Friends, loved ones, enemies, lurkers, pen pals, and guy in my area whose Wi-Fi network is called ‘THAT Uncle,’ I welcome all of you here on this lovely Wednesday afternoonish/eveningish. Please, steep thy tea, or brew thy coffee, or slap thy Nicorette patch ontoeth thy shoulder… whatever your poison, sit back, sip it/drink it/absorb it into your skin and stay a while, because we’ve got to address something today.
First point of business: if you’re one of the smart ones and therefore follow me on Twitter, you might remember me saying that “I want to jump into a ball pit, except instead of plastic balls, I want it to be filled with chocolate macarons.” I found a visual of how this would manifest; it’s not exact, but it definitely gives you an idea:
–Except imagine a blonde girl with fair skin, about 5’4″ waving hi to you, instead of that kitten. And instead of the marshmallows, there are macarons. So essentially completely not that image. The image above except with no similarities. Ok hope that clears things up. Also, anyone willing to build this? I lined up three investors with a single tweet about it, soooo. Feels like a moneymaker to me. Go, take that idea and run with it. I am practically handing it to you, for the low low price of 50% of the earnings. Don’t waste this– my ideas, they are like Apple stock (according to my Mom).
Now, onto the second point of business, which is that I have something to admit to you. Ok here it is, here I go admitting it. It’s going to happen any second now. Ok I’m ready, it’s that… it’s that… there are just some things I cannot bring myself to say, in writing. At least not here on this blog anyway. So, what happens when I don’t want to talk about something most of us are used to keeping private? Or when I don’t feel comfortable talking about some especially sensitive topic? (Or have been FORBIDDEN is also one?)
… well. THAT my friends, is where Cassie (who also has a blog, called Meet Mrs. B) comes in… aka, our newest bloggista.
Because, even though–if you’re a reader–you’re probably thinking right now “wait, there are actually things she DOESN’T feel at ease discussing on this blog?” believe me, I get it, I feel you on that. I talk about everything from the art of the first look to the art of the finger bang (you know, when your finger tries out bangs and you have to lie and say they look great; that thing, not the other thing). This I know, it is not lost on me. STILL, the time has come. The time has come to welcome yet another Knotty Bloggista to the scene, a bloggista who has that writing thing I’m still figuring out down to an art.
… but who’s main quality in my eyes is her ability to touch on topics of conversation that I simply…… well, I simply cannot due to the aforementioned multitude of factors.
But the “my fiance would probably kill me” factor, mostly.
Ladies and gentlemen and genius literate babies out there (because everybody’s baby’s a genius amirite)……. meet CASSIE:
Hello friends!! I can’t even begin to describe how excited I am to be writing for TKB…so let me first break it down like this:
I first got the word that I’d be a bloggista while on my lunch break, eating a chocolate cupcake with about an inch and a half high mound of pink frosting on it. And I have to say that the email I got from Alison was the BEST part of my lunch. :) TKB is what I want my blog to be when it grows up, so this is HUGE HUGE HUGE for me! As an avid reader of all things Knotty, I KNOW you guys can handle what I’m about to bring to you, and I can’t wait to share my tales of just moving-in-with-my-love-and-still-figuring-out-the-kinks-of-cohabitation with you! (Thanks Alison! You’re the best!)
Let me just start off this blog post by saying, “hi…my name is Cassie, and we should be friends.” I should also start off this post by apologizing to (and THANKING) the wonderful man in my life, Timmy, for letting me put our life on display. Now let us get into it…shall we?
The things they don’t tell you about Happily Ever After…
One of the FIRST things you will learn quickly when moving in with the love of your life is not how handsome he looks when he’s getting ready in the morning. It is not even that he takes up waaay more closet space than he initially let on. Nor is it the fact that he likes to watch weird Japanese cartoons. Oh no…
And I mean…like…he REALLY farts.
^^^^Very similar to my real life conversations with Timmy^^^^
You know how you know your guy is the smelly guy? When all his BROS know he’s the smelly guy. You know how you know your guy is the smelly guy? When at all his family get-togethers the conversation SOMEHOW comes around to he’s the smelly guy. You know how you know your guy is the smelly guy? When you comment at the lack of smelly that has been around the house.
And THAT is my guy…
There have been many MANY times where I’ve looked Timmy in the eye and straight UP asked him, “What is WRONG with you??” I often joke with him that he waited until he knew it was too late for me…I was too in love with him, and now I was stuck with him and his stench. The poor guy would hold it all in when we first started dating because he was afraid of scaring me off, but it would end up giving him RIDICULOUSLY painful stomach aches.
Does this remind anyone else of the scene in The Vow…where the beloved Leo farts in front of Paige for the very first time, and she rolls the car windows UP? Now I’m not saying that we need to go to those extremes, but here are some foolproof ground rules you can use to make it through those smelly afternoons. (Did I say foolproof? Baahhahaha…I’ll let you be the judge!)
- Don’t let him fart in the bed. That stuff stays on the sheets, and your room won’t smell pretty anymore.
- Make him go in the BATHROOM to do that…the ONLY room in the house where that business belongs. And if he feels like being a gentleman, he’ll turn on the fan in there too.
- Along those same lines, don’t let him fart in the kitchen. I don’t know about you…but that just SHOULDN’T be anywhere near where I’m prepping food.
- Pretend like it doesn’t actually happen. Although, over the course of fifty some years, that might be a little hard.
- And IF the unthinkable happens, and you should happen to pass gas in front of him, for the love of all that is ladylike…don’t own up to it. Or cover it up with a cough…any maybe…just MAYBE…he’ll think it’s kind of cute when you do it.
- Forgive him.
Of course I say these things in jest (mostly).
What I have learned is that there are times where you’ll want to be romantic, and it just doesn’t happen – because he’s lactose intolerant, and he decided to drink a glass of chocolate milk that night. And maybe you’ll want to get it on and snuggle up on top of him, and he’ll inform you that his bladder is full. The biggest thing you need to learn about moving in together is that LIFE gets in the way of all those romantic things you dreamed about for your happily ever after. But the downright truth of it is, no matter how smelly men are, and how disgusting the car rides can get… they always get the cutest apologetic look on their faces because they REALLY are sorry.
So, what does your guy do that irks you? And what sort of ground rules have you set up with your honeys? Let’s talk about our (occasionally smelly) men together.