How Ryan Met Lauren Part I - The Part In Which Ryan Decides In Preschool That Lauren Is The One For Him And Lauren Is All "Meh, First I Need To Wait And See If Anyone Better Comes Along."

Ryan's and my one year anniversary is coming up quickly so I thought I would take a brief respite from all of the Christmas themed posts to bring all my lovely blogstalkers the story of how Ryan and I met.

It all began when we were four years old and found ourselves enrolled at the very same preschool.

Ryan loved me immediately.  He might say "I don't even remember you in preschool LAUREN." But that is clearly not the case.  I have photographic evidence.
And I am like, RYAN?  Blech.  

He SAT NEXT TO ME at our Christmas Play.  And in preschool that is LOVE.  Plus notice how he is gazing at my hands.  It's almost like he is already planning to put a ring on it at some point in his life.

It's not that there was anything very wrong with Ryan in preschool (besides the obvious cooties),  it's just that I was like really really way too cool for him.

I mean, I would spend my weekends doing this:

I want to be tough as nails when I grow up.

And Ryan would spend his weekends doing this:

I want to be Kermit the Frog when I grow up.

So it just was not going to work out for poor Ryan at this point.  Although there was one very close call when I dressed up as a bride for Halloween and as my mom was about to drop me off I thought about something and freaked out.

I had told everyone (including Ryan) in show and tell the day before that I was dressing up as a bride the next day.

"Mommmmy"

"Hmmmm?"

"Can you please go inside and make suh that dumb Wyan is not dwessed as a gwoom?"

"Lauren Rae, get your cute little butt out of this car immediately."

"FINE, He's pwobably a dumb gween fwog anyway and he always eats ALL THE COOKIES."
(Preschoolers don't often make sense.)

So Ryan and I parted ways for years and years, until we ran across each other again in high school.  And this time it was a different story.

Because while Ryan was busy playing Varsity Soccer and Volleyball,

Crap, when did Wyan *ahem* Ryan get cool?

And modeling sweatbands in the local paper,

I know ALL the rules to ALL the sports.


I was busy winning all of the Science Olympiad medals.

Butterflies belong to the Order Lepidoptera Yo.
So our paths did not much cross.

Until our Senior year.  When Ryan and I had AP Statistics together and he made me a bet on like the second day of school that I would go to prom with this other kid in our class.  This other kid in our class who was a year younger than us and had made a waterproof monopoly game complete with laminated money and floating game pieces so that on the weekends he and his friends could sit around in a hot tub and you know, play monopoly.


And I was all "No Way Jose."

And then I started dating the monopoly kid (who was a very nice boy and sometimes left me flowers in my locker.)

And it seemed like Ryan's little prom prediction was going to come true.

Until one of my friend's parents went out of town and we had a party at her house and decided to invite all of the popular kids.  And they came.


And Ryan fell in love with me all over again.  Because, on the inside, he was still the little boy that thought I had the most beautiful hands in the world.  And that night he decided to hold my hand as we took a walk around the neighborhood.

And his prom bet was totally foiled.

Hey Ryan, remember how you still owe me $20 from the prom bet?  With interest over ten years it actually comes out to more like $167.53.  Oh hey coincidentally that is like the exact total for all of the Christmas things that are currently in my cart online at Crate and Barrel.  Funny how these things work out huh?



And then we graduated high school and Ryan proposed three hundred years later and we lived happily ever after.

I lost my shoe while walking across the stage at graduation and decided to just leave it behind.   So I am wearing one shoe in this picture.
Except that's not the whole story.  Stay tuned for Parts II and III soon.

Oh and I just thought I would mention that I wasn't like the biggest nerd in the whole school.  I totally had my eyebrow pierced.  That made me cool right?  No?  Well what if I didn't even care if I was cool, that made me cool right?  Also no?  Crap.

Oh you like my eyebrow ring?  Yeah, I know, it's pretty cool.  My mom let me get it after I got straight A's for six semesters straight.

Having Myself a Merry Little Christmas...While Ryan Quietly Sobs in the Shower. I Can Still Hear You RYAN.

