Tag Archives: blogging

My Blog Is A Racist And Frankly, I’m Disgusted

Posted on by
51

[Remember when I told you to check out my Blogboyfriend’s interview of me last Saturday but then it wasn’t there? Yeaaaa, well that’s cus he just posted it. Everything you’ve ever wanted to know about me but were afraid to ask – right here.]

There comes a point in all of our lives where each of us has to take a cold, hard look at our blogs. We need to step back and analyze if they are, in fact,  the blogs that they painted themselves out to be in the honeymoon phase.

This is a sad day, friends.

I never could have saw this coming. Of course, it’s better to have found out now than five years down the road when my blog and I have a book deal and my entire extended family has purchased a wardrobe of white, draw-string pants and relocated to Bermuda to live off the ad revenues.

How did I discover this betrayal?

Considering I’m a private person, I normally wouldn’t expose the painful details. But if it can spare even one of you from going through this heartache, it is worth every tearful stroke of the pearly plastics.

Last Friday, it was 3 am, and I felt lone-ly-y. Ugh. Sorry, I hate when Rob Thomas gets all desperate for attention and hacks into my posts – I’m SO over needy guys whose musical careers peaked mid-nineties. So I was sorting through my posts, and obviously Blunt Delivery’s model of choice is the naked Barbie – cus nothing else seems to make sense in this life. As I was scrolling through the archives, I came across many pictures that you may remember.

Blunt Delivery’s first birthday:

Photo shoot with my mom’s chocolate chip cookies:

It was a laughter-filled trip down virtual memory lane, and then my heart started racing. All the sudden I got that all too familiar feeling in my throat like Wendys’ skilled sandwich makers had given me the wrong Jr. Bacon Cheeseburger and I’d accidentally ingested mayonnaise, and I couldn’t swallow, you know? I was sweating like my soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend after I emailed him a screen shot of his Match.com profile. BUSTED.

Every single photo in the archives was of a blond-haired, blue-eyed, Caucasian Barbie.

Excuse me while I puke. How could it be that this entire time my blog has been a white supremacist and I was none the wiser? I’ve always prided myself on my ability to detect social injustices, and although this happened on my watch, I want you to know that I am taking active steps to remedy this situation. The excuses have come pouring in, but I will hear none of it. Don’t try to tell me that there isn’t much of a selection in the Salvation Army nekkid Barbie bin. Don’t act like you got laid off from the bank and couldn’t justify superfluous, brand-new Barbie purchases.

I am a brick wall.

This blog is turning a new leaf and if I have to beat it over the head with an equality stick, that’s what I’m prepared to do. The first step to recovery was to make everyone come in on Saturday at 6:00 am for an Embracing Diversity class. Then, I held a photo shoot to create new category buttons for the sidebar. You’ll notice, I’ve introduced some brunettes and a white trashy whore (for balance) along with two interracial couples. And don’t even think I don’t have an Asian goddess and a South African princess preparing for their closeups.

From now on, this blog will paint with all the colors of the wind.

Boy + Girl + Blogging + Chicago + Frizzy Hair = BlogDate

Posted on by
69

Listen. I’ve already paused the Roseanne marathon. I’ve canceled my plans to work out with Jo, the unofficial roommate. And I’m trying to set down my caramel apple spice long enough to type this, but considering it tastes like Christmas morning exploded in my mouth, I can’t make any promises.

Why am I going to such extremes, you ask? Or didn’t. I’m just assuming that you’re an engaged reader.

Wait, did someone say engaged? Cus I almost got claustrophobic.

So why am I climbing the highest peaks, crossing the deepest valleys and trudging through the murkiest swamps to write this post today? Because I heard through the grapevine that I went on a BlogDate in Chicago last week, and you are dying to hear all about it!  If that isn’t true, then I blame the women of the world. Blasted gossipers.

So how did this alleged BlogDate even come about? Everyone take a seat on the mat, I feel a coming-of-age story coming on!

Alright, boys and girls. Someday when you get older, and you have a blog of your own, you will start to get comments. Once in a while, you might notice a particularly witty comment that grabs your specific attention. You will then set out on a journey to explore that commentor’s blog. Don’t rush this -it will just come naturally, when the time is right. When you’ve met the right blog, you will find it to be equally as entertaining as the comments were, which will come as a pleasant surprise on some rainy Tuesday. I’m not going to set unrealistic expectations, but butterflies are a possibility.

