Cosmo, You Cray Cray

So I went to a wedding this weekend. On the beach. In Montauk, NY. At the end of October. Brrrr. Being that it was a Fall wedding, I was a bit perplexed as to what I should wear. So, when I found a charcoal dress in July for under $50 I scooped that baby up. Score right? Nope! Reed was in the wedding and learned months later his suit was the exact same charcoal color as my dress. Since he is NOT a proponent of us dressing alike, and his outfit was pretty set in stone, I was kindly (??) told to buy another dress. But I looooved my dress. So, being the resourceful chick that I am, I went online and found the same dress in another color (also on sale), and had it shipped to my house. Crisis averted. Except, I bought it a size smaller, meaning it no longer fit as perfectly as the charcoal dress (may she RIP). This inspired frantic googling of "how to lose weight in a week". Which brought me to Cosmo's website. Which leads me to the real reason for this post.

Never a huge fan of the poorly written articles or somewhat ridiculous messages to females, I probably haven't read a Cosmo mag since Freshman year of college. So, when I stumbled across their Drop 5 Pounds in a Week article, and it actually provided some healthy strategies, I thought maybe I needed to give Cosmo another chance in my adult life. So whilst on the phone with Reed last night I thought it would be fun to peruse the Relationship Advice section together. After reading 9 Signs He Likes You and finding out he does, in fact, like me, I let him pick a category. Shockingly, he picked Sex & Love (emphasis on the Sex obvi. He is a boy after all.). First article - 16 Homemade Sex Toys You Need to Try. Reed: "What the hell is a homemade sex toy?" Me: "Maybe this will inspire you to participate in arts and crafts." (I've been begging for pumpkin carving for three weeks; we've only gotten as far as purchasing the pumpkins as Reed continues to stand his ground on not participating in creative projects. But I digress.) We quickly learned DIY sex toys meant finding things around the house and bringing them to the bedroom. Basically ensuring you should never have a dinner party again, because spoons and spatulas apparently have alternative uses.  Me: "Imagine if I was reading this on my own, and thought these were great ideas? What would you do if all of a sudden one night I came to bed with a donut, clothes pins, and an electric tooth brush?" Reed: "You'd quickly be leaving the bed with your donut, clothes pins, and electric tooth brush." Welp, turns out we're not DIY sex toy people. It also turns out that Cosmo is still the crazy magazine it's always been. While it certainly provided amusing conversation between Reed and me, and the quizzes are entertaining on a hungover Sunday with the girls...ladies, I BEG you, do not take this shit seriously. I'm thinking Cosmo should not be the expert on your relationships just as much as they shouldn't be giving Career & Money advice (actual category on the site). And if you're going to do the 31 Days of Hot Sex Challenge, I suggest you do it with someone you are more than casually dating, and I HIGHLY suggest you fill him in on your challenge, or he's going to be really confused when you get to Day 26 and try to make him pose naked so you can sketch him.

Boys. Boys. Boys.

Dear Almost 30-Year-Old Gentlemen,

My apologies in advance for the aggressive tone here, but... Why the fuck are you still acting like boys? Why are you still living in an apartment that looks like a college dorm? Still not looking for a girlfriend because you're afraid it will end your social life?  And why the fuck are you not calling girls back whom you clearly like and have mucho in common with? Essentially, why are you still being a ManChild?

**For the record, I am not discussing Reed (he's gotten wind of this blog, so I may as well give credit where credit is due). Though the boy can't seem to fathom the ideas that you have to wash a bathroom weekly or that eating out (or at Mom's) every night is not acceptable, he is actually extremely adult-like when it comes to our relationship, his career, and his overall ability to have grown-up conversations. I've even had a few moments where I accidentally "girl-rambled" about the future, and he hasn't run away. Side note to all boyfriends: every girlfriend has your future planned out, including what you'll be wearing at the wedding. Also, the NameGame was played prior to your first date. You're welcome & Get over it.

