This morning while I was lamenting my less than stellar bank account number and making a PB&J I thought to myself, "well, I better get used to this for a while if I want to buy Christmas presents." Then a little ping went off and a thought bubble floated over my head that said "#FIRSTWORLDPROBLEM." Yeah, thought bubbles float over me. Be jealous.
First, that PB&J wasn't even a PB&J--It was almond butter and artisanal jam on multi-grain protein bread. That was maybe the douchiest thing I've ever written. Apologies. Second, even though my family, myself included, have very expensive taste, doesn't necessarily mean that I have to empty my sad, small piggy bank. There I go lamenting again (thank you dictionary.com word of the day). Let's call my bank account quaint. Anyhow, I just have to be more creative with my gift giving. And on the flip side, I shouldn't want so many fancy things. The fact that my idea of "roughing it" includes the fanciest PB&J in history means I'm not in real trouble yet. When you see me on a VH1 rehab reality show, then I can start being a whiny bitch, but just for a little bit because those girls always end up getting kicked out of the house.
So in the name of perspective, I'm listing my first world problems.
1. I can tweet about my first world problems on my iPhone.
2. I ate one and half of that fancy PB&J. Then I felt really full.
3. Today I have the day off and I'm trying to fit in Christmas shopping, painting my nails, cleaning the house, and dinner/drinks with friends.
4. My feet get sweaty in my Tom's so I have to wear those little footy socks. LIFE IS SO HARD.
5. I got pissed at Target last week because they didn't have my Puffs Plus with Lotion so I had to go without the lotion.
6. I had to open a bottle of wine with one of those traveling corkscrews because I couldn't find my other one that involves less than no effort.
7. While cleaning the house today I sighed because not all my dishes would fit in my dishwasher so I had to hand wash a few.
8. My roommate's dad came to the apartment early this morning. I got mad because they woke me up at 9:15.
That is what I can think of off the top of my head. So instead of doing all that Christmas shopping today I think I'm just gonna sign up for the Peace Corps. I'll be in the Sudan for the next two years so if I don't update anytime soon, that's why. Peace and organic free-range chicken grease, ya'll!
**I think blogging/internet complaining about your first world problems is in itself a first world problem. Sorry to get so meta. I swear I'm not high.
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
Step One: Admitting You Have A Problem
I've tried to deny it, but I'm just going to say it: I'm addicted to Pinterest. I just wasted damn near half a day pinning things I can never buy and rearranging my pinboards so when I look back at all the things I can't buy, it's more organized.
Lately I've gotten into this terrible habit of sitting in my bed, turning on Netflix and pinning the shit out of the internet. Today I turned on Breaking Bad. I know it's sacrilegious that a TV junkie like me isn't already obsessed with this show, but for some reason I couldn't get into it. However, an embarrassing seven episodes later, I am still watching Breaking Bad. These two things are a lethal combination resulting in a junkie couch potato who forgets what time it is, eating meals, showering--you know, normal people things. And even though I understand that my addictions pale in comparison to Walter White's life which resembles a tower of wobbling Jenga pieces, mine still impede upon my life.
Pinterest's goal is to connect people through things we all find interesting. I have never reached out to one of the strangers on Pinterest and said "Hey! You like what I like! Cool beans!" I don't understand why every website has to "connect" everyone on the smallest level. For me, Pinterest could lose the social media aspect and just be an organized dream board or whatever Oprah calls it. But that's beside the point. Another rant for another time. Connecting people is not the real allure of pinning for me; it's dreaming that I could have alllll the things. Knock out one 'n' from pinning and you've got the real feeling that comes from a marathon Pinterest session. Just pining away for couture clothing, gourmet meals, trips around the world, mansions, Ryan Gosling or the ability to DIY all those things (btdubs, a DIYed Ryan Gosling is just a quart sized mason jar with his face modge podged on). What's that I see? I can make a table out of my old tissue boxes? 27 ways to achieve the perfect smokey eye? PINNED. I will definitely come back to that and try all 27 ways. Then with my perfect smokey eye, I'll attract the perfect smokin' hot man then he will build me the table out of all those tissue boxes I'm now hoarding. Then he will propose and I finally put my "Here Comes the Bride..." pinboard to good use. The whole wedding will be in a barn made out of mason jars (seriously, there is so much shit about mason jars on Pinterest). What ends up actually happening is that you use the 24 mason jars you bought as Tupperware when you've lost all your tops in the Tupperware organizing project you also pinned.