At some point you will begin to wonder if this person has an actual face. One of you will harmlessly stalk the other and find them via a social networking site. In the event they do not have a social networking site, nor do they have a bio picture on their blog, it is safe to say that your BlogDate will never happen.

Should you both happen to not be repulsed by the sight of one another, you will start blowing up eachother’s Facebook pages. Then, in a random twist of fate, one of you will come up with a ridiculous excuse to give out your digits. [ In my case it was: “This might be my number. If you text me something that makes me laugh, I might introduce you to Oprah.”  A couple hours later I received this text: “I am sending this from my diamond encrusted pager.” ]

And before you know it, a boy from New York is on a plane to Chicago to go on a BlogDate with you.

Make sense?

Now, as awesome as this may seem, there comes a point where you finally come to grips with what you’re actually doing. For me, that moment came while I was on the train to Chicago. I will demonstrate my thought process with you in the following storyboard:

1. This wasn’t a thought process, but it was the largest Sangria I’ve ever seen. Luckily, Uncorked met up with me for some of these before I went to the airport.

2. WTF do my nails look purple in this light?! I swear, they looked black in my house! Why do I insist on living in an environment with no natural light? What am I a BAT?

3. Really? You could die today.

4. Eh, if I’m gonna die, at least it was in the name of journalism. Maybe Geraldo Rivera can do a reading at my funeral.

5. Way to burn your forehead with the curling iron this morning. Typical.

6. Family emergency so I can’t make it? Food poisoning? My hip locked up and I can’t walk? There was a bio-nuclear attack on the rail system? These all sound legit to me.

So we met. After twenty minutes I realized I wasn’t lying in a garbage bag in the back of a trunk, so my nerves let up a little bit. We went to Second City, which is a must for any visitor, followed by drinks at one of my favorite places. The next day, Chicago tried to break a record for hottest/most humid day in September ever. After sweating off a few pounds, we decided to find an indoor activity: The Art Institute of Chicago. BlogBoyfriend did his best impression of my favorite tortured artist, Van Gogh. They exchanged pleasantries and tried to one-up each other on who was more of a tortured artist. Blah, blah. I told them it’s all fun and games till someone loses an ear.

Careful, don’t laugh. DON’T!  Then I got him some real pizza. None of this anorexic, Kate Moss crap that New York likes to think is pizza.

All in all, I had as great of a time as you can possibly have with a complete stranger that you thought might want to kill you. But, he didn’t. In fact, he made me a mixtape. You may wonder, why oh why are there no pictures of you? Or the two of you? Well, I will now use my extensive Salvation Army Barbie collection to answer your question. Guys, Salvation Army. Expecting them to be clothed is asking a lot. And frankly, snobbish.

So surely, you understand.

But, when I visit New York, my hair will cooperate, I won’t burn my forehead, it won’t be a 100 degrees, I won’t have a panic attack, I won’t receive very bad news that morning, and there will be pictures! 

Go forth, risk your life, and get your BlogDate on.

 

Blog Dating Is The New Black/ eHarmony/ Twitter/ SpeedDate/ Facebook Poke

Posted on by
80

No. This time I didn’t do anything drastic like move to London or start a retail store or give up tanning. But, I did meet up with a complete stranger from New York for a two-day BlogDate in Chicago, which I may have mentioned one, or fifty times, on my FaceSpace. I had to make sure I mentioned it regularly in case one of you had to work or something and missed a status update.

Now I know you’re all waiting with baited breath for the details of this excursion, and I assure you, they are coming at you faster than a chubby, asthmatic kid chasing after an ice cream cart.

 

 

Remember When You Hated Me, But You Were Lying To Yourself?

Posted on by
32

“Out beyond the ideas of rightdoing and wrongdoing, there is a field. I will meet you there.” – Rumi

So, okay. We’re in the field, you and me. Now, I want you to take a moment. Sit down. Relax. Close your eyes. Clear your mind and try not to ponder the great mysteries of the world such as: “why, WHY can’t Rose just SHARE THE RAFT?” or “why did ever we need encased meats?” Just let it go. And please remember, in the field, there is no right or wrong. We cannot recall the mistakes of others. There are cupcakes falling from the sky along with pink glittery things. We are full of inner love and positive thinking.

