The Truth

Short version? A boy, his boyfriend, and their wieners trying to survive suburbia.

Long version? Buckle up…

Six years ago I was living in Europe, living largely off my father’s credit card (shhhh…), and falling in love based on accents and abdominals. All was going to plan until somewhere along the road my goal of dedicating my life to gin martinis, $300 belts and general excessery went completely and utterly off the rails. Somehow, l – a 20-something public relations and advertising hack with a phobia of routine and long-term responsibility – ended up with a mortgage payment, a house on a quiet cul-de-sac, two short-legged puppies and a common-law husband who routinely insists I take care of grown-up things instead of eating chips in my underwear.

I can only assume I have been drugged in some high stakes version of Punk’d.

Somewhere in between ‘carefree student living’ and ‘adult everything’s a panic time’, this blog became my attempt at world domination. By making myself sound incredibly intelligent on the internet, I just knew that someone would find me and insist on making me the VP of Corporate Communications for some international, multi-million dollar something or other. It was a foolproof plan until it failed, launching me into a new blogging plan of typing under the influence throughout a few months of unemployment instead of actually applying for real jobs.

Cue disapproving looks from the live-in spouse.

But, since life is the most passive aggressive bitch I’ve ever met, once I stopped blogging to make things happen, things started happening. I somehow ended up on a national radio show, I somehow ended up attracting new readers, and ultimately, I somehow ended up getting hired largely thanks to this collection of manic tales.

I now work in advertising while pretending to be responsible with the newf, my insufferably impressive teacher boyfriend. He is referred to as such because he hails from Newfoundland – not because his genetic code in any way resembles that of a Newfoundland Dog. This isn’t that kind of website. The newf shapes the minds of the future, is worshiped by hoards of young people, and unintentionally puts my life in harsh perspective on the daily. I alternate between being inspired by him and wanting to smother him with a pillow. That said, he is a very good sport about being my comic relief and never getting to tell his side of our story.

NOTE: You are not allowed to like him more than me and he is not allowed to start his own blog as I would never, EVER date a blogger. Seriously.

Our crew is rounded out by the gargantuan presence of two wee little dachshunds. No matter what I’m doing, you can be sure that I would rather be with them. Don’t take it personally.

The past three years of blogging have opened a tremendous number of doors for me and for that I need to say a few thank you’s. First to Jamie Lovely for plucking me out of obscurity, showing me the way, and unleashing the monster that I have become.

Second, to the greatest resource and support system I’ve experienced online, 20-Something Bloggers, which has been invaluable in helping me share this little piece of internet with others and continues to connect me with so many incredible people.

Third, to my family and friends for putting up with my inflated sense of importance and for suffering through the added suspense of never knowing what will and what won’t show up on the internet. Also, a shout-out to my coworkers, bosses and clients for not having me fired or incarcerated as a result of what they’ve read here.

Lastly, because she loves to be the headliner, Tia for being someone who will spoil my kids someday and for being the deciding vote in all of my major life decisions.