The Dog Toy Debacle/ Why I'm not allowed at Gamestop.

"Jingle Bells

Hannah smells (all of the time)

Henry chewed a toooy (and a wall, baseboards and a pillow and his bed)

Zachary has new video games

And I just say "Oh boooy"

You're welcome, I'm here all week.

I like to talk about my dogs a lot.  Mostly because I don't have children I birthed from the baby canal.  So instead I talk about those furry things I like sometimes.  $50+.  That's how much I spent on dog toys this week.  Ask me how many toys that bought...(you don't actually have to ask, but I'll tell you and pretend you did.)

Seven.  Seven toys including two foot long rawhides.  This is where it gets fun.  Ask me how many aren't demolished or still squeak.  (Once again, you don't actually have to ask.)

One.  One toy that is still intact, squeaks and has all of its parts.  No more rawhides even though I kept taking them away.  After spending all weekend picking up plastic parts, fuzz (Think heavy bright green snow on Christmas) from the Kong tennis ball that Henry stripped off of it before he massacred it with no shame.  Hannah was just an asshole.  "Hey Henry, I know you're across the room but Imma snarl at you for looking at my rawhide even though you're actually not looking at it and instead you're sleeping.  But I can totally see you checking it out. Bitch, did I say you could snore in the direction of my rawhide?  Imma put my hackles up so you KNOW I mean business. You know what?  I'm just gonna come over and hump your face while you're sleeping to prove my point.  Yeah boy, dontchu look at my rawhide 'gain."

I bought one that I didn't realize looked like a toy that you would find at an adult store....I was unaware until Henry was trying to get that squeaker out, consequently enough, located in the "rear".

I have had multiple compliments/comments saying "Hey Rachele, why isn't that in the bedroom....where it should be?"  or things like  "Did you really 'buy' a toys for the dogs (wink wink)?  Eh?  Ehh?"

I've officially thrown in the white flag.  They ruin everything, not that I mind too much except they've taken to chewing on the baseboards as a form of separation anxiety.  Slather those bastards in Sriracha, problem solved.

___________________________________________________

Apparently this Call Of Duty:  Black Ops thing is pretty serious.  Also, I'm super obnoxious.  Remember Crash Bandicoot?  Lovable little...well, something, who's girlfriend was abducted by the horrible Dr. Cortex and Crash is on a mission to rescue his girlfriend and eat apples! 1996, that's the year it came out.  It was on the original Playstation and I was so excited when my parents brought it home.

R:  So we're here to get the new COD?
Z: Yeah, I prepaid to have one reserved.
R: Can I get a video game?  I want to play!
Z:  Yeah, I would love for you to play video games with me, what one do you want?
R: Crash Bandicoot! (Commence weird looks from hard core gamers)
Z:  What is that?  I've never heard of it.

Then I wander off all around the store and then I'm all "Babe, how come I can't find Crash Bandi-Coot?  That's what I want, I want to rescue his girlfriend and defeat the evil Dr. Ican'trememberhisname.  Ugghhh, but I just want the Bannnndiiii-coooooot game."

Commence more stares from people in line to buy the new COD Black Ops.

Then Zachary is all "You're being ridiculous. People are looking.  Do they even make it anymore?"  and I remember that it came out a long ass time ago and the answer is probably not.  So that was depressing.  However, I decided to browse the Playstation store....lo and behold!  Crash Bandicoot for PS3 for $6!  SIX WHOLE DOLLARS!  It was basically Christmas at the Riley Manor so I begged (asked once because I was going to do it anyways regardless of the answer) if I could download it and he said yes!  Hooray!

I played it for 30 minutes before my eyeballs were burning at how terrible the graphics were.  Remember when you got a Baby Alive and it came with juice you fed it to make it pee but then you would pretend to "check the temperature"  and drink it all yourself?  Remember how "good" it was and how now if you were to drink it, it may taste like muiriatic acid?  Well, that's how it was playing Crash Bandicoot for the first time since 1997.

