baby statuses : a guide to online posting

it's been all about the engagement/bridal/wedding/ pregnancy/baby/birthday announcements lately. they've been barfing up all over my newsfeed on facebook, instagram & twitter. clogging it up like a medieval toilet. i've been told, its just that time of the year. 

uhhh pardon me?

no. it is not a season. giving up single-hood, entering parent-hood or celebrating your son's first birthday is not a season. there are only 4 seasons and they are related to the position of the sun and the moon. unless there's some weird sex trend where you only do-it during certain months.

idk, is that a thing?

i've just hit that time of my life. a season of life, maybe. i'm 26 years old & now i have to start hanging out with 19-year-olds if i want to be out past 10 pm on a saturday. or if i want to binge drink in a park, ever.

all of my other friends are:
a.) on a date with their fiance
b.) have to get up early for a dress fitting
c.) need to rest their swollen ankles
d.) or have to give up booze & sushi for 9 months.

9 whole months?
i'll adopt.

if you feel like i'm targeting you & your current lifestyle, well.
it's because i am.
sorry sister!



A Guide to Posting Baby Statuses
by: Your Single, Non-parent Friend

1. do not post a picture of something you put between your legs, then peed on. then stared at, motionless, for exactly 3 minutes. and then took a picture of with your iPhone, and then uploaded, captioned & posted without washing your hands. you sicko.

2. the new 3D ultrasounds make your unborn child look like an alien. we're already taking bets on who's deranged genetics will dominate their facial features. sorry. but do not make this your new profile picture.

3. the posting about morning sickness. has. got. to. stop. seriously. oh it's Wednesday and you threw up this morning? sweet me too. you don't see me blabbing about it. no one likes to hear about vomiting when they log onto social media, after successfully enjoying their own breakfast.
be courteous to others, New Mommy.

4. you know that completely peaceful, warm moment you experience in the instant riiiiight before you wake? well how would you like it if your dorky dad flipped on the light and started snapping pictures of you first thing in the morning? huh? and then what if he posted them on the internet for his friends to look at while you're still covered in a thick womby-mucous. give your kid some privacy, you creep. one measly minute into this world and the poor thing is already being gawked at butt-naked.
talk about violating.




now if you'll please excuse me.
it's thursday & i'm thirsty.

alone time

this morning i had several hours, and the apartment all to myself

i'd like to say i threw a massive party & invited all my friends over for girl time,

but i didn't.

it was 9am.

they were hung over.

& so was i. 

it was only a stage 1 hangover though. 

not the kind where you're pretty sure you think you might die before the day is over. 

i was thirsty & had a headache. 

barely a hangover at all i guess.

Stage 1. 

i spent my time cleaning.

i know, i knowwww.

i cleaned the bathroom. 

sick.

i did laundry.

i washed the dishes.

cleared off the table.

swept.

changed the sheets.

you know...domesticated stuff.

i love a clean apartment.

i also love being able to fart as loud as i want. 

& as often as i want.

is it not completely liberating when you don't have to squeeze your buttcheeks together as tight as possible to avoid farting around your boyfriend?

it is.

& this is how i spend my me time.

farting and cleaning.

it's been a productive Saturday morning.

the happiest hour

my work had a company happy hour at some restraunt some place.

and it was open bar.

so you know how this story ends.

by the time 4:30 rolled around i had consumed 5 too many beers in one hour.

it was the happiest hour.

remember those beloved fitness classes i joined?
the expensive ones?

well i was too drunk to go to the gym.

so i went to a different bar.

then ate pizza.

i felt sick but didn't barf on anything.

#areyoudisappointed?

the end.

for the ladies

this is for all the women out there who spent all of their time learning how to be fabulous and not enough time learning how to feed themselves.
or their families.

well this book is for you. it's a kitchen book for girls who think they can't cook.

#brilliant

www.thekitchenbookforgirls.blogspot.com

take a look. order a copy. make a donation. share it with your friends. like the facebook page. follow it on twitter. whatever. support this idea!

happy 26th

celebrating your 26th birthday at your favorite bar with all your friends is so so so fun...

...until you get home & you do that really cute thing where you go to the bathroom and clog the toilet and barf all over the rug at the same time.

and then you realize its pizza barf.
and the rug is white.
and new.

#ruined

then you panic because your boyfriend is home.
then you panic because the plunger isn't working.

then you remember that you're trashed.
& then you remember that you don't have time for this shit.

literally.

so you leave the bathroom as-is.

aka a stage 5 biohazard.

and you go to bed.

and your drunk-self says to you,
it'll all get sorted out in the morning.

you wake up.

your bathroom is covered in pizza-vomit.

it is clear that nothing was sorted out while you were asleep.

you are able to plunge the toilet enough times that all the yucky brown water dissipates.
this is your favorite trick.

you throw the rug in the wash.
after one cycle it is stained orange.

four cycles later - the stains are out.

the boyfriend wakes up.
he is none the wiser.

#relationshipsaved

lately

i've been known to compare this blog to a child. a baby. or a pet.

i now know that it is much more comparable to a house plant.

if you've ever owned a plant before, you know you can only neglect it until the point right before it begins to die. then water it a million times to bring it back to life.

rinse & repeat.

when this theory is applied to anything other than houseplants & blogs, it is considered abuse.

#nowyouknow

progress

today marked my 23rd fitness class in 31 days.

for the record:

lifting gallons of milk no longer pulls my arm from its socket

pushups don't make me want to die

& arm jiggle? - think again.

this is the first gym membership that lasted through the honeymoon stage.

and best of all i've created healthy eating habits & maintained a realistic exercise plan to continue on this path.

sadly, maintained a realistic exercise plan sort of actually means, no more binge drinking or eating pizza late at night, which is a damn shame.

#collegedaysareover

but i gotta get that pre-engagement bod


and just so you know, i don't really obsess over fitness or calorie counting or engagements or binge drinking this much. it's just exciting that i'm starting to become not such a total weakling.

Dear Abby

i received a panicked text the other morning:

how do you get skid marks out of lace underwear?

my friend wants to know. 

given my expertise, there are several questions that immediately came to mind:

how large of a skid?

what color lace?

style of underwear?

color of skid?

length of time skid has been present?

for the record, if managed early the skid will not stain permanently.

i suggested to 'tell her friend' to stay calm & spray the skid with stain remover when she (or he?) got home. 

typically these skids do not remain forever.

unless they're those pesky period skids. 

in which case, just throw them away. 

#girlperks

#butnotreally

i really should have been an advice columnist.

false alarm #893

i walked through the door of the apartment:

the floor was swept

the dishes were washed

and put away

the counters were wiped

the trash was emptied

the table was set

the laundry was folded

the bed was made

and Mr. REA was beaming with pride. 

notice anything different?

i scanned the room for that little velvety box

#delusional

they are velvety right?

usually black, or maybe dark blue, right?

just so that i'll know when i see it.

#whatstheholdup

and now for a misquote

when those fancy new dressers came in,

we moved all our old clothes into them.

naturally.

in classic Mr. REA fashion, he demanded to know why i'm hoarding so many pairs of huge underwear

helloooo FYI they are called boy shorts & they are extremely comfortable you jerk.

the only reason women wear underwear is to seduce and arouse men.

those are neither seducing nor arousing.

destroy them.

he will also claim he has been severely misquoted on this topic.

...i know what i heard.