Paul Ryan isn’t running for re-election (The Paul Ryan Diaries)

Note: This is an update to the Paul Ryan Diaries I started last year. It is long overdue, and I’m sorry. The narrator in no way expresses all my opinions but is a character based off of me. This is entirely fictional.

April 11th, 2018

Well, dear diary. We meet again. You have been my confidant but my enemy. I have no idea why I am even writing. Except there has been a lot of shit going on.

  1. I have two fucking one-year-olds. They want to cry all the time. I don’t know if I mentioned it, but my daughter’s name is Michelle. Paul got mad because he has a tiff with Michelle Obama. He says it’s because she married Obama, who is apparently a Muslim according to Republicans. I don’t think that’s the reason. I snooped in his phone, and he texted Schumer that he thought she looked glorious in her pregnancy photos. Don’t tell him I know that.
  2. I am graduating from college soon. At the age of 23. And my only object is to be the trashy Plainfield girlfriend who looks after the kids. I do love my children. Tucker is as mopey as Michelle.
  3. Paul is not running for re-election.

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He said it. He consulted me. I think it’s pretty clear what has happened. The Prez looks as guilty as Mark Zuckerburg during the confessional hearings. Ha! As if Teddie Cruz is a priest. I miss making fun of Ted. The only thing he’s done worthwhile is like a porn tweet. 😦 I expected more (porn) from you, Ted. I expected more.

When the Speaker got home, we played a nice game of Twister, if you get my jist. 😉 Guess that’s not very subtle. We did it. I did it with my boyfriend. It was very good. I am a sex goddess. He told me so. He was in a great mood after announcing his retirement. He danced when he saw me.

He said, “Chloe. You are beautiful. Will you do me the honor…”

Here I froze. He wasn’t going to propose naked, was he? On the other hand, I quite liked the scene where Pierce Brosnan showers Halle Berry in diamonds while in a devilish position.

“…of having another baby with me?”

I could not find words. I was very disappointed that he did not want to marry me. In truth, I had already started a Pinterest board of wedding ideas. Kim Kardashian and Jane Fonda were invited. Kanye could fuck himself. I do not forgive him for the Taylor Swift incident.

“Paul,” I finally said. “Are you of this planet? I just gave birth–we both gave birth–a year ago. We got two freakin’ kids. The only way I pacify them is by shoving iPads down their throats and threatening them with Catholic school. Not like they understand, but it soothes me.”

“But you know I want a big family.”

“What, you want a repeat of the Duggars? You know how that shit ended. I am keeping my little friend, Miss IUD,” I concluded.

“Don’t I get to play a part in this?”

“You know how you compared fetuses to beans? Well, I like beans. In moderation. But there is a reason edamame is not as popular as wine and chocolate.”

“I consider children more like green beans,” he admitted.

“Do they have the bacon and grease in them?”

“No. I only have 6%-8% body fat, and I don’t want to lose my figure.”

“Then no children. There aren’t enough pots to cook them in,” I said.

“How many pots do we need??”

“MORE THAN TWO POTS, PAUL RYAN!”

And then we went to bed. Well, I went on the sofa. Paul still has nightmares about Putin. Something about how he’s stealing all his stilettos and he has nothing to wear to the Zombie-themed prom.

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“Dear Diary” (Paul Ryan Chronicles)

“It’s a very good start. It’s actually an excellent start,” Ryan said of the bill, known as the American Health Care Act.

The Washington Post

March 15

4pm

Dear Diary,

Hello. This is Paul Ryan, Speaker of the House. And Man of Chloe’s House, if you know what I mean 😉 I’m so freaked out right now. According to The Washington Post, I’m fucking drowning. Like, they keep saying the words, “Ryan urged the senators.” As if I’m their whore. And I get that I sound like an idiot every time I say, “TRILLION DOLLAR TAX CUT” but really. Who are we kidding. It’s super true.

Chloe is not buying it. She’s bitching about a bunch of small things. Like ‘senior healthcare’ and I even think she muttered, “John McCain could do it better,” as we went to bed last night.

7pm

Diary,

Chloe here.

See what I mean. Under that fabulous widows peak is the brain of a squirrel. He is so out of my league.

Paul Ryan: A Love Story

Prompt:

If Paul Ryan and I got pregnant at the same time, I’m pretty sure we’d be in the same Lamaze class. And then fall in love.

November 8th

2:36am

Hey, Diary. It’s me. Sorry I haven’t written anything recently. Quick update: Got pregnant in April. My baby’s father sells shitty trailer meth in Plainfield, IN. And I had to move to Maryland because that’s where my Dad lives. God.

2:50am

Sorry, pee break.

November 10th

7am

I’m going to Lamaze class. I don’t know why other pregnant people subject themselves to that ‘natural birth’ shit. Like, my future offspring is tiny. Pretty sure it won’t remember the drugs. Only I will, and it will be delightful.

