Happy Drunk Day

Happy Drunk Day!

I realized when instant messaging became a staple to interact with your friends that sarcasm doesn’t come across in text. A harmlessly witty comment intended for humor, not offense, is taken completely wrong. Eventually I realized that it’s not just a misunderstanding of textual content, it’s a lack of humor on the readers’ end as well. I make this point so that readers can read it and understand what I’m about to post has half truth to it, but the completely bizarre and outrageous is being written for amusements. It’s purposely ridiculous and toes the line offense because I intended it to be humorous. My other posts should have carried a similar warning, but I assumed that it was obvious where my jokes and beliefs differed. I did place the warning here because I am about to write something that may offend an entire culture, my culture. With that said, don’t read on if you offend easily or if you think I easily offend.

I’m Irish. With a name like Brianne Kelly Malloy, it’s hard to pretend I’m anything but a little pale, freckled Irish girl. Now, with marriage giving me a new last name and fantastic make-up to cover my freckles, I can hide in a corner on St. Patrick’s Day and pretend “those aren’t my people”. I can make a turkey TV dinner, while the rest of my family eats their boiled dinner. Boiled dinner makes me ashamed of being Irish. Most other cultures seem to have such delicious tasting food. No, not my people, we get boiled dinner or corned beef and cabbage. I’ll pretend I really am Asian that day, and pass.

Then, there is the real problem with St. Patrick’s Day. We may as well rename it “Drunk Day”, because that seems to be the only reason all people, Irish or not, celebrates a day for my culture. I fear my kids are going to learn that to be Irish; you have to be drunk and eat smelly and disgusting tasting food. I’ll sure pass along Irish pride to them. This brings up a good point in my head though; maybe the food tastes so bad because my people are too drunk to realize just how awful the food is. Us proud Irish should stand up and be proud of our rich and fascinating culture!

We should celebrate that our families survived the Potato famine that the government unleashed against the poor, knowing they were too silly to grow another vegetable to live off of. Or was it that turnip shouldn’t exist as food so they’d rather starve than grow it? Either way, we overcame the adversity of not having potatoes and having the English hate the Irish Catholics. Our rich culture of drunk and disorderly conduct, and rugby and Braveheart, oh… the Scottish get that one.

Ok, I give up. I suppose there’s a reason we’re only known for terrible food and being drunk. The first step is admitting the problem, and the second step is acceptance. I accept that I’m stereotyped a certain way because of my heritage and I find it funny. If you can’t laugh at yourself, you can’t laugh at anything.

It’s a New Year

As the New Year’s countdown began, I could only think of one thing: why did Justin Bieber feel the need to ruin “Let it Be”? Even seeing the great Carlos Santana couldn’t save my horror and the feeling that the upcoming year was something that I should run from. Alright, I’m kidding… mostly. It was a disaster, but New Years is something more exciting than watching a teen idol ruin a classic. It’s really going to be exciting, I hope. So here’s my run down for the upcoming year.

1)      The year of the babies. I don’t just mean my up and coming fetus, but everyone and their sisters seem to be pregnant. My own sister included, (I don’t like using “in-law”, she’s my sister) with her child only due a few weeks ahead of mine as the count goes now. Exciting, they can practically be siblings. This is probably the biggest excitement of the year, becoming a mother and aunt again.

2)      Did I finally finish a book? Well book might be overstating it, at only 15,000 words it’s a mini-book at best. Hopefully in the coming weeks it’ll be up on Amazon EBook and I can finally say I finished it. This definitely ranks #2 on my list, which would’ve been my biggest accomplishment if my planned surprise didn’t surprise me first. Either way, that will hopefully not be a complete embarrassment and I can rest assured I followed my dreams anyways. Slowly crawling behind that, my short story collection will be up later this year finally, as I started work on that long before my precious novella. Don’t worry, when it’s listed for sale, everyone will hear about it.

3)      Anything else that comes my way. I appreciate surprises, like when I heard the Taylor Swift song for The Hunger Games movie. I suppose I’m still trying to adjust to my love of not just a country song, but one she sang. The best part of a new year is that you really don’t know what’s coming, and I’ll quote internet meme “Come at me, bro” to show my feelings for it.

