6pm-10pm.

So I turned to my last resort…The Electronic Ciggerate.

Honestly, the E-Cigg has been fucking fantastic. I don’t have to hide it, it doesn’t smell, I can smoke anywhere AND the E-cig smoke is water vapor…so I hydrate while smoking. Hollar!

But my friends, There are other benefits to this electronic stick that are worth noting…

It’s a great Hair Accessory. E-Ciggs are bringing back the “Chinese Hair Chopsticks look”

Photo on 8-13-13 at 11.18 AM

Who needs a rape whistle when you can walk through the streets like Wolverine?

Photo on 8-13-13 at 11.37 AM #2 Photo on 8-13-13 at 11.32 AM

Need a Q-tip? Pshhh, not with E-Cigs

Photo on 8-13-13 at 11.30 AM

What happens if you walk into a party and found out it’s BYOM (bring your own mustache). Now, your always prepared.

Photo on 8-13-13 at 11.26 AM #2

Extra flashlights are always a must…especially if an unexpected Apocalypse hits

Photo on 8-13-13 at 11.26 AM

It makes you look smart when you think.

Photo on 8-13-13 at 11.26 AM #4

Your furry friends won’t get any second hand smoke!

Photo on 8-13-13 at 11.33 AM #5

Never have to buy those stupid, breakable drink stirrers ever again

Photo on 8-13-13 at 11.29 AM #2 Photo on 8-13-13 at 11.29 AM

It’s safe to stick up your nose.

Photo on 8-13-13 at 11.30 AM #2

Exercise while you smoke to avoid carpel tunnel

Photo on 8-13-13 at 11.28 AM

And Lastly…when your yelling at someone, make sure they know you MEAN it with an E-Cig/Accusatory Stick.

Photo on 8-13-13 at 11.29 AM #3

So take it from me, the closet smoker who turned cigarette quitter…It’s worth putting away the Marlboro’s.

And if I haven’t given you enough reasons to quit smoking, than I’d like to leave you with my ex-smoker words of advice…

YOUR GOING TO DIE FROM CANCER.

Invisible Fences, Make Good Neighbors

6 Jun

Typically Life Situation for That Girl Ryan…

When I signed those mortgage papers on my first home this year, I was ecstatic! Goodbye annoying apartment renters, goodbye lazy landlords and HELLO freedom!

Freedom of doing what I want because I’m a mother fucking home owner and don’t have to listen to anymore apartment management bullshit rules. (Can you tell I have resentment?)

Our House

Our House

Boy Ryan and I have always been THOSE neighbors, “the problem renters”

Just to clue you in, here are some rules we have violated;

Noise violation (after 11pm on a Saturday night)

Failure to weed our outdoor patio (never knew this existed)

Failure to pick up after our dog (who by the way shits at least 4 times a day. Its impossible to keep up)

This is the actual Weeding Patio violation

This is the actual Weeding Patio violation

Ok, Ok, so we haven’t been the best renters, but I thought our renter problems would disappear after buying a home…but they don’t. You still have to put up with these people called neighbors; and neighbors tend not to relocate after a year of residence…they last a lot longer.

We moved into a lake community, let’s re-phrase…a “clicky” lake community. To join this lake in our neighborhood it’s a $1000/year. In my opinion, paying $1000 to swim in a dirty lake for 3 months out of the year is a bit expensive…call me crazy but I just wasn’t feeling it. However, what I failed to recognize is that ALL the neighbors in our community are part of the lake and get offended when you don’t join.

So when we didn’t join, I got the vibe that we were being shunned. Whatever, Shun the non-believer, it doesn’t bother me. Plus we invested in a baby pool this summer so that Addison wouldn’t feel under privileged. We actually have her convinced that the baby pool with clean water is much better than a lake with dirty water.

The Holy Lake

The Holy Lake

Here’s us, minding our own business…mowing our lawn, taking out our trash, waving to each neighbor like were riding on a god-damn parade float every morning… illustrating positive neighborly behavior.

And just when we started to think that we REALLY are good neighbors, LEVI, our newest family addition, decided to become a serial cat killer.

Adopting Levi was way too easy. He loves to cuddle, allows Addison to dress him up like a doll and listens! Yes, he listens really well! I thought it was a little too perfect from the beginning…There’s gotta be something wrong with him.

I found out this flaw the hard way as he shredded into a squirrel and attempted to Gator-Spin my parent’s cat, twice. And there it was…his flaw…he is not a cat enthusiast.