So, moving back to the direction of this post, this is referencing the boys my Besties are still forced to deal with, and the boys I am happy to no longer be dealing with (as long as I don't continue to yell at Reed incessantly  for the coffee spilled three days ago on the kitchen counter). With input from said Besties, we've compiled some ManChild behaviors, and some quick modifications, that could help all of us going forward:

1. If you don't want a girlfriend, just say it. Some girls don't want a boyfriend either. Just be honest, so you don't make the poor dame fall in love with you. Bonus for you: This will make your life easier. If you tell her upfront you don't want a relationship, and she still wants to see you, you're never going to be in trouble for that. Because her friends (if they're good friends) will either tell her to evacuate immediately or defend you later on.
2. If you are dating a girl, "forgot" to tell her you were terrified of commitment, and then choose to enlighten her three months and 45 sleepovers later, DO NOT call her anymore. Your sexytime privileges have been revoked. Find someone else to dine with.
3. If you like a girl, CALL HER. Don't tell her she's "the coolest chick", or soo beautiful, or that all your friends like her. It doesn't matter if you're rambling this on Thursday night at the bar.  Random texts without purpose and daily Words with Friends games don't count as appropriate communication either. Make. A. Move. Reed actually was a culprit of this, and six years later he got the girl - because this time he called. And now he knows better. 27 year olds, if you wait six years to pick up the phone, chances are she's going to be scooped up. And then it won't matter. And you'll be sad.
4.  If it's a booty call, keep it a booty call. Girls keep some boys around just for bootay too FYI . But don't muddy the waters - this is where you DON'T call her. No texting or Words with Friends on this one either. Because someone's going to get confused and you're going to be in a pickle ... With a lonely pickle (See what I did there?).

This is in no way a "Fuck Boys Tonight" post. I think girls make a lot of mistakes too. I'll even go so far as to say I think some of these mistakes are partially why nearing 30 boys are still acting the way they are. Maybe we'll blog about girl problems another day, but for now here's what it comes down to: Just.Be.Honest - with yourselves and the ladies. If you truly want to be single, that's cool. No one says you have to be on a hunt for a girlfriend. But when you find a good girl - as I believe most of my Besties to be  - maybe give it an honest shot. Because male or female, you don't want to be the last single one standing.

Can I Get A Map Please?

Most non-shocking statement of 2012: I'm a control freak. I am always someone with a plan - or a planned plan at least - and it seems that currently, well,  I have no plan. I have everything I want - awesome job, amazing besties, fab BF, happy family that's juuust close enough to see whenever I want, but no idea how to squeeze everything in or how life will transition going forward. So.This is very different for me. Usually I am miserable or overly concerned about the progress in one or two aspects of my life, and have a wonderful plan as to how to become happy or fix what's causing angst. I mean, clearly, I'm a bomb little planner because I got everything I currently want (except a puppy - I still really want a fucking puppy), but now I'm trying to balance it all and not spend my life wishing for everything to be more organized, better planned, and basically wrapped up in a pretty little bow.

Not for nothing, but no one tells you about this part of life. No one warns you. No one tells you there is a short period where you just want to / get to have selfish fun with your friends. And that then you reach a time, approximately around age 27ish, where you start to worry that you're going to grow old alone (if you don't count the 14 cats you'll likely share residence with), so you walk a thin line between loving singledome and wishing to find your someone ASAP. And certainly no one tells you that once you found a someone, potentially your real someone, that you'll continue attempting a balancing act. You're not really choosing one person or thing over another, but there's simply not enough time to always fit friends, family, a boyfriend, and that increasingly demanding, yet rewarding career.

For the record, I am very aware that I'm White Whining all over the place, because these are not REAL problems. Being really happy is not a problem. I am beyond beyond aware that I don't have much to complain about (knock on wood).  I'm just...confused? What does one do without a plan and why doesn't anyone older and wiser have a plan I can copy? A road map of sorts? Just some suggestions perhaps? (I'm well aware few older and wisers read this blog, so I suppose that's a bit of a rhetorical question.)

Maybe no one warned me because not everyone gets this. Not everyone gets to have the awesome friend time in their 20s, mixed with career missteps, and an overall sense of non-direction, teaching you valuable life lessons and ultimately landing you in a position where you are surrounded by all the right people and things. Where you feel like you are finally doing EXACTLY what you should be doing when you should be doing it, but now you're not really sure what you should be doing next.

Since no one seems to have advice for this life moment, I guess I'll refer to my girl Carrie, who always seems to have wise input (except with boys, who picks Big over Aidan? Still not pleased about that) . . .

“Sometimes we need to stop analyzing the past, stop planning the future, stop figuring out precisely how we feel, stop deciding exactly what we want, and just see what happens.” 