I don’t believe in resolutions. I hate broken promises, and let’s face it, that’s all resolutions really ever become. I do believe in starting the year off with an open mind and an acceptance that this year might not be better than the last, hell it could be a lot worse than last year, but that it’s another year you’re alive to experience things. So Happy New Years readers, I hope the best for you.

The Ginger Asian

For a while after we got married, my husband and I started talking about children and all that fun stuff that married people talk about someday procreating more of us. We affectionately nicknamed this future fetus to be “the Ginger Asian”. We planned it would happen when it happened, and such is life, it happened far sooner than I anticipated though I’m no less overjoyed by this.

Yes, you read correctly. Another me is entering into this world, as long as nothing horribly bad occurs before then. My husband was far more excited about it than I thought, and I often wonder if he’s more excited than I am. I worry though, I always worry. I have a nasty habit of staying realistically pessimistic until I’m proven that things will work out. I’m still happy though, everything will happen as it’s supposed to.

So for the holidays, we gave our families a special gift: the announcement that a new baby will grace them with their presence. They clapped, and smiled and cheered for joy. We held them to secrecy, until today’s doctor’s appointment would confirm it because the last thing we wanted was a false positive that ended up to be cancer. Yes, that would be my luck.

I hope the world is ready for you, Ginger Asians, I’m sure you’ll take the world by storm.

Goodbye Old Friend

Before we get into the post of sappiness ahead, I’d like to take some time to wish you all a “Happy Holidays”. I’m sure our family is going to have a great one. I’ll be back on Monday in full swing of things.

Wednesday I called in sick to my posts, so my apologies. But we’ll ignore that fact and pretend that my error was on purpose to make a splendid post in honor of the first man of my life: my father. Any girl would be lying if they didn’t admit that they were in some form of being a bit of a daddy’s girl. I’m the only daughter; it would be a total lie in denying it.

Today is his first day of enjoying the rest of his life in retirement, just in time for the holidays. I’m sure it’s a bittersweet moment for him, but he deserves it. My father always worked when I was a kid, but he did it for us. He worked hard so all of us could be happy and have things we wanted or needed. I used to joke, and still joke now, that he worked so much to get away from my family. Except me, I’m awesome; my brothers are a different story entirely. He received a fitting goodbye from his co-workers of a man who was admired by them. I don’t blame them; I still admire him every day.

They don’t see him fully in his element. At work he is their supervisor that did his job well, but at home he raised a decent enough family and adores his grandchildren. I only hope now that in his retirement, he can enjoy them to the fullest. Though I bet in a week he goes crawling back, this place is an animal house sometimes. I’m kidding… maybe. But if it wasn’t so crazy, we wouldn’t be nearly as interesting.

All joking aside, I’m sure my brothers can agree that this was a long time coming and no one ever thought he’d actually retire. Now, he’s young enough to enjoy the rest of his life and I hope he has a while longer with us. I speak for all of us when I say, you rock and thanks for everything.

Why Men Should Listen to Women More

Also, a lesson in what not to buy for a work party gift swap, and for another note to read before reading, I’m not a feminist I’m a realist.

Last Friday was the work party for my husband’s work, and due to feeling a bit under the weather, my first time attending sober. I’m sure those bottles of red missed me, but we live and we learn and I won’t make that mistake again. That’s not why men should listen to women more, but when it comes to knowing what to do when you’re doing the Yankee Swap. (Or the White Elephant, whatever you call this game, it’s all the same principle.)

During the game, I eyed a few different gifts to steal. My husband refused saying, “you can’t take their gift”. Well sweetheart, the game says it’s not their gift until the end. One of the gifts included a Dunkin Donuts k-cup box and a gift card. “Take that or the iTunes card” I tell him. He assured me that he had this, he knew his plan. His plan was the suspicious looking brown Dunkin Donuts bag. After telling him what a terrible idea this would be, he ignored me and got the gift he wanted and wasn’t prepared for having to open it up in front of everyone to see something they would want to steal. This is where the story gets fun.

