Things That Don’t Matter

Hello friends,

I feel like all I’ve been doing lately is apologizing for being the crap end of this relationship. I’M SORRY.

I have been HELLA [awful] busy, and I’m just trying to balance everything out. However, today in an effort to forget all things I should be doing [planning a wedding, finding a place to live, working…] I am going to tell you about two things that are bothering me.

#1. Josh Duhamel and Fergie Ferg.

Okay. I know they’ve been married for a couple of years by now, but I’m still very against this union. I saw J. Duh on Ellen this morning and he is so dang adorable! He was born in North Dakota and went to school to be a dentist [adorable]. Currently he is organizing a charity for Japan that involves running and people giving money. Adorable. Personable. Great. It may be also worth noting that he was in Win a Date with Tad Hamilton.  While I don’t really remember this movie, I am sure that he was great in it and only outshined a tiny bit by Topher Grace.

Now. Fergie? She was addicted to Meth. In her wikipedia it states she used HYPNOTHERAPY to kick the habit. Um. Seriously Fergie? Meth is disgusting, and while I applaud your ability to beat the statistics and kick your serious addiction, I feel like maybe you and Josh aren’t cut out for each other. I am an expert on celebrity couples, after all.



This one really hurts my soul.



I know, my heart is broken too. Apparently this guy’s name is Michael Sheen and he is from London. Or Ireland. Or something. He was in movies like Frost/Nixon and The Queen and I Ruined Avalon’s Fantasy Couple.

I need Ryan and Rachel back together. I may have mentioned it a few times, but seriously when this couple broke up it hurt my heart. They were so amazing together, and it was like a living fairytale after they did the notebook.


I know, how perfect.

And then just in case I haven’t plunged the knife deep enough into your chest….


Please get back together. Kthanks.

That’s all for now folks.




In other news, I’m kind of a big deal.

That’s my cryptic way of telling you I have some news to share soon.

On to bigger and better things. So, I might as well warn you now dear reader, this entry is going to be extremely petty. If that seems like it might offend you, go read something else.

Breakups suck, we all know this. They are usually difficult, uncomfortable, and in the worst cases; they are sad. Breakup aftermath is just bananas. For girls, [I might be letting the cat out of the bag here] it becomes a silent competition. It is IMPERATIVE that girls feel like they are better off and doing bigger things than their ex boyfriend. This crazy town logic is especially true if your ex is an asshole.

A little background.

My ex boyfriend was a huge jerk. We dated for way way way too long, he was rude, possibly an alcoholic, and kinda dumb. He was mean, insecure, and so so so very needy. Because I am a good girlfriend [see: I was an idiot] I was very attentive and catered to his ridiculous personality despite what my parents and friends tried to tell me. Eventually I snapped out of it and moved on, but not without carrying resentment for my wasted years [right Liz?].

Taryn’s ex boyfriend [yes, I am speaking for her] was ALSO a huge jerk. They also dated for way too long. He was also rude and kinda dumb. He was also mean and insecure and worst of all he thought he was funny. Because Taryn is a good girlfriend [see: she was being an idiot] she stuck around for awhile hoping that maybe he would get his head out of his ass and realize what a catch she was. They eventually broke up, and Taryn carried this same resentment.

Okay. Now you’re caught up.


I am a college grad with a legit job and I am engaged.

Taryn is a college grad with a grown up job, an awesome kickball team, and guys are literally blowing up her phone so much she needs to have it on silent.


My ex took 5 years to finish college and just acquired his third DUI.

Taryn’s ex is possibly still in his undergrad at 24 and tried to tell her he drove a Range Rover. He lied.

We won.

You can win too.


Spring fever? I think so.

This is a friend of mine so obsessed with spring he's taking a picture of a tree.

How amazing is this weather?

Okay so, the weather is only really amazing if you live in the Northeast. We were plagued with a winter from hell and now we are running around outside like crazy people in bathing suits while the weatherman tells us it is 65 degrees outside. We’re deprived. I view living in New England similarly to what I imagine childbirth must be like. I will explain. OBVIOUSLY giving birth is awful. Placenta, blood, tearing, poop. See? I didn’t even have to describe what it is like, just throw a few choice words out, and you’re already grossed out. Still, despite the grossness or the immense pain, women keep reproducing. As much as I can figure it is because they suffer from memory loss. During pregnancy women are usually miserable, during the actual birthing process they are psychotically regretful, but once they have the adorable, gurgling baby they instantly forget the hellsauce [not a word] of a road they traveled to get the child that will someday be responsible for all the grey hairs. As New Englanders we go through similar motions. At the beginning of winter we are all instantly miserable as we schlep through the slush and the flurries. During the middle of winter when feet upon feet of devil flakes are piling up we get a little psycho and start looking up houses in southern California. But then our baby, Spring, is born. We pretend 50 degrees means tshirt and shorts weather and we welcome the sounds of birds chirping in the morning. We marvel at late sunsets and spring showers. Eventually we are skipping through the streets smelling the flowers and wearing flip flops thinking that there will never be a more perfect place to live. It happens every single year, yet we are always surprised when winter owns our asses. When will we learn friends? WHEN WILL WE LEARN?


ps…..this kid is my hero

I am Eleven

Hello friends.

As a  preface to my story I will give you some stats about myself. I’m a small girl, maxing out at 5’1. I have kind of a child-like face and I often act like a child.

Alright, now that we have that out of the way…moving on.

My younger sister is still a child and her 6th grade class is trying to raise money for a lame-o trip to Boston. Some genius suggested they through a spaghetti dinner for the community, and ticket proceeds would go towards their day of frolicking.  Despite the fact that I hate spaghetti and small children serving me food, I made my way to her elementary school missing every minute of Friday Night Lights. I was welcomed by creepy children with painted on mustaches and black aprons galore. I was ushered to my table and given a menu. The elaborate menu looked something like this:

Spaghetti with sauce

Spaghetti with sauce and meatballs

Spaghetti with sauce and vegetarian meatballs.