9:35am

I met Paul Ryan there! He is another pregnant person. God, it feels so good to chillax with an older, more mature PP. We just gabbed. Compared bellies. This is his second kid. He showed me pictures.

“I was in labor with Jenny for 12 hours,” he said. “She is just so cute. When her mom and I saw the ultrasound, she was a tiny little thing. Like a bean. So we nicknamed her beanie.”

“Did you plan on eating her?”

He huffed and walked off. He’s probably texting Biden right now complaining about me. Catholic to Catholic bonding.

November 22nd

8pm

I have pre-existing medical conditions. I’m a woman who believes in separation of faith and policy. A public position and opposing personal opinion are okay because not everyone has the same life experience or background.

But for some strange, fucked up reason, I’m falling for Paul Ryan. A pregnant Paul Ryan.

I know, I know. It’s wrong. It’s sooooo wrong. Ryan looks like the devil every time he pops up on C-SPAN. He’s got those cold AF Jack Frost eyes and a widow’s peak that (let me tell you) is not fake. It’s real. Gloriously real.

8:50pm

And he basically would never dream of me, right? At the same time, he’s so pretty.

So pretty.

November 29th

God, sometimes I hate that I’m pregnant. The smug married couples around me say that it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to them.

“You’re glowing!”
“It’s so miraculous, the gift of life!”
“Childbirth is amazing–so special. No drugs. Don’t do drugs because it causes autism. And not the cute kind of autism that’s barely noticeable. The kind where you spend your whole life in a hospital. Yikes.”

And the worst: “Kids change you. They make you better.”

Am I not good enough already? Do I need to change? I look fantastic except for the bowling ball under my blouse. Long blonde hair down my back. Legs to my neck. And because of lil Kim (nicknamed after Kim Kardashian), my breasts have swelled to the size of melons.

I have a good job. Great friends. I don’t want to change.

 

December 3rd

10:20pm

I regret to say I’ve started sleeping with Paul Ryan.

I can’t help it. His wife is busy working all the time; my baby daddy is off selling drugs on 38th street.

The bedroom thing is pretty great. 😏 It’s nice to sleep next to someone at night. Cuddle. Whisper and laugh. All my ex-boyfriend did was cough a lot afterwards and go into the bathroom for 45 minutes. I still don’t know what he did in there.

If you must know, the sex is a bit like a game of twister. Or jenga. I have 27 extra pounds. Paul has 70. 70 freaking pounds. He’s very sensitive about it. Apparently Bernie Sanders made a joke about his weight gain. I saw the C-Span clip:

Bernie: Are you stressed about the election? You haven’t officially endorsed Donald Trump.

Paul: Mr. Trump and I have very different opinions about public policy. But I’m not stressed.

Bernie: Really? Because the way you’re going at those tacos, it’s like you’re trying to eat all of your problems.

It was kind of funny. But I can’t tell Paul.

December 10th

3pm

Sometimes during the middle of ‘Twister,’ the Speaker of the House mutters, “method of conception.” That’s coo’. Everybody’s got a weird sex thing. But during our first joint climax, when I was closing my eyes in ecstasy, he shouts in my ear, “AYN RAND!”

Who the hell is Ayn Rand? Should I be jealous?

December 25th

11am

Can’t talk much today. In Rockville, MA. I’m waiting for Paul to finish his family Christmas in the city. It’s agonizing, bc he has the nipple cream and I need it.

My father has no concept of personal space. He keeps making me soup and cookies and putting his cat in my lap because it stands on my belly crest to lick my face. It’s gross.

January 12th

Today, Paul Ryan’s terrible wife found out about our intense love affair. She leaves him the day before Paul is supposed to be induced into labor (because he’s stupid and refuses an Epidural). God, what a terrible person.

January 13th

2:04pm

I break into Paul Ryan’s room after his wife abandons her pregnant husband. The doctor says, “Paul has to push but he won’t.”

“It hurts! I can’t do this!” the Speaker of the House screams with his feet in stirrups.

I kneel down and whisper, “I know you despise affordable healthcare, sex ed, abortion rights. But god damnit, Paul. I love you. Even though you’re a Republican. So take the effing epidural.”

2:18pm

In the hospital room. My boyfriend Speaker Paul Ryan is about to give birth.
“Chloe! I can’t take drugs, I have a birth plan!”
“The hell, Paul! Come on. Take the drugs.”
“No.”

2:25pm

“PAUL TAKE YOUR DRUGS OR I WILL SLEEP WITH BARACK!”
He takes the epidural.

January 21st

12:45pm

It has been a blissful week since Paul and I took home our baby. Yes, our baby. His wife has not come back to take custody.

We’ve named him Tucker Putin Ryan. The middle name is my fault. Donald Trump came into the delivery room wielding a Russian transcript, saying he lost a bet. Then Donald Trump cried a lot. All I could hear was blubbering about ‘family values’ and ‘China–chi-na.’

Idk. My due date is next week. Yikes.

 

#paulryan #lovestory #PaulRyanLoveStory