Black Friday: Is This When I’m Supposed To Tell My Parents That I’m Black?

It’s a simple question. And one that I kind of need answered in the next few days. K thanks.

So I’ve been sitting here all morning trying to write about something – anything but the thoughts in my head. Preferably something ridiculous that would make you smirk and say, “Ok good, at least she’s alive.” Something just to let you know I’ve received your death threats, emails and cheer up tweets, and the absence has indeed made me grow fonder of you.

But all I’ve gotten is a headache from the glare of this computer screen and trying to figure out what the heal I can possibly write about in a blog titled “Black Friday: Is This When I’m Supposed To Tell My Parents That I’m Black?” Let this be a lesson to you – write the post and then title it appropriately. Got that? Post —> Appropriate Title; not Title That Could Never Make Sense No Matter What You Wrote —> Post.

And amid this struggle, I received a phone call that reminded me of what’s important in life (aside from coming clean about my ethnicity).

I’ve always believed that when things end, they must end badly. And not just because I’m a pessimist, because it’s just one of those certainties of life – like the moon and taxes – I never say death, because I still think that somehow my parents are going to be the exception to that one. They just have to be.

Well it seems a lot of things have been ending lately.

Relationships are ironic when you think about it. You spend early days together lying in fields of possibility and imagining how life with that person is somehow going to escape the pitfalls and mistakes of past loves. Their every breath excites you. Each text brings a stupid smile to your face – the kind of smile that your friends find really irritating when they’re in the middle of telling you an important non-funny story. You give them a key despite all of your previous bad experiences with key-giving because you just have a feeling it’s going to be different this time.

Fast forward two years and buildings and roads exist where fields once were – roads that have taken you in opposite directions and led you to places you never thought you’d be. Texts have gone from compliments to grocery reminders, and you start having those fights about nothing  – the ones you thought you were exempt from.

Then one morning you wake up and think, “Am I one of those people?” One of the fake happy people? You remember what your mom always told you about how passion and excitement wear off and love takes a new meaning over time. It’s children and obligation and commitment. It’s comfort and stability. And it either gets better with time, or it doesn’t.

So what determines whether you make it? Is it just old fashioned dedication? Is it because you can’t possibly live without that person? Is it realizing that sometimes no matter how hard you fight, you just don’t have the strength to make it? Is it finally throwing caution to the wind and everyone’s expectations and doing what makes you happy? Is it having confidence in yourself and your intuition? Is it learning how to accept imperfections and appreciating the grass on your side?

Who knows. I’ve never had any answers for you.

But here’s what I do know. You invest years of time and energy into someone; and when you think about it, time is all any of us have. You learn all their favorite things. You have dinner parties with their family and friends. They rearrange their apartment so it suits you both better. They buy you a toothbrush. You blow off your important things so you can show up to their important things. Your lives merge.

Until that one day when it all stops for whatever reason.

And the next thing you know, you’re fighting over books and who gets the Netflix account. You’re saying things you don’t mean just because you want them to feel bad, the way that you feel bad. Maybe you wanted it to end. Maybe you were devastated. Maybe you felt relieved. Maybe you couldn’t sleep for days.

Or perhaps there wasn’t any fighting. Maybe you just left because you didn’t know what else to do.

Either way, it’s a loss. A void. And it’s sad that a person who used to be on your Verizon 5 Faves is now just another person on the list of people you have to hide behind a shelf to avoid when you spot them in the chip aisle.

So, maybe, we just shouldn’t do all that.

Maybe, we should all be adults. And realize people are human. And we let each other down. And that we’re not all meant for each other, but that doesn’t mean we have to hate that person or pretend like we don’t see them.

Cus at one point and time, they were the only person you cared about seeing.

And, hey, they even bought you that toothbrush.

I have returned to blogging over at Celery and the City where I write about clean eating, healthy living and post allergy and gluten free recipes!

 

Givin A Little Bit Of My Love Away {Blunty Award Edition}

There’s something I’m bad at. Besides athletics, adhering to commitments, rocking the pale look, digesting gluten, self diagnosing my diseases, wearing yellow, driving and watching black & white movies. There’s something else.

