BALLS.

The title of this post is inspired by the Texas Rangers Baseball Team. 

I can no longer contain my excitement. Let me start off by saying my relationships are usually comical to outsiders, therefore, if this turns into anything, I plan on blogging about it for sheer comedic relief to my readers.

Now, onto the potential subject of these next few blog posts, we are going to call him DW (unlike Arthur’s kid sister on the ever so popular PBS show). He is… well… a baller. We met at church camp as counselors. His touch of swag is definitely a plus, but even more than that, HE LOVES JESUS. As a Christian musician and recording artist, he has a champ-level mission field. His adopted little sister is a freaking doll. Her little Asian eyes will make me melt in a heartbeat I just know it. So, he bought me tickets to a Rangers game just for the hell of it thus prompting me to make a spontaneous trip out to Dallas IN TWO DAYS. Mind you, I haven’t laid eyes on this guy for over three months. It should be interesting to say the very least. I really do think this is meant to happen, in the least corny and anti-“star alignment” way possible.

I AM FREAKING OUT ABOUT MEETING HIS PARENTS FOR THE FIRST TIME. Wahhhhhh. I have never been hated from a first impression, but what if I totally and completely stick my foot in my mouth?! Like “Hey DW’s mom and dad. Bet you like hot balls don’t you? Poop. I mean don’t you like your meatballs served hot… well, onto other dinner conversation…” FAIL. Or they ask me how I like school and I reply “I effing love college!” **trails off as to not step into more stupidity**. BALL SACKS. I can feel it now. Foot in mouth here I come. I might as well not wear shoes. Classsssy.

And the game **insert suspenseful music here**. What if I accidentally trip on a jumbo corndog and knock myself out in all my Rangers apparel then ruining the game for the entire group? Great. DON’T SCREW THIS UP, BLYTHE. GET IT TOGETHER, GIRL.

When in doubt, quote a classic comedy like Dumb and Dumber or Tommy Boy. Never fails. Don’t agree with him on everything or you’ll look like you’re trying too hard. Be easy going. Don’t be late. Keep up when he is waking. Don’t make him feel dumb in front of his friends, or ever for that matter. Tell him he looks good. Treat him like a man. Don’t over power the conversation. Tell him things about your personal life more than what your favorite Sonic drink is. Don’t cuss in front of him; you’ll look like a trashy broad. Let him know you’re paying attention to the little things he mentions about himself. Find things you can speak highly of about his family. Don’t eat too much. Don’t mess around with your phone; it can wait. Don’t be a whiney girl; suck it up. Don’t call yourself fat. Don’t say you’re ugly. That’s begging for attention. Stop it. Thank him when he compliments you and respect him in a worthy manner. He is a human.

Bro, I’m going to kill this weekend. Fingers crossed. Here goes nothing.

Keep Ripping,

Blythe Anderson

Get Rocked.

Sometimes, the world rocks you in good and bad ways. You are slapped across the face by life when you least expect it. Maybe it's the fact that you got an amazing new job. Maybe you aced a test that you were freaking out about. Maybe it's not a good kind of rock. Maybe it's a death of a friend, family member, or your child. 


I found something recently that rocked my world. Cancer. What an ugly word. This ugly word has and is currently rocking my father in the form of a tumor. I have seen him cry twice in my lifetime. Once, when he married my mother as I stood on stage with the two of them in a white flower-girl dress alongside my mother wearing a white bridal dress, and the second time was last evening. 


He sat in his room. Alone. His door, cracked, didn't mute the soft falling tears. My daddy didn't want me to hear his tears to King Jesus. See, he gets it. My worldly father understands the healing hands of our Heavenly Father. The same hands that were pierced on the cross are the hands of comfort that my father's body and soul as he sleeps in peace tonight. Jesus never ceases to baffle me with His amazing, glorifying, goodness. This is when I'm reminded...


You know who doesn't get rocked? Jesus Christ. He is the first and final "rocker". He holds all of the possibilities in His court. Things don't catch Him off guard. Jesus says in Psalms 139:13-14 "For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well." He rocks me when I get rocked myself. I can rely on the fact that He already knows what is planned for my life, and for my family's life as well. Get Rocked. Let Him rock your world. 


Keep Ripping,
Blythe Anderson

Damn Legalism

If I want to buy booze, that's my prerogative. It is not a sin to drink, although it is a sin to get drunk. What happens if I choose to date someone that is 4 years older than me and has a tattoo? Is that illegal? NO. Do I have to attend church every time the doors are open to get the "okay" from the congregation to sleep in on a Saturday and not volunteer my life away? Hell to the NO. Oh shit, she just said hell... and shit. There she goes again. She must be an illegal substance abuser because she wears a shirt that says the word "party" on it.

