Ryno the Wyno's Cabinet of Curiosities

Listen. I think it’s come to everyone’s attention that I am a weirdo and I am not here to defend myself on that point NOT THAT ANY OF YOU PROBABLY HAVE ANY ROOM TO TALK. I think it’s safe to say that I’ve embraced this quality about myself. And you’re all still here (unless all the views are coming from Tammi opening the link from different IP address – if so, THANKS TAMMI). 

Please note that the links below just take you to previously written content, so don't click them unless you haven't been reading. If you have to click them, reevaluate your life choices and read the previous entries.

Exhibits A and Turtle: I take elaborate, dramatic selfies of myself and my animals to make it appear as though I am suffering because I only have over 40 candles when I could have over 1,000.

Exhibits 2 and also Spaghetti: I take old, innocent family photos and I turn them against the people who raised me and are probably no longer leaving me anything in the will except for some Bath and Body Works candle BECAUSE IT’S FUNNY TO VICTIMIZE THEM LIKE THAT.

Exhibit Red: I peruse Missed Connections and then make up captions about them and redub them “Missed MacGuffins” because CraigsList personals are like reading the “funnies” in the newspaper.

Exhibit Tyrannosaurus Rex: I have meltdowns over Americanized Thai cuisine.

So, faithful readers, let’s get one thing straight before proceeding here. We’re all on the same page. None of what follows should be shocking to you.  

My Lie in Pictures: Tammi's Dearests

Three years ago, my mother Tammi made the thoughtful mistake of giving me four volumes of pictures to catalogue my life achievements in breathing as a gift for graduating from undergrad. If you're only here for the Yankee Candle update, skip to the end.

These are the lies I made up about them.

Craig, Destroyer of (Yankee Candle) Dreams

I like to think of myself as a reasonable merman. So when the Yankee Candle gods smile their Crest White Strips smiles upon us lowly yellow teethed peasants WHO ARE NOT WORTHY OF THEIR LOVE AND ADORATION, we should not hesitate. We should not disrespect them. 

No, we go to our local shrine, we fit as many jar candles in our arms as we possibly can, then we hand those over for the lovely candle nymphs to put behind the counter while we get another arm load, and then we open up our wallets and WE GIVE THEM ALL OF OUR DOLLARS BECAUSE THAT IS WHAT ALL FAITHFUL CONGREGATIONS DO, OKAY?

YANKEE CANDLE IS HAVING A SHOP LIKE
YOU'RE ONE OF US A GOD SALE

Fake Patrick's Day

I like to think of myself as an upstanding Irish descendent. I eat corned beef and cabbage every St. Patrick's Day. I drink whiskey even though I don't even really like it. My favorite color is green. I don't drink green beer. I know the cultural significance and insensitivity behind an Irish car bomb (the beverage) and, for that reason, I don't order them anymore. I compare Guinness to chocolate milk. Out of all of my beanie babies, I kept Erin the bear (and I had A LOT of Ty bears in plastic cases and tag protectors, thank you very much). I eat potatoes ALL THE TIME and IN ALL FORMS. And every year I avoid bastardizing the holiday of St. Patrick's Day by avoiding my fellow Americans all day on Fake Patrick's Day, because it proliferates poor stereotypes about the Irish heritage.

So anyway I pushed those cautions to the wind like a lunatic, dressed up like a truck driver, and hit the town with my beautiful fermented grape goddess friend Laura because I knew she'd keep my sass under control without stifling my "creativity" (reminder: Laura is the friend who attempted to thwart what would become the Pad Thai Meltdown). I even got political and wore a Patriots hat. I KNOW. I don't even know what sport the Patriots play or what city/region they represent, so I was grossly uneducated if someone were to challenge me on my position.

Here be shenanigans.

My Lie In Pictures: Sibling Rivalry

I mentioned two posts ago that I wanted to start creating posts that were smaller in content and didn't necessarily end in a macguffin. I had hoped that these posts would be insightful. Inspirational. Engaging. Provocative. Honest. Instead I wrote a post about Missed Connections and now I'm going to lie to you about my relationship with my sister via fifteen photo captions. HOW WILD!

Three years ago, my mother made the thoughtful mistake of giving me four volumes of pictures to catalogue my life achievements in breathing as a gift for graduating from undergrad. 

These are the lies I made up about them.

Missed Macguffins

There's no point in easing you into this one. Listen, from time to time and-by-that-I-mean-on-the-daily I like to look through the Missed Connections section on Craigslist. 

Like anybody else, I enjoy a good love story. But what I like the most about love stories are the beginnings - the butterflies, the anticipation of the next time you'll talk to or see your kind of S.O., the are we/aren't we dichotomy, wondering if you just saw your kind of S.O. standing outside your bedroom window at midnight. 