Oh, I didn’t tell you about my recent discovery of gluten intolerance? Yea it’s pretty awesome. It’s about the most devastating news an Italian can possibly receive. For those of you who don’t know what gluten is – it’s pretty much anything baked, bread like, flaky, crackery and amazeballs! Don’t get me started. I don’t wanna talk about it.

The point is: I’m bad at something. And that something is pimping people out.

It just gets to the point where there are too many awesome people to pimp and I just procrastinate because it’s too overwhelming. So.. who needs the pimping in this scenario? Welp, you do. 

I don’t know if you understand that I almost literally put this blog out of it’s misery about once a week.  I’ve only mentioned it once or twice, but it’s an ongoing war of sorts. ‘Cus I mean, what’s the point of it all anyway? There’s never been a point, I guess. And we all know it’s a struggle for me to keep up with ANYTHING on a consistent basis. I’ve been trying to take Vitamin Cs since I was like, ten. But you know what? Every time I’m about to hit delete, I get some sort of email from one of you that just rawks my socks off. I remember last year when I went through that cancer scare and everything… I think I got more messages and emails from you guys than I did from my real life friends.

It simply amazes me.

You inspire me. You encourage me. I’ve even met a few of you in real life and you blew my expectations out of the water. Why do you have to be so much more awesome than me and make me feel all inferior? Not cool. So I just can’t tell you what an absolute privilege it has been meeting all of you, hearing your stories, learning about your lives. And that’s why I don’t quit this blog.

So, let the award ceremony commence!

BEARMAN CARTOONS

First, I just have to recognize Bearman. He’s a punk in the biggest way, but I’ve got a lil soft spot for him. He’s awesomely talented and funny and is always there if I have a nerd question or need help with something. He’s stuck around since before I was even Blunt Delivery and I wrote stuff that made absolutely no sense. 

No comment please.

He recently drew a caricature of me but then hot linked a picture from my blog. See that’s what I mean about being a punk. I was a lil disappointed that he didn’t put me in the wonder woman custom. And even more disappointed I ended up in the Diamond Girl shirt. But if my life has taught me anything it’s that it isn’t fair.

 

ABBY HAS ISSUES

To say that it was love at first read would be a horrendous understatement. Abby is HI-larious and a fantastic writer and everyone needs to read her blog like, yesterday. I don’t actually laugh when I read many blogs because they just aren’t funny. But I laugh when I read hers. Check out this post Everything Must Go about the garage sale experience.

THE DAN PEREZ BLOG

Besides being a kick @ss filmmaker, blogger and producer, Dan is a new virtual friend of mine. You’ll find all sorts of great stuff on his blog. Everything from his thank you letter to an ATT customer service rep The Ballad of Patsy Brown to funny stuff to his latest blog discoveries from his trip down the “rabbit hole.” I must send him a big thanks for featuring me on his recent post 5 Badass Women Bloggers You Should Be Following.

But what’s more important is that Dan is kind of a big deal. I don’t know if you’re aware, but that is Mr. John Travolta handing him an award in that picture, so…….that pretty much makes me famous by osmosis.

WOMEN ARE FROM MARS

Nikki is one of the most honest, relatable and refreshing bloggers I know of. She makes no apologies for anything and clearly, I love that. Not only is she awesomesauce, but she is also a very sweet,caring person who recently wrote me an email that made my month. She’s more than a virtual friend – she’s a compassionate person who cares about people, even though she comes across a little tell it like it is. Takes one to know one, I guess. Ladies, you’re going to particularly like her Tale of Two Farm Boys. Cus we can all relate.

JUST MAKING CONVO

Alright. I can’t really put into words how much I love this girl or her blog, but I don’t back down from a challenge. She is freaking hilarious. I mean, every single post will make you laugh. Her imagination is clearly out of control and we continue to reap the benefits. I beg of you to read her latest post, How To Answer Your Cell Phone During A Work Meeting Without Your Boss Finding Out.


STUMBLING TOWARDS NIRVANA

Jessica is just…. she’s incredible. She writes these transparent, heartfelt posts laced with humor, that I can almost always relate to as a late twentysomething who still doesn’t have anything figured out. Jess is a screen writer and before I know it she’s gonna get all famous. She is always quick to send me a message or email when she can sense that I’m going through something in my life and we just get each other, you know? And someday she’s gonna write my story. Uh, whenever I stop procrastinating and get it to her 😉 

I have returned to blogging over at Celery and the City where I write about clean eating, healthy living and post allergy and gluten free recipes!

