tumultuous relationship with fro yoI’m in an abusive relationship. No, I’m not abusing Matt, at least not physically. The relationship I’m talking about is a love affair; a forbidden affair, but one I can’t terminate no matter how much I try.

The object of my affections? Fro Yo.

For those of you not familiar with this fine establishment, they serve various flavors of frozen yogurt along with a toppings bar of every thing from gummy bears to crushed up candy bars.

You serve yourself as much frozen yogurt as you want, and then load it up with as many toppings as you want as well.

It’s basically diabetes in a cup.

It’s perfection.

photo credit: Matthew McVickar via photopin cc

photo credit: Matthew McVickar via photopin cc

How is Fro Yo abusive, you ask? He seems so sophisticated with his trendy concept and welcoming rewards card. Don’t be fooled. That’s how he gets you.

You see, Fro Yo is abusive because he knows I need him. He knows I can’t live without him. Who can, really? Well, I supposed lactose intolerant people could totally live without him. Whatever.

He’s so smooth and cool and he knows it.  Not only is he aloof and confident, he’s literally smooth and cool.  He’s cold, actually.  He’s kind of a bad boy, and I like it.

I know what you’re thinking; is it just mind games?  How is he physically abusive to you?

Um, it’s called a brain freeze.  Ever had one?  Pure.  Pain.

And yet, I want more.  I want more of the brain freeze.  I want more of the headache.  I want more, more, more!

It’s not all whipped cream and crushed candy bars though.  There’s a dark side to Fro Yo.  He requires constant attention or he pouts and has a meltdown.

He also makes me feel bad about myself.  Sure, there’s the ecstasy of the time we spend together, but when it’s over, I drive home with my head hung in shame, kicking myself for being so gullible and giving in to his seductive ways.

photo credit: Kalexanderson via photopin cc

photo credit: Kalexanderson via photopin cc

As if I don’t feel bad enough about my overindulgence, there’s the stains he leaves on my shirt, and the indigestion he leaves in my chest that remind me of our dirty deed.

I try to hide our relationship with my husband, but I think he knows.  He can smell Fro Yo when I walk in the door, and I know he can see remnants of our night together in the corner of my mouth.

Matt looks away.  He doesn’t want to know.

However, despite all of the turmoil Fro Yo brings to my life, every time time he calls my name, I come running.  Well, not so much running because I’m physically not capable of running.

This is yet another example of the permanent effects Fro Yo has on me.  He has such a hold that he affects my joints and my (in)ability to engage in cardiovascular activities.

Why can’t I stop?  Maybe Robert Palmer is right, and I’m addicted to love.  I probably am.  Or maybe, just maybe, I’m addicted to lactose.

Either way, I don’t care.  If loving him is wrong, I don’t want to be right.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a hot date with a cool guy….

Dear Auto-Correct,

autocorrectI don’t know how to say this, so I’m just going to let you know the way the kids are doing it these days.  I’m going to write it on the interwebs.

No, please don’t try to guess what I’m going to say; that’s kind of the problem.  You always try to finish my thoughts and sentences and it’s getting a little annoying.

Do you think I don’t know what I want to say?  I know myself fairly well and I know what I want.  I’m independent that way (or as you try to put it “node orbs”).

You’re too needy.  I don’t like how you hang on my every word…and then change them.

You don’t know me best, despite your large vocabulary.  Trying to guess what I’m going to say before I say it really stresses me out.

No, it doesn’t tress me out.  Why would I say I’m tresses out?  Why would you change it to tresses?  Don’t you know that making that change in itself tressesme out?

photo credit: woodleywonderworks via photopin cc

photo credit: woodleywonderworks via photopin cc

Of course you don’t, because you’re a know-it-all.  You think you know everything I’m thinking before I say it.  Sometimes you’re wrong.

As long as we’re on this topic,  are you trying to send me subliminal messages about my weight?  Sometimes I try to talk about my friends but you change “friends” to “fitness.”

Not cool, AC, not cool at all.

I don’t want to have to do this, but we may have to disconnect.  I may just have to turn you off.

I don’t want to do that, but it might come to that.

Unless…well…I’ll give you one more chance, but you’ve got to change your ways.

You need to realize you don’t know everything, and sometimes I just want to say what I want, how I want.

You need to stop being so needy.  Sometimes, I don’t want you to fix it. Sometimes I just want you to listen and fix me a drink instead.



photo credit: ubiquit23 via photopin cc

photo credit: ubiquit23 via photopin cc

By now you’ve heard about the NSA leaker, Edward Snowden, and how he’s on the run from the Feds.  I wish there was a different term to describe him other than a “leaker,” but no one consulted with me about nicknames.

