This summer, I went to Ireland for the first time with my Brit. We had his friends wedding in Cork, but since I never traveled to the Guinness loving country, I wanted to go to Dublin. Even though my Brit has been there before and wasn’t really crazy about traveling there again, he went because he loves me.

For two weeks I was going to be away with my man, a first for us as a couple as well as a first for me with any boyfriend. We were traveling to Dublin, Cork, and England to visit his family. In this post, I will only be discussing Dublin.

We left on a Friday night, which means Thursday night for hours I was packing like a crazy lady while my dogs watched. Side note, my mom watched my dogs while I was away and sent me pictures everyday of them. Back to my post, I had no idea how to pack because 1) the weather was different than hot New York July heat, 2) I was meeting his family for the first time and didn’t want to look like the “stereotypically American hoe” but also not a prude,  and 3) I will be gone for 2 WEEKS! I had to pack different outfits for different occasions as well as a wedding. That means a gown, and special shoes, and jewelry.

So after almost having a nervous breakdown, I finished packing and had a restless sleep, fearing I forgot to pack something. Then in the morning, I had to bring my two large suitcases with me to work because I had to leave directly from the office to JFK airport.

All day I was working I kept thinking of what I forgot to pack and making myself more nervous. Plus, thinking of how I’m going to look unsexy while sleeping on the plane in front of my boyfriend. Remember, I’m trying to make him put a 3 carat ring on it. And of course, everyone needed something from me that day and actually had to stay later than any person should on a Friday night to finish my work.

Finally free when I put my out-of-office on for my work emails, I left with my two massive luggage and got a taxi to the airport, while giving my office the finger. While being stuck in traffic, all I could think of was if this was going to be the trip that my Brit proposed to me. A part of me knew I was was reading too many chick-lit books so I had this huge fantasy of him on one knee with champagne and a picture perfect moment. The sane part of me (25% of me is sane), knew I was just meeting his family so he wouldn’t dare do anything without their approval.

I also was worried about my fat because I had to fit into my gown for the wedding which wasn’t for another week, so instead of eating to my stomach’s pleasure I had to be sort of good.

So my Brit and I met at the airport and all my worries disappeared. His kiss bolted me and I finally realized that I am going away with my hunky man. I’m going to have a blast and I need to stop worrying. So I took the stick out of my ass and became vacation me.  Which meant my fat ass went right to Shake Shack, got a chocolate shake, mushroom veggie burger, and fries. And of course, went to a bar and drank myself silly till I was convincing my boyfriend to join the Mile High Club.

Well, that plan sank quicker than the Titanic when I sat in my chair on the plane and fell right to sleep. I blame the wine, worry from earlier that day, and my fat meal. But being me, I had to wake up for the dinner they provided. Then, passed out again.

In Dublin, we stayed in two different hotels because The Schoolhouse hotel (where my boyfriend wanted to stay) was booked our first night so we stayed in the Gibson, a modern hotel in the Lower East part of Dublin (NYC language). http://www.thegibsonhotel.ie/?gclid=Cj0KEQjwnrexBRDNmZzNkf7c4c4BEiQALnlxhQ08qsIrgQhtmITKHmr69jmmFwVytKL15AHNNozBGuwaAm9z8P8HAQ

Since we were early checking in we were able to walk around and be tourist. When we were finally allowed to enter our room we took a nap, which lasted for 2 hours.

The hotel was a little too cold for my liking but it had one of the best bathrooms. The shower was the size of my apartment so you know my Brit pounded into me from behind while my tits were squeezed against the glass. A great way to start the trip. After we got our freak on, we went to a romantic dinner of Thai which was the only restaurant opened at 9:30 at night. The food was amazingballs and the atmosphere was perfect for just having been screwed. http://www.koh.ie/

Apparently in Dublin, lots of places close around the time New Yorkers start their nights haha. We ate dinner and headed to a couple of bars. The streets were crowded with drunk Irish men at 11:30. We drank and listened to live Irish bands. At 12:30 we had to make our trolley back to our hotel because they stop running at that time. Which was fine by us because after the flight, sight seeing, and fucking we were exhausted.