Hey there blogstalkers.  Forgive my temporary MIAness.  It has all been for a greater cause.

I was busy wearing the following things.

You would think it would be easier to decide what to wear when your wardrobe is narrowed down to such finite choices.  But it's not.  I still have to try on multiple outfits and decide if The Grinch clashes with ice-skating penguins. (The answer is no.  Christmas and Christmas always match.)
And eating the following things.

Eating a candy cane is the same as brushing your teeth right?  Because of the peppermint?  I'm just going to go with yes.
And having the following conversations with Ryan.

"People were giving me the funniest looks at the grocery store today."

"Do you think perhaps it is because you are wearing elf ears?"

"Whatever, what are those people even doing at the grocery store at eleven on a Monday.  GET A JOB. Right?"

"It's so curious to me that you seem to forget daily that YOU don't have a job."

"Oh hilarious Ryan.  Just TRY to pretend that making gingerbread people is not a job.  You have to be very precise when placing the candy buttons."

"Gingerbread people? Wait why did you frost braids on some of these cookies?"

"Those are the gingerbread women.  I needed men and women to start so that I could make gingerbread babies later today.  Why else do you think I had to go to the store again if not for gingerbread-baby-making supplies?"

"..."

"By next week I should be ready to make the gingerbread toddlers and if I'm lucky, if everything works out  just right, by Christmas I will have entire gingerbread families."

"Did you by chance get any whiskey at the store?  I suddenly have a strong craving to forget this conversation ever happened."

And trying to convince Ryan to get a real Christmas tree or two this year (in addition to the fake ones I already own.)  So far his answer has been, "Stop calling me at work." But I'm pretty sure he'll give in soon.

Lots of Christmas cheer coming your way blogstalkers.

Oh and for anyone that was curious how this post resolved itself...I got a lovely pair of Hunter Boots, size 8 in the mail yesterday.

And I was all "Yesssss! Now we can go sledding.  I didn't have good boots before that's why we didn't get to go in previous years."

And Ryan was all "Oh shit."

My Best Friend is MAKING me go. Yes...That's It. I'm going With That.

Short post today because I am unemployed and extremely busy.  Actually I'm just really trying to get my house super clean today since I am hosting all three of my sisters and their boyfriends here tonight before we all go to dinner together.  That's right.  Poor Ryan has to go to dinner tonight with me, and my three mini-mes.  He's very...let's just say excited. 


From left: Jordan, Me, Clarke, Nicky.  Watch out Ryan, we are coming for you.  Tonight.


Here's an example of how I think the conversation might go:

Lauren: So guess what Ryan did this week.

Jordan: Said no to a baby again?

Clarke: Probably something dumb.

Nicky: Wore a plaid shirt because he thinks he is a cowboy?

Lauren: I was going to say bought me Hunter boots because he is a good husband.  But yes, all those things as well.

Ryan: This is actually going better than I thought.

Poor Ryan.

Don't feel too bad for him though.  I made sure to make reservations at a restaurant that serves ceviche.  Give the boy some raw fish and he is happy.  Which is why I am still confused about why he was less than enthusiastic about my plans to celebrate shark week.

Well must go, things to dust, hair to brush, cheese to eat.

Also, I am going to go see the new Twilight movie at one.  You know for research purposes.  Research for what you ask?  Oh you know, things.  It's a secret actually, for a book I'm writing.  When will my book be out you ask?  Let's just say eventually.  Like by the time my book comes out you may have forgotten I was writing a book at all.  And hopefully you will also have forgotten that I went to see the new Twilight movie the day it came out.

Don't feel sorry for him. He knew EXACTLY into what he was getting. I almost said "He knew EXACTLY what he was getting into" but the idea of ending a sentence in a preposition made me shudder.

So yesterday was officially my very last day at work.  YAY!

I am looking for another job but for the time being my only responsibility is changing the burnt-out bulbs on the Christmas tree.  Oh also, laundry, cleaning, cooking and wearing lipstick like a good wife.  Because I am trying to convince Ryan that I should never go back to work.  That I should stay home and be a fifties housewife and have babies while also devoting most of my time to this little blog.