I haven't touched it since.  It was terrible.  I wasn't even sure what I was looking at most of the time.  I kept getting killed because I couldn't tell what I was looking at, everything kinda blended together....however, Hannah likes to watch what's going on tv  and was entranced by the movement on the big screen in front of her.  Naturally, I made the character run back and forth so I could watch Hannah chase him and growl at the tv. That was probably the highlight of my game playing experience.

That's it for this installment of Riley Writes.  I apologize once again for the lagging in writing.  I'm fully aware I'm behind.  I will try to be better.

Xoxo
That Crazy Riley Woman

The Great Debate

Ladies and gentlemen, we are a nation divided, a house split in two, a fruit basket with an apple and an orange (can I get an Amen? Amen!!!), lovers torn between themselves!  This terrible affliction to plague our loving home.  We are at a crossroad and it's looking grim.  The mister and myself rarely ever disagree.  We both have the same mentality as far as a lot of things go.   We don't agree on politics but this isn't where this is going.  This has taken a much darker road than I had assumed it would.  If you can't take it, avert your eyes, it's about to get ugly.






Red Vines versus Twizzlers.




It all happened while we were innocently perusing the BX last week.  As I strolled through the candy aisle, the beautiful blue box caught my eye.  I grabbed it and then thought to myself "You know, I should get the big bag because I have a a gut feeling that I may have a hard time sharing."  Miraculously, the large bag ended up in our little shopping basket.  I don't know how it happened.  It was like magic or something.

"What are these things?  Are they like Twizzlers?"

I stared dumbfounded, at the man I thought I knew, the man I love.  "What did you just say?  How dare you take the Red Vines name and smear it with the Twizzle-word!  How can we live under the same roof?  I thought I knew you!  I loved you!"

"Rachele, I think you're being a tad over dramatic....it's just candy."

"It's just candy?  Just candy you say?!  How dare you say that about the father of all licorice!  Give me the bag right now.  You're infecting it with your Twizzler hands.  Can I please have the bag?  I won't eat any until we have dinner maybe."

"Babe. I know you, you're going to eat a bunch of them and spoil your dinner."

"Who are you, my father?  I want the bag, I promise I won't eat any.  Besides, I'm an adult and I can make my own goddamn decisions, cry baby pee pants."

"Oh, you're an adult huh?  Here, have your Twizzlers.  I don't care."

"Haha, fooled you.  I'm going to open them and eat five. Here, have one.  Your life is about to change, angels will sing to you from the skies and unicorns will protect your dreams!"

I gave him a bite and anxiously awaited the moment that would forever alter our destiny as man and wife (not really alter it, just dramatic effects).

"Meh, I still like Twizzlers better.  I've seen you eat three of those since we've been in the car.  Are you even going to be hungry for dinner?"

"My stomach may or may not hurt but I think it's because I'm sensitive to gluten."

"Or it could be the fact that you just ate your fourth Twizzler."

"STOP CALLING THEM TWIZZLERS!  AND THEY'RE NOT A GLUTEN FREE CANDY, OKAY?"


Then last night we were all sitting at dinner and he was admiring the package of Red Vines as it laid almost empty on the table.  I told him that Red Vines is one of the largest and most popular brands of licorice, it's been around for over 90 years and it's the best that will EVER be.

"It looks like some sort of bad off brand."

Then we got on the Google Box Machine and saw something I cannot unsee.  I regret to inform you that Twizzlers has been around longer than Red Vines.  It doesn't change the fact that I love Red Vines.

Red Vines, I love you and I will continue to be with you forever.  If you could make your candy gluten free though, that would be pretty cool though.  Then I could eat 8 instead of 4 and not feel sick.

What's your opinion?

Xoxo
Riley Writes

Hannah is an *Expletive* sometimes

Things are finally coming together at work.  The bar is slowly getting set up, new bartenders have been hired.  the food is without flaw and I have convinced two servers to refer to me as "Big Poppa".  I'm going to go ahead and chalk that up to a win.  

