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strange choice. you must be really fucking bored. or a stalker. i welcome both. here it is. some background... prior to gallivanting in sexy greeting card land, i rocked out the dynamic, exhilarating, dangerous public accounting thing. don't be jealous. i think i lost consciousness for a solid 8 years until i woke up one morning and had more desire to stab my eyeballs out with a rusty nail than look at another financial statement. end of finance career. good time to start a family. so i get knocked up. oh and because being super sick 24x7 wasn't fabulous enough, i broke my tailbone in labor. this has no relevance other than to say how much it sucked. my superpower is how my ass can sense a storm coming. seriously. i embraced the opportunity to become a stay-at-home mom though i inevitably began the rapid decline in fundamental brain function. it happens when you have children. that don't sleep. and you go crazy. thank goodness god created alcohol and medication.anyway, while on an agonizing shopping excursion for greeting cards that don't make me want to vomit, i thought, fuck, i'm not sending this crap anymore. inspired, i picked up a pack of blank cardstock. that day i made my first cards. one said "congratulations on your divorce. it's about time. we all fucking hated him anyway." the other card listed in profane yet glorious detail, what a complete fucker my friend's soon to be ex-husband is (aka "the hate card"). if you're wondering, he still is a sackless, heart-stomping fucker. my friends were greatly amused at, if not slightly perplexed with the cards. i think it's safe to say they were likely concerned about my mental health as well. but we'll leave that shit for my therapist. i started to wonder why people don't like to acknowledge anything negative. and if we do, we dance around it like our vagina's on fire. we've all been there. why do we choose to throw fluffy, meaningless words on sucky situations? why can't we say what we're thinking? why can't we just say it like it is? like multiple orgasms, once you get going it's hard to stop (yes some of us are luckier than others, take that bitches!). so the cards started flowing. writing profane, random and blunt cards became a cathartic hobby. my friends were hugely supportive of my little creations and encouraged me to share them with the world. thanks freaks. i love you in that non-gay way. i wish i were gay, life would be so much easier. but again i'll save that shit for therapy. so i made my crude rude cards for friends and friends of friends and friends of friends of friends... you get the point. there are a lot of us out there with a non-mainstream sense of humor. go fucking figure. and here we are. oh, and "ripe" by definition is mature and stinky. it also represents the first 2 letters of my daughters names, riley (ri) and peyton (pe). they keep me both sane and insane. fortunately they are the funniest people i know. this morning riley (5 years old) told me there was a bad smell coming from my mouth and to go brush my teeth. peyton looked out the window and said "shit, it's raining out". hey, it's funny coming from a 3 year old. so these cards are dedicated to my little female mafia. mommy loves you. now if anyone is still reading this, go buy some fucking cards so i can take my kids to disney world and send them to college. -m.  |
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