Your Infant Can Stand Like Everyone Else on this GD Train.

1 Dec

*Note: since posting this an hour or so ago, I have had two moms bitch in various comment sections. I don’t hate moms. I don’t hate infants. But I do hate you if you get offended by satire.

I just got a new job that has me commuting into Downtown Boston again. Regardless of my last job being an actual three minute drive, I honestly do not mind the new commute. I would take Red Line rage over work stress any day, and my new job situation has my stress level at zero percent. I also just love working in Boston. City life. Things happening, people going places, people forgetting basic things like how to walk, weird smells. Not anything against working locally, but driving by the sausage cart on Quincy Ave. in Braintree every day was beginning to make me want to buy a sausage from a cart. There is something to be said about sausage carts in Quintree versus sausage carts next to the Corner Mall. I guess.

Anyways, just because I love the new gig, and I choose to throw ‘bows with petite middle-aged Asian women with bags every morning as soon as the train doors open, (I’m not stereotyping, insignificant studies I’ve conducted in my mind over the years have proven that petite, middle-aged Asian women with bags are the most aggressive T passengers), doesn’t mean I don’t have further complaints about my commute. Just because I’m almost 30 now doesn’t make me any less of a whiny Millennial who still blogs. I came, I saw, I left, I’m back, and I have more stuff to complain about.

So like, SUV inspired strollers during rush hour. Why? Looking at you, MOMS. Rolling up into Park Street pushing what appears to be a fucking Smart Car with a baby sticking out of the windshield. But it’s not, it’s a carriage. What’s the thought process here? Are you taking your infant, and your infant’s bungalow, skating on the frog pond on this crisp Monday morning after a long holiday? Perhaps taking him to fill out an application at Starbucks so he can save up to buy himself some fresh Carters? If so, was it necessary to bring your baby around in that industrial-sized, 5×5, birth control mobile that is probably more effective in preventing pregnancy than a Nuvaring? Because there is currently nothing that turns me off from motherhood more than envisioning myself struggling on an escalator with one of those giant things, sweating as I hear that the next train to Alewife is arriving, and my baby starts making that strainy face babies make when they are shitting. Could you have just gone with the space-saving collapsible stroller? You tell me. In the meantime, your freeloading infant can stand like the rest of us schmucks.


Image Courtesy of

Okay, that’s it for now. No really, I’ve changed and I’m more mature since the last time I road public transport.

The Joys of Fall!

10 Sep

Fall is one of my favorite seasons. Mostly because:

F) I’m sick of sweating for 3 months with no weight loss because of the calories I drank.

A) I get to be *cozy.


L) I’m a basic Caucasian woman who enjoys all pumpkin products (but not actual pumpkin, because pumpkin guts are fucking gross).

L) It’s fun to be fat when we are of comfortable temperatures.

But those are the obvious Fall-ish things that every white bitch blogs about. I’m over Ugg talk. I’m over hoody weather chatter. What about the small things in Fall life that everyone tends to forget? Facebook statuses telling us every single time that ABC Family is playing the overplayed children’s classic, Hocus Pocus (you can thank them later!!!!!). I put a spell on you, and now you can DIE! lolz.

How about that smell of fake leaves and raffia in October when we walk past the threshold into Michaels or AC Moore to pick up some cranberry harvest wax and twine for our candle line inspired by some shit we saw on Pinterest (also known as Prevention Magazine).

And to all the moms out there reading: is there anything better than borderline stalking coworkers until they are guilted into spending their parking fare on their 4th XXL sized tub of your 8 year old’s Otis Spunkyfuck’s cookie dough for $20 bucks? Tulips in the Spring just die, but it takes a lot of freezer burn to fuck up a good cookie. Maybe it’s the presence of the Thanksgiving season that makes forced-buying useless trinkets from obscure fundraising magazines and raw dough that goes bad in the refridge so rewarding!

Some moms might smile at the memories of piling a rake of leaves into fun pumpkin trash bags with their children! Only to find out an hour later that the leaves contained Poison Oak. Moms beware of screaming patients, while they sip their extra cream extra sugar (melted) Pumpkin Spiced iced coffees in the ER of South Shore hospital while their kids are prescribed steroids.