With a set schedule now...you are going to hear more posts about Crossfit, trying to be gluten free (because apparently when you have thyroid problems, it can cause gluten sensitivities which I why I haven't made carbonara in about 4 months) and more post about my asshole fur children who are going through separation anxieties.  In my blog before the last one I wrote, I mentioned driving by the Crossfit gym I like to go to.  Well, I finally decided I was going to start getting back into a routine come hell or high water.  I didn't lose as much progress as I figured I did but I wasn't quite up to par as the last time we went.  It felt great though.  I nailed my WOD and have been looking at Crossfit pins on Pinterest (obsessed much?).  I'm also Stumbling Upon pictures of tattoos because I am finally getting my Merry Christmas half sleeve and I'm trying to make some decisions.  Any time I see any pictures of females I'm all like "Oh wow, she's super skinny but I bet she can't lift like I can,"  or "She has got NO muscle definition AT ALL."

I know, I'm seriously ridiculous.

Do you know who's even more ridiculous than I am?  My asshole dogs, that's who.  In this past week, Hannah has peed in the bed while we were snuggling, Henry has chewed up two of the walls and they BOTH  decided it was okay that while Zach and I were trying to take a nap on the couch,  that they should be able to be up on the couch as well.

"Hey mom, I noticed you covered your face up with the blanket to abstain from getting kisses but I see you left your ear out.  Let me remind you just how long and slobbery my tongue is by letting me stick it in your ear and surprise you! "  "Arghfgh"  "Mom, are you surprised?!  Do you love me?"

I allowed Hannah and Henry to snuggle in bed with me the other night.  I didn't get home super late but working in the hot weather really takes it out of you.  I was all "Okay puppies, come snuggle with mommy!"  They took no time into beating me to the bedroom and claiming their retrospective spots.  Hannah is the snuggler so she curled up in my arms all cute while Henry was laying across my legs.  It wasn't long before Hannah was trying to make herself even more comfortable by turning around in circles.  Then I noticed her sitting. She normally doesn't sit on the bed...she's either standing or laying down. Plus she was sitting a bit lower than her normal sitting stance.  I notice these things because I'm all motherly like that.  That's when I went all ghetto and said "Aw Hell naw bitch, you better not be pissing on my mother lovin bed!"  

"You little *expletive*!  Yeah you *expletive*-ing expletive.  You pissed on my bed you little *fatherless child*.  Yeah you better run you *expletive*-ing reference of male genitalia.  Damn it you little *expletive* sucking *expletive*!"

Then my wonderful husband said to whomever he was playing his new Halo game with "I think my youngest daughter is in trouble."

"Damn right she's in trouble.  The little *expletive*-ing *expletive* pissed on our bed."  - I yelled all of this as I chased that little jerk around the house, waving my arms in a fit of anger.

She booked it into her kennel and didn't even whine about not having a bed in there...which I had to remove because BOTH Hannah and Henry have chewed the zippers off of their bed and have strewn gorilla fuzz all over our house.  This is not the first instance.  I clean up gorilla fuzz on a regular basis.  It looks like someone shaved a dozen orangutans and distributed the clippings all around our carpet.  If you have dogs, I'm sure you understand completely.

Well, that's all for this edition of Riley Writes.  Hopefully you enjoyed your brief little stay here.

Xoxo,
Riley Writes

*Input your own profanity strewn language.  Or use your imagination.  Either one.

Well, this is sure to ruffle some feathers...

With the election that just passed, there are a lot of angry people.  A LOT.  I know this because it's all over Facebook.  This post isn't really about who won or lost, it's about being a good human being.  With the results being in, I noticed an influx of negative and racist comments on my social networking feed.  Comments from good friends, acquaintances and family members that were less than appealing and left me with a sour taste in my mouth.

I don't care who you voted for.  What I care about is that you make an educated decision based on your own research, not what the media tells you.  To be perfectly frank, I didn't care for either candidate.  To quote my favorite TV show "Elections are always between a giant douche and a turd sandwich."

