Wednesday, April 4, 2007

About Yellaphant

All that down there doesn't exist anymore. It's gone. Kaput. This is a blog about starting over. From scratch. I'm a few years older, carry a few new scars, and know a hell of a lot more. Like, you don't really ever have it all figured out. Because as soon as you think you do, your tennis pro husband might leave you for one of his country club housewives. Shit happens.

But then one day you pull yourself out of bed and put on real pants and decide it's time to be human again. Maybe you move to the city. Maybe you eventually start dating again and decide, hell, this new life is pretty good. And it is.



My name is Bridget Horne and this is my blog. You probably most recently remember me as Bridget Hanahan. But look, I didn't even have to change my towels!

If you don't know me in real life, you can read 101 things you probably wouldn't want to know about me anyway here, and decide that actually, you probably wouldn't want to know me in real life because bananas? Really?



I live with my husband Billy, who I refer to here as B, which at first was to protect his identity in case I ever decided to talk about things like blow jobs or something that would be awkward if his mother ever read this, but now his mother actually does read so talking about blow jobs is entirely out the question and she's probably reading this right now so no, dear readers, no blow jobs, but now it's too late and he's B and you're stuck with it.

We got married in September 2009, which at first opened an entire new floodgate of crazy in me, but then was the best week of my life. And yes, I said week. It was a motherflippin' party, ya'll. But now with the wedding comes the move, and what do you get when you take a Philadelphia girl and plop her down on the Massachusetts coast? I guess we'll find out.

We have a dog named Rooney. We don't really know what he is, but he sure is cute. And in my book, that's all that matters, because if there's one word that describes me, it's shallow. I kid. When we adopted him, he was a pretty big dick. But now he's a great dog. That's just what happens when you spend enough time with me. You get great.

I work for an amazing organization where I get to do amazing things with amazing people and if you know me, it isn't hard to figure out what that is.

I am in love with my friends and despise the fact that we are now spread out throughout the country and world. Seriously, it blows.

I started this blog in college because that's what all the cool journalism majors and emo kids were doing, but I never gave it much TLC until 2008. I love pictures, words, and late night dance parties and this blog lets me do all of the above.

And I love my life so much that I've decided to share it with you. So take a look into the mind of a 20-something Philadelphia writer as she makes her way through the ups and downs of post-college life. From politics to relationships, entertainment to the environment, Yellaphant has something to say. And sometimes I get loud.

Need more than just Yellaphant? You can also find me on Twitter and Facebook. Or just shoot me an email.


6 comments:

foolery said...

GOOD LORD you're cute! In a non-stalkerish chick pal sort of way. ; )

miss_kay said...

Started following your blog. Seems interesting to say the least. I'm totally digging it :)

Esley said...

Hey-- thanks for stopping by my site. I have been looking around yours and love it so far! Especially the header scheme (is that the right term, I mean the pretty colored design at the top...)
Cheers,
Esley

Anonymous said...

Like the site, linked it from Goodreads. Wow am I digressing here on the Easternet. Good luck and much success, may you retire from your day job and blog full time!
Dave

Anonymous said...

B is not your "boyfriend" anymore...you gotta update!

Becky Mochaface said...

Fuckin cute dog. Rooney actually looks a lot like my dog Cooper. Perhaps he's a redbone coonhound of some degree? Seriously, the droopy ears, red coloring with a white patch on his chest. They could be long lost brothers.

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