Such a Doll

Such a Doll

So long story short, Levi escapes one day without me noticing (probably taking direction from Joba, who is very capable of escaping on purpose) and attacks the neighbor’s furry friend. This entire escape was unbeknownst to me until a few hours later when I heard a knock at my door. I look and find my neighbors from across the street standing there.

O, how nice, they came to introduce themselves and bring muffins! What sweethearts.…I opened the door.

The woman is in tears, shaking and clutching clumps of what I realized was fur. Her husband stood next to her, red in the face, clearly embarrassed by his sobbing wife…

Your dog, attacked my cat! Look!” She pulled both hands up near my face to show me the cat fur. “YOUR dog pulled clumps of fur from her and drew blood! She won’t even come out from under the couch and is limping!

I glanced at Levi who was happily wagging his tail, excited to greet the new guests standing at the door.

O um, wow I’m so sorry, is the cat ok?”

NO! look at all this fur!”

I’m still a little perplexed as to why she brought the fur over with her to my house. Did she think I wouldn’t believe that fur has been lost in this cat-dog exchange. Plus, it was a bit rude because I had just mopped my floor and some of the cat hair strands flew into the house.

Yes, I’m so sorry, ill pay for the bill if the cat has to go to vet. It won’t ever happen again

“No it Won’t!” she threatened and stormed off with her husband in tow.

Dog Shame

Dog Shame

And here we go…we have done it again! As I shut the door, I pondered…how the hell do I make this better?

Solution #1: buy an invisible fence. Good fences make Good neighbors

Solution #2: join the god-damn lake so none of the other neighbors will talk shit about us. $1000 might be worth saving our reputation as the cat killing neighbors

Solution #3: send an apology to “cat lady victim #3”

But what do I send? Wine? Wine always helps everything…but what if shes a recovering alcoholic? That could make it worse…cookies? Shit I don’t have that kind of time. I could just buy them, but that looks insincere…”Here’s some cookies from ShopRite for your cat troubles”.

No, that won’t work…but you know what will? A “CAT-VICTIM-PACKAGE”! Perfect, a peace offering for the cat lady and her bald cat.

Lets see…i’ll get some cat-nip and treats…scoop up some extra dog hair from Joba to replace the lost hair from the scuffle…throw in a few kitty-self defensive classes and top it off with dog-repellant. That should really smooth this whole hair ball over.

angry-cat

I gathered all the necessary items and opened the blank card to scribe a personal note.

Dear…..Shit, I don’t know my neighbor’s names!

“We are so sorry about your cat, can’t tell you how awful we feel about this whole situation. We wanted to give your cat some treats as an apology from Levi (who definitely is not sorry)

We went ahead and purchased an invisible fence to ensure this will never happen again (for the safety of your cat, we will now punish our dogs with shock collars-Your Welcome).

We wish for a fast recovery and hope your cat can feel safe in her driveway (although she is an outside cat meaning anything could eat her, but at least it won’t be our dog) Please let us know if there is anything else we can do (unless of course the cat died over night).”

-Ryan and Ryan

Your caring, loving neighbors (please don’t hate us)

I dropped it off on the doorstep during the day so I could avoid any awkward conversation..I wouldn’t even know what to say

So here we are, good neighbors mending fences by putting up invisible barriers.

We will continue to wave our hellos and flash our pearly white smiles but it will never be the same as it was before the cat incident. They will always be the crazy cat neighbors to us and we will always be the crazy cat killers to them.

Yes, this is the bliss of home-ownership.

GoodFences1Daily Post Prompt…Four Stars: http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/06/06/daily-prompt-four-stars/

 

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/06/06/daily-prompt-four-stars/

Kardashian Brainwash

23 Jan

As I was watching another dreaded night of football games with my NFL addict, a commercial popped up about the upcoming season of Keeping up with the Kardashians

Kim: “Stay out of my life mom”

Courtney: “Your such an ass, just leave me alone, Scott”

Khloe: “Kim and Courtney, you really need to grow up and be MA-TU-ARE. You should be more like me and Lamar.”

Don’t miss an episode of your favorite family; watch Keeping up with the Kardashians tomorrow night at 8pm CST.