Now that that's out of the way, I'd like to pose a question.  When I was in school, grade school, middle and high school, it was considered bullying to use racial slurs, discriminate against someone because of their religion and other things of that nature.  So what gives anyone the right to do so, on a social network in front of our impressionable future?  1st amendment, yes.  But what about being a decent person and having moral values?  What about trying to be respectful and lead our younger generation by good examples?

You're telling me it's okay to call people out on age, weight, skin color, ethnicity, religion and anything else that people can poke fun at?  You betcha!  We reap what we sow and if we keep allowing such hatred to flow from our lips, you can be damned sure our next generation will be equally if not more hateful and uncaring.  Then we will scratch our heads and blame everyone else while we're the real problem.

My momma would have beat my behind black and blue if I would have said some of the things I saw on my Facebook.  The worst would be the disappointment though.  My mother would be extremely disappointed in me that I would resort name calling and making slurs of sorts to get my point/opinion across.

Everyone is entitled to their own opinion.  I'm not saying you can't have it.  What I'm saying is you sound more intelligent when you're making valid points instead of using religious and racial epithets.  You are more likely to get others to at least ponder your point of view if you don't litter it with a stream of profanities or try to force it down their throats.

Stepping off the soap box.
Riley Writes

Why you gotta make me cry?

In true Riley Writes fashion, I am on the other side of this computer, my eyes welled up in tears and a glass of champagne by my side.  Once again, I'm cooking.  Those damn onions get me every single time.  They're actually cooking at the moment but the whatever it is that makes you want to wear a ski mask is lingering in the kitchen and wafting out to the living room where I hear my husband sniffling because his eyes are watering as well.  What is it about onions?

Hi, my name is Rachele and I'm an onion hoarder.

It sounds strange but hear me out.   I never seem to use a whole onion.  I have no earthly idea why!  So since I never use a whole one, I open up the fridge and place it where the eggs are supposed to go.  That is where onions and cheese go to die.  I put them there (I think it's where you put the butter, in the door), I forget and inevitably cut a new onion up the next time I cook.  As I pulled out junk to make dinner (I haven't been cooking too often and I'll get to that).  I pulled out a glorious onion to add to my stuffed bell pepper (who's recipe I needed to look up on my own blog because I'm ridiculous) and as I went to put the onion in the fridge, I saw the onion graveyard.  Maybe that's what brings the tears to my eyes.  I must have close to 5 half onions in the refrigerator.  Holy crap.  Am I ever going to use them, you ask?  Nope.  Probably not.

Today in my quest to get qualified to actually work (because apparently you have to do that to bartend in Guam), I ended up driving by the Crossfit gym Zach and I were going to before I felt sickly and before I started working.  I missed it terribly and part of me wanted to blow off what I was doing and go get some rounds of deadlifts in.  I did not, however I did make a promise to myself that AS SOON as I stop working 6 days a week, I'm going to go back to the gym.  Balancing a house, a job and two "kids"  isn't exactly easy.  Mad props to single moms who do it and have actual kids, instead of ones that think it's okay to eat my under-roos for dessert.  Thankfully I have my pretty legit husband who helps a sister out!

Also, I'm missing a toe nail....again.  For those of you unaware, I had a fake toe nail put on for my wedding.  Long story short, I had a fake toe nail.  It was beautiful and eventually my nail grew back.  A couple weeks ago, in a flurry of trying to get out of the door the fastest, Hannah forced her whole body through the door and in turn, it combed over my foot, tearing at my delicate skin and lifting up one of my nails.  Luckily for me, that pretty legit husband is in the medical field and hooked a sister up.  It was bleeding and he took care of it, cleaned it out, bandaged me up and snuggled my face because I was crying.  Three weeks later, my nail finally comes loose.  Gross right?  You're welcome for sharing.  I probably won't get a fake one put on this time because I'm not getting married nor do I care....I just think it's rather comical to tell people I have a prosthetic nail.

So that's about it in this Riley Writes wrap up.
Xoxo
Riley Writes