Tuesday, September 16, 2014


I love when an “F U” idea blows up in a person’s face.

It’s hilarious.

It's like stepping on your own flaming bag of dog poo.

SUCKKKA!!! (insert made up gang sign) THAT’S WHAT YOU GET! 


Charles, this shithead who dated my friend Ashley, thought he had a great “F U” idea for her.

They had a son together and were in a nasty custody battle over him. Despite Charles moving 500 miles away from Ashley (and New Orleans), he wanted their son full-time.

But he couldn’t find anything damning about Ashley not being fit for motherhood, so Charles came up with what he thought was a great idea. 

He mandated that Ashley take drug tests whenever he snapped his finger.


That'll get her, he thought.

(Ya’ll. This actually exists.) 

“How about THAT!!?” Charles snarled when Ashley called him about it.

“You DO know this applies to YOU TOO, right?” Ashley retorted. 

“I can make YOU to take a drug test whenever I want, too.”

Charles was too busy cackling about the whole thing to listen.

The next day (obviously the next day) Charles invoked his new power and ordered Ashely to take a drug test.

“FINE,” She said.

Ashley calmly re-arranged her schedule and took time off work to go to a licensed clinic and get the test.

Flying colors.

“I’M GOING TO NEED YOU TO DO ANOTHER ONE!” Charles demanded the next month.

Ashley was annoyed.


“BECAUSE I SAID SO!” he yelled.

Again she showed up to do the test and passed.

It was now his turn.

Ashley sent the request; he had 24 hours to comply.

But Charles decided that he wasn’t going to take a drug test, and ignored it.






HE'S GONE!!!!! 







Yes, because of HIS great idea, 24 hours a day there are people trying to find him and serve him papers for contempt of court.

If he’s pulled over by a cop and identified, he’s going to jail.



(Also: good luck getting custody of your kid when you’re a fugitive, idiot.)

Yet, right when Ashley was feeling satisfied with how this all went down, she got an email.

From Charles’ dad.

“We’re going to need you to go ahead and take another drug test,” he wrote.





(ED. NOTE: TWO TOOLBAGS!! What father backs his fugitive son like that???)


Ashley’s lawyer responded that she’s NOT taking another drug test until Charles takes the one she ordered for him five months ago.

Or, at the very least, until he SHOWS BACK UP IN SOCIETY.

I MEAN, WTF!?!!!!

On what planet is it OK to ask your ex to take a drug test when you refuse to do one yourself and are now hiding out from law enforcement somewhere?



Now THAT'S one hell of a drug.


Tuesday, September 9, 2014


Also  a toolbag: the lack of content in the Google search "Ray Rice Asshole"

Ugh. Society.


Friday, September 5, 2014

Kirstie Alley is a liar and other things I learned when my best friend had a baby

I would say the most surprising thing was that I was able to find things to talk about with my best friend and her husband for 11 straight hours, in the same tiny room, without alcohol.

...Oh, and the baby she birthed was cool, too.


(What?? Did you think I was talking about a jail cell????)


My best friend had a baby!!!!!

I guess we really ARE growing up. 


Pun intended.

When I walked into the labor and delivery hospital room on June 20, the first thing I remember was the squishy, frog-like sound, on repeat, on surround sound.

It’s very similar to the noise I used to make in elementary school (uhhhh, last week brushing my teeth) where I put water in the pockets of my cheeks and swish it back and forth really loudly, intentionally making a funny fart sound.

Squishy squishy, squishy squishy, squishy squishy

That was the baby’s heartbeat.

I squealed.

It was perfect timing that I had moved back to South Carolina right as my best friend Kristin got pregnant.  

I was there to see her belly grow for all nine months, half-thinking that the day wouldn’t ever come, that she’d just be pregnant forever in this little time warp bubble, and then BOOM.

Birth. day.

I arrived at the hospital thinking that it would be like the movies, a lot of screaming and yelling and cursing at her husband, Doug, but that was not the case at all, thanks HOLLYWOOD. YA DUMB ASSES.

Actually, Kristin’s birth made me feel a lot better about the whole “giving birth” thing.