I would call him the Snowster.

The term “leaker” sounds like he’s lactating or that he has a prostate problem.  Come to think of it, maybe he does have a prostate problem, which is why he’s always on the go.  (Pun intended.)

He should probably get that checked out…once he gets to a country with a good healthcare system.  (Stay away from Canada, Snowster!)

Either way, he’s on the lamb, and not the way I’m on the lamb at my favorite Greek restaurant.  I am LITERALY on the lamb when I go there.  It’s that delicious and Olympia Kebob House knows how to make a gyro that will rock your world.

Great, now I want humus.  Thanks, Edward Snowden.

Focus, people!  Let’s get back on track!  Espionage and the Snowster.  Stay with me.

photo credit: Genista via photopin cc

photo credit: Genista via photopin cc

Reports indicate the Snowster was initially in Hawaii and then fled to Hong Kong, but has since been linked to Moscow.  Homeboy gets around, but not in a Kim Kardashian kind of way.

He may be deemed by the media to be a villain, but he’s still better liked than Kimmy.  I’m sure of it.

Given the Snowster’s known travel destinations, I can’t even begin to imagine the nightmare that would be packing for his asylum trip.  From Speedos and muscle shirts for Hawaii to parkas and scarves for Moscow, I hope he has an Amazon Prime membership so he doesn’t have to pay shipping for all his new digs.

I also hope he has a razor to keep himself groomed if he’s going to rock a Speedo.

With all the speculation about his next destination, along with my speculation about his next clothing purchase, I think Hasbro needs to capitalize on this and get a board game going.

photo credit: Genista via photopin cc

photo credit: Genista via photopin cc

Do people still play board games?  I know I can dominate a round of Candy Land, but that’s also what I call my secret stash of Starbursts and Rolos hidden in my closet.  I don’t think that’s the same thing.

Don’t judge.

Whether it’s a board game or a computer game, someone needs to come up with one that focuses on Where in the World is Edward Snowden.  It would be kind of like Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?, but without that annoying little theme song.

That song is now stuck in my head.  It’s stuck in yours too.  If I have to suffer, so do you.  We’re a team like that.

I haven’t worked out all the rules of the game yet, but I think the point would be to seek asylum in a country that other players would have to guess.

photo credit: mortenjohs via photopin cc

photo credit: mortenjohs via photopin cc

One of the players would be the Snowster, complete with his hipster glasses and popped collared shirts.  The other players would be FBI agents and Secretary of State John Kerry, whose figurine would just be a ketchup bottle.

There would undoubtedly be obstacles the Snowster would have to overcome, like running out of styling mousse or gel for his sweet hair style.  He would have to find a way to get a replenished supply of Dep without being detected by the feds.   It wouldn’t be easy.

He would also have other set backs, like losing his compass or his super secret spy glasses.  (Someone should tell him to think about contacts.)

There would obviously be a theme song for the game, which would undoubtedly be “Informer” by Snow.  It’s both lyrically accurate, and Snowden has the artist’s* name incorporated into his own.  It’s a no-brainer.

*The term “artist” is used extremely loosely here.

photo credit: stevendepolo via photopin cc

photo credit: stevendepolo via photopin cc

Come on, Hasbro, this game is gold.  It teaches kids about geography, while also teaching about government, and how no one likes a tattle tale.

An alternate name could be “Snitches Get Stitches,” or “Whistelblowers Get an Ass Whooping.”

I’m still toying with the names, no pun intended.

Call me, Hasbro.  Let’s make this a thing.

photo credit: bengtham via photopin cc

photo credit: bengtham via photopin cc

I don’t mean to brag (yes I do), but I have another post published with Yahoo! Voices.  It’s about how I continue to watch Keeping Up With The Kardashians despite the fact it makes me want to poke my eyes out and pour acid on my brain.

Come to think of it, watching the show is just like pouring acid on my brain.

Either way, you should read it because:

1.  I will cry if you don’t

2.  It’s an awesome post

3.  If you don’t, I will submit your name and contact information to The Church of Scientology and tell them you’re interested in being personally contacted.

You don’t want that.

No one wants that.




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photo credit: planeta via photopin cc

photo credit: planeta via photopin cc

Other n-wordsFor those of you fatties foodies out there who love Paula Deen, I’m sure you’re aware of the recent lawsuit filed against her by a former employee.

The suit alleges sexual harassment, racism, and use of the N-word.  It also alleges she over-uses  butter and grease in all of her recipes.

Just kidding.  It’s impossible to over-use butter and grease in a recipe.