What's better than the beginning of a relationship? The awkward pseudo-stalking that sometimes happens before the beginning of a relationship that could VERY EASILY turn the whole encounter less Notebook-ey and more Texas Chainsaw Massacre-y. These are the tender if not sometimes terrifying/gross moments you'll find in Missed Connections on Craigslist.

Naturally, I was reading through these this morning to make myself feel better about staying in bed all day when I had a realization: Missed Connections is just a series of embarrassingly Missed Macguffins in the sad underbelly that is 21st century dating rituals. Because who doesn't want to tell their future grandchildren that grandpa found grandma on the same website where he got a good deal on that armoire they left to you in the will?

This post celebrates these beautiful fear filled optimists boldly hoping against all odds that they will find love the old brash in'd way and avoiding the scary but normal by comparison world of online dating apps.

Oh, Ryan, Do You Do Theater, Too?

LOL. No. Do I LOOK insane? Don't answer that. If I were in theater, I would literally never see my husband who metaphorically dies for approximately six months out of the year. No offense to you theater #PowerCouples, though. I'm convinced you are all majestic time traveling wizards who ride on unicorns and throw children all their dreams and kittens from burlap sacks because that is literally the only realistic way that any of you see each other.

So, no, I do not "do" theater in the tradish sense, but I do play a role. A prestigious role. It's the same role Hugh Jackman's wife who-has-a-name-but-I-don't-know-it-and-don't-wanna-google-it plays. It's the same role Sarah Jessica Parker plays. The same role that Neil Patrick Harris and David Burtka play interchangeably. That's right. I am the spouse of a thespian. I am ~a theater widower~ *casual hair flip*.

Got a mention because we know who the real star is here. Also, for you youngins out there,
the # indicates a NUMBER and not a hashtag like the good old days.
LOL HOW WILD.

So what is a theater widow(er) exactly? Basically exactly what it sounds like. Luckily, yours truly created a definition for clarification:

Fan(dle) Girling So Hard

You guys. YOU GUYS. 

I promised myself I wasn't going to overreact or become "excitable." But whatever. In case you missed it yesterday, I wrote a post about my conservative patronage at Yankee Candle. 

Well, the candle gods have smiled upon us all today, but mostly me. OBSERVE. 

Yankee Candle not only liked my tweet...

...BUT THEY TWEETED BACK. LOL. I DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO COMPOSE MYSELF. Full disclosure: I recently (as in 2 hours ago) rebranded my twitter so that it matches this blog, so the @ryan_vention (follow it) you see in their reply is covering up my old boring twitter handle BUT IT REALLY HAPPENED.

CANDLE PUNS. *DIES* And, no. That is not a fake Yankee account I created to make you all ~jelly~. Although I don't blame you if that crossed your mind. I wouldn't say that I'm above that.

AND THEY FOLLOWED MY ACCOUNT. And I added some terrible word art to point how how amazing it is. For the privacy for the other people who followed me and don't want to be associated with me publicly, I covered them up with terrible photoshop.

I am not worthy.

Are You There, Yankee Candle? It's Me, Ryan

Ever since I started (ryan)vention, several of my friends have been asking me to write about a very specific topic: Yankee Candle. I struggled with this request for a few reasons. First, (ryan)vention is all about reinvention and intervention. I felt that writing about my very small obsession with Yankee Candle did not merit either of these because I DON'T HAVE A PROBLEM, OKAY?

Second, I felt that there were ulterior motives associated with the request. My friends knew that getting me to go gathering would be slim to impossible without the promise of wine, pizza, cats, and no people being present at said gathering because anything they could use to convince me are all things I could find at home. This roadblock would ultimately dismantle any attempts they could make toward staging a group intervention. I have really smart friends. They knew that if they got me to write about my VERY SMALL candle habit on my blog, they knew they wouldn't have to put forth any effort in tricking convincing me to leave my house for an intervention and I would have to stop and smell the True Rose candles on my own. 

Third, I knew I'd have to detail just how serious this little candle hoarding "problem" might be. 

Okay. Fine. Challenge accepted, peasants.

Pad Thai Meltdown

I'm just not even sure where to begin.

I make it a rule to not mix alcohol with emotions. There are several reasons for this:

• I become overly sweet to the point of smothering.
• I become overly sassy to the point of ruining friendships.
• I become overly sad to the point of intense sobbing, often in public places.
• I become overly confrontational about important political topics. Examples of these topics include: why Britney and Justin never got back together; why Crossroads - the film debut of Britney Spears - is one of the most important films ever created; the types of cheese that are either appropriate or inappropriate when preparing mac and cheese; why Leo doesn't didn't deserve an Oscar. 
• I live in a state of 24 hour regret following whatever disaster of a person I chose to be the night before, facing the fact that I probably am the most basic.

Actual footage of me being basic. gif credit: Giffage