You should all strive to be a Kardashian

You should all strive to be a Kardashian

Something about this commercial got my mind thinking… Why is it so important to keep up with the Kardashians? Why are these brunette, fat lipped, black-men loving gals so wonderful that now we have to “keep up” with them? They go against most of our social norms; having children out of wed-lock, implants in all the right places and posting sex tapes online (completely overrated). But, we as Americans totally glorify them!

We love watching them…but why?

Maybe to feel better about ourselves? Maybe to fantasize what it would be like to be a Kardashian? (I would soooo want to be Kim).

Honestly, I think it’s because we are just stupid and like to be distracted by nonsense on television.

Like for instance, Good Morning America spent 35 minutes discussing the story on that Hawaiian football player…Te’o. They played a whole video clip about the situation. First the camera focused on the Notre Dame Coach holding a press conference. “WE are thoroughly investigating the situation and will let you know when we have further information”. Then the camera moves to Dan Abrams, Legal Analyst for the morning show.

Your telling me this strapping football star can't get laid at Notre Dame? Please...even the nuns are laughing. #PullingATebow

Your telling me this strapping football star can’t get laid at Notre Dame? Please…even the nuns are laughing. #PullingATebow

Abrams: “Well, technically, he didn’t do anything wrong if he did make up the girlfriend. I mean you are allowed to make up an imaginary girlfriend.”

Whoa, thank you Dan Abrams for getting a law degree to discuss this kind of controversy. What are the concerned people of America to think without your intelligent input!?

Why is my morning of news filtered with football player’s made up girlfriends and what Michelle Obama did to her hair? Why?

It’s really not our fault; we are programmed to be retarded individuals from an early age. Nickelodeon and Disney are really just early introductions for total brainwashing tactics. Have you ever REALLY watched some of these shows as an adult? After watching a full 3 hours of TV with my daughter, I’m convinced our youth is being strategically brainwashed.

Let’s start with everyone’s favorite…Dora the Explorer and Go Diego, Go!

Dora and Diego, is definitely a way for Nickelodeon to deal with the growing Hispanic population. At first glance, you think, how wonderful, all the children of American are being taught Spanish and learning valuable lessons on the Hispanic culture. A real life example of the “Melting Pot”!

But then you take a deeper look…

First off, Dora and Diego’s parents are pretty negligent. I’m not one to judge, no one’s perfect, but I certainly wouldn’t allow my child to run around in the jungle with a rabid monkey wearing boots. I don’t know, call me crazy, but it sounds a bit dangerous.

Speaking of running around in the jungle, why is it that Dora and Diego always seem to be on an adventure that requires running away, jumping over obstacles, referencing a map and transporting “little stars” in a magical backpack that can hide everything…Hmm, that sounds a bit fishy… like a Drug Mule. I bet Dora is running an entire drug smuggling operation out of that backpack.

Yea, I'm on to you Dora.

Yea, I’m on to you Dora.

There was even one episode in which Dora and her rabid monkey run into a big problem with… “The Grumpy Old Troll”.

Now say that name really fast…what does it sound like? Umm…YEA…BORDER PATROL.

I'm Seeing some Striking Similarities

I’m Seeing some Striking Similarities

The Grumpy Old Troll

The Grumpy Old Troll

Dear Mr. President, the war on drugs needs to continue and Dora’s backpack needs to be thoroughly checked.

Ok, so maybe Dora and Diego are really drug smugglers trying to cross into the United States, but here is the real kicker… the real purpose for Dora the Explorer was to prepare kids for a Full Mexican takeover.

Dora the Explorer and Diego are really just futuristic visions of what is would be like if Mexico took over the world.

To back up my theory, I must introduce the main antagonist, he is a little fox named Swiper. When you take a look at all the other characters in the show, Swiper has no accent and does not speak a word of Spanish. He doesn’t care what kind of adventure Dora is on, he just wants to steal all of her hard-earned stars and take away her important missions. He is always the “BAD GUY”. I think there are some interesting analogies here, sounds eerily familiar does it not? Could Dora be trying to teach children that, “Brown is the new White?”.

Even Dances like a white guy.

Even Dances like a white guy.

Now let’s shift focus….

Yo Gabba Gabba.

First off, this show is fucking crazy. The creator definitely had to be a crack head that thoroughly enjoyed taking LSD.

I know my ADD is bad, but even I can’t keep up with the transition of it. A typical show goes like this: First, the characters are dancing to a DJ remix then they are jumping around; then they are singing songs about “biting your friends”… Then they do some more dancing and singing and- BAM some colors flash on the screen and then it ends.