 

Blunt Bites: Somewhere Inbetween Victory And A White Flag

[ Blunt Bites break away from my normal, detailed posts. They are short 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 had known it for a while, like the way my mom had known I shouldn’t get in the car that night.

You always know; but the thought of confronting you or telling anyone or proving it to myself just paralyzed me. Why? Because then, I would have to let you go. Because you were right – I’m not the kind of girl who lets a guy to mistreat her, although I wanted it to happen in some twisted, cosmic, full-circle kind of way.

Our history. It was sordid and confusing and wonderful. Magnetic. Full of passion and betrayal and a thousand beautifully broken things that came alive only when we were together. And after all of those years, I could not accept that to be the final curtain. It was never supposed to end that way. It was never supposed to end at all.

Maybe it was like when you’re five years old and you dress up as the rich, long-haired princess because deep down you know that pretending is as close as you’ll ever get.

As it turned out, we were both fantastic pretenders; although one of us – far more convincing. In the end, I felt many things; the most surprising of which was relief. Because who really wants to be a princess anyway? I always hated the color pink.

And I have way better hair.

If only I could have possibly fathomed how easily I would get over you.

Wondering where I went? I have returned to blogging over at my whole foods blog Celery and the City, where we live so clean it’s like your insides took a bath.

WANTED: Gray Haired African-American Man With Saxophone Skills

[Because it’s was my birthday, and because I’m refinishing cabinets and I started a new job, I’m recycling an oldie. If you remember this post, congratulations. You’re two years older and still like reading pointless stuff on the INTERNETS.]

I’m currently babysitting my best friend’s 6 month old.  Yes, the same best friend who pumps breast milk in my car and leaves it in my fridge, okay?  This is the first 10 minutes I’ve had all day and I find myself exhausted on the couch, drinking coffee that I poured five hours ago, and watching an Oprah special on loveless marriages.  Somehow I feel that I’ve just been given a glimpse into my life in about five fifteen twenty years.  I’m sorry, will you excuse me while I wipe the squash residue off my glasses?

Ok, I’m back. As you can deduce from its title – this blog ends with us pondering matters of Destiny, but first, it’s going to stop at the gas station and pick up some snacks while we avoid the subject.

Somewhere around 2am last night I was like, what the crap?  So I proceeded to pop in one of my all time favorite movies: Only You.  Stop scratching your head –  you’ve never seen it.  And if you have, you wrote it off within the first 5 mins or as soon as Marisa Tomei said, “He’d kill tigers for you.”  And you’d be justified. But I love it to pieces and that is just something you’ll have to live with. 

The reasons why I love this movie out number the reasons why I hate Neil Diamond. And no, it’s not just Robert Downey, Jr. speaking Italian. Or the runaway bride fiasco. Or Marisa Tomei. No, definitely not her. In fact, just ignore her the entire movie.  The main reason is because it is set in Italy, for which my obsession grew exponentially when I actually visited. Then my camera broke right in front of the Colosseum and ruined my trip.

Needless to say, I cannot express the beauty of this land. It’s magical. And I never use that gross word. Not only the scenery, but the people.  It’s a place where people actually care about something more than money.  They enjoy life.  They can’t understand you, but they’ll laugh with you and hand you some gelato.  Or a plate of pasta.  Go as quickly as you can.  It IS as beautiful as it looks. It WILL change your life.  And I PROMISE to stop talking about Italy now.

Anyway, I’ve never been a gooey person.  Shocker. I can’t even accept a compliment on my hair much less someone telling me that they can’t live without me. I hate receiving flowers or any other impractical gift that dies or has an expiration date; I would never dance in the middle of a street; I don’t want a fairytale wedding, and I certainly don’t celebrate “anniversaries,” whether they be actual legitimate yearly milestones or fake excuses to go out to eat, like, say, 7 months.

Although Only You may be a chic flick, the sheer beauty is that it actually makes fun of the concept of “destiny” and preconceived ideas that there is one true soulmate for everyone.  Because would I watch it if it didn’t?  Absolutely not.  I think when I was younger, I believed that your whole life was a search for “your other half,”  and now, I believe you could be happy with any number of people.  Just in a different way.  I’m not sure which conclusion is the right one, and I have a feeling I never will.