So far, he is adamantly opposed.  Let's see how he feels when he comes home today to a sparkling house, a hot dinner and a foot rub.

So a couple of nights ago my lovely friends and I had a party to celebrate my last day of work.  Sort of unbeknownst to me they had decided that now that I don't have a full-time job I need to put up bloggy ads.  At first I was like, "Absolutely not, that would drive away readers and at this point only net me like $1.90 a month."

Until I saw what their idea of "ads" was.

I have the best friends ever.

"This one is your cousin and this one is your sister.  They don't count as friends.  You should get some more friends." Guess who said that when he saw this picture...
So yeah they made tee shirts and are going to wear them to direct some traffic to my little spot on the interwebs.  I'm pretty sure this isn't normally how ads work, but I like this way better.  Even if it makes me zero dollars in the end (don't tell them that.)

But moving on.

Last night, after working my last hour of work, I made Ryan pick me up because I had tons of stuff I had to bring home from the office.

He wasn't particularly happy about it but he did it anyway because I said he had to and I am in charge.

When we got home I was unpacking my large bag of stuff that had previously had residence in my work desk when this conversation happened.

"You had TWO giant jars of peanut butter in your desk?"

"I am extremely afraid of ever running out of peanut butter. You know that, I made you put "I will never let you run out of cheese or peanut butter" in your wedding vows."

"Not so much made me as wrote it in at the bottom of my actual vows resulting in me almost actually reading that shit aloud in the middle of our wedding."

"I really think your vows could have been better"

"Oh really how?"

"You left out the really important stuff.  Like you mentioned loving me forever and all that crap but you neglected to mention things like "I don't care if you don't shave your legs ever again."

"But I do care..."

"Shhh Ryan, I am redoing your vows."

And then I wrote Ryan new vows.  He will be reading them to me at a 'renewing our vows' ceremony on our one year anniversary.  He does not know this yet.

I'll share these vows in full on December 11th (our anniversary) after receiving whatever diamonds Ryan purchases for me.  But for now, here is a little teaser.

"I, Ryan Gallagher, promise to never let the following things eat you: A bear, a catfish, a lion.  I promise if you are close to being eaten, to throw myself in harm's way so that you may escape."

"I also promise to never again say things like "Oh, you have a mustache, I never noticed before.  Must be these new sunglasses.  Man these things are awesome."

That's all for now folks.

This post has been sponsored by:

Two great friends.  Alright RYAN, I mean one friend and one cousin.

It's our 11 month anniversary and my husband didn't get me ANYTHING.

As this post has begun to garner me some pretty nasty comments, I want to issue this disclaimer.  This is a HUMOR blog.  I am not actually complaining about not getting a gift for an eleven month anniversary.  I didn't actually make my husband celebrate this day and I absolutely didn't use his credit card (which is actually a joint account) to buy myself a gift.  It's just a JOKE.  Maybe not a very good one, but a joke nevertheless.  Please don't take this so seriously people.

So today is 11/11/11 which means that Ryan and I have officially been married for 11 months.  Freaky.  He’s off of work today so I spent the morning trying to convince him to meet me for lunch. 

“Come on Ryan, We can hold hands and make a wish for the future at 11:11 on 11/11/11 to celebrate our 11 month anniversary.”

“Here is my wish for the future.  That you would stop waking me up to suggest things you know I am going to have absolutely no interest in.”

“You just ended a sentence with a preposition.”

“And didn’t you promise last month that you would stop trying to make me celebrate monthly anniversaries”

“Yes but it was an empty promise.”

“I’m not coming to lunch.”

And then I stormed out of the bedroom and slammed the door and shouted things, that in retrospect, I regret.

“Fine then you dumb Ryan! Don’t meet me for lunch.”

::no response::

“If someone told me you stepped on a fairy for fun I would believe them!!”

::no response::

“I’m buying Hunter boots with your credit card today, no response means you are fine with that.”

“Response” (Yes he literally said ‘response’)

This is my life blogstalkers.  It is SO hard.