After its over you think, “What the hell just happened?”

So let me explain all the characters…

Would you trust this man to babysit?

Would you trust this man to babysit?

DJ Lance-He is a black guy who wears tight orange spandex and a fluffy hat. He dances like Michael Jackson and has an insanely creepy smile.  He may or may not be a child molester, I still haven’t decided.

The whole show revolves around his suitcase full of creatures…every start of the show he walks on stage and pulls out his suitcase where the creatures come to life…

Here's The Gang. From left to right...Broobie, Foofa, Plex, Toodee, Muno

Here’s The Gang. From left to right…Broobee, Foofa, Plex, Toodee, Muno

Foofa-she’s pink, silly and very cute. If I could make a vagina into a cartoon character, Foofa would be it.

Broobee-he’s a little green monster with crazy long arms but definitely has psychopathic tendencies.

Plex-a yellow robot that is magical. He is always making some crazy rainbows with unicorns and leprechauns. I believe he might be the other character’s drug dealer because when Plex is around, its always a good time.

Muno, is the giant red…dildo. There is no other way he can possibly be anything else. Plus, DJ Lance is the type of guy who would carry around a red dildo in his suitcase; he is just that kind of a guy.

Toodee– She is blue and…I have no idea what the fuck Toodee is. I even tried to google “What is Toodee?” and still haven’t gotten a straight answer. Not even Wikipedia knows what she is.

My first issue with this show is the songs. One day I was half listening to the TV and this one particular song came on. I began to get really suspicious of the lyrics… See Below.

“Nice and Easy”-sung by Foofa and Broobee.

Background: Foofa and Broobee are supposedly bird watching in a park. Broobee keeps scaring the birds away because he is so loud and disruptive. So Foofa tries to explain that he needs to be more quiet.

She sings….

Foofa: “Nice and Easy, Nice and Slow, It’s nice to be quiet and listen you know, lets be quiet and listen…shhhh…Nice and Easy…lets be quiet.”

Broobee: “BUT…Sometimes I have to move around and be LOUD LOUD LOUD!”

And they continue to go back and forth about being loud or being quiet…

Look, were all adults here, we know what they are really doing in that park. And you know what? I don’t blame Foofa for wanting Broobee to be quiet. Like I said, Broobee is not the type of guy you want to be seen “doing the dirty” with, he is a bit unstable and I’m sure DJ Lance and his red dildo would have something to say about it.

BUT THEN, we get to the topic of the WIGGLE SONG. There are no words for the wiggle song. Just watch the short video clip.

My kid stops ALL ACTIVITY to participate in this song.

You know how the CIA gave LSD to house wife’s in the 1950’s to experiment with mind control? Well, Those damn secretive douche bags are at it again! They have figured out a way to telepathically control the mind of little kids through this song. Seeing my daughter go into her “Wiggle” dance during this song is like watching someone have a seizure.

I know now you are starting to wonder if you were brainwashed by shows when you were younger and yes you have…we have all been subjected to it.

I went back through all the shows I used to watch as a child to see if I could pick up on brainwashing evidence that I didn’t catch when I was younger, and let me tell you, one show in particular stuck out…That damn Winnie the Pooh is one sick bear.

Winnie the Pooh…he’s nothing but a fat, naked bastard.

Winnie the Pooh…he’s nothing but a fat, naked bastard.

Do you know that Pooh still to this day does not wear pants? You would have thought by now his friends would say something, like, “Hey pooh, don’t you think your old enough to wear some pants? Want to cover that shit up every now and again?”  I mean come on, even that SpongeBob guy wears pants and he has a hole for a crotch.

Then you have Piglet: the on again-off again transsexual. Are you a boy? OR are you a girl? Just pick a gender and stick with it. Jesus Piglet you really rattle my chains.

And did you ever notice that Tigger is a total schizophrenic? Someone needs to give that bouncing lunatic some xanax.

But then you get to Eeyore- Ugh, can’t stand him now. He is always so depressed. You just want to slap him and be like “EEYORE! Put your god-damn tail back on your ass and be a man”.

It’s just a never-ending cycle of brainwash. If you watch TV it’s too late for you, you have already been re-programmed.  The countless hours you spent watching your favorite past time shows are just a crock of shit.