However, there are exceptions to every rule. 

And this is my exception:  if I should ever find myself strolling along a rainy, cobblestoney, Italian street, while being serenaded by a gray-haired African-American (note: he HAS to be African-American for this scenario to work) playing the saxophone, while talking to a charming and dangerously witty brunette who was able to quote Goethe  – I just might dance in the middle of the street.  Under the right circumstances, anything is possible.

If you’d like to witness this exact scenario, please skip ahead to 1:35.  If not, please watch the entire thing anyway. 

Only by joy and sorrow does a person know anything about themselves and their destiny.   

 – Goethe.

Wondering where I went? I have returned to blogging over at my whole foods blog Celery and the City, where we live so clean it’s like your insides took a bath.

Warning: Don’t Google Yourself Or You Might Find This

Listen, there are concrete reasons why I don’t Google myself. These reasons hold steadfast to the three fundamental principles of my character: avoidance, denial and laziness. The first time I broke this rule was last night. I’ve been breaking a lot of self-imposed rules lately. And, I’ve definitely learned my lesson.

Maybe, someday, I’ll tell you the story of Jamie. But for now, just a glimpse. In college, I fell in love with the boy who worked in the bookstore. Our relationship, although short-lived, passionate and magnetic, was life-changing. He just got me; one of those unexplainable phenomenons. In fact, I wrote a short memoir about him and it became my first nationally published story. Three years ago, he told me that he had gotten hired for a job based on a story he wrote about me. I congratulated him and hadn’t heard from him since. You can see where this is going….

This week, I came across the essay he had written about me years ago for the job application, somehow archived on a website. But, he didn’t actually post it on the site, the owners did so I can’t be too mad.

After reading this, I’m both flattered and offended – sentiments which plagued every moment we spent together. Truth is, what he wrote about me is more honest than anything I’d ever be able to write myself and a million times more eloquent. I was surprised that he had anything nice to say at all.

I guess the most pure way to see yourself is through someone else’s eyes. As ugly, or beautiful as it may be.

Written by: Jamie M.

Maybe this is cheating. Like the real life version of taking Spanish 101 in college when you actually took 3 years of Spanish in high school. Easy A, right? If you said yes, I would agree. Except here.

Because I know Britteny, at least as well as anyone who got dumped then jumped an average of 3 times a week each could. It’s not like relationships aren’t hard enough. I’ve written about them on more than one occasion. But add a crazy woman into the mix who has no idea what she wants, and well, disco.

I don’t think I’ve cared for and admired someone I’ve hated so much before. [BLUNT SIDENOTE: my sentiments exactly.] It’s a very difficult rationalization with which to come to terms. Britteny is a lot of things but the one thing I know she will always be is a writer. She will always use words like they were boxing gloves, and the world around her like a punching bag. I have read her private journals, which are nothing like the poised abruptness, laced with wit and sarcasm, that you find on her blogs and websites. But I doubt if many people have seen her private journals. [BLUNT SIDENOTE: I used to carry my journals with me everywhere. Shortly after returning home from Europe, they were stolen. I’ve never opened a journal since.]

While she takes a no-holds-barred approach to her public writing, her private writing is eloquent and touching, yet somehow still laced with that “funny, but not really funny” sarcasm that touches me; in those corners of your mind that suddenly react when you don’t feel so alone because someone just said something that you have felt for so long but could never put into words, and never tried to because you thought you were the only one thinking it.

She has never been one to let the absurdities of life walk freely down the street disguised as tradition, or social standards. She will haul you up to the front of the class like a fourth grader caught passing notes and make you read it in front of the whole class.

But at the same time all she’s really doing is asking questions. Part of the question is poking fun at what she’s questioning, but usually it’s well deserved. This is a person who has tormented me mercilessly since the very first moment we met, but somehow I have never lost respect for her.

She has driven me to unbridled tears more times than I will admit to and yet even as I write this I can’t help but think that she should be the one contacting you. I love writing. I almost feel like I might have missed my calling. It comforts me and brings peace to my troubled mind. But if I were ever to say, this is what I think a writer should be, this is what I think makes writing great, it would be her that I turn to.

