Tag Archives: blunt delivery

How To Break Up With Someone

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At first I thought it was a cruel joke. But now I realize that the Osmonds really are never going to go away.

Okay. So in between trying to figure out how I can plan a wedding without losing my mind or offending everyone for life, and then choosing a honeymoon location where I won’t get kidnapped by Pirates, get beaten and left for dead in the town square by a bunch of unruly rebels, or come back with dysentery – I’ve thought a lot about break ups.

These trains of thought are unrelated. I’m pretty sure.

The engagement is still on. As of ten minutes ago.

Break ups are a tricky business. But if those feelings are starting to brew, then please, for the love of living vicariously can you please follow this simple advice?

I wish I’d of had someone to give me such guidance when I was your age.

[kml_flashembed movie="http://www.youtube.com/v/okunzF2qezA" width="425" height="344" allowfullscreen="true" fvars="fs=1" /]

But if you are the one being broken up with, don’t forget that I made something a while ago just for you!

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Because I care,

Blunt

This Blog Can’t Even Handle Me Right Now

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Before you read this I have two very important announcements:

1. Check out my guest post over at Cynicism 101. I am very honored to be Doc”s first guest blogger and I would be more honored if you visited us. He’s me, except a man.

2. Bearman is revealing what my yearbook pics would have looked like throughout the decades. He also posted an obscure homecoming photo that no one knew about till now!

Now let’s get down to bid-ness.

Two three things come to mind when I receive Royal Mail:

1. My British-drug-addict-ex is trying to contact me again, which will cause me to reflect upon a time in my life that makes me wish that London Bridge really was falling down. With me on it.

2. Are we past having to worry about Anthrax?

3. Good Morning America must have gotten my contest entry and this is my invitation to Prince William’s wedding! 2011 is the year all my dreams are coming true!

But then, I open it, and I discover something even better.

Better than Anthrax?

Well, if you can believe it, yes.

Free stuff.

I know what you’re thinking, Anthrax is free. True. Yes, but it will also impair your respiratory system and effectively kill you.

I received custom made greeting cards inspired by my blog, which were made for me by the awesome duo from Caffeinated Designs – Cheryl, my Asian Sunrise, located in sunny CA, and Jen, the Secret Keeper, located in foggy London. And I didn’t even ask for them – they just did it all on their own. Never mind that I have promised to put their kids through college as long as they send me customized periodical gifts for the remainder of their lives.

I had sort of forgotten that they had asked for my address a couple months ago.

Phew. That was a close one, Royal Mail. You had me sweatin’ like an 8th grade me during an algebra test.

They have recently branched out into designing greeting  cards.

Thanks guys! Loved the cards!

Valentine’s Day And Other Unfortunate Realities

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Lately, I’ve noticed a lot of visitors, dodging the landmines and trekking over mountainous terrains to stop over at my humble, but well decorated corner of the Internets and rest their weary souls. So before I blindside you with what I have to say, which by all accounts will probably alter the course of your life and so we better hurry up, I would like to give all the newbies a big, Blunt welcome with open arms.

But I hope that didn’t just make you think of the popular eighties love ballad by Journey.

Because I sort of dislike that band.  But not as much as I dislike hate Chicago.

But I do like that song ‘Don’t Stop Believing.’

But not just cus it’s on the popular Fox musical Glee.

Cus I don’t like Glee. But I do like that Jane Lynch.

And I like you. So why don’t you just stop worrying about what I do and don’t like, mmmk?

Actually, I can’t say I don’t like Glee. I’m just assuming I don’t. Never mind the fact that I just listened to the YouTube Glee Mix about a hundred times.

Speaking of Valentine’s Day, did you honestly think  just because I’m in a relationship that I would start liking this dreadful day?? I’ll bet you one aluminum wrapped red rose that you did. Ugh. Well, I was part of a video series that the College Crush and College Candy did called: Kick Ass Valentine’s Day… no date needed. You could imagine my enthusiasm at the chance to make fun of a holiday that is supposed to celebrate love, but really just exists in commemoration of the execution of Patron Saint Valentine.

I have included the original version, without the intro they added, in case you hate Valentine’s Day too (which I expect you do) and wanted to watch it. [DISCLAIMER: Guys, this video might make fun of you a lot. This is not an apology, just a disclaimer]

So, I want to know…. how will you be celebrating the horrendous holiday that is creeping in on us like that weird kid in 8th grade biology?

