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.

Plus Sides To Dating A Heroin Addict

Well, there’s always ice cream in the fridge.

And I don’t know if we’ve been introduced but that’s kind of a big deal.

That’s about it. Oh, did I say side(s)? Unintentional mislead, sorry.

So, with lightening speed we’re encroaching upon the worst time of the year: my birthday. For those who’ve been around awhile, you know that there are a few things in this life that’ll piss me off more than my birthday. Except this one is going to be extra special annoying since it’s my final birthday before turning THIRTY.

Can you even believe that crap?

And just as is the routine, I’m starting to have all these introspective and quasi-deep thoughts about life and where I’m at, or more importantly, not at. Oh, you couldn’t tell by the title that this was going to be one of those posts?

Good, cus it’s not. I wouldn’t do that to you on a Thursday.

But the next one will be. So get ready. I’ll also be giving out some props to select bloggers.

Like clockwork, every year, right around my birthday I lock myself out of my house. I never know when this phenomenon will happen, I am just at the mercy of the universe. But, there is always certain criteria, if you will:

1. It is hotter than a landscaper in Hates.

2. Humidity is at 600%

3. I am wearing either pjs or a swim suit.

4. I haven’t showered yet.

5. It always somehow involves working out/trying to get out of working out.

So, last week, at 11:00 am, the universe gave me my early birthday present. I was locked out, in pjs, looking disgusting, hundred degree weather, super humid, with no where to go except my cement patio which has full sun all day long.

Don’t ask how these things happen. Embrace the mystique.

My friend Jo, who is becoming a regular on Blunt Delivery yet is not at all okay with that, fortunately had the day off. The unfortunate twist is that she picked me up on her white horse posing as a Honda then hijacked me into “working out” via paddle boating. We get repeatedly disgusted at the rapid rate our metabolisms are malfunctioning and thus, we’re always searching for ways to exercise that aren’t really exercise.

Jo: Hey last year when we did this we saw a paddle boat of nuns, remember?

Me: Um. We gotta take these life jackets off so we can get a tan. Then this won’t be totally useless.

[after and hour of floating and talking]

Me: Where are we? Everything looks the same? Crap. I can’t feel my legs. I’m sweating everywhere. I need food.

Jo: When we get back, I know this mexican place where we won’t see anyone. I always go there looking like crap. And $2.49 margaritas.

[Two hours later after circling, fighting against extreme winds and what I’m convinced was a defective paddle boat, we got off torture island and effectively canceled our “work out.”]

And then double canceled it.

Then, as if the world’s most annoying day couldn’t get any longer, she decides to stop at the thrift store on the way home. Our eyes beheld many splendid treasures.

This is a choice no one should have to make. I’ll take them all!

Jo, thank you for rescuing me. I guess.

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

Life Lately In Pictures: Brought To You By My Camera Phone

It started out like any other Wednesday night in my living room. Except my hip had just popped out of joint, and I was sitting across from my friend Jo, who was wearing an eye patch.

I’ll address your concerns later. But basically, she chemically burned her eye and my hip always pops out of joint, rendering me helpless for about an hour or so. The doctor said working out would help to prevent the problem. Translation: I’ll have this problem for life.

As we were talking about the travesties and paranoias of our lives, while simultaneously trying to diagnose our relational hang-ups, she went to the bathroom. So, I got up and started hopping down the hallway to my bedroom. As I bypassed Jo in the bathroom, the door was open and she was applying a face mask. Around the eye patch.

I’m not sure what it was about that extremely pathetic moment, but I started laughing so hard that my one good leg gave out on me. Then, Jo, like any wounded heroine, came over to assist me in walking down the hallway. Only problem was that my bum hip was on the right side and her bum eye was on the left.

One of our friends said, “Together you guys make the perfect pirate.”

I’m not sure if we make the perfect anything. Then, we sat on the couch, drank boxed wine out of plastic cups, while we commented on each others FaceSpace statuses about the events of the evening.

In other news, life has been busy. And, I’d like to attempt to explain it, but who has the energy? So, I’m going to give you a brief overview in pictures, compliments of my camera phone.

My dad gave my grandma Mother’s day flowers, except she didn’t have a vase. So he made one out of a lemon-lime pop container.

My best friends moved away to California, again. Except this time, they took their newborn with them! How dare they! I miss trying to eat his head.

This is how I looked for the entire week after the move. It could also be because there are two country finalists on American Idol.

Then, I ate nothing but carbs for a day or so. And my scale gave me a subliminal message.

I babysat this girl, and her little sister. I’ve had my fill of Tinkerbell, play-doh and pink stuff for the rest of my life.

I ran out of spoons. It didn’t slow me down.

I got my first Starbucks cake pop, and at first I was grossed out cus it looked like an eyeball. Then, I was just grossed out cus it was gross.

A lot of these pictures have to do with food. … I’m not sure what that means.

I’m gonna eat the rest of this sandwich and get back to ya.

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.

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.

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.

How To Break Up With Someone

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!

[kml_flashembed movie="http://www.youtube.com/v/myjB5q9gOtQ" width="425" height="344" allowfullscreen="true" fvars="fs=1" /]

Because I care,

Blunt

Valentine’s Day Is About As Cool As Ke$ha

I just had to check in and see how you are surviving the Empire State Building of Lame Holidays thus far?

Me? Eh.

Let’s see here. What could I possibly say or do that might lift your spirits on such a dreadful day? Oh, I know, I know!!!!!

1. Make a list of things I love.

2. Post a bunch of pictures of heart-themed things.

3. Talk about how much I love my significant other because of all the cutesy stuff he got me.

Oh wait. What?

You mean all of those things would make you vomit and never revisit this blog?

See? That’s why we’re friends.

Maybe you should watch my Valentine’s Day Sucks video again?

No? Still not working? Well then I’m fresh out of ideas. So can we discuss something else?

Ke$ha.

I blame all of you for making her famous.

Well, maybe not you specifically, cus you’re better than that. I’m referring to those others of millions of peoples.

This just isn’t going anywhere, I can tell. So instead of dwelling on my hatred for all things related to ridiculous pop stars, I’m going to spread a little Blunt love for some of my favorite new blogs. I’m spreadin it smooth, like a fine-churned butter – and you all know I don’t spread it very often. This is a scarce commodity.

Maybe I can’t cheer you up, but one of these guys certainly can.

[If you’re wondering why the Barbie is clothed, it’s cus her Salvation Army $0.99 sticker was adhered to her bosom and it was quite shameful. For her. Sorry if that threw your world off its axis.]

Johnny Utah. Let me just preface this by the fact that it takes a lot for me to read a blog all the way through. They’re usually just a snoozefest, you know? Not this guy. Please read his Open Letter To Teens. Hilarious, and helpful to the world.

Breath of Ella. Why? She’s an Alienator and a Masochist -both qualities that I appreciate in a friend. Also, she’s recovering from a stress-induced bald spot.

Starbucks Break. The lovely Cheryl, who I refer to as my Asian Sunrise, is part of the duo that helped me redesign this here blog. She is also a commitment-phobe, which makes me feel warm and gooey inside.

Awaiting my mystery chocolates from whomever they may come,

Blunt

kesha photo: posh24.com

snide question written over photo: me


Valentine’s Day And Other Unfortunate Realities

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