I am putting this picture up so Ryan will feel guilty and buy me a present for our eleven month anniversary.  I wear a size 8 in Hunter boots Ryan.

And Then I Made Up The Best Insult OF ALL TIME

I don’t think anyone is going to think this is funny except me, but I have been wracking my brain for something else to write and can’t come up with anything.  So I apologize for this maybe not being funny.

So last night in the middle of the night I woke up from what could be arguably my weirdest dream of all time.  I had a gun pulled on me in this dream and yet I woke up laughing, gasping for breath, with a sleepy and somewhat perplexed husband looking at me like I was mentally ill.  So you know, like he normally looks at me.

What happened was this.

I was working in this dream as a gas station parking attendant, parking people’s cars while they went in to like buy chewing tobacco and Mountain Dew and pay for their gas and then bringing the cars back around 90 seconds later when they were ready to actually pump their gas.  I was wearing a little hat.    

Sidenote: Can you believe that this job doesn’t exist yet in real life?  Because now that I’ve been presented with the idea, I’m surprised no one has seen that there is a giant gaping hole in gas station culture.

Anyway, at some point this really cool guy wearing a tan bell-bottomed leisure suit and aviator sunglasses pulls up in a green Ford F150 and TRIES TO PARK HIMSELF.  And I am having none of it.  I run over to him as he’s striding away and I’m all like,

“HEY, Mr. F*ck!” 

And he slowly turns and says “What did you call me?” 

So I say “You heard me, Mr F#ck.” 

And I can tell he is VERY offended (I’m not sure why, it was such a subtle insult) but I am like a really tough gangster in this dream so I just stand my ground. Then he pulls out the tiniest gun I have ever seen and points it at me. And I am scared, but still tough like a gangster, so I still just stand my ground.  And then I woke up.  I assume this means I got shot in the dream but whatev.  Tough gals in tiny little hats don’t let something like a bullet wound ruin their day.

Back in the real world, once I stopped laughing I tried to explain to Ryan what had just happened.  He just sat there and quietly listened to the whole story and when I stopped talking his only response was “I wouldn’t let you park my car either, you’re a terrible driver.”

Yeah so he sided with the guy that dream-shot his wife.

No “Wow you were really hardcore in that dream, I am impressed.” (I KNOW, right?!)

No “If this guy was so cool why was he wearing a tan leisure suit?” (You know I don’t know what’s cool in real life. It probably just carried over into the dream.)

Not even “What did your little hat look like?” (It was very little and blue.  It looked like a hat a monkey might wear.)

I feel like he might finally be getting used to my crazy. 



Like this hat.  But in blue.  And more monkey-sized.
Any weird dreams lately blogstalkers? 

Is anyone else going to start using ‘Mr. F&ck’ as their insult of choice?

This has nothing to do with the following post, but I just wanted to let you all know that I totally wiped out on the way to work today.

In continuation to THIS POST.

So last night in a desperate last ditch effort to get Ryan to stop holding Christmas hostage I offered this compromise.

Next year I would…(gag)…celebrate….(oh my god it’s so bad)…Shark Week.  I promised to watch one shark-themed program of his choice daily.  I even told him we could play the Jaws theme on repeat and eat a delicious sushi dinner while thrashing about wildly in the bathtub.

But all I got in response was “The only reason I even like Shark Week is because I get to celebrate it alone.  The things you are describing would ruin Shark Week.”

Which is why he deserves what happened next.

I found the storage unit key.  I repeat, I FOUND THE STORAGE UNIT KEY!!

Muah HA HA HO HO HO  (Evil Christmas laugh)

It was in Ryan’s toiletry kit, which was the 62nd place I looked.  The 63rd place I looked (after having stashed the key safely in my bra) was the microwave because I wanted to be able to say "Actually, it wasn't," if any dummy remarked "It's always the last place you look."

The first thing I did after having found the key was place a large, extremely jingly, jingle bell on the keychain so that if Ryan ever tried to hide it again while I was home, I would totally hear it.

Then I hid it.  Somewhere way better than a toiletry bag.  So don’t even try to look for it RYAN.  You will not find it.  Here is why.  I hid it at my office.  And you do not have the special swipey card to get into my office.