All of these people need to play on a major highway. I don't have anything to prove to anyone. Why do people care so much what others do? And CHRISTIANS... newsflash, YOU ARE NOT SOMEONE ELSES HOLY SPIRIT. If it doesn't say that it is a sin in the Bible, then it's not a sin. Leave your nose in your own business. Don't try to tell me what to do... especially if you don't know what you're talking about. Just keep your mouth shut. You're much more appealing that way. You will not win people for the Lord by being a judgmental ASSHOLE. You will drive them away from a personal relationship with Christ. I had a girl ask me today if she would go to hell for being a lesbian. The short answer? NO. In the Bible, it says it is a sin, not a deal breaker. Guess what else is a sin... lying. I have lied before, but that doesn't mean I'm doomed to hell for an eternity. Do you know why? Because I have admitted that I am a filthy sinner, believed that He (Jesus Christ) died on a cross and rose three days later to then roam the earth proclaiming truth for forty days then ascending to heaven, and confessed Him as Lord of my life. That is the ONLY way to get to heaven. This isn't works-based salvation. This is abundant love. This love breaks all social barriers. He loves the sinner, but hates the sin. He loves you enough to meet you wherever you are in life, but He also loves you too much to leave you where He found you. He didn't get up on the cross for perfect people. He died for the dirtiest of sinners. That's my King. 

Keep Ripping,

Blythe Anderson

Oh, Louisiana.

Oh, Louisiana. You took him away on a wonderful journey. I pray that one day he will return and still remember my stoic face. That's the last thing he saw as he waltzed out of my front door to relocate to a large city. 

He was not my "first love". As a matter of fact, while we were dating, I never once told him that I loved him. I broke up with him. It was my fault. Completely. He told me numerous times that he loved me, but I was too scared to admit to myself that I could ever love a man that prefers going barefoot and likes his steak rare enough to feel a heartbeat. I told myself that he was not what I was looking for in a husband. I mean, come on, he is basically a caveman that has been transported to the year 2012. But, he is not JUST a caveman. He is a Protector. A Jesus-Fearer. A Leader. A Gladiator. A Ripper. A Champion. He is a lover and a fighter. He likes country music and rap. He likes seeing my face without make-up. He gets along well with my family. 

What if I let him walk out of my life forever? He is busy in Louisiana doing his own thing. We casually chat every now and again and he describes the level of stress and adversity that he is currently facing. I can not tell him how I feel. What if it is all just my mind playing tricks on me? What if I miss him only because I know I can not have him? He knows all of my troubles, secrets, concerns, and cares. He is the only one that will call if he suspects I am having a bad day. If I say that I am fine, he always asks more questions to get down to the dirty, grimy truth. He is the only one that seems to feel what I feel. But is he feeling this? One will never know. "If you love someone, set them free", they say. I just want him back, but that is not an option. "Liking" his Facebook status is an option. Sending a happy birthday wish is an option. Telling him how bad I miss him is no option of mine. 

Do not let something good walk out of your life without a fight. In todays society, we do not accept failure in anything other than relationships. We slave for hours in the gym to stay in shape. We do not want to accept failure with our bodies. We compromise sleep for our jobs because we strive to be the best in our workplace and, one day, get promoted. We do not want to accept failure in the workforce. We do not see eye to eye with our significant other and we just quit. We accept failure. Divorce rates are sky-high and I allowed an ex-boyfriend to drive to Louisiana. Fight for the things you love. You will never regret it. 

Keep Ripping,

Blythe Anderson

Annie - The Ugly Red Headed Orphan

Put on an ugly shirt, skirt, or mask for all I care. Exteriors are not hard to see through. There is nothing uglier than someone with a piss-poor attitude. Today, I will introduce the most ill-behaved character in this storyline. Annie. Sure, this is not the heinous creatures real name, but it is her true nickname. I am almost certain that this confused child thinks she shits pure gold. Needless to say, she drives me bananas. Everything she does irks me. From her cackle of a laugh, to the disgustingly blatant PDA expressed to her boyfriend, to her ratty red hair, she gets under my skin. I know, I know. I am letting her bother me too much. I CAN NOT HELP IT.  She goes to church week after week to gain the "Christian Credit" she ever so desires only to be a total and complete BITCH until the next Sunday rolls around. I get along with her friends. Even her family. There is just something about her spirit of entitlement and arrogance that gets me.

I'd blame her shit-headed-ness on the fact that she has red hair, and therefore, no soul, but I have plenty of red headed friends that are quite nice, so I won't let one bad apple (most likely a Red Delicious due to the fact they're all red heads) ruin the bunch.

Keep Ripping,
Blythe Anderson