Jack & Jill FTW

18 Jan jack-and-jill-sherry-holder-hunt

jack-and-jill-sherry-holder-hunt If you’ve ever read even one of my blogs, you would know that there is nothing I dread more than a good old fashioned baby shower. Hate to hate, but they are basically just awkward social conventions that occur way too early in the morning, where you know 5% of the females in the room and your present is the most shittily wrapped gift in the room, not to mention the only gift wrapped with the generic/basically transparent Babies R Us complimentary wrapping paper – okay, maybe that’s just me. Thank God for alcohol, but even ol’ trusty is a grey area because you never know how many mimosas are too many mimosas, or worse – when a shower is DRY (I choked typing that word). And the incentive? Luke warm scrambled eggs and fatty bacon. Maybe a scone.

I’ll stop here with the hating because I’ve gone there before when it comes to shower bashing, but today I’ve changed my tune. Today I went to a Jack & Jill baby shower and I swear, shit was a game changer. It was my first Jack & Jill anything and it was bad ass as far as showers go. It started at noon, took place in a restaurant/bar setting, served a buffet that included carbs and steaks, had ESPN on, and was topped of with an open bar. It was nothing short of a miracle. Of course most men would be opposed to the idea of a Jack & Jill anything but who would turn down a red meat lunch and free beers? Just had to give credit where credit is due, and I am officially team Jack and Jill for all showers. I hope this doesn’t make anyone question if I’m a feminist or not. I “don’t mind” being in an estrogen only filled room at an ungodly hour on a weekend, but I’m also all about equality, especially because when men are thrown into a female dominated event, they decrease the meaningless small talk and add to the talk of whether or not a midget is going to pop out of the biggest box the couple unwraps. They also add that competitive edge when it comes to shower games: bingo   Note: when playing a game of Baby Bingo, don’t choose a crib as one of your squares. Most of the time the crib is bought by parents or a really close relative, and is already sitting in the nursery by the time the shower is taking place. Cribs fucked me all up and made me a B-I-N-G-O   L-O-S-E-R.

Jack & Jill showers or go home.

Causes I Would Chain Myself To A Concrete Barrel For

16 Jan

As we all know, the protesters who chained their arms to each other in a barrel, then poured 1200 pounds of concrete in the barrel, then plopped themselves on the expressway in 20 degree weather during the morning commute as tens of thousand commuters yelled “fuck you!” at them, then got the concrete chopped off with chainsaws and chisels by the cops on live television, then got arrested, then admitted to wearing adult diapers during the whole process, then got meme’d like no other on the internet, have kind of lost their direction. No one knows what is really going on at this point. Is this about equality? Is this about the police? Is this about guns? Is this about violence? Is this about white privilege? I don’t know. All I saw were a bunch of dirty hippies wearing weird hats and purple puffy jackets getting flipped off by every Masshole in America.

This got me thinking…what do I, a white-privileged-Millennial-sometimes-asshole-with-an-affinity-for-brunching-on-a-budget, stand for? What would I concrete glue myself to an inanimate object at the risk of being meme’d via side by side with fictional McDonald’s characters and cast members of Salute Your Shorts for? Would I agree to a live Awful Waffle on Good Morning America in the name of bullying? No. Absolutely not. But there are some things I believe in…and I would be willing to take one for the team for any of them. Just not on the weekends/weather permitting/evenings when my shows are on.

Here are some of those things:

1. Not having to pretend to care about peoples’ babies. Okay, that’s mean. How about not having to pretend to care about SOME peoples’ babies? (most)

2. The concept of bottomless mimosas.

3. The concept of bottomless everything other than bottomless Olive Garden.

4. The ban of purple puffy jackets. Unless you’re 6 years old. I guess…

5. My dog. Like, if someone kidnapped her or some shit.

6. Whatever cause Lisa Vanderpump asks me to concrete-attach myself to. Metaphorically.

That’s it.

No seriously, that’s it. I’d only concrete myself to someone/thing for those 6 causes. But then again, who really wants to get meme’d that badly?

Now if you’ll excuse me, How It’s Made is on and the soothing/informative voice of that fox of a narrator is about to tell me how to make a boomerang.

Dueces, Donkey Lips!



My #1 Wish For 2015

31 Dec

At midnight we reach a new year: new dreams, new goals, new hopes, new diet pills, new delusions, new Water Country commercials.

But me? I don’t have plans to join a new gym. To revisit Hydroxycut. To be nice. To stop crying when I watch Inside Edition buzzed.

No. I’m cool just the way I am. Only God can judge.

But I do have just one wish. And it’s nothing drastic. Just one humble wish for the year of the Blue Barracuda (that’s the year in Chinese, right?)

My wish? I wish that people would stop bragging about paying it forward at fucking coffee shops!!!!!