Sidenote to self: Hide swipey card.  Not in toiletry bag, that is a really bad hiding spot.

So now come this weekend (since I unfortunately do not have any ‘Christmas Elf’ days left at work,) Ryan will be walking in a winter wonderland.

And I will be happy and he will be mildly disgruntled and everything will be back to normal.

Phew.

P.S. I’ll try to stop talking Christmas until at least after Thanksgiving now blogstalkers.

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas. I can't. Because Ryan is a Christmas-stealing Grinch.

This week Ryan and I are in a monstrously huge fight.

Let me explain.

Anyone that knows me, knows that I completely and totally geek out about Christmas.  To me it truly is the most wonderful time of the year.  Not so much to my poor suffering Jewish husband.  It’s not that he minds that I force him to celebrate a holiday that has nothing to do with his own religious culture, it’s that I force him to celebrate said holiday for 55 days each year.  Because November 1st officially heralds the start of my Christmas season.

Sidenote: Did you notice my ingenious use of the word ‘heralds’ there.  Even my writing gets Christmasy when November hits.

And yes most people would say November 1st is early to start celebrating Christmas but since when do I care what most people think?  I once shaved my legs with half of my kitchen scissors because I had a wedding to go to and I was too lazy to walk two blocks to Walgreens to buy razor refills.  I’m sure most people would think that was dangerous and odd but my legs were smooth and I was happy.

So anyway, last Tuesday, November 1st, I sprang out of bed feeling all bubbly and joyful and called in sick to work.  I hopped over to my computer and put the Hansen Chrismas album on repeat.  I ate a handful of mini-marshmallows washed down by chocolate milk for breakfast and planned my day.

First, find my Christmas underwear and put them on.

Second, consider normal pants, decide against them, and instead don Christmas tree pants and knee-high stripey candy cane socks.  Roll up pants so socks are visible. 

Third, go to storage unit to retrieve Christmas decorations.

Third is where things went very wrong.  Because the storage unit key was not in the bowl by the door where is always is.  So I called Ryan and work and we had this conversation.

Ryan: “Did you make it so that my phone plays “All I want for Christmas is You” when you call me?”

Lauren: “I did, you are welcome.”

Ryan: “Awesome, no one at work is making fun of me right now.”

Lauren: “Did you put the storage key somewhere?”

Ryan: “Why are you even calling me now, why aren’t you at work?”

Lauren: “I’m being a Christmas Elf today. Storage unit key?”

Ryan: “I hid it.”

Lauren: “What the eff RYAN.  My Christmas shower curtain is in there.  The dogs’ reindeer antlers are in there.  EVERYTHING I NEED IS IN THERE.”

Ryan: “Exactly.”

And thus the giant, (maybe marriage-destroying RYAN), fight.  And he won’t give in.  No matter what I do.  I even brought him home matzo ball soup the other night as an homage to Judaism.  But he didn’t care.  He was just all like “Why does one of these matzo balls have a bite taken out of it?”

So yeah, that’s where things stand in our home right now.

Oh and last night, the fight got ten times worse when Ryan said…and I quote…

“Don’t you love that it’s not beginning to look a lot like Christmas in here?”

Bah Humbug.

How’s your November blogstalkers?   
Is anyone dying to see a picture of me all decked out for Christmas?

Don't read this. It's really long and not worth your time. I'm being serious.

So clearly I sort of discontinued Five Things Friday.  I apologize, I really and truly do, but I have a very good reason. 

Laziness. 

See?  You totally can’t be mad when the reasoning is so very logical.  But seriously, sorry for my unexplained and, I would imagine, much lamented absence.  Honestly what really kept me away from all of my loyal blogstalkers is described with absolute perfection here.

So yep, depression reared its stupid dumb head for a while.  It happens.  I chopped off all of my hair and got over it. 

Haha Depression! I will attack you where you live.  Which is in my hair apparently.  Weird.
And now I’m back.  Again.  And with good news.  I finally managed to pawn the Lovesac off on someone!! Yay!!  This may have sparked a smallish Ryan down-spiral.  Yep.  For a couple of days there we were both super fun to be around.