When I said “the smalls things” of Fall, I truly meant the small things, because the only greater relief to our compulsions than the sound of a tennis ball off a brick schoolhouse wall is crunching a dead, un-photosynthesized leaf underneath our boot. So long as the next leaf crunches beneath our left boot with the exact amount of satisfaction, pressure, oomph, velocity, and harmony. Because if not, something bad CAN AND WILL happen to an immediate family member. And no one wants to experience tragedy during such a brilliant season.

Happy Fall to all, is what I say!


Puppy Things

19 Aug

Last November I became a (puppy) mom for the first time. I went to East Bum Massachusetts and met my fur baby and it was love at first sight. Me and Dilly do everything together: sit, enjoy food, lay on the couch, get irrationally mad at petty things, walk to nowhere in particular in scenic areas, stay hydrated with water, lay on the bed, wish for food, get agitated when strangers talk to us, pee too much, get irrationally happy at petty things, etc. I love Dilly so much that I always felt really guilty when I left her home alone. I would leave the TV on Animal Planet, but does Dilly even give a fuck about Big Cat Diary? I would ask her, but there is a language barrier. You see, Dilly is a dog and I am a human (although my enemies may call that debatable). Regardless, I felt badly for my lonely pup, which is why my husband and I decided a few weeks ago to go back to East Bum, MA and get Dilly a brother (or as we call them in our puppy talky house, “brudder”, AKA: “Dilly that’s your brudder!“). Dilly now has some company.

Meet Bear:

bearThere are many positive adjectives I would use to describe Bear, but the one most frequently used is “the shit!”. He likes to do most of the same things me and Dilly enjoy, except he sometimes humps the air and can eat more without getting that fat (right now). So far, Bear is pretty cool and Dilly agrees that he is pretty cool. Sometimes there is some sibling rivalry that manifests in the form of a stare-down duel at dawn:


But usually, Dilly and Bear are buds.

Having dogs has made me realize a lot of shit about life. What is this shit I have learned? – you might not be asking.


People are overwhelming. Get out of my face. Who are you and why would anyone want to walk with a stranger and their dog for over 1 mile just because they have dog ownership and walking their dog in common? We came to this park to party…with each other. Not you. Ask us our breed, let us pet your dog because he’s cool (er than you) and keep walking.

People who don’t like dogs are evil in it’s purest form. Oh, you hate total loyalty, unconditional love, and wagging tails? Oh yeah that’s right, you’re Lucifer.

Children are annoying. “You’re dog nipped me!” -a child. No, you just punched my dog in the face because your a sociopath and my dog responded to getting punched in the face.

No one will ever give a shit about you the way your dog gives a shit about you. You walk in the door, with nothing to offer except maybe the same old bland dog food and some scratchies behind the ears. Doesn’t matter: you are the coolest. No one will ever match that excitement when it comes to being in your presence.

Yes, puppy mom-hood is life.

Iced Tea With Lemon

29 Jul

Life. It can be so disappointing sometimes. You start your day, you want an iced coffee. The barista gets the ice to coffee to milk ratio all wrong. You are disappointed. You reach the middle of the day and you need some white out to correct an accounting report at work, you reach for the white out tape, boom…it’s liquid white out. You have to blow on the report for 30 seconds, roughly. Disappointing. You get home from work and start to cook dinner, but leave the pasta boiling for one minute longer because you’re cleaning up your dog’s unexpected vomit on the floor. Pasta is now soft. Disa-fucking-pointing.

Well I have another disappointing scenario:

A friend asks you to dinner, or you ask a friend to dinner. Whatever. You’re going to dinner. That’s exciting. Because going to dinner is one of the most exciting things in life in your late twenties. FUCK YEAH, GOING TO DINNER. Should we get an app? I don’t know! We might get full. But apps are so good because we love crab cakes. Let’s just wing it. AND BY THAT I MEAN LET’S EAT WINGS FOR AN APP.

You get to the restaurant. You sit. You wait. You are polite and allow your friend to order her drink first. You listen in horror as she utters those seven deadly words:

“I’ll have an iced tea with lemon!”

BITCH. You could kill her. Right now. In this nice restaurant, while a kind man sips on his soup in the booth behind you. While a child patiently waits for her macaroni with little whining. While a dove cries. Iced tea. With lemon? You could kill this BITCH, your iced tea, slore-bag friend. (Right now I must say this scenario is only intended for friends you are’t best friends with because otherwise you can call her a slore out loud and threaten her).