Okay, you are now free to leave the field.

I just thought that exercise might help us in curbing any misdirected anger you might have toward me lately for my lack of internet presence. I realize it seems like I don’t do anything around here, but kiddos, mama has been sweatin’ like a Mexican housekeeper. I can say that. I went to school with a girl who was Mexican.

So what have I been up to, you ask?

Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve spruced up the place. My blog layout was SO last year. Now you may think to yourself, eh, a simple blog redesign no. big. deal. But guess what, when you’ve been hacked and your crap is all jacked, and your database needs to be updated, and your feeds won’t work, and your hosting provider doesn’t speak English, and you hate dealing with website stuff more than you hate cheerful people before 10 am, and then when you finally do switch over to your new design none of your pictures transfer over – it is A BIG EFFING DEAL. Needless to say, the homepage posts are fixed, but I’ve got about 200 more to re-upload pics to. So if you look at older posts they might look weird FYI. Good thing none of you ever do.

Oh, I also transferred my blogroll to a new page called For The Wandering Eye, and I even wrote little love notes about your blogs (if I’ve forgotten you, please send a strongly worded email). And I’ve revamped my About and New Here pages with fun new pictures like this:

And remember how I’ve had my photography blog up for like a year but no actual website, cus I really like to eat pasta and sleep alot?? Yea, well, the Indigo Photography website is officially launched!

Wait, I know there was something else…. Oh that’s right! I am going on the world’s first BlogDate.

What is a BlogDate? Well, it’s when two people of similar backgrounds and personalities start innocently flirting over blog comments and then realize they’re soulmates except they’ve never met. Or, it’s two people who are just spontaneous and ridiculous and like to have fun. Jury’s still out. So Monday I head to the Windy City where my witty and handsome New York Blogboyfriend will be awaiting me. He did a little preview of our meeting on his blog also, if you wanna check yourself before you wreck yourself. And don’t you worry, I’m going to blow THE INTERNETS up with pictures and stories from this experience! And yes, I’ll be paying you all a long-overdue visit very soon!

There. That’s what I’ve been up to. Are you satisfied now or are you still gonna cop a ‘tude?

P. to the S. I must take this moment to send the biggest shout out of my LIFE to Jen and Cheryl from CaffeinatedDesigns. These girls are geniuses. I was pulling my ever-loving hair out and they found a way to sort out every computer problem I had – and I only needed two boxes of wine to get through it!

Follow me on FaceSpace or Twitter to keep updated!

The September Of My Years [OR] Screw You January

Posted on by
21

[Warning: introspection ahead. So, maybe there are a few things I’ve failed to mention over the past year. So, maybe I’m mentioning them now.]

Seriously, screw January. And all of its dreary, pretend optimism.

Here’s the deal: New Years happens in January is because it gives people a shred of hope amid what seems to be an eternal, bleak panorama of frozen tundra and dead things. Or at least that’s the consensus from behind my Midwestern ice-glazed window and $200 gas bill.

Well guess what world? I don’t buy it, and I refuse to accept New Years as my fresh start.

It’s all about September.

Everything good happens in the fall, thus, I’ve decided so should my clean slate. And no, I’m not trying to get a head start on all of your fresh starts. When people begin losing in Monopoly, I conveniently forget to collect their rent cus I feel bad for them. So I assure you, I lack the competitive edge to one-up you on your new beginnings.

When I think back on this past year, I sort of want to curl up in a fetal position. But then, I remember I did a lot of that already…  plus I’m not as flexible as I used to be. A couple months ago, I came to the point where I felt like I had nothing of worth, no direction, and I had screwed up my life beyond repair. Know what I mean?

Since this blog contains only 20% of what happens in my life, you may not know it has been a very pivotal year. I bet you’re thinking that now is when I’m going to start listing off the things that made it so pivotal. In truth, I was about to warm up some spaghetti, but I guess I could take one for the team.

Pivotal moments this year:

I broke off my engagement to the man I thought I would marry the instant he shook my hand. My best friend Kenny moved to California. I went through an almost clinical level depression. My family experienced great challenges. Financial stress, career changes. I caused tremendous hurt to some pretty incredible people. I took some risks that did not pay off. I’ve been paralyzed by Regret.