Does Paula Deen deny using the N-word?  Of course (N)ot.  In fact, she freely admits to it.

This admission probably won’t help the strength of her defense and if she insists on maintaining this position, she should consider a diversionary tactic with the jury.

I would suggest winning them over by serving them fried chicken and cupcakes.  It would put the jurors in a food coma just before evidence is presented, and voila!  Acquital is made!

It’s a brilliant plan and I can only hope to be chosen for that jury.  I can also hope they’re chocolate cupcakes.

photo credit: alex.lines via photopin cc

photo credit: alex.lines via photopin cc

Anyway, back to the alleged racism.

Perhaps what’s most disturbing to me about the allegations of racial slurs against African Americans is the fact she frequently looks like she’s wearing black face.

I’m not sure if it’s intentional, or if she’s just too liberal with the bronzer, but there are times I swear she looks like she’s a performer in a vaudeville show.

Considering how liberal she is with sugar and frosting, I’d say the same is true about her use of bronzer.

Regardless of what her motives were for using the N-word, I hope she learns from the experience.  I also hope she branches out and learns other words that start with an N.

Here are a few I’ve come up with that she should learn and insert into her repertoire immediately.

photo credit: sielju via photopin cc

photo credit: sielju via photopin cc

Night Cream

Night cream would be a great word for her to learn.  A little dab will go a long way to reduce those wrinkles.  I’d recommend she buy it by the pound.

Non-Fat Dressing

Non-fat dressing is another great word for her to learn.

Wait, come to think of it, she’d have to learn the word “salad” before she could learn about non-fat dressing, so maybe I’m pushing it a little.


Another great N-word she should learn is Nordstrom.  Queen Deen needs a new wardrobe, and she needs it since 1995.

Afghans and pearl necklaces do not a classy outfit make.  She needs to burn all of her clothes and head to Nordstrom immediately.

photo credit: nemuneko.jc via photopin cc

photo credit: nemuneko.jc via photopin cc


Nutella is an N-word she should not only learn, but should use liberally.  I realize this isn’t a healthy ingredient, but I’d just like to see what she does with it.  I suspect she’d find a way to fry it and serve it with powdered sugar.

That’s an N-word I could get used to her using.

Hopefully this post will help Paula see that other N-words can be great, and most of them don’t evoke feelings of hatred and fear.  In fact, some of them actually evoke feelings of hunger and excitement.

Someone pass the Nutella.

This woman cracks me up.  It's probably going to be me in a few years. photo credit: Diueine via photopin cc

This woman cracks me up. It’s probably going to be me in a few years.
photo credit: Diueine via photopin cc

Okay people, I’m super swamped with stuff* because I’m super important.

*I’m almost to the final level in Super Mario Brothers 2 and I can’t be bothered to update my blog.  A girl has priorities.

So, because I know you will shrivel and die without hearing from me regularly and reading my musings, I’ve decided to write a post with a compilation of some of my random Facebook updates over the years.

In a way, they’re my musings and thoughts, and every one of them is pure gold.  Obviously.

  • I just saw a guy at the grocery store at 8:45 this morning buying Vodka and pizza rolls. He’s gonna have a good day!
  • The best way to determine how much someone loves dogs is to see how many nose prints are on the inside of their car windows.
  • I just J-walked in front of a police officer.  I’m such a rebel!
  • A couple next to me at the pool has been arguing all day. I’m considering drafting their divorce agreement for free if they will shut up.
  • I need a power nap. And by “power nap” I mean a week of doing nothing but sleeping.
  • I’m  headed to the shooting range this morning to learn how to shoot a gun. If all goes well, I encourage you to be nicer to me, as I may be packing heat from here on out.
photo credit: niffyat via photopin cc
photo credit: niffyat via photopin cc
  • Last night’s workout was definitely counteracted by the Big Mac and fries I had for dinner.
  • Dear obnoxious biker dude, Yes, you have a Harley and it’s loud.  We’re all impressed and know you have big balls.  Now shut up.  It’s 6:30 a.m.
  • I just learned that my dog is the humper at doggie daycare.  Is that like the biter at kiddie daycare?
  • I’m going to dominate the golf tournament today. And by “dominate” I mean “sit in the golf cart and drink beer.”
  • I’m watching thin models on America’s Next Top Model while stuffing my face with pizza.  It’s invigorating.
  • Pre-marriage statement: “There’s frost on your car this morning…but I scraped it off.”  Post-marriage statement: “There’s frost on your car this morning…better leave early so you can scrape it off.”  **DISCLAIMER** Matt scraped my windows this morning. Whether prompting was involved is another story.
  • I fear my husband will discover it’s breast cancer awareness month and use it as an “opportunity to check for lumps.” Constantly.
  • I’m embarrassed to report that every night of vacation when the maid comes in to turn down our bed, we’re already in it. Pa-thetic!
  • I’m beginning to think that Halloween on Facebook is far better than Halloween in real life. I get to see everyone’s cute kids in costumes, but I don’t have to (1) get up to answer the door or (2) share my candy.
  • I’ve done nothing all morning and I predict more of the same for the rest of the day.
  • I’m a little embarrassed that I fell asleep at the spa today in the meditation room, but even more embarrassed that my snoring woke me up.
  • I’m hoping the Rams will feel my presence at the game today and pull out a win.  If not, I’ll just drink.  It’s a win-win.
  • It’s much easier (and more fun) to ingest calories than it is to burn them off.