Tangent: I wonder what Walter White's Pinterest would look like. Maybe he has a board for all the new chemistry supplies he wants. A board of inspirational quotes for when the drug business really wears him down that day.
**Addition to this post: I fell asleep last night watching the masterpiece that is Breaking Bad at around 2 a.m. before I even finished this post. At this rate, this will happen to me:
Also, sorry not sorry for all the Portlandia plugs.
Lately I've gotten into this terrible habit of sitting in my bed, turning on Netflix and pinning the shit out of the internet. Today I turned on Breaking Bad. I know it's sacrilegious that a TV junkie like me isn't already obsessed with this show, but for some reason I couldn't get into it. However, an embarrassing seven episodes later, I am still watching Breaking Bad. These two things are a lethal combination resulting in a junkie couch potato who forgets what time it is, eating meals, showering--you know, normal people things. And even though I understand that my addictions pale in comparison to Walter White's life which resembles a tower of wobbling Jenga pieces, mine still impede upon my life.
Pinterest's goal is to connect people through things we all find interesting. I have never reached out to one of the strangers on Pinterest and said "Hey! You like what I like! Cool beans!" I don't understand why every website has to "connect" everyone on the smallest level. For me, Pinterest could lose the social media aspect and just be an organized dream board or whatever Oprah calls it. But that's beside the point. Another rant for another time. Connecting people is not the real allure of pinning for me; it's dreaming that I could have alllll the things. Knock out one 'n' from pinning and you've got the real feeling that comes from a marathon Pinterest session. Just pining away for couture clothing, gourmet meals, trips around the world, mansions, Ryan Gosling or the ability to DIY all those things (btdubs, a DIYed Ryan Gosling is just a quart sized mason jar with his face modge podged on). What's that I see? I can make a table out of my old tissue boxes? 27 ways to achieve the perfect smokey eye? PINNED. I will definitely come back to that and try all 27 ways. Then with my perfect smokey eye, I'll attract the perfect smokin' hot man then he will build me the table out of all those tissue boxes I'm now hoarding. Then he will propose and I finally put my "Here Comes the Bride..." pinboard to good use. The whole wedding will be in a barn made out of mason jars (seriously, there is so much shit about mason jars on Pinterest). What ends up actually happening is that you use the 24 mason jars you bought as Tupperware when you've lost all your tops in the Tupperware organizing project you also pinned.
Tangent: I wonder what Walter White's Pinterest would look like. Maybe he has a board for all the new chemistry supplies he wants. A board of inspirational quotes for when the drug business really wears him down that day.
**Addition to this post: I fell asleep last night watching the masterpiece that is Breaking Bad at around 2 a.m. before I even finished this post. At this rate, this will happen to me:
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Did You Bring A Bag Today, Sir?
Columbia, SC is officially on the map now. Whole Foods has arrived. The frenzy surrounding the opening of Whole Foods in Columbia is usually reserved for the new iPhone or a presidential rally. Only in a city so small could the opening of a grocery store that has been around for years be considered big enough to warrant the front page of the newspaper. I went the day after it opened to find cops directing traffic. For a grocery store.
As an employee for their only real direct competition (in the area), there has been a lot of chatter around the store, employees and customers alike, about what is going to happen to us. What are you going to do when Whole Foods gets here? Are you feeling the heat from Whole Foods? It's like a terrible pro wrestling match. "Can you smell...what Whole Foods is cooking?!" Yeah. I do. It smells pretty good.
I don't feel nervous at all about us closing or this sense of allegiance that many customers think I should have. If I got a job at Whole Foods, I would be a traitor in a heartbeat. The pay is almost double what I get for the same job. A few of my co-workers applied in between the job fair and the opening and my store manager somehow got wind that people were applying and cut their hours. This is a retail job. We get paid slightly above minimum wage. You manage a bunch of college age, 20 somethings. Really, dude? We're supposed to be loyal after that overblown reaction? I'm going to reserve my allegiance for House Targaryen and the organic grocery stores can duke it out themselves.
So I leave you with this clip from "Portlandia", an accurate portrayal of a day in my life:
But really, I don't give a shit if you bring a bag.