I Want a Puppy and I Want Him NOW

I've decided puppies to me must be what babies are to other girls.

As was discussed previously, I'm not much of a baby girl. I'm not going to coo, I'm probably not even going to touch your brand new offspring unless you make me. I will say my hellos and probably do some awkward finger / handshake until I finally become comfortable around the munchkin or he reaches toddlerdome - whichever comes first. However, you saunter over with your brand new canine baby and I turn to mush.

Hence, my new jealous streak. EVERYONE around me is getting a puppy and I.Want.One. This has to be what the last single girl feels like when all her friends get married and have babies and she can't find her Prince Charming. I just want my Prince Fido. A (large) diamond ring and a condo are always nice too, but I'll wait on those and take the dog today, thankyouverymuch.

Sadly, much like the single girl who can't find a potential mate, force him to settle down, and make babies yesterday, I also cannot instantly morph my lifestyle into one that fits a new puppyfriend.

::Sigh::

In the meantime, I'll be borrowing / dognapping these little furballs who have recently entered my life:

Ladies, Ladies, Ladies

I have a quick fashion complaint, and it centers on the brassiere. Bra straps hanging out, bras under sheer shirts, bras as shirts? When did this become okay? I'm as big a fan of fantastic lingerie as anyone, but ladies... let's cover our ladies. And NYC, I'm not sure what you chicas are thinking, but  it is CERTAINLY NOT okay to walk around  topless .

Baby Got Back

Okay, for anyone who knows me...baby don't got back. But baby seems to be trying her damndest to get it. Not someone to ever turn down a meal to begin with, my struggle to say no to delicious treats is only getting harder with a new boy in my life. I've always prided (and cursed) myself on my ability to lick a plate clean, but I have met my match. Reed can go HAM on a meal like I've never seen. Dinners now mandate apps, main course, sides (or a "supplemental meal" as he likes to refer to the extra order of mac and cheese), and dessert. I haven't technically gained weight yet, but I also haven't lost weight and with the quantity of food I am requested (required?) to take in as part of this relationship, it can only be a matter of time. Especially since I am between gyms.

Operation September: Get my ass back in shape. Because I really don't want to be this kid, and right now I feel like I could eat a hippopotamus. Don't worry, I opted for a salad instead. I heart hippos too much to eat them.

Thank You Zuckerberg

Ohhhh Facebook...what a gift and a curse you are. Normally a fan of the good book - a wonderful forum to share  photos, videos, useless musings, and stay connected with friends -  I was unpleasantly surprised to find it bite me on the bottom recently.

This weekend was the wedding of two fab friends who are fab for each other. (Unfortunately, I find this is not the norm, but that's another post for another day.) Said event is also the wedding referenced in my previous + 1 post , to which I was elated to learn I could bring a date (further proof this couple is bomb). As someone who did not have a +1 in my life, I asked my friend Texy to join me and called it a day. Of course, in true Ally May fashion, I decided to get a boyfriendishness person shortly thereafter and complicate things. Not one to break a date (even with a friend), and certainly one to avoid introducing a new person to everyone from my childhood, I explained the situation to all parties involved and kept my original +1. There was some light teasing from Reed (probably easier than referring to him as my boyfriendishness person), but he knew it was poor timing and Texy was just a friend, so it was all good in the hood.

Enter Facebook. When I say this wedding was awesome - it was awesome. Like any normal 27 year old, when awesome things happen, I post them on Facebook. And helllooo, there was a photo booth. That's getting posted and tagged - STAT. Well, poor Reed, who lacks my enthusiasm for the book, was bombarded with questions .5 seconds after posting. And as a boy who tells me everything, he openly shared the parade of comments from his sister, college friend, business partner, etc.  I was quickly assured, "I'm not mad at you, I'm just annoyed I have to answer questions because of Facebook." What the Hell do I do with that? There's nothing to fight about so that's not the solution. Can't defriend his people, that's not a good look and I'm not trying to hide anything.

Bottom line - Not.Cool.People. Sneakiness rule #1 - If you're going to be shady, you don't post your activities on social media sites. In other words, I'm not being shady. We've got a good thing going here - we're honest with each other, we're making the long distance thing work, and we get.each.other. Please don't make the one time a day I get to see him be accompanied with a shmoopy face and a grumpy mood that I didn't cause and I can't fix. And it's really not your fault Zuckerberg, but you didn't help much here either.

Hakuna Matata?