Footnote: My intention with this was not to be personal, though it was, but to show you what my thoughts look like written out. And with regard to this thing below here asking what is my relationship with Britteny, I’m sorry but tumultuous was not one of the options.

Hah. Tumultuous.

Yea, that’s about right.

Wondering where I went? I have returned to blogging over at my whole foods blog Celery and the City, where we live so clean it’s like your insides took a bath.

Bachelorette 2011 Premiere Recap: Meet The Bachelors [A Video Reenactment]

If one was reading a book about my life, one might come across a chapter with a lot of crap about reality TV. You guys know that my very first paid writing job was writing recaps for reality TV shows, right?

Ohhhhh hecks yes.

Then, it’s like reality TV threw up all over my life and suddenly I was writing five news articles every day, 356 days a year, for the largest reality TV news website. Every morning, I was scamming the celebrity sites for breaking news. At night, I was watching everything from The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills to Jon & Kate Plus 8. In between I was eating Speidi Spaghettios. Oh, and don’t forget about the time I was in charge of recapping the overnight live feeds for Big Brother. I like to refer to this time in my life as That Time That Everything Blew. I remember my skin was breaking out very badly during those days, most likely an adverse reaction to Jon Gosselin.

You’ll be happy to know, however, that I managed to sneak through that part of my life without ever watching one episode of The Hills.

So ever since kissing that world goodbye and the ridiculous editor who complained if I drank my juice incorrectly yet couldn’t properly use a comma to save her life, I have drastically reduced my reality TV intake.  Just the essentials: American Idol, if it isn’t infiltrated with country singers; an occasional food show; and every single season of The Bachelor and Bachelorette.

Sorry.

I realize this is a problem. It’s too horrendous.

And you know how much I love red roses.

I’ve done you all a favor in case you missed the Bachelorette 2011 premiere last Monday. I’ve compiled a short video reenactment of highlights from the evening. That Ashley Herbert is one lucky lady.

 

photo: abc.com

My So-Called Life: If I Could Go Back

With the addition of Netflix into one’s household comes a whole lot of baggage.

Like, say, for instance, the fact that I’m re-watching the entire series of My So-Called Life and it’s bringing up a lot of tortured memories. Like how much I’m still in unrequited love with Jordan Catalano and secretly hoping we’ll run into each other in the boiler room. And how every time he leans up against a locker I still get all sorts of excited. And how I was even more awkward acting and looking in real life than Claire Danes or her character Angela ever tried to be.

So much plaid.

Then, there are, as pieces of fallen confetti, those random, amazing memories and firsts that can only high school can offer. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss those days – especially when I wake up to a stack of bills and grown-up problems, that seem to increase with complexity by the hour.

All of this has left me feeling nostalgic,and also wondering about things I would have done differently. You know, cus hindsight is 20/20 or some crap like that, right?

Well, I spose I can come up with a few. I’ll limit it just to high school – otherwise we’ll be here until 2012 when we all die. [Names may or may not be changed, just to make it more annoying for my friends who are going to dissect this.]

1. I would have actually raised my hand to answer questions in grade school as opposed to staring at the puke-stained carpet cus I was too shy to talk, while listening to Johnny s-s-spit out the answer already – which was always incorrect. I partially blame Johnny for my teeth-grinding habit.

2. I would have told Jack that I fell in love with him the very first day of 2nd grade when he picked me to be his wife during The Farmer in the Dell. Instead, we passive aggressively flirted with each other until we graduated – without ever admitting we had feelings – except it was no secret to anyone, but us.

3. I wouldn’t have let that creeptown Ben steal my first kiss, thus lumping me in with almost every girl in my school – including my best friend. How whack is THAT? Rite of passage, I guess.

4. I would have told that Susie [definitely a fake name – isn’t Susie always a fake name?] girl to back off, shut up, and mind her own business because she was nothing but a blond-haired, big-mouthed ball of meanness! And if she tried to spread one more rumor about me than I would yank her badly -box-bleached platinum hair out by the ever-loving roots.

5. I would have never been a cheerleader or rolled my eyes at my amazing parents.

6. I would have never driven to the mall that Friday night in a state of sheer devastation – against my mother’s wishes. She’s like the Nostradamus of mothers. Almost lost my life that night and my poor broken head will never be the same.