You are at dinner. You are at a restaurant. It’s pretty much the fucking evening. You worked all day. You saved your calories for 7 hours for this extravaganza. The weather is good, despite being indoors. You are wearing makeup on 4% of your face. You only feel slightly fat. The midget twin on Little People Big World just got married. Your friend…YOUR FRIEND?!, will have an iced tea with lemon? Do you want to go back and reword that? Because I think you want something else. I think you meant to say you want a bottle of red to the face, or a draft, or to inject Rubinoff. And if you’re not feeling well, or if you’re with child, you could have at LEAST told me before asking me to dinner so I could be warned that I would be catching a Wednesday evening buzz ALONE and have some time to digest it.

Life. It can be so disappointing. There is little more annoying than thinking you are going out for dinner and drinks with one other person you are friends with (but not on the level of calling them a slore), only for them to order an iced tea with lemon before you put your drink order in. It’s rude. Don’t disappoint your friends with your bullshit sobriety. Nurse a glass of TACT, and by that I mean a glass of vodka and soda water. Because I didn’t just come here to eat. I have BOGO Tina Burritos in the freezer at home, asshole.



An Idiot’s Guide To The Fallacy of Relative Privation

11 Jun

Why is it that whenever any controversial issue comes up in the media there are people who feel the need to minimize or dismiss it by comparing it to an entirely different issue they deem as more important? Example: Bruce Jenner announces Caitlyn Jenner. Some people love it. Some people hate it. Most need to express their opinion on the internet. Ugh, but fine. Until you see those posts on your newsfeed that cry foul because people are paying attention to Caitlyn Jenner and not the military. Wait…what? It reminds me of this time I hosted a pizza party at the Hope Lodge and some ignoramus on my blog’s Facebook page commented underneath my sign up post that I’m a douche for not putting effort into helping addicts instead. Never in my life would I think I would be getting shit for throwing an event for cancer patients because another affliction also exists. And on the contrary, there are those who, when a drug addict overdoses, want to debate why a death by cancer is more of a loss. Why does anyone have to choose between two causes? Can two issues be important, or at least be viewed as two different things, or nah?

Some food for thought: Courage can be displayed in a million and one ways: a soldier fighting for our freedom. A soldier’s wife raising her kids alone while her husband fights overseas. An Olympic athlete who is part of probably the most public family in the world transitions into a woman for everyone to see. Having an opinion or gravitating towards a cause that is more personally important is one thing. It’s good to be passionate, right? What is bothersome is that some people cannot grasp emotional courage versus outward physical courage because they are stupid. And I mean that, truly: some people are stupid and cannot open their minds wide enough to grasp simple concepts involving empathy, so they use hatred in the form of shitty memes to express their ignorance. And if they could grasp it, maybe they wouldn’t feel the need to use illogical reasoning to admonish supporters of an entirely different issue.

Well, I’d love to keep typing about this shit but my peanut butter and jelly is getting stale and I’ve got to eat it because there are starving kids in Africa.


Feel Good Movie Inspiration

3 Jun

Watched what my mom would describe as a “feel good movie” on Netflix last night. It was about a washed-up celebrity chef who quits his job at a restaurant where his creativity has been stifled for years, to start a cross-country traveling food truck so that he can be free to create whatever dishes he desires. Made me feel pretty good, I guess. Kind of hungry for Mexican food. Also got me to thinking how awesome it would be to start a food truck of my own. It would be amazing to share the joy of food that was cooked on a truck with people on their lunch breaks and also with people not on their lunch breaks. Maybe I was on to something? I decided immediately that my food truck would sell 3 items: steak served medium, vino, and some kind of a carb to-be-determined. All fan favorites. All the necessary food groups represented. But good ideas like my gout inducing food truck always seem like a “good” idea when you’re inspired by a streaming Netflix video on a weeknight 2 glasses of wine in. Until the next morning when you are commuting to your desk job and you realize that your food truck attempt would just consist of you getting shitfaced off of Sutter Home red, eating a bag of curly fries to the face, and taking a nap in the back of your Jeep while it’s still in your driveway.

A girl can dream.



3 Jun




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