Welp. Remember how I bumped into the boy from three hours away? In a bar neither of us ever go to? In a city where neither of us lives? And remember how I WAS NOT going to go down the "maybe this means something" path? And I was going to stand my ground and be realistic because he owns a business three hours away in the middle of nowhere, and I love my job and my city, so this can't go anywhere? Yeahhhh ...so I didn't actually do the whole "being realistic" thing. Instead, I think I have a boyfriendishness person (I think that's what grownups call it).

I blame Disney. My entire childhood was spent watching ridiculous love stories between mermaids and princes, beasts and beautiful book nerds, street rats and princesses, two lions for God's sake. I mean, talk about relationships that shouldn't work. But they live happily ever after. In a castle, most likely. Sounds fantastic to me.

It's a fairly well-known fact that I love a good story. Any situation becomes better if there's a good story as to how you found yourself there. Coincidence, intuition, fate, deja vu, karma...these are a few of my favorite things. So, when a boy you liked six years ago, whom you've had multiple missed connections with, comes up to you in an extremely random place and says "Ally May?"; you take notice. When you realize he has the same ridiculously random, sometimes awful, music appreciation; you take notice. Same over-the-top love of dogs? Notice. Same hippyish/somewhat snotty/pretty chill/sometimes uptight/doesn't make sense at all personality? Notice. And when you finally realize he's absolutely hysterical, you give up trying to fight it and just go with it. And all this, on top of a great six-year story.... I know what you're thinking. I didn't stand a chance. Silly girl.

So, a big thank you to the Wonderful World of Disney, because you have turned me into a very dumb girl, who believes in fairy tales, and now has a boyfriendishness person, and is completely ignoring geography.

Another big thank you to this guy, because you were absolutely used as bribery in getting this little long distance thing sparked up again.

+1

*Note: +1 has more than one meaning in my little circle of friends, which could really provide content for an entirely different entry, but for the purposes of this post, let's focus in on the traditional +1; "Please come to my party and bring a human of the opposite sex with whom you can enjoy a meal, some drinks, and whatever steps you still remember from the Electric Slide".

As a single lady, I am forever rather annoyed by the fact that I get wedding invites without dates. Before I offend my married friends, I do understand the logic behind it. I know what it costs per plate, and the battles You and Mr. You have had over the guest list, and that negotiating my +1 (whom you probably don't know) into the seating chart is the least of your problems. I totally understand that it's altogether easier to have us single girls just travel together, as a pseudo couple. Which is why I said I am only rather annoyed. Buuut for those of you going forward, who have a little extra in the budge, it would be nice to bring a date. Because sometimes it gets awkward to be the three girls at the wedding, dancing with their purses in the middle.

So, you can imagine my elation when wedding invitations arrived in the mail yesterday for Roombud Bestie and me, and guest. Like, we each get to bring one. As in, we're not each others' guest. Wahoo! Then I started to over think things. . . Who to bring? A potential love interest? (Let's just assume, for the sake of the blog, there is one right now) That's a lot of pressure. I really can't visualize any situation where bringing a not-quite BF to meet friends and family wouldn't cause more anxiety than enjoyment. Okay, so definitely bringing a friend. Which leads to a different set of potential concerns.  I have already successfully set up my semi-normal male friends with my semi-normal female ones - quite selflessly it seems, because now I am wedding dateless (goddamn my excellent match-making skills) - which leaves me with my remaining man-child friends. I'm not sure I've officially mentioned this, but the majority of my male friends, ie the single ones, are umm INSANE. Borderline not appropriate around adults, despite their ages creeping closer to the big 3-0. So, this is the pool of candidates I have to choose from to dress up fancy, stay quiet during the ceremony, and make enough of a good impression in front of the grownups that they forgive him when he's ripping shots, taking over the dance floor, and convincing the waiters that yes, he did order three plates of steak.

Luckily RB has the same quality candidates to choose from, so looks like there will at least be four of us single kids, proving to everyone else that yes, single is still fun at 27, so thank you very much for the four hours of free alcohol. One day we will repay the favor. And with any luck, by then the boys we choose to marry will be slightly more appropriate to bring around adults.

Wahhh

Okay, I know I said I'm totally against whiney blog posts, but I am going to have a mini little bitch sesh, then quickly follow it up with something that makes me very happy. So hopefully the blog karma Gods will forgive me this little transgression...