And that is why you all must get off the computer and turn on the E! Channel, You are missing the re-run episodes of Keeping up with the Kardashians.

tumblr_la3n6shPnJ1qa4aug

NFL Addict

15 Jan

Do you know what my favorite part of January is?!!!

My two fulfilled weeks of New Years Resolutions-NO

Tax refund time?-NO, but that is a wonderful thought.

My daughter’s birthday-NO, A close second for sure though.

Nearing the end of football season? Yes, thank fucking god, yes.

I didn’t mind football in the beginning before I met my husband. I even dabbled in it a few times (bought some pink jerseys, thoroughly enjoyed pre-game tailgate events and participated in discussions about which NFL players had a better looking ass in their spandex.

Now that's what I am talking about!

Now that’s what I am talking about!

Now, I hate it, it has ruined my life. Why you ask? Because I married a NFL-A-Holic.

So for me, January marks the end of football season. It means my husband is finally right around the bend to living a sober, healthy spring and summer. It also means I can finally start to hang pictures up in my new house, have my lawn mowed AND drag my husband along to dreaded weekend errands like grocery shopping. Ahhh the thought brings a tear to my eye.

When I first met my husband, I thought I could change this little habit. Don’t get me wrong, we have made some great progress. I have successfully eliminated the tantrums, one of which ended in a beer being thrown into a wall. I have also ended the excessive crying at the end of each loss, but people, I am no where near the point of ending the addiction entirely. Good thing for me, I am also not alone. There are millions of lonely girls out there who live with these kinds of addicts. To us, “Sunday-Funday” does not exist. Our Sundays are more like “Aw, fuck it’s Sunday”.

For those of you reading this blog wondering, “Could my significant other be a NFL-A-Holic, continue to read, we will find out together.

If you are a NFL-A-Holic, stop reading and get some goddamn help. For Christ sake you people need some serious medication.

Let’s explore the phases of a NFL-A-Holic…

Preseason (gateway behaviors)

The Real Fantasy

Ah, preseason. Perhaps one of the most crucial points in stopping a NFL-AHolic. These  preseason behaviors start early in June/July with…I can’t even write it….

THE FANTASY FOOTBALL EXCEL SPREADSHEET.

The spreadsheet is a complied, complicated list of NFL players your addict will be drafting for his fantasy football team.

Ask yourselves these questions:

1. Does he spend hours watching NFL preseason highlights?

2. Would he rather watch men in tights 3x days a week than you in tights?

3. Does he have “Spreadsheet Orgies” with his friends? (discusses his picks for hours)

Yes?! Read on…

Be prepared. The fantasy draft excel spreadsheet will become the mistress in your relationship. In my life, my husband is always with the spreadsheet, rushing home to see it, edit it…to get his fix. If he goes more than 3 days without opening it on the computer, he sweats, gets shakes and becomes intolerable.

During this time, I usually say things to press his buttons:

Me: (sexy voice) Hun, would you mind taking a look at MY spreadsheet? I might be your MVP! (wink, wink)

Him: (doesn’t look up from the computer) Sure, when I am done, ill take a look.

Me: (Now in a very angry voice) You know what, you don’t need that stupid spreadsheet. I’ll just tell you what happens this season. Let’s see…You will loose your fantasy league, which is a total waste of money AND The Redskins will not win, disappointment just like every year….(PAUSE)….AND……RG3 Sucks!

Him: UHHHHH, How could you say such a terrible thing like that? I thought we were in this together…Hail To The Redskins…Remember?

Then comes…THE ACTUAL DRAFT (usually 1-2 months after spreadsheets are finalized). The draft IS a binge to an addict.

NO, NOT THE DRAFT. ANYTHING BUT THE DRAFT!

NO, NOT THE DRAFT. ANYTHING BUT THE DRAFT!

Take it from me, the actual draft is one of the worst experiences I have ever witnessed.

One time, I decided to sit with him during a draft to fully comprehend the addiction, you know, like try it out and see what all the fuss is about, but honestly, I’d rather give birth to an 80lb baby without medication than to ever do that again!

Call me mama, kid. I'm never sitting through another draft again.

Call me mama, kid. I’m never sitting through another draft again.

Let me just give you a visual; the draft takes 3-4 hours in total. Each person tells the other which overpaid athlete they want on their team. Easy right? No, these idiots change there minds 50 times and take forever to make a god damn pick like their entire existence depended on. The only thing I thought was, “Seriously? After all the hours you spent with that damn excel spreadsheet why wouldn’t you have some type of “Plan B”.