So yeah, inspirational, right?  I’m pretty much like a daily devotional.

photo credit: Victor Bezrukov via photopin cc

photo credit: Victor Bezrukov via photopin cc

photo credit: Shaikh Irfan via photopin cc

photo credit: Shaikh Irfan via photopin cc

Guess what?!  Seriously, guess.

If you read the title of this post, you should have a clue.  If not, I’m not going to give you more, as you obviously don’t appreciate the one that was given to you.

And why would you read this post without reading the title first?  Nevermind, I’m sure you just blindly read whatever I write because it makes you realize your life isn’t so bad.

I get it.

Anyway, back to me.

I wrote a post about what I learned from Sandra Bullock, and it’s on Yahoo!  That’s right, as in Yahoo!, the search engine you used to use before Google, but now that Yahoo! has published something of mine, you’re going to go back to using it and tell Google to suck it.

photo credit: MShades via photopin cc

photo credit: MShades via photopin cc

Google, If you don’t want my minions to tell you to suck it, you should publish my work too.

Just kidding, Google.  I love you.

Seriously though, back to me.

So please click the link and read my post about what I learned from Sandra Bullock and her movies.  As always, the post is not inspirational, nor is it grammatically correct.

Hopefully, however, it will give you a chuckle.

If not, slam a Diet Coke and read it again.  It will come around.



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As always, you guys are so awesome and I appreciate your support of my writing.  This really is a dream for me and without my loyal readers, none of this would be possible.  From the bottom of my heart, thank you.


MH900401128We don’t have kids, so bath time at our house is pretty uneventful.  Matt simply takes his rubber duckies and does his thing.  I just have to make sure he gets out before he prunes.

The other night there was a funky odor in our house, and since we had Mexican food for dinner, we assumed it was our digestion.  We assumed wrong.

After the side effects of the nacho bar subsided, the stench lingered.  So did the indigestion.

As the dogs gathered around us on the couch, looking for guidance on their activities for the evening, we realized the putrid smell wasn’t our bodies’ aversion to avocados.  It was our dogs.  Our smelly, smelly dogs.

Before we could think it through, we agreed to give two of the three dogs a bath.  All three dogs would be suicide, and since Meatloaf says two out of three ain’t bad, we figured that was good enough for us.

If it’s good enough for a C-level “musician” (term used loosely) named after a meal made entirely of beef, then it’s definitely good enough for the Newlins.

dog in sudsBath time it was!

Matt decided to bathe Shady Jack and I took Bentley.  We left Max to fend for himself, mostly because we figured he licks himself so much that he’s probably cleaner than most of us, or at least his genitals are, as that seems to be the focus of the licking.

He’s also a good brother and keeps Shady Jack and Bentley’s manly parts clean as well.  He’s a stickler for hygiene (except when he eats poop.)

I can’t speak for how the bath went with Shady Jack, but I saw the bathroom afterwards and it looked like a massacre of small animals in there.  It was like Dexter’s work room, only instead of blood it was hair; lots and lots of black hair.  And instead of killing, it was bathing.

Okay, so it wasn’t like Dexter’s work room at all.

This isn't good enough for Bentley.  He demands better.

This isn’t good enough for Bentley. He demands better.

Bentley, on the other hand, didn’t so much shed as he did shake and whine the entire time as if he was being assaulted.

He’s a drama queen, and not a fan of baths (or other dogs, or anything that suggests he’s an animal or inferior to anything).  If he could talk, he would have screamed obscenities and most likely called the authorities to report the obvious abuse.

He would also most likely complain about his horrendous living quarters, as he only has 2 pillows to sleep on.  What is he?  An animal?  Pft!

I bathed Diva Bentley in the kitchen sink, as he’s five pounds, and the sink is the perfect size to accommodate what he most certainly would refer to as torture.