Remember the line in Look Who’s Talking, “Why don't YOU try squeezing something the size of a watermelon out of an opening the size of a lemon and see how hot YOU look??”

Well. Kirstie Alley lied! Babies are NOT born the size of watermelons.

I mean, even now, almost two months later, baby Rhett is definitely not the size of a watermelon. Not even close.

Oh, and, FACT: The cervix expands to WELL over the size of a lemon.


I know this because I read the entire “explaining your baby’s birth” packet the hospital gave her while we were waiting in the room.

“Did you know that RIGHT NOW your cervix is, like, the size of the top of a Miller High Life bottle, and it’s going to be the size of the BOTTOM OF A MASON JAR???” I asked thoughtfully, using real-world examples.



The hardest part, well, before the pushing, was passing the time.

Thankfully, the World Cup was still on and we got to watch a few games as Kristin clung to the side of the hospital bed whenever a contraction came.

“Hey look!” I offered. “That guy just took a cleat to the face! You think he’s in more pain than you right now?”

(No he wasn't)

Another thing they don’t show you in STUPID HOLLYWOOD MOVIES is how, when you are going into labor, you’re attached to every machine in the world.

An IV drip, a blood pressure monitor, a belt with sonar capabilities to hear the baby’s heartbeat.


Whenever Kristin would adjust her position in bed and the sonar belt would slip down her belly and the heartbeat sound stopped, I yelped.


Eleven hours flew by, like WOAH, and then suddenly, the nurse came in and...uh...checked her MASON JAR...(you picture that) and was very nonchalant when she said, “Ok, we’re ready.”



Yes, just like that.

It was like when I was told to jump off the high dive at the YMCA as a child. 



Kristin was going to give birth right there, in the very room we had been hanging out in the whole time.

(I think Family Guy was on at this point.)

It was shockingly all-of-a-sudden. But that’s how life goes: super-fast—everything can change in one minute.

And suddenly here came this little guy who we had waited for all damn day (well, nine months, technically, but you know what I mean...)

And he was HERE for everyone to see and he was crying and cold and confused and SO SWEET AND TINY and Kristin went from being a cute pregnant person to a mom.

A mom!


(yes, this is all about ME)

RHETT WILLIAM was the cutest, tiniest thing I had ever seen. 20 minutes old.

“Hi Rhett!” I said softly as he laid in Kristin’s arms, and I teared up because I was so unbelievably happy for their little family (FAMILY!!!) and knew their lives would now be wonderfully and forever changed.

And then I didn’t know what else to say to Rhett. 

“Welcome to the world!” I whispered, touching his little clenched fist. 

“The year is two-thousand-fourteen...Barack Obama is the president...”

Seriously, I said that. 

Then we both started crying.


It’s true that you don’t really know what you’re doing when you’re around a newborn. (Correction: I. I don't know what I'm doing around a newborn.)

In these past two months, it has become clear that since I don’t produce milk, I am a disappointment to Rhett when I show up wearing tight shirts. 


But I’ve been trying to be useful in other ways. Kristin and Doug have been showing me how to soothe him when he’s crying, how to burp him (Tip: Do NOT WHACK him on the back.)

“That’s where his lungs are,” Doug informed me.

“I’M SORRY RHETT! WE’RE BOTH LEARNING ABOUT LIFE HERE!!!” is always my dramatic line. “I’m NEW at being an AUNT!”

With my nervousness of not knowing what to do with a baby and not wanting to breathe on him wrong, I never really got the big picture.

But two weeks ago, I was in a terrible mood from an obnoxious work day and came over to visit with a bottle of wine.

And as I sat there across the room, observing, I just melted when I saw Kristin soothe and rock Rhett, and I could just feel how much love she has for him—this reach-out-and-grab-it kind of love. 

I’ve never seen that before.

(Well maybe from people who are too obsessed with their dogs.)

I melted that day, making my horrible work day turn into a speck of dirt in comparison. 

My best friend, my former roommate, who I'd stay up with until the wee hours drinking and dancing, living in Spain together in college and raising hell, is now a mom. A perfect, wonderful mom.