Cus I won’t ever stop believin,’

Blunt


Blunt Bites: The Boy Who Jumped To Conclusions But Had A Good Singing Voice

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[ DISCLAIMER: Blunt Bites break away from my normal, detailed laugh-out-loud (right?) posts. They are like snapshots of a significant part of my life. Sometimes, they’re serious. Sometimes, they’re funny. But they’re always gonna be delicious. Yum. ]

I called you one night, out of nowhere. The snow always reminded me of you. At first, you didn’t recognize my voice. Three years had passed since we had spoken. You informed me of your decision to move to L.A. to give your dreams a shot. I said I was surprised that you had finally done it. You said, “Of course you’re surprised, what do you expect when you don’t pick up the phone?” You were mad. When you had driven across country, you had wanted to meet up, but I never returned your calls. As you vented your frustrations, I shook my head so hard you could probably feel it through the phone and then I called you an over-reactor. This started an epic fight, something we had perfected during our brief, but intense college relationship.

In the end, I saw no point in telling you that I had never gotten your calls because my number had changed 3 times since then.

Maybe, that night, I just didn’t want to get into the fact that my number had changed 3 times because my identity had been stolen by drug dealers.

Maybe, that night, I just felt like letting you win.

 


If This Blog Was A Buffet, Would You Like It More?

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Precisely.

Which is why Blunt Delivery will soon become the Golden Corral of blogs.

See? And you thought there was no possible way I could tie in such a random title to this blog post. How long do we have to be on this journey together before you will stop underestimating my masterful literary skills?

Hurtful.

Much to my own dismay, I have an endless supply of long-winded, sarcastically-laced stories about my sordid past for your reading pleasure. But sometimes. Sometimes, my phalanges get just a little bit… tired.

I’m sure my next sentence will come as the shock of your adult life, but, it has never been my goal to post everyday. Why? I feel like even the best of writers don’t have something worthwhile to say to the world on a daily basis. On top of that, I don’t even fit in the “best of writers” category. Jay Leno’s writers can’t even come up with something quasi-entertaining and they actually get paid to do it. Well, mama isn’t getting paid, kids- except for the knowledge that I’m revolutionizing lives one blog at a time, and I guess for a self-sacrificial type like myself, that’s all the payment I need. Now give me a moment whilst I yank myself from the tree I’m bear-hugging, snatch up a piece of random litter and gather my thoughts.

Puke.

Another reason why I don’t post daily is because I have never, ever forced myself to write a blog. What does this mean for you, my reader with unparalleled beauty? Well, it means that you don’t have to hear about my dog’s potty training troubles or the fact that my child is so darn cute when he leaves an “R” out of word.

But Blunt, I thought you didn’t have kids and you hated dogs?

Wait, who are you and how did you manage to hijack this blog?

The point is, I only write when I have a thought so utterly preposterous that my hands go on auto pilot and I can’t stop but only for a cupcake. Or two. And although many of you yell at me for my lack of posting, I think if you’re honest with yourself, you’ve grown to appreciate that about me. And if you’re not being honest with yourself, then you need to lose the spandex and cut the crap already. It’s not working for you.

THE POINT IS sometimes I AM tired, yet I still have something that I would like to say. Thus, I am creating a new category called: Blunt Bites. Unfortunately, this has nothing to do with Vampires. Or brownie bites.

But gosh, I wish it did.

Blunt Bites will break the format of my usual, quasi-lengthy,  jaw-dropping, laugh-out-loud posts (right?), and sum up a significant part of my life in a mere paragraph or two. It will be like a snapshot of sorts. And I don’t even know if I’m up to the challenge.

You lucky ducks.

Or maybe all of that was just a lie and I’m merely using this as a selfish writing exercise on how to condense stories.

I trust you will will find the answer deep within yourself.

The following is a “sample” of what a Blunt Bite will be. They might be sarcastic. They might be funny. They might be tragic. But, they will all be honest.

You said it all felt like high school again – that somehow, being together made you forget that you were an adult with responsibilities and problems and broken dreams. For me, it was an escape, a mere a moment of blind optimism; in that sense I guess I can see what you meant about high school. One day at the gas station, you were down to your last two dollars and so you told me to pick out a lottery ticket. You said, “Choose wisely – this is going to pay for our summer home out east.” I chose a pink one.