He strongly disagreed with my plan, and let his position be known through his whining and shaking.  I could see his mind working as he tried to plan his escape, all the while screaming out for rescue.

When the torture bath was done, I attempted to dry him off, which only further infuriated him.  The look on his face told me he was wondering “How dare she use a regular towel to dry me off when a velveteen blanket would be more proper? I’m British, after all.”


small_3950008I put him down and he ran around the house at lightening speed, making sure to roll around on every surface to ensure the horrid water dried off quickly.

After the two dogs were clean, their dirt and hair dirtying up our bathroom and kitchen, Matt and I decided to sit down and enjoy the fruits of our labor (and the chocolate fruits from our Edible Arrangement).

As we sat there stuffing our faces with chocolate covered strawberries, we noticed the smell was still there.  How could that be, as we bathed Shady Jack and Bentley.  Could we be imagining it?

We further investigated and discovered it was Max.  Our sweet, sweet Max.

Unfortunately, we bathed the wrong dog.  So we did what good parents would do: decided not to give him a bath, but sprayed him down with dog cologne instead.

We’re really good parents like that.


Bentley bath

Pure. Torture.

113It’s summer time, which means it’s time to hit the pool instead of hitting the gym.

Yeah right, like I hit the gym the rest of the year.

If did, I probably would enjoy the pool a bit more.  Hence, my theory for how to survive the swimsuit season.  Read about it here.  It’s an awesome idea.  (Duh).

So now that you’re equipped to go to the pool and not feel bad about how you look in a swimming suit (because you read my post), you need a few more staples.

Not stomach staples.  You look great the way you are.  Didn’t you read my swimsuit theory?

Read about the five things you need to take to the pool here.  Yes, I’m making you go to another site.  Deal with it.

You know you’d click just about anywhere to learn about what to take to the pool.  So one more click!



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Kissing at receptionFor those of you who read my blog regularly, you know that I frequently talk about my husband.  That poor guy puts up with so much of my abuse.  But then again, so do you, my dear reader.

Why do you read this blog again?  No seriously.  Why?  Send me an email and tell me.

Anyway, I know with every one of the posts I write about funny stuff my husband says, you’re wondering “How does she do it? How does she have such a happy marriage?”

I know you’re also wondering when Matt will wise up and realize he can do better and there’s plenty of other women out there who don’t fart like guys.

I’m wondering the same thing.  I’ll just stock up on air freshener until then and hope he doesn’t figure that out.

snapshot of getting marriedSince I regale you with random information that’s not at all useful, I’ve decided to switch it up and make this a useful and informative post.  Yeah, I know.  I’m trying something new and different.  Don’t get used to it.

Without making you wait any longer (mostly because I know you have short attention spans), here are Lisa Newlin’s secrets to a happy marriage.

These tips work for me, and they may work for you too.  But then again, do you really want to take advice from a chick who thinks watching The World’s Strongest Man on a Saturday night is a perfect date night?

Whatever. Just look at the pretty pictures and read it anyway.

close up of getting married 1.  Fear

Your husband should always be at least a little scared of you.  No more than 10% though.  Anything more than that would just make you a bitch.

2.  Compromise

This is done on his part only.  Your compromise is dealing with his wet towel on the floor every day of his existence, so you can’t be expected to compromise on which pizza joint you will patronize for dinner too.

You’re far too important for that.

0753.  Let him know you’re the boss

Can he have a guy’s night watching The Fast and the Furious and playing X-box?  Of course he can (assuming the parents of the 9 year-olds down the street are cool with it too.)

But don’t let him know you’re totally fine with getting him out of the house for a couple of hours.  Build suspense for a while, and he may just try to bribe you.

That leads me to my next point…

walking after wedding4.  Bribe him

To quote Martha Stewart*, “It’s a good thing.”  Granted, she is usually referring to making garden tools out of spaghetti and toilet paper rolls when she says that, but the phrase applies here as well.

Society tries so hard to convince us that bribery is a bad thing, what with all the scandals and whatnot.  However, bribing works.  Just ask the mafia.

*Note:  Don’t quote Martha Stewart when it comes to stock advice.

5.  Hire a cleaning lady (or man)

I’m not picky about the gender.  Either way, hire someone else to clean the house.  Lord knows you don’t want to do it, as you’re too busy bribing him, making him compromise, and letting him know you’re the boss.

Plus, it’s pretty hard to impart fear in someone when you’re elbow-deep in toilet water.

Now go and prosper and be happily married.  You can send your thank you gifts directly to me.  Cash is best.  Or burritos.  If you send cash, I’ll use it to buy burritos.


Secrets to happy marriage