And Regret, coupled with its slightly better-looking twin sister, Guilt, can ruin your life. It’s like a ghost that lays dormant for years, and then all the sudden goes all ape-shit crazy. So how do you get past it? How do you recover?

First step: I took the summer off of dating to sort myself out.

P.S. Boys, sorry but you do not = drama-free.

Second step: self-reflection. That = no fun. I needed perspective. I cried until my eyes didn’t resemble themselves, wrote some letters, started a collection of over-the-counter sleeping pills, sought a lot of advice, freaked out, emptied several boxes of wine, forgave others, learned to forgive myself, started working with elderly people, started working out, cut off toxic people, went to see Eat Pray Love by myself (sad or awesome?), and spent many lonely nights thinking about my life, my past, and what I really wanted.

Cus if you haven’t got peace of mind, you’ve got nothing.

So, at the start of a new season, what have I got?

Hope. This has been a painful year of growth, arriving with the crappiest of timing. I am happy it is done and I move on with a better knowledge of myself, what I want, and who I want. Belief. I have never doubted the existence of a higher power; but, for a very long time I have ignored what that means for my life. That time has ended. Also, as shocking as it may be, I now believe that two people can exist happily together. Yes, for life. Friends. I have the kind of friends who drive an hour to my house to bring me a Kleenex. Friends who extend their hand in kindness, even after I’ve hurt them. Friends who exist only through written words, yet seem to get me completely. Friends who stay over, just in case. Oh, and Kenny moved back. Work. I have a job, which fell from the sky on a snowy day in January, that allows me to be creative and impact people’s lives. I guess I owe January a high-five for that. Family. When it comes to them, words aren’t good enough. Health. Or so I assume. I have been avoiding doctors for a few years now and aside from the mysterious lump on my rib, the locking hip, and the pain in my chest when I lay down, I feel great! And, finally, Peace. I’ve accepted that life cannot exist without regret.

So, that’s what I’ve got. And world, it’s pretty freaking fabulous.

Cheers to the 800th season of Grey’s Anatomy, falling in love, wearing scarves, figuring shit out, and most importantly – a New Year,

Blunt.

There Is No Greater Pleasure In Life – Except There Is

Posted on by
24

I’m currently sitting in a room of the criminal justice center, surrounded by a group of my fellow unbiased peers.

I assure you, none of them have formed any prejudices in the course of their lives and they possess the ability, as do I, to hold someone’s fate in their completely non-judgmental hands.

Of course, I’m the first one of 45 to be called to the jury box.

Did it not even matter that I checked the box saying I knew a judge, and an attorney, and a law enforcement official, and have been the victim of a crime?

Well, what in Sam’s hill is the point the boxes then?

To waste my TIME?

Maybe there should have been a box for “almost married the State’s Attorney’s nephew.”

Then I wouldn’t be in this mess.

And at least something good would have come out of that relationship.

And, of course, it’s 2:15 and they have yet to give us our promised lunch break.

Which wouldn’t be such of a big, hairy deal had I not decided that showering and eating was not nearly as important as an extra ten minutes of sleep.

No, you’re right, I couldn’t possibly have eaten and showered in ten minutes anyway. The dice was loaded from the start.

And, of course, I tripped over my dress pants in front of the entire courtroom, on the way to the jury box.

Would it KILL this town to have a decent seamstress?

I can only hope, in the event I flip out and do something so incredibly dumb someday, that I am lucky enough as to be offered this same level of justice. I also assure you that all of us are completely happy to be here serving our civic duty with nothing in exchange except the joy of knowing justice was served in the quickest way possible, so we could all get back to texting in the car.

Now I’d like my $13.00 please so I can go put a down payment on the parking ticket I just received so I wouldn’t have to walk two miles to the courthouse.

Truly honored,

Blunt. (insert one of those stupid heart shaped thingys that I don’t know how to do and never will)

 

My Last Words Before Turning Into A Vampire

Posted on by
37

I cannot think of a solitary moment in life that is more optimistic than when you are listening to a high school valedictorian speech. These kids are sitting there, staring at a blank page. They have not yet been faced with life-altering decisions. Their hearts are still vaguely in one piece. They haven’t made a series of poor choices that has left them divorced, in debt, and jaded for all eternity. They aren’t quite sure what the Freshman 15 even is. They barely understand the concepts of financial responsibility and what it’s like to work a 9-5 job that makes you want to wish you were never born, just because you have no other option. Their dreams have not yet had a chance to breathe, much less die.