“Ryan the bathroom garbage needs to get taken out.  It’s overflowing with tissues and making me feel really bad for the floor.  It’s a good floor, it doesn’t deserve to be covered with tissues.”

“I can’t right now.  I’m sitting in the Lovesac’s spot and remembering the Lovesac.  And that floor’s not that great, sometimes it’s really cold to me when I get out of the shower.”

“That’s true.”

So THAT was a fun week.  Anyway, I’m still not quite ready to attack a Five Things Friday post since those things take me HOURS to write and edit and anyway I’m pretty sure no one wants to read “Five Things Friday – The world is dumb and my job is dumb and my dog threw up on me while I was brushing her teeth.”

So instead I’ll just catch you up on a couple of things that have been happening in Lauren and Ryan world the last couple of weeks or so.

First, the day after I hacked off all of the hairs on my head, I decided to actually like make some effort with my appearance.  I dressed all nice and fancy and did my makeup and put on jewelry and even wore perfume.  It was grand.  On the way out of our condo I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and said to myself “Self, you look UH-MAH-ZING.  You should make this much effort everyday…you know…like normal people”

And then pranced outside onto like the most beautiful fall day and did a little spin and thought “This day is coming up Lauren.” 

And then on the way to work some dude was like “Excuse me miss?”  And I was like “OMG he is totally going to hit on me and tell me I am just the loveliest.”  So I prepared to turn him down with a gentle wave of my wedding ring, smiled and said “Yes?”  And then he was all “I think you have gum on your butt.”

So yeah, that day definitely “came up Lauren” after all.  I went back to wearing clothes that don’t make me feel good about myself the next day.

Oh and yeah, if you want a really good mental image to get you through the rest of your work day then picture me standing in a bathroom stall at work in only a shirt, knee-high black nylons and heels trying to scrub gum off the butt of my pants with a hairbrush and handsoap.  Not my finest moment.

Another one of my not-finest-moments occurred just the next day when I forgot I used the brush to scrub off my butt gum and used it to brush my hair.  And then got some gum in my hair.  Luckily I was able to pick it out and didn’t have to get the rest of my hair cut off.

We also celebrated Ryan’s birthday in my bloggy absence.  He turned 28.  Which is totally old enough to have babies in my opinion but WHATEVER.  And then my friend Julie and I had a birthday/Halloween party for Ryan and for her fiancĂ© Caleb.  I dressed as a non-slutty bunny and Ryan and my sister Jordan’s boyfriend Jake somehow coordinated a whole Brokeback Mountain thing without telling anyone else.  Seriously, when I left to set up the party at Julie’s Ryan was sitting on the couch in his sweatpants and no shirt and had no plans to dress up at all.  Then like two hours later he’s all “Surprise! Gay Cowboy!”


Howdy Ma'am.  Do you like my belt?  It's a ladies belt.  And then Jordan was like "It's true, he's wearing my belt."

And this was after I tried to convince Ryan to do a couple’s costume with me and he was vehemently opposed.  I believe his exact word actually was “Yuck.”

Anywho, we also attended a Bears’ game and a Northwestern tailgate that we had to leave early because Ryan was suffering from food poisoning for the second time in two months.

Because he went back to the place that gave him food poisoning the first time.  And ate the SAME THING.

Actually he told me he didn’t get the same thing so I rubbed his feet and murmured sweet things and softly sang some soothing lullabies to ease his pain.

Until I found out that what he ate this time was a grilled chicken salad sandwich. Then I banged a bottle of Gatorade down outside the bathroom door and called it a night. Because what he ate last time was a GRILLED CHICKEN SANDWICH.  It seems Ryan thinks that mayonnaise and grape halves and slivered almonds can defeat salmonella.  What a dummy.

Neither of us got any sleep that night.  Him because of the salmonella and me because of all of the tortured weeping coming from the bathroom.

If you somehow made it to the bottom of this ridiculously long post, then I thank you.

And I’ll talk to you again soon K?
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