As an employee for their only real direct competition (in the area), there has been a lot of chatter around the store, employees and customers alike, about what is going to happen to us. What are you going to do when Whole Foods gets here? Are you feeling the heat from Whole Foods? It's like a terrible pro wrestling match. "Can you smell...what Whole Foods is cooking?!" Yeah. I do. It smells pretty good.
I don't feel nervous at all about us closing or this sense of allegiance that many customers think I should have. If I got a job at Whole Foods, I would be a traitor in a heartbeat. The pay is almost double what I get for the same job. A few of my co-workers applied in between the job fair and the opening and my store manager somehow got wind that people were applying and cut their hours. This is a retail job. We get paid slightly above minimum wage. You manage a bunch of college age, 20 somethings. Really, dude? We're supposed to be loyal after that overblown reaction? I'm going to reserve my allegiance for House Targaryen and the organic grocery stores can duke it out themselves.
So I leave you with this clip from "Portlandia", an accurate portrayal of a day in my life:
But really, I don't give a shit if you bring a bag.
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
Boooo You Whore
Fall! My favorite season of the year! Leaves! Turning over new leaf metaphors! Temperate weather! Pumpkin flavored everything! Cardigans for every day of the week! Drinking hot tea and not sweating! Diabetes inducing food at the State Fair! I could keep going, folks but let me just skip to one thing that actually gives me unnecessary anxiety: Halloween.
According to legend, the veil between worlds is lifted...
Just fucking with you.
I'm talking about costume choice. Every year Halloween sneaks up on me but not this year! I'm determined to have a good costume. The last two years I just wore the Supergirl costume that was given to me by my employer who throws this ridiculously extravagant party every year. She hired me, my roommate and my other friend to entertain the children while she and her friends get schwasty in the house. So together, Supergirl, Catwoman and Batgirl play Minute to Win It games out on the deck for the night and I walk away with $75 cash. Not a bad deal. It took all the anxiety out of the costume planning, party hopping and being determined to have fun (I have the same basic thesis statement for New Years Eve).
Here's my thing. As an Asian woman (no groaning, please) there are so few, if any, pop culture icons I can dress up as. If I dress up as Katniss from "The Hunger Games," braid my hair and carry around the bow and arrows, I just look like an Asian girl with weapons and a braid. Then some drunk dude will yell "LUCY LIU!!" from across the way. Even if I wear a wig, I just look like me in a wig.
I absolutely refuse to wear anything like this:
for obvious reasons. That's "sexy Finding Nemo" btdubs. Why?!?!? Also, those things always cost $50 and over. I wore my Supergirl costume for a total of probably 6 or 7 hours over two years and it actually looks like I battled Lex Luthor. I guess when you exclusively use cheap latex, polyester and child labor, high quality goes out the window.
You want the right mix between clever, culturally relevant, not so obscure that no one will get it, but not so overexposed that every third person looks like you (see: the Joker from 2009 and every Lady Gaga costume ever) and something that gets conversations started. Also comfort. And not expensive. These are the kind of costume standards that you're held to when you hang out with a bunch of hipsters.
After I post this, I will probably forget about costumes again until October 30 and I will most likely pull the old Supergirl costume out again. Honestly, anything is better than "Sexy Finding Nemo."
According to legend, the veil between worlds is lifted...
Just fucking with you.
I'm talking about costume choice. Every year Halloween sneaks up on me but not this year! I'm determined to have a good costume. The last two years I just wore the Supergirl costume that was given to me by my employer who throws this ridiculously extravagant party every year. She hired me, my roommate and my other friend to entertain the children while she and her friends get schwasty in the house. So together, Supergirl, Catwoman and Batgirl play Minute to Win It games out on the deck for the night and I walk away with $75 cash. Not a bad deal. It took all the anxiety out of the costume planning, party hopping and being determined to have fun (I have the same basic thesis statement for New Years Eve).
Here's my thing. As an Asian woman (no groaning, please) there are so few, if any, pop culture icons I can dress up as. If I dress up as Katniss from "The Hunger Games," braid my hair and carry around the bow and arrows, I just look like an Asian girl with weapons and a braid. Then some drunk dude will yell "LUCY LIU!!" from across the way. Even if I wear a wig, I just look like me in a wig.
I absolutely refuse to wear anything like this:
for obvious reasons. That's "sexy Finding Nemo" btdubs. Why?!?!? Also, those things always cost $50 and over. I wore my Supergirl costume for a total of probably 6 or 7 hours over two years and it actually looks like I battled Lex Luthor. I guess when you exclusively use cheap latex, polyester and child labor, high quality goes out the window.