The next day we went to our new hotel across the city called The Schoolhouse Hotel, it was an adorable old schoolhouse converted into a hotel. It was in the location of how I would describe the Upper East Side (again New York language). http://www.schoolhousehotel.com/?gclid=Cj0KEQjwnrexBRDNmZzNkf7c4c4BEiQALnlxhYvmFpZzU6ZSgSFh3iQVr7ZqfTZdBfd7U34slSj01x8aArcU8P8HAQ

The hotel gave you a free breakfast buffet every morning and their restaurant was extremely popular with  the locals. But, that wasn’t the best part. The hotel let you rent movies for free. As much as you want. Including PORN.  And yes, we did watch a few movies and got our freak on thank you very much for asking. I mean, when one of the movie’s titles is “Splish Splash On My Teen Face” it’s basically begging you to watch it.

Anyway, I tasted fish pie which is not as yummy as it sounds haha. Since in Europe Shepard’s pie is pretty popular and I always wanted to taste it but since I don’t eat meat I couldn’t so I said if they ever made fish pie I would eat it. Well I did and I would never again haha. http://www.jamieoliver.com/recipes/fish-recipes/fish-pie/#Bfqw16lzt6lUD5wU.97 I did eat a lot of fish and chips and drink lots of Guinness. I am not a beer lady, I only drink it when I’m watching sports or at a dive bar. But, in Dublin all I drank was Guinness. It tastes completely different from the Guinness here. It’s lighter and I’m convinced they must put drugs in it.

Besides walking around and looking at all the sights, at night we went to dinners and lots of pubs. I became a little Irish in Dublin haha. Now, if I could only find the actor Domhnall Gleeson I would be all set. I do have a thing for those gingers. http://www.imdb.com/name/nm1727304/

We also went to the Guinness Factory, which my boyfriend was against because when he went last time he said it was boring. Going again, he said the second time was a lot better… I’ll take credit for that. We bought our first Christmas ornament there, learned how to properly drink a Guinness, and went to the famous rooftop to view the city of Dublin and have a free beer. https://www.guinness-storehouse.com/en

I would recommend everyone to at least go once but I wouldn’t go to Dublin again. It’s not like London or Paris or any city in Italy (at least for me). However, Dublin will always have a special place in my heart because it was the first stop for my Brit’s and mine vacation (our first big one).

If you have any questions or comments, you can email me at diaryofalovefool@gmail.com


Baby Arm

No, I’m not talking about a cute child’s chubby arm, I am talking about a man’s dick. A very large dick. For some odd reason, it looks like a baby arm. If you have ever seen one, you know what I’m talking about. Why am I mentioning this fact you ask? Before my Brit, I started working at the company I am with now. I was fresh faced and full of hope and promise. Single and having fun dating.  I was feeling and looking good, making some real good money, and actually enjoying my job.

Of course, it had to crash like the Titanic. Like any normal hormonal woman, I had work crushes but didn’t act on them because I was in the adult world with a real job. Then after about several months of working there, I received a work IM from one of my co-workers. It was a guy who I spoke a total of like three words to. At the company Holiday party, I asked him where Lily was, because he looked like Marshall from “How I Met Your Mother”. Then days after the party, he IMs me, flirting.

Not going to lie, I was into it. I was alone and he was really cute. After the day of talking, he asks me what he and a black guy have in common. Not knowing where he was going with that question, I asked him what he meant. He told me that they both have big dicks. And, that’s how I started sexting with Baby Arm.

We exchanged numbers and that night I received my first dick pic from him. It scared me because of the size and bluntness.  I thought I was going to go blind or my phone would break from loss of memory. And, sorry, but I had to send my friends the picture. I think I heard their screams from my apartment.