As I sat there watching her with Rhett with a goofy grin on my face, (wine!) I would say the most wonderfully surprising thing is how beautiful and natural Kristin is, how this stage in life isn't as scary as it once was. 

And love like I have never seen before is happening every second of every day.

...Oh, and the baby she birthed was cool, too.


Love you, Rhett!!

-(Aunt) Jenny

Tuesday, August 26, 2014


RULE #1: Single people don’t have rules.


There’s an eCard that explains this perfectly:

If there’s an eCard it MUST be true!!

You may think I’m joking but I’m not.

Go ahead! Call me at 4:45 a.m.!!! Buy me a ticket to the Bahamas, leaving in an hour!


So basically, you can always tell someone isn’t really single when they throw around rules for you:

No, I can NEVER hang out on weekends....

No, you can’t come visit me at my apartment. You can only visit me at my FRIEND’S apartment.


Today, my friend Kelli gave me a new one.

“Don’t call me after 5 p.m.”


These specific instructions came from Rob, this guy she met at a bar who was in town on vacation. 

Rob, who spent the night at her place. (Whoops).

Rob and his friend had followed Kelli (SINGLE!) and her roommate (SINGLE!) home to their apartment after a night of drinking and chatting and laughing and making out.

Rob was quick to show off his super toned body (with shirtless pics on Kelli’s phone to prove it) and then jumped into her bed, naked.

Kelli told him that it's one thing to make out all over town, but she wasn’t interested in sleeping with him right away. He grudgingly passed out. 

Then Rob woke up an hour later and walked into her roommate’s room, naked, and tried to get under her covers.

After a weird NO, DUDE and an umm...you were making out with my FRIEND, creep, Rob slept on the floor.

The next day, Rob and his couch-surfing friend drove two hours back home. Kelli got a text message from him.

“Hey! Call me! But don’t call me after 5 p.m.” Rob instructed.



Kelli called him at 3 p.m.

“Don’t call after 5 p.m.? What, do you have a girlfriend?” Kelli asked, half-joking.

“Well...actually...” he said. “I have a fiancée.”


“...and we live together.”


I mean...DUH. 

“So I can’t talk to you anymore!” Rob said. “You can NOT contact me anymore!”


Rules, rules RULES!

(FYI: HE gave her HIS number.)

“Don’t worry, you definitely won’t be hearing from me again,” Kelli said.

Then she and her roommate talked shit about both of them for the rest of the hour—Rob for being a massive cheater...side note: WHY AREN’T GUYS REQUIRED TO WEAR ENGAGEMENT RINGS??!?!—and also his friend, for letting him.

(Tool by association.)



Kelli kept her promise and hasn’t contacted Rob again. But she did keep the picture of his hot body. Which she forwarded to all her girl friends.

Because she can do whatever the F*ck she wants.



Tuesday, August 19, 2014


My mom always told me to “try people on” when it came to dating and no, she did not mean it in a literal, gross way.

She meant it in a figurative, see-how-they fit-into-your-life kind of way.


...Because maybe you THINK you have a use for a sparkly ball gown that looks really pretty hanging up, but when you try it on, it’s actually really uncomfortable and isn’t your style at all.

A point!

Thanks ma.

CJ, this guy my friend Susan dated for a year, was that sparkly dress.

And thank GOD Susan found out he was actually really super uncomfortable before she BOUGHT him, because she was very close to having him hanging up in her house all the time.

Like a sparkly ball gown, CJ looked really, really good from afar. He was cute, extravagant and totally different than anyone she had ever dated before.

Susan tried him on for a few months and everything was great. 

She looked awesome, she felt good and she was really happy with her selection.

A big obstacle was that they were in a long-distance relationship. (Ugh. Never do it. EVER EVER.) She could only wear her sparkly dress every other month or so.  


But then, slowly, CJ started showing his major design flaws.

He became suffocating and clingy for no reason and at the same time started criticizing her and suddenly her cute, sparkly dress was so tight she felt like she couldn’t breathe.

And CJ wouldn’t let her take out the seam to make it fit better.

(Um..are ya’ll following this?)

“Every time I would try to talk about my feelings about being suffocated, he would get angry and say things like, "Why are you doing this to me?!" she said.