Upon further investigation, he turned red and realized that his precious bag had a dirty little secret. By dirty little secret, I mean it was a bag full of sex toys. At first, my mind was empty. I was mortified enough for the both of us, while listening to the hoots and hollers of everyone in the room. I eventually got over that, and wondered why someone would get a bag of sex toys for a work party. Sure, I’d probably do that for a party at a friend’s house, what’s a few toys among friends? But at a work party where there are only a handful of twenty somethings and the rest are easily 10 years above that? I ended up more embarrassed for them, then myself. It ended up the gift got stolen from us and we ended up with Swedish fish vodka.

So, the moral of the story is, when it comes to gifts and present games requiring a bit of thought you should let your female friend make the decision. In fact, anything that requires some degree of thought you should, just for safe measures.

The Closetted Gleek

The title says it all. Embarrassingly I am a huge fan of Glee, even more than that my husband also became a huge fan of it. I wonder if he likes it more than me though, so that makes me feel a little better about having this as a guilty pleasure. Emma’s my favorite though, she rocks. So I can dream that someone important reads this and gives her some more airtime.

Now that I’m done embarrassing myself over that, I present the point of this. Last night they had a Christmas special loaded with Christmas songs and Christmas cheesiness. We all know how much I absolutely adore Christmas songs. For the record, I did cover my head wishing the voices would stop singing carols in my head. What made me completely happy in the episode was that we learned important lessons, what it means to be Christmas. I reiterate my Thanksgiving post about how you should live every day thankful, but it was something different in this episode.

There was an argument about why should the Christmas special not have any sad songs in it. One side debated that it’s Christmas and it’s supposed to be happy, while the other argued that it’s not always a joyous occasion for people and as artists they’d be lying to portray otherwise. I understand the point, it’s not always sunshiney, but sometimes people look to specials and Christmas movies to have a moment of happiness they wish they had. It’s like a role model for them, to make them maybe feel like someday it could be better. I’m torn though; I also think I would like to see someone portray what Christmas is really like for some people.

In the end after all the cheesiness and geek nod to Star Wars, everyone came together to feed people at the soup kitchen. Even the ever greedy and selfish Rachel joined in the spirit and gave to charity at the end. It’s always good to see people not caring about the gift, but caring about the giving.

Too Much… Information. Seriously.

My husband has a work party approaching, and I don’t go out too often so when I do I like to look nice and dolled up. In trying on the nice outfit I got for pretty much a steal, I showed it off to my mother in joy of how nice and mature it was. (Mature in comparison for my usually wearing ripped jeans and my chucks.) I was excited anyways; until she pointed out that I looked a little flat in the chest area. Now I’m definitely not flat, in fact I’ve always been proud of those lovely 32cs. I attributed this to the bra I was wearing and decided to head to Victoria Secrets to find a new one. I regret this decision fully, and not just because it pains me to spend that kind of money on a bra. I do, because I’ll be damned if I can find my size anywhere else.

After walking around the store for a bit with my ever so patient husband, who watched his droid the entire time, I couldn’t find a nice strapless bra in my size. Against my better judgment, my husband urges me to ask the nice little clerk to help me out. So, I did and she gave me this line about being sized every so often, blah blah blah. Yep, all I heard was blah. Until she said “You’re not a 32c, you’re a d. Congrats.” As if being told that you’re never ending growing boobs wasn’t embarrassing enough, you’re told it after a strange woman ogled them and announces it in the busy store. Then she sends me off to the fitting room to work to find me the perfect bra. Why couldn’t she just hand me one and send me on my way?

This is when I noticed the direct correlation between me returning to my red hair and my knack for sarcasm and bitterness. A too perky to not be high woman escorts me into a room and starts tossing bras at me, and of course just to add to my embarrassment, my stall was right near the open area of the cash registers. It was then this specialist informed me that the person who sized me was wrong. Victory was mine; I didn’t have a balloon chest after all! Except my victory escaped me when she informed me I was actually bigger. Thanks, now I have floatation devices. In hearing DD being said, I looked in the mirror and I swore I saw myself as Dolly Parton.