You want the right mix between clever, culturally relevant, not so obscure that no one will get it, but not so overexposed that every third person looks like you (see: the Joker from 2009 and every Lady Gaga costume ever) and something that gets conversations started. Also comfort. And not expensive. These are the kind of costume standards that you're held to when you hang out with a bunch of hipsters.
After I post this, I will probably forget about costumes again until October 30 and I will most likely pull the old Supergirl costume out again. Honestly, anything is better than "Sexy Finding Nemo."
Friday, September 28, 2012
When Did I Get Pregnant?
I went to Target today and spent a record low $16 on soap, a loofa and tampons. Normally I walk out of there $50 poorer, bewildered as to how I just spent half a days wages on practically nothing. Today, I was pretty proud at my restraint and walked out with my receipt and a coupon for a $10 gift card with the purchase of two packs of diapers. Cool! I'll give this coupon to Savannah, who has a baby on the way.
It wasn't until just now that I even thought about how strange it is that I bought tampons and Target is assuming that I have a need for diapers. Call me crazy, but a woman buying tampons is probably not in her second trimester. I read this New York Times article on Target's marketing strategy which talks about how they try to anticipate what we want before we even know we want them. Well, Target, your fancy M.I.T. statisticians were wrong about this lady.
This is a list of things for coupons that I think would be better suited for a woman buying tampons:
-Ben&Jerry's ice cream
-the romantic comedy two-pack dvds ("Never Been Kissed" and "Ever After"; "You've Got Mail" and "Sleepless in Seattle"; "The Holiday" and "What Happens in Vegas")
-condoms
-Any Jillian Michaels dvd
Or better yet, just no coupon at all. Those things have an expiration date of a week, you always have to buy 10 of something to get 75 cents off, and it's never something you actually want. I came to Target to get some soap, not to deeply examine my desire to have or not have a child.
Sometimes I can't believe I majored in this nonsense. The sad part about all of it is that it works. These psychic hotline Miss Cleo algorithms that they come up with have made Target and other corporations like them a lot of money. I'm just really glad I'm not part of it. Did I mention that I'm writing this blog post as an extended tangent that I went off of while job hunting? I wish I didn't need the internet to job hunt, because all of a sudden I'm getting enraged over Target's presumptuousness and looking up articles I read 6 months ago and then I wonder how much money I still have in my bank account after I've forked it all over to Target then I'm anger cleaning the kitchen counter. Then I blog about it all. Then it's 3 hours later and I've done nothing that I set out to do but the kitchen counter is extremely clean.
So in conclusion, shut the fuck up about my lady parts, Target.
It wasn't until just now that I even thought about how strange it is that I bought tampons and Target is assuming that I have a need for diapers. Call me crazy, but a woman buying tampons is probably not in her second trimester. I read this New York Times article on Target's marketing strategy which talks about how they try to anticipate what we want before we even know we want them. Well, Target, your fancy M.I.T. statisticians were wrong about this lady.
This is a list of things for coupons that I think would be better suited for a woman buying tampons:
-Ben&Jerry's ice cream
-the romantic comedy two-pack dvds ("Never Been Kissed" and "Ever After"; "You've Got Mail" and "Sleepless in Seattle"; "The Holiday" and "What Happens in Vegas")
-condoms
-Any Jillian Michaels dvd
Or better yet, just no coupon at all. Those things have an expiration date of a week, you always have to buy 10 of something to get 75 cents off, and it's never something you actually want. I came to Target to get some soap, not to deeply examine my desire to have or not have a child.
Sometimes I can't believe I majored in this nonsense. The sad part about all of it is that it works. These psychic hotline Miss Cleo algorithms that they come up with have made Target and other corporations like them a lot of money. I'm just really glad I'm not part of it. Did I mention that I'm writing this blog post as an extended tangent that I went off of while job hunting? I wish I didn't need the internet to job hunt, because all of a sudden I'm getting enraged over Target's presumptuousness and looking up articles I read 6 months ago and then I wonder how much money I still have in my bank account after I've forked it all over to Target then I'm anger cleaning the kitchen counter. Then I blog about it all. Then it's 3 hours later and I've done nothing that I set out to do but the kitchen counter is extremely clean.
So in conclusion, shut the fuck up about my lady parts, Target.