Every other day on Facebook it’s the same old song:


Frankly, it’s ridiculous. First of all, if you do a good deed for someone, you should not tell 1,312 friends about it. Because bragging negates the random act of kindness. In my opinion, the second you brag about buying a coffee for a stranger, you must deduct compassion points from your overall character. Not only that, but you might as well have just stolen both your coffee as well as the stranger’s coffee. That makes you a criminal, not Saint Francis of A-fucking-Ssisi. (St. Francis of Assisi didn’t even LIKE coffee!!!!).

Second of all, it’s your prerogative to brag about purchasing an extra medium regular, but don’t demand that I also pay it forward. If I want to buy a stranger a coffee, I do it on my own terms!! Don’t be a fucking joke!!!

Have a safe, warm, blessed, New Year’s. From my family to yours. <3

2014: A Year In Review

30 Dec


So much happened.

I laughed. I cried. I got 5 (ish) debilitating hangovers (that’s great!). I got a dog and put a bandana on her. I had my nana over for tea and had to purchase new tea because the old tea was expired. I got disappointed that I didn’t get a glass animal figure in my Salada tea box (happened the same day I had my nana over for tea). I bought a house in a town that is a “downgrade”. I repinned 63 inspirational quotes on Pinterest while I was buzzed in my bed. I went to work and didn’t check in on Facebook.

Those were just some highlights. Now let me get to the important shit. HERE is what I LEARNED in 2014:

1. I have more of a crush on Mark Cuban than I do on Leonardo Dicaprio’s bun. This was a hard one for me. I have loved Leo since he was Jim Carroll playing Russian Roulette with a plethora of downers on the basketball court in The Basketball Diaries. I have not loved Leonardo Dicaprio’s bun since he was probably unshowered/on a plethora of downers (&/or uppers) at Coachella. Mark Cuban however, said in an interview that he was naked and jumping up and down at his computer when his numbers hit the billion dollar range. Billionaire > Leo’s Bun.

BUT Billionaire also is lesser or equal value to Leo in general. So, yeah. Math!


2. Didn’t get pregnant. 

“Any babies coming?!” -People at Christmas.

“Got a puppy. Maybe I’ll go to Ireland. Not sure.” -Me at Christmas.

3. Stepped in shit (3 times) (Dog shit. Not human shit. THANK GOD.). I haven’t stepped in shit since 1994-95. Dead serious. I don’t jump in leaves, I don’t walk on the grass part of the sidewalk. I don’t go for strolls at Pageant Field, in the field, or anywhere in the surrounding area, unless I’m at the Flag Day fireworks in 2003. I just don’t. So why would I realistically step in poo? Well, because I got a dog, and now I have stepped in shit 3 times. I forgot what it was like, honestly. It’s really hard to get the smell off your shoes, no matter how many times you clean them with acid. And like, stepping in a puddle like mom always told you to do, doesn’t do much. You need to get a stick and, like, pick it out if you really want to fix the problem. Sometimes grass gets involved, somehow making it worse. And is picking shit out of your boot really worth it? No. So you leave the boots on your back porch and go through the front door, praying that you’ll be inspired to clean it before your mom sees it.

This was one of the lows of 2014. Let’s go back to the positive.


4. Bought brie. Usually Con Queso is fine for girl’s night. But really, it’s not. It’s basically telling your friends that they’re worth $3.99 with a Stop and Shop card. I still love it (because I’m so “down to earth”, and “humble”, and “poor”), but I want my friends to know that they are actually worth $7.99 at Fresh Market, where I assume no discount cards are offered. Brie is real mature.


5. Put a Santa hat on my dog. 

Okay, another low point, so I’m going to stop here. You aren’t missing out, since the only other significant thing I can think of that has happened this year occurred an hour ago when I cried watching Inside Edition (aka developed EMPATHY whilst watching montages of strangers opening Christmas gifts).

Happy New Year!!!

Is this Something I have to go to?: My Life Story

4 Dec

Am I the only 20 something who still calls their mom for things they should probably know by now? The two most common examples:

“What is the standard monetary amount for a wedding gift?…….::listens to response::…. REALLY?! Can I just give them my old crockpot and a bottle of Sutter Home instead? Un-fucking-REAL. What if I don’t even like them?! I definitely hate them. Definitely. Is it open bar?”

“Is this something I have to go to?” (“this” usually being a shower or wake for someone we’ve never spoken to). At this point, I have learned that if I have to ask, the answer is yes.

I thought being an adult meant driving, and mac and cheese with champagne for dinner, and a later bedtime. But lately I’m tired at 9pm. What is this shit?! The fact that I would give up my crock pot, the laziest cooking tool miracle thing known to man (or woman, if we are in a sexist mood), speaks volumes. And what I’m trying to speak/scream is: I DON’T FUCKING FEEL LIKE IT. Weddings are one thing. There is alcohol and dancing. I won’t get into wakes, because I don’t like to offend the masses, but at least they are in and out – for the most part. It’s those events that involve daytime mingling that trouble me.