I have many stories about this Baby Arm so keep reading. If you have any questions or need advice you can write to me diaryofalovefool@gmail.com

Bombs Away

So if you have ever been in a relationship, an only child, or just shit shy then you understand my pain. I am all three and let me tell you something, it’s stressful. You have to stalk bathrooms out, time your bathroom session well, and pray you can be quick and smell-free.

Wait, what is bombing you ask? Bombing is referred to when you shit or fart. Everyone has done it and has been a victim of these bombs. Example, you are at a bar and maybe you are buying a drink or dancing and you are just minding your own business when boom, a strong smell hits your nose and makes your eyes water. That’s a fart bomb. And, the people that drop these bombs will walk away, making you look like the bomber. And, that’s not a cute look for anyone.

Another example is when you destroy the bathroom after let’s say eating Taco Bell. Still don’t know what I’m talking about? Here’s a video to show you: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lw30B5R1Cig

Now you get it? Why am I bringing this up you ask? Well, as you know I am moving in with my Brit. So, when we spend the night at each other’s places I stress over when I can bomb my/his bathroom but now I will have to worry about it EVERYDAY. So, while looking at apartments, I would love to get a two bedroom so I can have a bomb bathroom.  A bomb bathroom, the one where you know you can destroy it to your ass’s pleasure and not worry about your lover. Right now, I’m going in public places and at work, which is not fun because I think everyone knows now.

It would also be nice to not have to pretend I’m showering longer than necessary when I’m really bombing. Also, not to wait for work would be super nice too. It’s so much work to bomb in the office. I stalk our 2nd floor bathroom since not a lot of people are on that floor, go in, drop as fast as I can, and bounce out of there before anyone knows it me. I feel like I need a mic to drop when I’m done.

I’m writing this because I know other people understand my struggle and I want them to know it’s okay. We will make it through together. And, when we do get a place, I will let you know if I get my bomb bathroom.

Any questions or comments please write to me diaryofalovefool@gmail.com


Moving On Up

So it’s time in a relationship that my Brit and I are talking about moving in together, and not just moving in but buying something. Being old (almost 31!) and him older, we struggled to decide if we should buy a house or an apartment in NYC. The Brit wants kids while I have never been in love with giving up my freedom to be a slave to some little shits. But, I love my man so I will pop out some babies for him, plus I will be allowed to eat as much as I want for 9 months and him be a slave to me… looking at this as a bonus.

So if we have kids, then it makes sense to look for a house outside in NYC, since my Brit is not a millionaire times thirty and not buying a townhouse. You get more for the buck and better schools. But, I’m not sure I’m ready (and will ever be) to move outside the best city in the world.  And, I can’t see myself yet driving a SUV and taking care of a house.

However, we went and looked at some houses and I did start to fall in love with the idea of becoming a home owner. The houses we saw were gorgeous and spacious… some with pools! I started picturing myself becoming Martha freaking Stewart with the cooking and making clothes for our children while rocking heels.

Then I woke up and realized that you have to commute everyday to the city for work and to live. Plus, the LIRR sucks balls (that’s the train we would take back and forth from Long Island to the city). And, we were looking in Long Island because that’s where I grew up (hence my horrible accent).   Check out the video to hear it.


We were going to check out Westchester (the trains are supposed to be better) but then we were like why buy a house now? We are not married nor have any kids and we freaky love the city as if it was our child. Why leave it? We can have kids in the city till they start school or if my Brit makes more $$$ then we can send them to private school with all the other douchebags.

We checked out more apartments this past Sunday and I fell in love with such a cozy apartment. The price is amazing balls, the maintenance won’t kill us, everything is up to date, exposed brick, doorman, pet friendly, and two bedrooms! The second bedroom is a little small but that will be a guest room turned into a nursery. We can save with this place for a future bigger place wherever/whenever that might be.  Click on the link to see the place.


The only negatives are I wish there was more closet space (always need more of that) and one bathroom! Let’s talk about the bathroom situation in the next post because that’s a whole story.