7. Ditto on #4 to about twelve other girls.

8. No, I still wouldn’t have gotten a class ring. I actually made the right choice the first time.

9. But I would have insisted on Senior picture redos at any cost.

10. I would have started plucking my eyebrows a lot sooner, tanning a lot later, and highlighting my hair a quarter to never.

So, my lovelies, would you have done anything differently?

Wondering where I went? I have returned to blogging over at my whole foods blog Celery and the City, where we live so clean it’s like your insides took a bath.

Royal Wedding Disaster: Prince William’s Other Woman

Listen. I’m not one to burst happiness bubbles.

I’m a firm believer that if left alone, they will always burst on their own. So I just worry about brushing my teeth and not getting heart disease and everything else will fall into place.

But.

There are times when people just need to know the truth.

That time is now.

And that people is the world. And Kate Middleton.

I’m not trying to destroy anyone’s impending marriage, I’m simply trying to get closure. For William. And our sordid past. Rest assured, the rugby shirts have been burned. The love letters handwritten on Royal letterhead are in the dumpster. Buckingham Palace has been removed from my speed dial. Facebook pictures updated.

So, when the TODAY Show asked viewers to send in a 2 minute video about why they deserve to be flown to London for the week of the Royal Wedding, I found it the perfect opportunity to reveal a secret that’s been plaguing me for years.

And no, I didn’t wash off the face mask just because it was the TODAY show. I worked it into the video.

It’s all about efficiency.

Unfortunately, it could only be two minutes long, so I had to cut out many of the details and factual evidence. But the truth still speaks.

Willy, I’m sorry.

[kml_flashembed movie="http://www.youtube.com/v/rD8-ZJzQBqE" width="425" height="344" allowfullscreen="true" fvars="fs=1" /]

photo: princeharry.co.uk

altered by: eeer, not altered.

Blunt Getting Married: Sage Advice From Jennifer Not Aniston

{Listen up Blunt Deliverites. History is being made this very, very instant as I’m about to reveal my very first guest blogger. Remember how I blindsided you awhile back with that minor little announcement about my engagement?  Well, there is someone who would like to dispense a lil advice for the Blunt bride-to-be. That someone, is Jen of When Pigs Fly. We have been bosom blogging buddies since time began. She’s far better at everything than I am, and if you don’t give her a big Blunt welcome then you can hold your breath come Christmas card season!}

Let’s see. I’ve been a fan of Brit’s and Blunt Delivery for about two years now. How time flies. It seems like only yesterday I was following her every post. A couple of years on and I feel like I know probably more than I should about her crazy life. The woman is downright funny and inspiring. She has helped me to learn about throwing caution to the wind with my writing and the fact that there’s something to be said for actually living the dream, not just paying lip service to it.

Before I get too sappy and start sounding more than a tad bit like a stalker, time to move on. Just needed to get the tribute out of the way before diving into the meat of this guest post. Yes, you heard right, a guest post. As soon as Brit dropped the bomb on all of us that she was planning on getting married, I began formulating some advice for her in my head. As I can’t keep these types of things to myself, I pleaded/conned her into letting me share them in a post a la Blunt Delivery.

I’ve been married for nearly 17 years. SEVENTEEN YEARS, people. When I see it in print, screaming at me on the page like that, I feel well past my sell by date. In the words of my mother, may she rest in peace, “Getting old sucks.” Yes, it does. To combat the slow decline into an appalling state of suckage, I have remained in an on again off again state of denial. I am the same age as Jennifer Aniston, our birthdays only a day apart. 42 never looked as good as it does on the former Friends star. I like to think I’m not too off the mark. Considering my head still thinks I’m 28, I just use good old Jen as a body barometer. Let’s hope she continues to keep herself well preserved for quite sometime. Otherwise, I shall have to find a new coping strategy.

But, I digress. The real point of me taking up space here is to share my years of wisdom on the marriage front. There are several things to keep in mind when embarking on such a journey with another human being. I’m going to let you in on a little secret. Most of them involve empty toilet paper rolls and dirty clothes.