Why why why do I always always always like boys that live far away? Without fail. I'm not even saying I'm falling in love with them. But definite like. And for me, falling in like is still pretty hard to come by. Three of the last four boys I actually liked lived three hours away, and the fourth was an hour away so that's not much better. Is this subconscious? Is it me? Do I have an undying desire to complicate my life?

There is a source for this rant. I bumped into one of these someones from three hours away this weekend. BUMPED INTO. And he lives in New York. And this bumping occurred in a bar I haven't been to in three years. In a city he hasn't been to in five. Makes sense right? Fairytale Ally May went directly to the "maybe this means something" mindset, putting me right back where I started a year ago - In like with him, doomed to at some point come to terms with the fact that it doesn't stand a chance. Because I'm not moving. He's not moving. And I don't even know how much like is there since we've technically gone on three dates in six years. Oh and now he has a puppy. Which always makes a cute boy cuter. F.M.L.wahhhhh. grrrrrr.

Now that that's out of my system, and because I'm just so damned happy with myself and want to end with a smile, I present you with this: my little family basement find and now newly rebeautified desk.

I Held a Baby Today

I know I know. What's the big deal? The big deal is that they TERRIFY me. So breakable. Not sure what to do with them. Would generally prefer to avoid them. It's pretty common knowledge that if given the option between a baby and a puppy I'd choose the puppy 10 times out of 10.

Let me take a hot minute to defend myself for anyone that now thinks I'm an evil baby-hater. I will someday have babies because I LOVE children. Love love love, have to restrain myself from squeezing adorable children on the street, love. But babies? What do you do with them? I don't get it, never have. I've always assumed somewhere around age two is when the fun starts, and I'll just have to get through the baby stages with my own children. BUT today a seven month old made an appearance at work and I jumped right up to grab her and wasn't scared AT ALL. And I was very scared of her when she stopped by shortly after her birth. So, in summary, my future children stand a chance. Perhaps not a light bulb moment to the rest of the world, but to me these are some seriously big steps. In the words of Mick Bestie, "Good Job. Maybe by the time you have your own you'll be okay with a brandy new one!"

 

(Just a little unrelated baby humor for ya)

When Did This Happen?

So I went on my date, which is so not worthy of an entire blog entry, but to sum up, my previous post about my dating behavior was once again, pretty dead on. I was a nervous wreck up to and during most of the date, despite the fact that I knew almost instantly I wasn't interested. This potentially just proves that I'm crazy, because I truly did not find the experience enjoyable and would have easily escaped after five minutes with him, could I have figured out how to do it politely.  That being said, I still think it's "good for me" (famous last words) so I'm going to keep trying and just cross my fingers that my dating attitude and skills improve. If nothing else, it's providing entertaining stories for my friends and I am certainly learning what I don't want.

Okay, now onto the most interesting little nugget I learned during this date...apparently girls these days are SUPER aggressive. He told me girls approach him, buy him drinks, and even ask him out... umm WHAT?! Normally I would seriously question that the pretentious dork I was sharing a drink with gets that much female attention, but this sentiment has been mirrored by too many male friends to ignore it. My mind is officially blown. More importantly, I am officially screwed. As the girl standing in the corner of the bar, waiting for nice, tall, cute, funny boys to flock to me, I clearly don't stand a chance. When did this even happen?  Are guys really okay with this cultural shift? From what I'm hearing, apparently they are. They even like it. I guess I should be proud of my fellow ladies, for not giving a shit and just taking the initiative to go after what (who) they want, but I can't help but find it a little disappointing. I like to be "chased", I like to know when someone is interested and see them putting in the work to show me that. Go figure, I'm high maintenance.

The compromise. In the interest of full disclosure, I'm fully aware that I'm the other extreme and it has been said that I'm borderline inapproachable. Roombud Bestie recently shared the following article with me, 10 Ways to Get Men to Approach You, which I'm sure was meant as mere entertainment, rather than a not-so subtle recommendation (Right Roombud Bestie??). I then shared this article with my friend Chase. Chase is one of my biggest critics when it comes to my lackadaisical approach to the opposite sex and instantly began identifying the things I would "never" do from this list. His attack was fair I suppose. I generally head out with at least three other people, leaving little opportunity for strangers to interject, and since I have been asked multiple times why I look "miserable" in bars, I guess I could work on the eye contact and adding a few more smiles into my repertoire. While I know for a fact that I will never be the type of girl elbowing my way in to spark up conversation with a boy, I suppose this is just another glaring opportunity for me to TRY. And by TRY, I mean try to put off starting my cat collection just a little longer.