If it was up to me, that place would be mine already but the Brit is paying for it sooooo it’s ultimately his decision. I’m trying to convince him to buy the place, even bragging him with blow jobs but he’s “smart” and likes to think about something till his head hurts. He’s in finance so I guess he knows more about investments while my investments are my clothes.

Is this not a nice place? Am I being too much? Email me with your comments or questions diaryofalovefool@gmail.com





No More Cottage Cheese Please

So I’m a little ashamed to admit I like eating cottage cheese. I feel healthy when I eat a little bit of it. Why you ask I mention cottage cheese? Not for the taste. Yes, I’m going to be that gross and say the look of it. And, why am I commenting on the look of it you ask? Because last year I got a YEAST INFECTION. I feel even more ashamed to admit that.

First, your lady part is itchy. Not like when your pubic hair grows but more like you want to sit at home all day and just scratch. It also burns and you feel the evil flames from the inside. So I sat on my toilet bowl, spread my legs, and looked at myself in a hand mirror. I felt like I was in a horror movie… cottage cheese everywhere. And the smell, I felt like I couldn’t wash enough.

I ran to the gyno and with one look she told me I had the infamous yeast infection. I was so grossed out. I thought only dirty women or whores get this.

So with my hooded covered head faced down in embarrassment, I went to the store to buy a cure. I spent some big bucks on the “quickest” fix for my yucky problem. For the cure, you stick an egg shaped cream into your lady part and wait. If you thought you burned and itched and smelled before, you were wrong. You have to wear a period pad because your underwear will be a mess. And, no sexy time… not like you would be in the mood. All I wanted to do was lie in bed in sweats and eat my depression away.

Finally, after my expensive “quick” cure (it took five days, “quick” my ass), I felt like a normal human being.  And, my love for cottage cheese went out the door. I saw enough of the lumpy texture for a week. I could have scooped out all of my cottage cheese and served it for breakfast for a family of four.

With my FBI stalking/research talent you know I looked up the reasons God did this to me. Apparently, if you have dirty underwear, rough sex, and eat too much yogurt you could catch this infection. Also, you could be just prone to having them… which I think is God’s cruelest punishment. So let’s pray it’s just my boyfriend pounding into me too hard. And, so far I haven’t had anymore so I think we are in the clear.

I also read that some women take a tampon, cover it in yogurt, and stick it in them to cure themselves. One, I like my yogurt only in my mouth and two, I don’t use tampons…. but that’s for another blog post.

If you have any questions, comments, or want some advice diaryofalovefool@gmail.com


I’m Back!!!!!!

Hello darlings,

I am so sorry for disappearing like a guy after a date. I know it’s such a pathetic excuse but I have been busy with being a peasant at work and writing a book (which by the way, is not easy and I think I discovered I have ADD).  I’m also still dating my boyfriend, everyone is still shocked that I’m still in a relationship.  This has been my longest relationship ever so I guess that means I’m a real adult and “mature”.  And to be honest, I didn’t think anyone was reading this blog.  I kinda felt like a weirdo writing about my life and no one caring. But I have been getting emails asking me why I went all Gone Girl and that really touched my heart.

Here are some answers to your questions:

1) I am alive! I have been working, traveling, eating, and have much more stories to tell.

2) I am with my Brit and we are looking to move in together! Excited and nervous because I am a gross human being when I’m alone with my dogs. Plus, the bathroom situation! We need to discuss more.

3) Not everything is sunshine and a Disney movie between my boyfriend and I. Of course, no relationship is perfect. We will discuss more.

4) I am writing a book (trying) and would love to write a column for a magazine but apparently everyone wants to be a writer and it’s not the easiest dream in the world to make come true.

So I will be trying to write on here every day and not disappoint or scare you anymore. You might get sick of me ;)

And remember, write to me about any questions you have regarding your life. I will answer them honestly and not like your friends who tell you one thing then behind your back say something else. diaryofalovefool@gmail.com