I get all teary every time.

I could listen to valedictorian speeches all day. Oh wait, I have been. A local TV station has been replaying all of the public school graduation videos from this past spring. For me, it’s a little slice of heaven. For everyone else, it is a rare and peculiar form of self-inflicted torture.

I am in love with school. And not just because I have an absurd obsession with the smell of school supplies. I love the feeling of that first day. A new start. Endless possibilities. Football games. Catching up with old friends, making new ones. That sickening feeling when you walk past the one person you will never have the guts to talk to. Add the fact that school starts in the fall and you have what might be a perfect storm of awesomeness.

I wish I could make a career out of attending school.

But Brit, didn’t you quit college?

I’m sorry, what?

Of course, high school is also vicious. Girls really are mean. Teenagers are unforgiving and selfish. And in the process of everyone trying to find themselves, we all have a tendency to lose a little bit of dignity. But even though I had my fair share of tearful nights and end of the world moments, when I think back on those days, they were incredible. There’s nothing like it. And never will be again.

Easy solution? Become a vampire and stay 17 forever.

What I’m going to do in the meantime? Make a sack lunch and watch Clueless.

graduation1

Stay tuned. My next blog will feature pics and stories from my epic weekend in the Windy City with Lola Lakely and Uncorked!!!

I’m In A Relationship With Life, And It’s Complicated

Posted on by
35

So what is the secret, exactly?

And please refrain from referring me to the best-selling book, Secret, as highly endorsed by Oprah. I don’t care much for self-help books. Or Oprah. Or tube tops. And more obvious things like Ranch dressing and humidity.

I’d say the majority of my life I’ve been what you might call “a planner.” And no, not like that. I haven’t had my wedding dress picked out since 7th grade, but at the same time I try to make sensible, well-thought out decisions. And I own a label maker. Of course, this is also coming from the person who gave her family 2 weeks notice that she was moving to London, and who also started a retail store with no prior retail or business experience. So if I were you, I’d take whatever I say with a grain of salt. Perhaps, several.

Maybe like even one of those cute little mini-shakers from Crate and Barrel.

One of my favorite movie lines is from Dan In Real Life when Steve Carrell says, “Instead of telling your young people to plan ahead, we should tell them to plan to be surprised.”

If you think about it, life is nothing, but a series of surprises. Rarely have I heard anyone say, “Why yes, my life has turned out most beautifully, exactly as I expected it would.” Both the best and worst things in life always blindside you on some idle Tuesday.

This is especially disturbing news for someone such as myself, who hates surprises. I didn’t even like Happy Meals as a kid. Or the DumDums with the big question mark on them. Screw that.

I think how each of us defines a happy and fulfilling life is continually changing. I wrote a ridiculously honest post a couple months ago about broken dreams – all of the different ways I had envisioned my life to be at certain milestones, and the harsh contrast of reality.

So is it dangerous to dream?

Is our happiness measured by the achievement of dreams, or plans? Or is the destruction of dreams the only way we truly live and grow? Are they, in fact, the only thing that forces us to change? If left to our own demise, who of us would really seek change? Rarely, is it our idea to venture outside of what is comfortable.

And if broken dreams are inevitable, how do we maintain happiness amid the constant challenge of rebuilding? I don’t know.

I’ve never known.

Cus, lately, I wish my biggest dream was just to build a sandcastle on the beach. With my mom.

How To Avoid Awkward Encounters On Your Birthday

Posted on by
29

Question: Why wear the world’s most unflattering, horizontal-striped dress on your birthday?

Answer: So that you have something even more upsetting than your birthday to focus on.

Another viable reason could be because it slightly entirely resembles The Hamburglar. Cus isn’t that what birthdays kind of are? One giant Hamburglar, sneaking up on you to steal another year?

This year has been interesting. My career has taken a direction that I couldn’t be more pleased with. I’ve taught myself how to take photos with a fancy camera, which I’ll never fully know how to use. I started eating Flintstones chewables, and I’ve never felt better. Friends have moved away. Friends have come home. I’ve been severely depressed, and unbelievably happy. Relationships have come and gone. I’ve met some amazing new people. Cut out some not so amazing people. Started eating tomatoes. Almost died behind the wheel of my car about 75 times. I changed my phone number.  I repainted my living room.

