Why The F%#& Are We Still Marching?!?

I have never considered myself a political person and I have no intention of using this blog as a platform for my political views. In fact, I’ve spent the bulk of my time recently bouncing around between nine different posts covering various topics like the worst reasons to have children, my anti-bridal shower manifesto, and reasons why my dog is my spirit animal. None of these are political, and while they are charming, lighthearted, and funny, none of these topics matter. Does it matter that I am jealous of my dog because she sleeps 20 hours per day and gets pizza as a treat? The jury is still out, but my money is on no. So as much as I love my dog and griping about bridal showers, there are things that are more important. Things that need to be discussed. Things have erroneously been characterized as political. As I’ve stated before, for some odd reason, I feel the need to participate in things that matter and, whether it’s the grandest or smallest scale, I have felt compelled to chime in and add my singular voice to the chorus on topics that warrant discussion.  Which says a lot considering I’m introverted and antisocial.

One of these topics is the upcoming Women’s March On Washington.

Women's March Jan 21, 2017

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Why You Couldn’t Pay Me To Be Single

I went to my high school prom without a date. There was no one picking me up in a limo, greeting me with a corsage, or standing behind me with his hand on my hip as we posed for quintessential awkward prom photos.

Despite the fact that I had fun, I felt like I was missing a fundamental piece of the prom experience, especially since I was one of five dateless people and that’s probably an overestimate.

Fast forward to present day. I’ve been married for almost 5 years and thankfully I have a solid Plus One. Don’t get me wrong, though. I’d be lying if I so much as hinted that every minute has been wedded bliss. There are moments I miss the freedom of being single, the thrill of the hunt, and a clean toilet. And of course there are moments best described with legal terms like “temporary insanity” because seriously, who puts their dirty socks on the coffee table?! But despite the fact that my husband is The Worst Roommate – not just the worst roommate I’ve ever had but the worst roommate that anyone anywhere has ever had – there is no amount of money you could pay me to go back to dealing with any of the following:

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