1)     Choose your battles – My mother-in-law gave me this sage piece of advice years ago when I got into one of the few truly unhappy discussions with my husband about something we didn’t see eye to eye on. There are times to stand your ground and there are times to let it go. Most of the time, it’s better to just let it go. Your man refuses to remember to put a new toilet roll on the holder or pick up his dirty shirts off the floor, chances are this is not a battle you are going to win over time. Trust, me there will be a multitude of things you do that drive him crazy. Unless its routinely setting the house on fire or clipping your toenails in bed, let’s hope he too decides not to pick a fight.

2)     Compromise – This is a corollary to number one. Life is about compromise and whether you like it or not so is marriage. I’m just going to tell you now, unless your soon to be husband is secretly gay, he hates throw pillows. All men hate throw pillows. Do they have to live with throw pillows? If they’re married to a woman, they will. Personally, I’m not a fan of watching Major League Baseball or professional golf on television when I’d rather be soaking up reruns of Modern Family, but I go with it. It’s called compromise and it’s not always fun but it’s necessary.

3)     Listen (or at least do a really good job of pretending to listen) – I would like to say that my husband is the only one who does not listen but I would be lying. Multitasking is a fallacy even though we all know women are better at faking it than men. My husband taps away on his phone while simultaneously playing Angry Birds on his iPad all the while “listening” to me inform him that our friends will be picking us up for dinner at 6pm that night. When 5:45 rolls around and I bark at him to change his clothes, he wonders why I never told him what time he needed to be ready. This happens while I am writing at the computer and he reports about something I need to know. It’s annoying, not good for the relationship and it means finding yourself in your own personal episode of Three’s Company with a big misunderstanding and no hugs from two dippy roommates to make you feel better.

4)     Keep yourself happy – “You complete me.” This is one of the all time best lines in a movie but, contrary to popular belief, Jerry McGuire is not reality. No one can make you happy. Only you can do that.  As soon as you start relying on someone else to fulfill you, you’re in trouble. My husband is the best part of my life but no matter how wonderful he is, he can’t find my way for me. That’s my job.

5)     Like the song says, “Tell him that you love him.” – There’s nothing quite like hearing it even though he knows it. That goes for the women too.

There you go. That’s my top five, shot from the hip, list of advice for the soon to be Blunt Delivery bride. There’s nothing earth shattering about it. But, we must be doing something right since my husband and I are still married, very happy and carrying on conversations containing complete sentences with one another.

Like I said before, growing old sucks. Getting old with someone you love makes it all seem just this side of all right. Before you know it, you’ll be seventeen years down the road, deluding yourself into believing you’ve aged nearly as well as some Hollywood A-lister, and hopefully looking back on the happiest years of your life to date spent with your best friend.

Congratulations and all the best!

Jen (not Aniston)

Do you guys have any advice for me?

 

Let’s see. I’ve been a fan of Brit’s and Blunt Delivery for about two years now. How time flies. It seems like only yesterday I was following her every post. A couple of years on and I feel like I know probably more than I should about her crazy life. The woman is downright funny and inspiring. She has helped me to learn about throwing caution to the wind with my writing and the fact that there’s something to be said for actually living the dream, not just paying lip service to it.

 

Before I get too sappy and start sounding more than a tad bit like a stalker, time to move on. Just needed to get the tribute out of the way before diving into the meat of this guest post. Yes, you heard right, a guest post. As soon as Brit dropped the bomb on all of us that she was planning on getting married, I began formulating some advice for her in my head. As I can’t keep these types of things to myself, I pleaded/conned her into letting me share them in a post a la Blunt Delivery.

 

I’ve been married for nearly 17 years. SEVENTEEN YEARS, people. When I see it in print, screaming at me on the page like that, I feel well past my sell by date. In the words of my mother, may she rest in peace, “Getting old sucks.” Yes, it does. To combat the slow decline into an appalling state of suckage, I have remained in an on again off again state of denial. I am the same age as Jennifer Aniston, our birthdays only a day apart. 42 never looked as good as it does on the former Friends star. I like to think I’m not too off the mark. Considering my head still thinks I’m 28, I just use good old Jen as a body barometer. Let’s hope she continues to keep herself well preserved for quite sometime. Otherwise, I shall have to find a new coping strategy.