It was the wrong choice. And so were you.

Mmm. Now that’s something to munch on.

The Grinch Who Stole Blunt’s Christmas [And A Foxy Giveaway]

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Last year, I was robbed of my Christmas joy. I’m still in hot pursuit of the culprit, but the Grinch is definitely on my short list.

For the first time in history, I refused to put up a tree. Suffering from an almost paralyzing depression, those around me grew quite worrisome. My mother, who wouldn’t have any of it, started sending me daily cheer-up Christmas cards in the mail. Daily. Then, whenever she would “stop by,” she would sneak a mini pre-decorated Christmas tree into a different room of my house.

In January, I wrote a nasty goodbye letter to 2009, but ended it with cheerful optimism. Little did I know, however, that 2010 would present some of the biggest challenges of my life. Not, like, hiking up a mountain, challenging – a whole different kind of challenging. Cus really, would I ever be caught hiking?

I’ll forever remember 2010 as the year that everything sucked until it became awesome. I’m pleased that at least my life-changing year is a nice, round number – it plays into my ‘Monica from Friends syndrome’ quite nicely. It was a painful year of self-reflection brought on by the culmination of a lot of ongoing poor decisions. I don’t need to list the events for you, but I went into a little detail about some them in this blog. Over the year, many of my posts have been introspective in nature, about broken hearts and broken dreams and passion and valedictorian speeches. Cus I fricken love valedictorian speeches.

So how did the year finally become awesome? And no, it’s not because I had a great revelation as I was laying on a table a month ago, waiting to find out whether or not I might have breast cancer. But I was really, really cold if that counts. It took a lot more than that. This is the year that I finally broke the cycle of the miserable existence I’ve been living – the cycle of beating myself up over poor decisions I can’t change, people who will never change, and analyzing things until I am so lost in my past regrets that I have forgotten how to live in the present.

That’s what.

[click here for the rest of my blustery, Midwesterny pictures]

And as many times as someone told me: “can’t change the past, move on”  – it didn’t matter. As many times as I told myself that I hadn’t messed up my life beyond repair – it didn’t matter, cus I didn’t believe it. Life will always be a punk, but half of the battle is your outlook and response to it. As a natural-born pessimist, the cycles in my life have been beyond hard to break. I had to do some serious work on my attitude and perspective towards life. For the first time in, well, forever, I actually feel good when I wake up in the morning. I’m excited about life. And, most importantly, I no longer look at the past decade as a total waste of time and energy. It taught me a great deal and made me into a stronger person than I ever realized.

How’s that for warm and fuzzy?

Are you freaked out yet?

Have you totally hit the unsubscribe button?

Would it smooth things over if I gave stuff away?

Stuff I’m giving away to you: [I made this big and bold to make it easier for you to skip over everything else]

Since I was a child, I have wanted to open a greeting card company. Not cus I’m great at illustrations, cus I’m not. And not cus I have the hook-up with a manufacturer, cus I don’t. And not cus I was born with a natural ability to come up with clever sayings, cus I wasn’t. But because ALL OF THEM SUCK.

Guess what? I found some that don’t suck.The company is called Foxy Blunt. Could this BE more of an arranged marriage? These cards make me want to purchase stamps again, know what I mean?

So, I am giving away a boxed set of Foxy Blunt cards of your choosing plus some cool other stuff the girls are going to throw in. I might suggest the Friendship/Love set, or the Birthday set, or the Holiday set. But what I really, REALLY love is the Thank You set and the Thinking of You set.

I trust you will make the right decision.

WAIT! Hold the mistletoe!

Don’t for one second think that I’ve forgotten about my first love, Bitter Baking Company – because I could never do such a thing. In fact, we might have to enter a three-way love affair with Foxy Blunt. You will also receive a batch of my absolute favorite sarcastic holiday cookies!

HOW TO ENTER: leave a comment telling me one positive thing that happened to you this year. Contest is open until Saturday, Dec. 18th at noon.

UPDATE: Winner of this contest is J from TwentySomethings!

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

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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.

 

 

Dear Jillian Michaels’ 30 Day Shred Workout DVD,

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Two weeks ago, you entered my home with all of the optimism of Christmas morning.