I’m fairly certain we walked through the mall and I complained the entire way of how freakish I was. Then I realized who I was complaining to: my husband. It was probably like Christmas to him. Today, 3 days later I’m still embarrassed. I’m not entirely sure if I’m more embarrassed about constantly growing parasites on my chest, or that so many people I didn’t know spent their day inspecting and touching them. It was almost like an appointment with my woman doctor, you know it’s for the best but doesn’t make you feel less violated after.

Yes, I did just blog about my boobs. The title was more of a warning.

What I did on Black Friday

I slept. Oh I slept right through the crazy lines and supposed sales. I slept and it felt damn good in my nice heated bed while my husband also snored away. I regret nothing, and I laugh at the idea that other people were awake in the cold while I slept oh so well. Did I mention it felt damn good?

I hate the mall. I think I’d hate the mall much more at 1 a.m. with a bunch of savings crazy nut jobs run around as if they own the world because they were too stupid to spend the time sleeping. No wonder they act as manic as they do, the idea of forgoing one of life’s more precious resources with the idea of saving $10 on a present their kid will love the box more than the gift. It’s worse this time of year, because normally you can time it to avoid masses to get what you need done without an idiot running you down. Oh and the kids! You deserve the look of shame I know I’m not the only one giving you, with allowing your kid to run around unattended. I also laugh when they realize their kid made it halfway across the mall without you even realizing it. Yes, I laugh. You deserve it; teach them to act properly in public.

I don’t feel the need to run out to the mall on Black Friday. Thanks to Steam, Slickdeals.net, and Amazon, I can avoid any rush or need to give up sleep to save money. I especially love slickdeals.net and Steam, with a special love of Steam and their daily sales on video games. Do I want to buy this awesome game for 50%-75% off? I sure do, Valve. Thank you.

Best of all? I don’t have to worry about buying gifts at the mall. The extra bonus is… I get to sleep. I get to sleep a very long time and wake up and post bragging about how I slept right through the sales and will probably end up better off than the people who gave up sleep and time with their family. Bragging doesn’t cover it; I’m gloating while very well rested. And I got Spyro’s Skylanders Start Pack for $39 with free shipping, while the store listed it for $69.99 before taxes. Oh yes, I did win.

It’s a turkey!

Thanksgiving is around the corner and by that I mean, it’s tomorrow. All the food and family your stomach can handle. I have my cranberry sauce made, the turkey is brined (dry brined, à la Alton) and my cold is still looming telling me I should forget this holiday. However, that’s my general feeling of most holidays but Halloween. My husband is a fan of holidays, for some odd reason he enjoys being at home with me.

I have a problem with holidays, not just because I hate them. I hate what they stand for. They tell you that you have this one day to tell your family you love them and doing good things for your fellow human. Why do you need one day for charity and love? Shouldn’t you be living by those principles on a daily basis, not just for these holidays? It annoys me. Be in the holiday spirit! If you want spirit, I’ll give you some booze.

I know that holidays give a push of charity and acknowledgement of your loved ones, but why not carry that ideal all year round? I find it hypocritical to preach it for a day, only to ignore it the rest of the year. Not saying this idea is what ruins holidays for me, but it’s an important ideal that does a lot of damage for my “holiday spirit”. That and I hate turkey. Why must you taste so awful! The same goes to ham, holidays make you eat the worst of meats.

With all that said, carry on this holiday spirit all year-long. I’m certain that local food kitchens would love at least donations or help every so often, though they would definitely appreciate the support this time of year. Keep this holiday spirit of giving and love every day of the year, and maybe next year I won’t have to write a spiteful blog about holidays. I’d also like to ask that I don’t want Christmas  in my face when I want to celebrate Halloween; you’re 2 months off stores. And to my husband? Yes, I do think decorating a week before Thanksgiving for Christmas is too soon, you’re insane. Love, me.