OH THE CHOICES. After not choosing anything [my mom brought me my own dinner in a tupperware because I am a spoiled brat] I settled into my table and surroundings. I was sitting with two couples I’ve never seen before and I was trying to be pleasant. In true awkward form, I  started with an apology;

“Sorry I’m randomly sitting here, this is just my sister’s table and I want to heckle her”

All true, still awkward. The gentleman sitting across the table from me looked at me kindly and asked;

“Oh that’s quite alright. So are you over there at the Middle School?”

Yup. This guy just asked me if I was twelve. He was only about eleven years off. Like the polite, tactful lady I am I responded;

“Well. Not only am I not in middle school, I graduated that place, high school AND COLLEGE. I’m also getting married in August.” BURN.

The man just stared at me in disbelief. Literal disbelief. He wasn’t sure if he could accept the fact that this small girl he assumed was only a child was in fact old enough to hit on. Which he then did.



Bowling SUCKS

Hello faithful friends.

Today I found myself sitting at work, not doing any work [this is normal], and reading [also normal]. One of his entries today represented a little photo journalism covering the date between Vanessa Hudgens and Josh Hutchenson or whatever, who cares, no one knows who he is. After seeing this ridiculous post I began to wonder a la Carrie Bradshaw why famous people go bowling. Is it an attempt to bring them back to a simpler time when they couldn’t just fly to another country when they were bored? Are they forgetting that they probably in fact have their own bowling alley in their basement that they haven’t found yet because their house is so massive?

Regardless of their reasoning, they are unaware or possibly forgetting that bowling sucks. IT SUCKS. In case you need some convincing, I’ve laid it all out for you. In list form, obviously.

#1. It seems so easy, yet it is not. You watch people do it, roll a round ball, down a straight alley, knock down pins. Easy enough right? WRONG. IF IT WERE EASY, THERE WOULDN’T BE LEAGUES. Bowling is NOT easy, and the fact that it isn’t is the main reason why it sucks so badly. Bowling should be, by all reasoning easy, so when finds that they ended a game with a score of 75/300 it is extremely frustrating.

#2. Bowling is gross. The shoes, the balls, disgusting. Once in your RENTED bowling shoes your feet immediately start sweating through your socks, allowing a conductor [sweat] to transfer all germs in the shoe onto your feet. The holes in the balls [yup] have been touched my hundreds of people before you. There are probably colonies of bacteria living in bowling balls that haven’t even been discovered yet.

#3. It’s too easy to cheat. Any game that can be turned on its head by a few sly computer entries is flawed.

#4. Bowling injuries suck. Because you probably aren’t used to bowling, when you actually go you can bet your body hates you. Never does your body encourage you to throw 15 pound balls with one arm over and over again.

#5. Oh the Shame. Jim Gaffigan knows what I’m talking about, and he’s right. The absolute worst part about bowling is having to turn around after you just threw your ball into the next lane and face the semi-sympathetic faces of your friends. You’ll get a “good try!” or “you’ll nail it next time” when in reality you just want to spike the bowling ball on the ground and go get a drink.

Basically bowling sucks, but Vanessa Hudgens probably just thought bowling night would be a good addition to her weekly routine. You know, after Sneaker Night.


The Only Straight I Am Is A Straight Up Bitch

Glee fans, anyone?

If not, I will clue you in. A character named Santana is trying to blackmail a fellow classmate into doing what she wants. Santana recently realized that she was a lesbian, so ends the scene with the amazing blog entry title:

“The only straight I am is a straight up bitch”.

While neither Taryn nor I are lesbians or straight up bitches, we have been neglecting the blog. We are sorry to all of you [3] readers, we know it is a disappointment to check and recheck a blog anxious for an update and receive nothing. For days.

In our defense, we are really really busy. Unfortunately this blog doesn’t pay enough [see: not at all] to fund our lives, so we need real lives and jobs on the side. AWFUL, I know. We are currently working on winning the lottery slash getting someone to think we are funny enough to pay us to do something else, but until that day comes we are stuck in our real people jobs.

I am mostly busy because I am trying to scrape together some semblance of a wedding by the end of August. I once read that successfully planning a wedding without a wedding planner took about 40 hours of work a week. EXCUSE ME. So not only do I work my real job for 40 hours a week, I also need to allot 40 hours to planning the most excessive day of my life. Basically I’m working CEO hours and getting McDonald’s pay. IT’S FINE.

Taryn is a big girl, and has a big girl schedule, which is just as inconvenient. Taryn does accounting of sorts, so you can imagine that this time of year would be super hectic for her. Why you ask? If you have to ask, you didn’t file your taxes, and you are currently screwed. Taryn is saving businesses and lives, so blogging time has been hard to come by.

We’ll be back soon in full force, we promise.

Maybe even today.


A [&T]

Too Much Second-hand Smoke

Today I held the door for an elderly lady with a walker and we walked into the building together. She told me about her dead friend that lived in Seattle and fought until her death [her words, not mine] for handicapped automatic door openers at all public buildings. I told her that isn’t a ridiculous request, and I am surprised there are still buildings without them. Then this happened.

Elderly lady: “Is that Marijuana festival this weekend?”

Me: “Um. I think so?”

Elderly lady: “Oh it is usually under control. I live right around the corner though and I don’t appreciate the second hand smoke. I still get affected by it, you know.”

Me: “Well, that’s too bad. Close the windows?”

Elderly lady: “I bet Emily Dickinson grew some in her garden. She wasn’t as innocent as people think she is you know.”

Me: “She did have a green thumb…”




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