We work all week for our weekends, only for our weekends to be filled with giving people money to be given a plate of  lukewarm eggs and watch them open up diaper genies. Thank God for booze, or I’d have been a total recluse upon receiving my first invitation to something. How awesome would it be if it were socially acceptable to RSVP with “Hey, I can’t make it to your baby shower on Sunday because it’s at 10am in east bum shit, I only know like two other guests and don’t feel like feeling awkward, plus I’m planning in advance for a vino hangover, but thanks for inviting me!”. I would totally be okay with this happening if someone did it to me, because it would give me the pass to reciprocate the favor onto someone else. The knowledge alone that I had the option to do such a thing, would make me a more affable person when I do decide to attend something.

But seriously, I think freeing up our weekends is something we can all get on board with. Let’s utilize the fuck out of that “ship to recipient’s home” feature on the Bed Bath and Beyond website, drink mimosas from home, and be merry! This whole idea doesn’t have to stop at showers. It can be valid for invitations to visit people, lunch dates with people you would like to cut off but can’t because you have family/friend ties to. Game changer, for sure.

I went to about 5 showers this year, and now every single bride or mom whose shower I attended is going to make a smart ass comment next time I see them, and I’m going to have to fake laugh and say “I’m only kidding! Because Molly Said So is a character!!!”. And now they won’t believe me when I say it. I really am my own worst enemy. The horrifying truth is that each year after this, these events will only increase! We as woman, need to stop this. Before 30% of our freedom is spent eating danish in function rooms filled with food warmers, and Pinterest ideas involving lemons and water. You can call me a bitter bitch. But just wait until you are in the midst of a dry baby shower for a coworker.

You’re welcome.

Puppy Mom Social Anxiety

4 Dec

So this past Sunday I hired some dude to paint my house, because fuck that shit. This meant my husband and I had to go out for the day, a luxury we have been missing out on since being homeowners (THAT sounds pretentious). Once in the car, my husband looks at me and dead seriously says, “Let’s get a dog”. So we did.

Introducing the best girl, my furrbaby-cuddlebug-snuggle-muffin-angel-face-poopy-head, Dilly:


She’s the shit. I love her, she loves me, and I cry every day looking at her. She’s so awesome and is going to live the best life with her puppy mom instagramming her every move in life. She’s an Australian Shephard, and as a fan of bigger dogs, I thought she was standard size before we signed her papers (due to some seriously fucked up false advertisement), but after some research – and by “research” I mean Googling – we discovered she is a mini. At this point we don’t care because we love her and people who return animals are reincarnated Hitlers who I wish a lifetime of Irritable Bowel Syndrome on (harsh?).

After we got her and she was done getting carsick on puppy dad, we headed out to Petco or Petsmart or Petsomething or other to get her some puppy supplies. Anytime I go into any of these stores, it’s for bird seed for my bird Boba Fett, and really no one gives a shit about birds. You can just get what you need, pay, and leave. But going into that store with a puppy was a game changer. Everyone and their mom talks to you if you have a dog with you. Asking questions, and showing you pictures of their dogs, and talking about their dead dogs, and telling you that string toys are bad news, and giving you advice about how to raise a puppy that doesn’t murder. It was like a friendly, informative, puppy parent community. Tons of proud puppy moms and puppy dads just reliving their experiences. And I wanted to tell everyone to get the fuck out of my face before I tell my dog to bite their  face off in front of their dogs. Let me get the chow and leave before my dog shits in aisle seven.

Social anxiety on high alert. I guess.

Love you, Dilly-kins. <3 <3 <3


3 Dec

I just logged into WordPress for the first time in forev, and was greeted with a message that my domain expired 3 days ago! This made me kind of sad, because I love blogging. But, life. I think it’s been over a month since I’ve written anything. When I first began blogging my father told me not to write every day because I’d run out of material, and ain’t that the truth! I’m just not interesting enough for a daily post. I look back on some of my blogs from years ago, and it’s pretty evident that I was writing every single day. DELETE! I made a decision this year to only write when I really had to get a thought out there, or risk being Buzzfeedy. It sometimes sound pretentious when a person says “I’ve been so busy!” to excuse themselves from anything, because unless you’re in med school, are you really that busy? But yeah, I’ve also been really busy, so I guess that assumption is debunked. The house I bought in Weymouth wasn’t exactly a shithole per se, but it needed a lot of cosmetic work for me to even consider bringing my nana over. I also broke my MacBook, and, well, have you ever blogged from a Dell or an iPhone? Because those were my options. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve written entire blogs from shitty laptops, and even from my phone. But I have to be shitfaced and REALLY motivated.

My point is: I renewed my domain and I’m going to write when I have something to say.


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