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
CARPE THAT FUCKING DIEM
I'm feeling good. I'm quitting my job today. The autism clinic unceremoniously cut all my hours besides the possibility of maybe six whole hours effective immediately. They asked me to turn my whole life upside down at the drop of a hat to do boring paperwork. Thanks, but no thanks.
I'm not completely unemployed though. I still kept the crappier of my two jobs at the grocery store and say what you will about me working retail, but I know they would not do that. At least not without the courtesy of just firing me.
I have to hold on to this exciting feeling of the possibility of working somewhere that I love. Being somewhere that I love. Doing something new. Waking up and not dreading the rest of the day.
So thanks, autism clinic, for essentially laying me off. I could have zombied my way through this job for many more months. Good luck with your shady decisions and your unsustainable business model. I'm out of here. PEACE.
I'm not completely unemployed though. I still kept the crappier of my two jobs at the grocery store and say what you will about me working retail, but I know they would not do that. At least not without the courtesy of just firing me.
I have to hold on to this exciting feeling of the possibility of working somewhere that I love. Being somewhere that I love. Doing something new. Waking up and not dreading the rest of the day.
So thanks, autism clinic, for essentially laying me off. I could have zombied my way through this job for many more months. Good luck with your shady decisions and your unsustainable business model. I'm out of here. PEACE.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
I Solemnly Swear I Did Not Send That Porn To Your Mom.
It finally happened. My email got hacked. Using a more sophisticated version of my 6th grade email password has finally caught up to me. Don't worry, I've changed it now. It's my 6th grade email password on steroids. I'm talking Bane from "Batman" steroids. Crazy crab face mask, veiny disgusting biceps, the whole thing.Totally solid.
Guess how I found out? Poor Madeleine's mom got four or five porny emails from "me". All different email addresses but from "me". I'm just thankful that it was Madeleine's mom and not my mom who would have died of shock and embarrassment that her daughter was sending her porn.
I texted my mom to say don't panic, I think my email has been hacked just don't open anything from me for a little while. I expected my mom to immediately call me and tell me to get my credit checked right now. Nope. Just a rather nonchalant "Ok. Are you feeling any better?" [I've been sick for the past few days]. This coming from the woman who once asked me, "WHAT'S THE PHONE NUMBER FOR GOOGLE? I THINK MY EMAIL HAS BEEN HACKED!!!" After stifling a chortle, I calmly asked her why she thinks she'd been hacked expecting her to paraphrase some "20/20" story on phishing. Fuckin' John Stossel. Apparently, a week or so after my parents got home from a vacation they checked their email account and it said their last login location had been Massachusetts. Paranoia set in and they immediately thought HACKED (btdubs, that's how my dad types. In all caps. I think he thinks that maybe the compute will go faster because he's more emphatic? e.g. GOOGLE.COM. STOCK ALERTS). So I changed the password and then I thought huh. They were in Boston recently. As recently as last week. Did they maybe login at the hotel's business center? Bingo! Crisis averted.
I'm not quite so paranoid that I'm looking up the phone number for Google, but I did change my password and so far only one person has received porn from me so here's hoping that no one else I know get's weird sexually explicit emails from me!
Guess how I found out? Poor Madeleine's mom got four or five porny emails from "me". All different email addresses but from "me". I'm just thankful that it was Madeleine's mom and not my mom who would have died of shock and embarrassment that her daughter was sending her porn.
I texted my mom to say don't panic, I think my email has been hacked just don't open anything from me for a little while. I expected my mom to immediately call me and tell me to get my credit checked right now. Nope. Just a rather nonchalant "Ok. Are you feeling any better?" [I've been sick for the past few days]. This coming from the woman who once asked me, "WHAT'S THE PHONE NUMBER FOR GOOGLE? I THINK MY EMAIL HAS BEEN HACKED!!!" After stifling a chortle, I calmly asked her why she thinks she'd been hacked expecting her to paraphrase some "20/20" story on phishing. Fuckin' John Stossel. Apparently, a week or so after my parents got home from a vacation they checked their email account and it said their last login location had been Massachusetts. Paranoia set in and they immediately thought HACKED (btdubs, that's how my dad types. In all caps. I think he thinks that maybe the compute will go faster because he's more emphatic? e.g. GOOGLE.COM. STOCK ALERTS). So I changed the password and then I thought huh. They were in Boston recently. As recently as last week. Did they maybe login at the hotel's business center? Bingo! Crisis averted.