“He got mad at me for leaving him on the couch when he was passed out drunk, so I woke up in his bed alone to, "How could you do that?? You don't want to sleep next to me?!" Susan recalls.

Ugh. Dress drama.

Susan said it suddenly got to the point where she was walking on eggshells around CJ and the sparkly dress kept getting tighter and tighter and one day ON VACATION when he said he was going to move to her city, AND MOVE IN WITH HER IMMEDIATELY, WITHOUT ASKING, she had a bona fide panic attack.

A panic attack! 

Do you THINK CJ cared that she had a panic attack?

Or even try and get to the bottom of WHY?

No. He was too busy being distracted by his sparkly exterior to worry about Susan.

He was basically saying, “This will LOOK GREAT!!! US LIVING TOGETHER!!!”

While ignoring the fact that they weren’t great at all and not even Spanx could help her at this point.

I mean, who doesn’t infer that a PANIC ATTACK in response to “Guess what? I’m moving in with you!!!” is a problem??


CJ kept on.

Susan said that in that same visit, after lots of fighting and that pesky panic attack, they were getting ready for bed and CJ said, "Geez, babe, you’ve really put on a lot of weight."




The next day, when she told him that his weight comment was NOT OK, his response was, "Well I was mad at you."



After two more suffocating days on vacation, Susan was ready to go home and rip the too-tight, too-critical dress off her body.

When she got back to a reasonable 400 miles away from him, she told him that (Uh, DUH to normal people), she did NOT want him moving in with her.

He flipped out of course, telling her that SHE needed to “stop causing rifts.”

(…Says the guy who called her fat because he was mad at her.)


If you can believe it, CJ got even more tight ass when he then announced that not only was he planning to move into her apartment without asking, he was planning to replace most of her furniture that wasn’t up to his high, sparkly standards.


Since when does a DRESS make these kinds of decisions??

It was nothing she had ever experienced before.

And it was clearly the worst dress purchase ever.

Susan finally broke up with CJ, as he clearly didn’t match anything about her, both literally and figuratively.

And now Susan can breathe.

And that is why you should always try people on.


Tuesday, August 12, 2014


There are a million reasons to have to apologize to someone and sleeping through a lunch date is one of them.

This happened to my friend Molly, but she broke the norm when she decided to apologize in person, at the guy’s apartment.




Molly met Joseph right after she got dumped by a guy she really liked.

She was out listening to live music to escape her heartbreak and didn’t expect one of the cute band members to start flirting with her after the set.

They started talking about college football and right then they made plans to go watch a college football game together the very next day.

It seemed like a good idea. Molly had tickets and wasn’t very well bringing her EX anymore. 

She and Joseph got along great and did I mention he was cute and in a band?

Joseph gave her his address and the next morning, Molly picked him up from his apartment. 

They spent the entire day together drinking beer, FLIRTING, MAKING OUT, hanging out with her friends and rooting for the home team.

They got along so well that Joseph spent the night at Molly’s place that night. 

The next morning he said he had to leave early to “take care of some things.” He said they should meet for lunch.

Seeing her two days in a row??

This guy must have really liked her!

He certainly seemed to. They literally spent 24 hours together after first meeting Friday night.

Molly told him lunch sounded great, but she fell back asleep after he left and when she woke up, she had slept through their lunch date completely.

And now she was running late for her job at a restaurant.

Molly looked at her cell phone and frowned. She definitely missed their lunch date by over an hour, but he had not texted her asking where she was.

She thought he must have been upset with her.


Feeling guilty and slightly hungover, Molly decided to pay him a visit on her way to work...just to say that she was sorry about lunch, and that she had a really nice time with him that weekend.


When Joseph answered the door, he looked at her wide-eyed, in a very, “I just soiled myself” kind of way.

Molly explains:

“I walk in, and there’s a chick sitting at his table,” Molly describes.


Joseph did his best to play off the situation, hahaha, introducing the two without titles or anything else descriptive.

Molly, this is Jane. Jane, this is Molly, without explaining who Jane was or who Molly was or that he SPENT THE NIGHT AT MOLLY’S THE NIGHT BEFORE.