And then the personality changes begin… You know how men claim they don’t like talking on the phone…WRONG. The addiction turns them into little gossiping housewives.

I received this text from my cousin one football night…”Ryan, John was on his phone for three hours discussing NFL. Some stuff about Brady’s numbers? and Peyton throwing across his body?- I dunno weird stuff-but anyway, the phone conversation ended, not because he was finished talking but because his phone died”.  I told her this was getting serious.

I don’t know one talkative girl that can have that kind of stamina.  I’m telling you, The NFL changes the addict’s normal personality structure.

Regular Season (Full Fledged Addiction)

Regular season, the worst. This is full-on addiction at its finest. Nothing gets done, the entire day is planned AROUND 1pm, 4pm or 8pm.

They even start making excuses, like, “I gotta run to the bathroom” or “I gotta go get my wallet from my car” But once you have lived with an addict, you know what they are really doing.  I followed my addict one day and found out he was secretly logging on to YahooFantasy Sports “Changing His Picks”.

Eventually it gets so bad that my addict doesn’t even get dressed on Sundays. Iv’e taken picture evidence for you all to see…

9am on Sunday...

9am on Sunday…

And...8pm

And…8pm that night

Sundays are filled with lots of cursing, yelling and of course tantrums. The tantrums are worse than my 3 years old, I finally know where she gets it from. I am a bit nervous as well because I am starting to believe that this behavior is making a lasting impression. Do you know any 3 year olds that have NEVER heard of Cinderella but can tell you RG3’s best vertical jump?

Monkey See...Monkey Do

Monkey See…Monkey Do

ABC, CBS and Fox- YOU are all homewreckers!

I don’t even have a decent sex life in-season.

No, I don’t keep any kind of sex calendar, my dog documents that for me.

Quick side explanation….

You see about two years back, my addict received a Redskins blanket (like the man needs any reminders of his habit) and it slowly became Joba’s (my dog) blanket. In Joba’s mind, him and I are in a relationship (See: I am a cheater). To him, I am his girlfriend who is unhappily married to “Master” (Boy Ryan). Everytime Boy Ryan and I have sex, Joba chews on his blanket. I assume he thinks Boy Ryan is violating me and because Joba feels he is helpless against Master and can’t come to my rescue. So, he chews and takes out his frustrations on his blanket. Thus, creating the nickname, Joba’s Sex Blanket.

HOLEY-MOLEY

HOLEY-MOLEY

photo(5)

You see that hole in the top right? Yea, summer of 2012., aka Summer of Love.

The blanket is now missing a few months of holes, because from Sept-Jan, I am pretty much celibate (unless the Redskins get a great win, but we all know that’s a rare occurrence).  In-Season, our nights are filled with Pre-game highlights and post-game reviews and I sit, waiting patiently,  while my Sex drive screams, “NO! PLEASE NOT ANOTHER NIGHT OF FOOTBALL.”

How I can’t wait until February 4th; I am truly looking forward to having Joba continue his nibbling rituals. I have no doubt that the return of my sex life will be well documented-thanks to Joba.

Post Season (Postpartum)

Post season for a NFL-a-holic is like postpartum for a new mother. These are the happiest times for me, but devastating for the addict. It’s a time for self reflect, especially if his fantasy team didn’t make the top three. Sometimes there is a remorseful period. He starts to apologize for his lude comments and outbursts while taking NFL. It can get very emotional in our house, but remains quiet, peaceful and productive. The withdrawal symptoms can be devastating and at times- scary. Sometimes, I notice a heightened interest in the NBA Fantasy Teams, but it usually doesn’t last long. It’s usually just turns out to be a temporary void that needs to be filled after Football Season is over. Phewww…

I have my sweetheart back but it never last long because he always re-lapses in June. The relapse is inevitable. It’s about as reliable as an obese person going through the drive thru at McDonald’s; you just know it’s bound to happen.

Being with an NFL addict is not an easy thing, but remember that Post season is right around the corner. WE are Almost There! Hang on to any braincells you still have left!

So with that, January, I welcome you with open arms and February 4th, you can’t get here soon enough.

And Finally, my parting words to the NFL…

All I have to say to you is: GFY, HTTR (Go Fuck yourself “Hail To The Redskins”)

On a Positive Note...

On a Positive Note…

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/07/11/daily-prompt-sports/

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