 

But, I digress. The real point of me taking up space here is to share my years of wisdom on the marriage front. There are several things to keep in mind when embarking on such a journey with another human being. I’m going to let you in on a little secret. Most of them involve empty toilet paper rolls and dirty clothes.

 

1) Choose your battles – My mother-in-law gave me this sage piece of advice years ago when I got into one of the few truly unhappy discussions with my husband about something we didn’t see eye to eye on. There are times to stand your ground and there are times to let it go. Most of the time, it’s better to just let it go. Your man refuses to remember to put a new toilet roll on the holder or pick up his dirty shirts off the floor, chances are this is not a battle you are going to win over time. Trust, me there will be a multitude of things you do that drive him crazy. Unless its routinely setting the house on fire or clipping your toenails in bed, let’s hope he too decides not to pick a fight.

 

2) Compromise – This is a corollary to number one. Life is about compromise and whether you like it or not so is marriage. I’m just going to tell you now, unless your soon to be husband is secretly gay, he hates throw pillows. All men hate throw pillows. Do they have to live with throw pillows? If they’re married to a woman, they will. Personally, I’m not a fan of watching Major League Baseball or professional golf on television when I’d rather be soaking up reruns of Modern Family, but I go with it. It’s called compromise and it’s not always fun but it’s necessary.

 

3) Listen (or at least do a really good job of pretending to listen) – I would like to say that my husband is the only one who does not listen but I would be lying. Multitasking is a fallacy even though we all know women are better at faking it than men. My husband taps away on his phone while simultaneously playing Angry Birds on his iPad all the while “listening” to me inform him that our friends will be picking us up for dinner at 6pm that night. When 5:45 rolls around and I bark at him to change his clothes, he wonders why I never told him what time he needed to be ready. This happens while I am writing at the computer and he reports about something I need to know. It’s annoying, not good for the relationship and it means finding yourself in your own personal episode of Three’s Company with a big misunderstanding and no hugs from two dippy roommates to make you feel better.

 

4) Keep yourself happy – “You complete me.” This is one of the all time best lines in a movie but, contrary to popular belief, Jerry McGuire is not reality. No one can make you happy. Only you can do that. As soon as you start relying on someone else to fulfill you, you’re in trouble. My husband is the best part of my life but no matter how wonderful he is, he can’t find my way for me. That’s my job.

 

5) Like the song says, “Tell him that you love him.” – There’s nothing quite like hearing it even though he knows it. That goes for the women too.

 

There you go. That’s my top five, shot from the hip, list of advice for the soon to be Blunt Delivery bride. There’s nothing earth shattering about it. But, we must be doing something right since my husband and I are still married, very happy and carrying on conversations containing complete sentences with one another.

 

Like I said before, growing old sucks. Getting old with someone you love makes it all seem just this side of all right. Before you know it, you’ll be seventeen years down the road, deluding yourself into believing you’ve aged nearly as well as some Hollywood A-lister, and hopefully looking back on the happiest years of your life to date spent with your best friend.

 

Congratulations and all the best!

 

Jen (not Aniston)

Blunt Bites: The Girl Who Taught Me More Than High School

[ 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. ]

It was my very first day of work, and you offered me some of your lunch even though you barely had enough to eat. Although it was a struggle to understand you through your thick accent, your laugh was desperately contagious. Your husband also worked at the same company. You would get so excited every time he walked by. I later discovered that you moved your family here from Poland to make a better life. You taught yourself English, graduated with honors, and moved to a tiny house down the street with your three kids and five relatives.

You always carried hot pink lipstick from the Dollar Store in your apron, and the only thing cheesier than your constant smile was the Harlequin romance novels you read every day on your break.

Five years later, I recognized your voice instantly when you called into the bank. I confirmed your name, but didn’t reveal who I was. I could sense that you had been crying. Your account was overdrawn because you had been trying to support your three kids on minimum wage ever since your husband and sisters had left for the grocery store and never returned. Two years had passed since then. You mentioned that you had just celebrated your 40th birthday by making a cake out of flour and water, then you started laughing just like you always did. As I was fighting back tears, I don’t know what alarmed me more: the tragedy of your circumstances or your positive attitude toward them. You responded, “As long as I still have a choice, I’d rather laugh than cry.”

Her name was Renee. I wish there were more of her in this world. She epitomized love. And she taught me more than high school.