So with all that said, I suppose I should start making myself stunningly beautiful so I can find a park where I can wait for boys to make eye contact with, shoot megawatt smiles at, and ask if I can pet their cute dogs. Instead of that, because it's my birthday, I'm going to finish making my 15,000 jello shots, create the best dance music playlist ever, slip on my highest heels and shortest skirt, and party my ass off with 40 of my closest friends. Tonight I am going to scream unapproachable. I guess I'll do the park thing another day.

I Think We Should Probably Date More

As I was driving through the North End today with two of my besties, we passed a restaurant I recognized and I said "I went on a date there". This was followed by me trying to recall who I went on said date with, with Roombud Bestie reminding me "You went there with Reed." This was quickly followed by  Blonde Bestie's sarcastic comment, "Because you go on so many dates, it's hard to keep track". She quickly followed this with the statement "I think we should probably date more." As the two of us combined could probably count our "first dates" on one hand; I fear she is correct. This revelation, in partnership with today's viewing of the new RomCom "Five-Year Engagement" (highly recommended BTW), was enough to cause some slight Sunday Scaries and inspire a little self-evaluation.

I'm just gonna say it. I hate dating. The whole situation causes me anxiety. A little glimpse into my date preparation process:

Is he going to ask me out? I hope he asks me out. Shit he asked me out. Now I have to go out with him. Where are we going? What do I wear? What if I don't like him? I hope he's cute since I last saw him in college / this is a blind date and I'm basing this primarily on Facebook pictures / I met him at a dark bar where I was most likely on cocktail #3 and not in a position to select ideal future mates. Speaking of cocktails, I should make one while I get ready, just to take the edge off. Now I'm running late because the perfect outfit I planned is actually atrocious on and I had to change six times, pausing between wardrobe changes to sip wine, which in retrospect may not have been the best idea since I didn't eat all day in order to look my skinniest for the evening ahead. Fuckkkkkkkkk.

I haven't left my apartment and I've already given myself a headache, a stomach ache, a slight buzz, and turned my bedroom into a war zone. How to escape from the date if it's truly awful is a whole other bag of issues we haven't even explored yet.

Under normal circumstances, the obvious answer is to just avoid the things you hate. Peanut butter, scary movies, Dave Matthews Band...all things I regularly avoid with relative ease. But, given the fact that I do actually want to meet my Mr. Right someday (preferably in the near future), steering clear of dates doesn't appear to be a viable option. So with that said (and after years of trying to kick and scream my way out of this), I'm going to TRY. It's occurred to me that many of my friends actually love dates and I seem to be missing something here. Let's be honest, free food, a new restaurant, and something to do mid-week are all things that normally make this girl very happy. Add in the opportunity to be amused and potentially play the name game with someone new - maybe it's worth giving this crazy ritual another shot. Here's hoping, because I think I have a date next week and I can already feel the apprehension building....

I Wanna Talk About Me!

Okay, that’s not 100% true, but I thought this lyric, borrowed from my boy Toby, was fitting for my first ever blog entry. That, and it keeps with my cool country lyric theme I’ve got going on and I love a good theme. So enough about that…onto me!

I’m from a small town in the smallest state, lil Rhodey, and I moved to Boston about a year ago. And ohhh if the transition were only as simple as that made it sound. Said transition was about four years in the making, with two jobs and three moves in between, before I finally found myself happily residing in South Boston with my roombud bestie. So here I am, 26-year-old girl, single in the city, with little to show for myself other than some pretty bomb friends, a kickass job, and a crazy family. I’ll take it. 

Refocusing. Rather than just chatting it up about me, this blog is aimed more at being a (hopefully) amusing compilation of everyday observations and experiences that add spice to my otherwise uneventful life (with a few moments borrowed from friends’ lives trickled in). I’ll try to avoid bitchy rants, because I’m a pretty big believer in karma but if I do fall into the bitchy rant trap, I’ll do my darndest to put an entertaining spin on it. So that being said….I’m not completely sure who my audience is here, but whomever you are, I hope these little snippets can bring at least half as much amusement to you as they probably brought to me. Happy reading!