But lately, I feel like we’re at odds. I can’t exactly put my finger on it, but the other night your eyes looked a bit more angry than normal. And I sensed a hinge of animosity in your voice as I was doing my side lunges (with weights, of course, cus the big muscles don’t burn enough calories on their own).

Oh, I’ve been listening.

And I know if I asked you, you would say nothing is wrong. But do to my extensive experience with complicated relationships, I think we both know that’s not the case. So in attempt to salvage what we have left, I feel the need to explain to you what might seem like a lack of commitment on my part.

jillian-michaels-30-day-shredDAY 1: Jo and I did the workout, sans weights. We fell to the floor laughing when you said, “People tell you ‘Just take the stairs’ but that is a FALSE MESSAGE OF LETHARGY that won’t do you any favors!” We then had a glass of wine, watched Grey’s Anatomy and talked about how we wanted to die.

DAY 2: Jo and I did the workout. I used the weights except I only had 5 lb ones instead of the recommended 2 lb ones. We made fun of your eyebrows a little bit.

DAYS 3-5: I lost the ability to use my arms. So did Jo, which confused both of us, considering she didn’t use weights. We decided it best to take a few days off, as not to cause further injury. We’re still waiting on our health insurance from Obama.

DAY 6: Jo and I regained feeling in our arms, so we worked out. She walked in with 2 cans of baked beans in lieu of weights. I marveled at her genius, and found 2 cans of my own to use, however, they were re-fried beans. All was well, except for the fact that I forgot to wear a sports bra.

DAYS 7-9: Due to some intense crying, I figured it best not to workout in such a dehydrated state. Jo figured it best to empathize with me on the couch. She’s a good friend.

DAY 10: My head was still aching, but Jo was determined to workout. I sat on the couch with my laptop. Then, I grabbed a box of Snickers ice cream from the freezer and just watched her, cus man, it was funny. Afterward, when Jo got up to go to the bathroom, her legs gave out on her and she did a face plant into my floor. She said, and I quote: “That’s how you know the workout is working.”

DAYS 11-14: Thought about working out. A lot. But it’s the holidays, so our absence is 100% LEGIT.

I hope this clears things up as I do hope to maintain at the very least, a friendship.

XOXO,

Blunt.

P.S. New blog design coming this week, plus a bunch of other random announcements that you won’t care about!!

The September Of My Years [OR] Screw You January

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[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.

That Time The World Just Made Sense

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No, you’re completely right. That never happened.

It’s almost like my witty, overly-dramatic titles don’t even fool you anymore. I guess that could be a good thing, cus it means we’re getting past the honeymoon phase of our relationship, eh? But if we’re being honest, which I think we are, my mom never thought it would last.

First, I’d like to start by saying: Gentlemen, I feel your pain.

I am QUITE aware of how difficult it is to find witty, brilliant, beautiful, self-confident women in this world because I have been searching with eyes wide open. And let me tell you something, these eyes are really starting to hurt from all the wide-openness. They’re all dry and reddish and people are really starting to question the meaning behind the name of this website.

So it’s a good thing the search is over.

Two weeks ago, I packed up the convertible, put my hair in rollers and said, “Mom, I’m gonna go be a stewardess.” With Simon and Garfunkle playing in the background, I drove off to California with a mystery boy in a velvet shirt, leaving only my record collection behind for my little brother.

Nope. But what I did was EVEN BETTER.

I packed up my friend’s Honda, drove to Chicago with a very bad stomach ache, a very full bladder, a McCafe that I now refer to as “the mistake,” and a GPS that had lost its ever-loving mind to meet up with two of the most amazing women the universe has to offer!

The flood gates of heaven’s splendor have finally opened and I have discovered where the world’s coolest women have been hiding: behind the comments section of this blog. I’m pretty sure a small piece of Chicago exploded from all the awesomeness of our reunion. You can click here for Lola Lakely’s report on the night, and here for V from Uncorked.

corcorans

As could be expected, we did all the normal things that girls do when they get together. There were super tight pj’s, pillow fights, feathers, kissy face self portraits, boy-bashing, singing into hairbrushes, and jumping on beds while listening to Madonna.

You know, the usual.

bloggers-gone-wild

Or, we profusely mocked all of those things. I’ll let you decide which scenario actually happened.

girls-night-out

I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been sulking in the sadness and the void that I feel without these ladies around.  Why do you think it has taken me so long to post a blog?