Yea. That sounds about right.

But the most important thing I’ve learned is: How To Avoid Awkward Encounters On Your Birthday.

1. Stay inside your house for three consecutive days.

2. Refuse to shower during that time.

3. On the off chance that you are tempted to leave your house, remember that you haven’t showered.

4. Make a pan of brownies.

5. Eat the entire pan of brownies, and pass out.

6. Set a goal to watch the entire Sex and the City series.

7. Resolve that there is no better time than now to start achieving your goals.

8. Don’t run out of food.

9. When you run out of food, use your Mary Kate Olson sunglasses to disguise your grossness and get carry out pasta.

10. Question why you own Mary Kate Olson sunglasses.

11. Remember that some of life’s mysteries are just too complex to unvail.

12. Cry.

13. Realize even your Mary Kate Olson sunglasses couldn’t disguise your puffy eyes.

14. Finish the box of wine.

15. Realize that expiration dates are there for a reason, and they best not be challenged, especially when it comes to boxed wine.

I’m happy to report that (1) I don’t look a day over 45, and (2) I did survive my birthday weekend.

jo-brit

I went out one itty bitty time, but the rest of my weekend was spent in hiding with my friend Jo, and can be described exactly as on the numbered list above. It. was. fabulous.

jo-dana

 

5 Things Men Do That Annoy The Crap Outta Women

Posted on by
29

Wait, why are you holding a giant calendar with red X’s all over it?

…And why is there a whistle around your neck?

Did you recently become a gym teacher?

STOP TAPPING YOUR FOOT! What do you mean it’s only been a week and I’ve already broken my promise of posting on Monday, Wednesday and Friday?

Well, well, smartypants.. perhaps you missed the memo where I mentioned that I’m now going off the ancient Mayan calendar. Bam, roasted! That also means that you’ve only got until 2012 before the earth explodes, which makes this whole broken promise thing seem a bit trite, eh?

Besides, you need to lay off me cus my birthday is on Friday and I’m having a breakdown.

Now. I realize that I’m pretty rough on women in this neck of the woods.* And guys, I feel like you might think you you have a free pass around these parts.* Well, sike. You better not even think you do, cus you don’t. I will further support that statement with the following numbered list of 5 Things Men Do That Annoy The Crap Outta Women:

1. Leave the bathroom floor covered in water. Question: Are you capable of washing your face and/or hands without turning the entire bathroom into a slip ‘n slide? Question: Is it possible to take a shower and actually step onto the conveniently provided mat when drying off?

2. Don’t properly take care of your feet. I’m not exactly sure what happens here. Question: Why does almost every man between the ages of 18 and 80 have at least one (if not all) deformed toenail? It’s either yellow, or crusty, or infested with some sort of mystery fungus that is resistant to over the counter treatments. In most cases, all of the above.

3. Leave a new toilet paper roll on top of the counter instead of putting it on the holder. Question: I’m too furious to ask a question right now.

4. Always being the hero, even if it requires making up a fake crisis. Man: Did you see that guy? He totally just checked you out! Who does he think he is? Can’t he see you’re with me? He’s totally staring at you?! Girl: Um, I didn’t even notice anything. Man: Stay right here. I’m gonna take care of this. Girl: Can’t we just go eat? I’m hungry.

5. Refuse to check the order at the drive thru. You know it’s gonna be wrong, it always is. Ask my metro sexual bff Kenny what happens when he fails to check my order and it’s wrong. Just ask him. [Speaking of, Happy Birthday Kenny. It just isn’t the same without you around here to throw a highly inappropriate combined birthday party with.]

Ladies, please feel free to add to the list.

That being said, guys, you know I love you. You fill the world with muscles, sweat, problem solving skills, a wealth of useless facts and movie trivia, the ability to vaguely determine the general origin of a scary car noise, and an endless supply of “It’s going to be okay’s.” But, sometimes, I just want to strangle you with that loosely fitted metro sexual tie.

*I’ve recently spent a lot of time at my parents’ country house. Sorry.

rockford-il-engagement-photographer

Check out my latest photography post Where Have All The Good Looking People Gone?