Spoiler alert: Jane was NOT his sister.

After a few “What’s going on here?” questions from Jane, it was revealed that she was his FIANCÉE.


...Who apparently was out of town to celebrate a bachelorette party that weekend.


It was THEIR apartment!


And here Molly was about to APOLOGIZE to him!!

Instead, Molly had to apologize to Jane, saying she had NO IDEA he was engaged (gross) because he was hitting on girls at bars after his gig, spending the night and asking them to lunch.

Taking advantage of a fiancée-free weekend! 

Wasting ZERO time getting into bed with someone else!


Molly stood there, awkward.

What can you possibly say in this situation??

What do you do???

Jane knew what to do.

Molly said that despite her small frame, Jane suddenly FLIPPED OVER THE KITCHEN TABLE at Joseph, screaming at him.



Damn girl.

Probably broke some (lunch) dishes, too.



Absolutely no apologies.


Wednesday, August 6, 2014


In general, guys don’t spend money on their girlfriends anymore.

It's a fact. 

(If you’re a guy who DOES pay for everything, keep it up. You’re a dying breed and we need your species to survive for the future.)

But as a general rule for men in their 30s, they don’t pay for shit. 

They don’t want to, they don’t need to. It’s actually possible to date a guy for six months and only set him back $40 of his own money because he lets you pay separate.

...Which makes this story even more hilarious.  

Curtis was one of these guys. 

He dated my friend Taylor for almost a year and during that time, Curtis never went above and beyond to take her out to fancy dinners, NEVER BOUGHT HER A MINK COAT, never whisked them away on a vacation or anything else that required an exorbitant amount of money.

Granted, Curtis was a car mechanic, but he still did fine.

She was living with her parents.

One day, Taylor noticed that her car tire was flat. She didn’t know what to do about it, didn’t know how to fix it and called Curtis in a very damsel in distress moment.

Since he, uh, WORKED IN A TIRE SHOP, she asked him if he could fix it for her. He happily obliged.

Taylor said she had no clue how much a tire cost, but told him she would pay him back when she got the chance.

Now, my source (Google) tells me that ONE tire costs $50 to replace. And that’s the price for an unknowing customer! Curtis, the mechanic, likely got a cheaper deal than that.

Within the day, the tire was fixed. 

Curtis and Taylor continued dating, but their relationship quickly went sour when Curtis started working the night shift at a new job and became paranoid that Taylor was cheating on him. She wasn't.

Maybe it was the night shift making him crazy, maybe it was because his schedule now meant they didn't see each other as often, but he was adamant that she was cheating on him.

“I live with my parents!” Taylor would say when she had to resort to using LOGISTICS to prove her point.

“You really think I’m bringing guys over to my parents’ house to hook up??”

Taylor said the accusations became increasingly insulting and she broke up with him.

Of course Curtis didn’t take it well, and there were “several screaming phone calls where he was calling me a whore, a cheater, and a few other really bad things,” she recalls.

That’s when Curtis also told her that he was coming over to her parents’ house to SERVE HER WITH PAPERS.




Taylor then had to tell her parents that her whacked-out ex-boyfriend was possibly on the way over with some sort of papers.

“What kind of papers?” they asked.

It was a good question.

She called him back.

“What kind of papers?” Taylor demanded, with her parents by her side.

She’ll never forget his response:

Papers because I’m suing you for all the money I spent on you while we were dating, and for the new tire I just bought you!" 





For all the MONEY he spent!!

What, did he keep itemized receipts from the dive bar down the street he’d take her to??

No. This was mainly about the $50 tire. 

What a douche!!

Taylor’s parents laughed really hard.

No surprise, Curtis never came over that day or served her papers. 

(Probably because lawyers cost more than $50.)

But Curtis did reach a new low standard for guys everywhere—a guy who not only doesn't pay for shit, but feels like he needs to be reimbursed for the paltry amount of money he did spend.

(And uhhhh what about the money SHE spent on HIM when she would pick up the tab...repeatedly??)

My God, the way he was acting you’d think he bought her a brand new car, not just a stupid tire.


At least she was able to drive far, far away from him.

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