I'm not quite so paranoid that I'm looking up the phone number for Google, but I did change my password and so far only one person has received porn from me so here's hoping that no one else I know get's weird sexually explicit emails from me!
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Bladeleine
In honor of my best friend Madeleine's birthday, I dedicate this blarticle to her (get it? Bladeleine? 3 words smooshed to one. BOOM).
Our story began in Mrs. Schneider's second grade class. We were not friends. She hugged people really really hard and loved all things girly, and I was focused on becoming a professional soccer player/voice actor for cartoon characters. Fast forward to the fall of seventh grade. We were finally eligible to play sports for our school and everyone did something so I went out for volleyball, the least popular of all the sports to play. It was there that we bonded over how terrible our volleyball team was, our lack of boobs, and hatred of the presidential fitness test.
What a crazy journey we've been on. Treasure hunting, running away from escaped convicts, saving a disfigured giant, and using the treasure to save our neighborhood house from corporate bastards! Ok, so that's the plot of "The Goonies," but we watched that movie and many many others during our high school career. We're the people in the theater who sit in the front so we can put our feet up on the rail, get seconds on the tub of popcorn and talk the whole way through. You hate us at the movies. And we love us. I'm still surprised we don't have a reality show, or at least a talk radio show so people can listen in on our analysis on of "Buffy the Vampire Slayer." Then in 11th grade, Madeleine up and decided to move to Spain for a year. I survived, but missed my partner in crime dearly. No one to make up songs for our band (I use that term loosely), Squirrel Inferno, no one to dress in non-sexy Halloween costumes with, and no one to watch Strongbad videos with. But Madeleine had to go. She became fully Madeleined that year and because of that, she inspired me to take a summer course in Spain too.
After everyone went off to college, I slowly lost touch with all my high school friends but Madeleine and I remain strong even after she traveled to Brazil, France, Switzerland, and Israel and picked up 29857928423 different language skills along the way. I'm convinced she's in the CIA. Nobody goes to an ivy league college, speaks that many languages, plays volleyball and doesn't get scooped up by the CIA. I, on the other hand, stayed in South Carolina, a foreign country unto itself, and learned to speak several dialects of boondocks. The FBI has already gotten a hold of me for my deep knowledge of high and low southern culture (seersucker vs. wife beater).
So here's to you, my dearest Madeleine, for being born today. Way to make it through that birth canal. Shout out to Mama Schnur for doing the pushing. I truly wouldn't be who I am today without you. And for everyone else who doesn't have a Madeleine to make them feel all warm and fuzzy inside, I give you puppy cam. Happy Madeleine's birthday, everyone!
Our story began in Mrs. Schneider's second grade class. We were not friends. She hugged people really really hard and loved all things girly, and I was focused on becoming a professional soccer player/voice actor for cartoon characters. Fast forward to the fall of seventh grade. We were finally eligible to play sports for our school and everyone did something so I went out for volleyball, the least popular of all the sports to play. It was there that we bonded over how terrible our volleyball team was, our lack of boobs, and hatred of the presidential fitness test.
What a crazy journey we've been on. Treasure hunting, running away from escaped convicts, saving a disfigured giant, and using the treasure to save our neighborhood house from corporate bastards! Ok, so that's the plot of "The Goonies," but we watched that movie and many many others during our high school career. We're the people in the theater who sit in the front so we can put our feet up on the rail, get seconds on the tub of popcorn and talk the whole way through. You hate us at the movies. And we love us. I'm still surprised we don't have a reality show, or at least a talk radio show so people can listen in on our analysis on of "Buffy the Vampire Slayer." Then in 11th grade, Madeleine up and decided to move to Spain for a year. I survived, but missed my partner in crime dearly. No one to make up songs for our band (I use that term loosely), Squirrel Inferno, no one to dress in non-sexy Halloween costumes with, and no one to watch Strongbad videos with. But Madeleine had to go. She became fully Madeleined that year and because of that, she inspired me to take a summer course in Spain too.
After everyone went off to college, I slowly lost touch with all my high school friends but Madeleine and I remain strong even after she traveled to Brazil, France, Switzerland, and Israel and picked up 29857928423 different language skills along the way. I'm convinced she's in the CIA. Nobody goes to an ivy league college, speaks that many languages, plays volleyball and doesn't get scooped up by the CIA. I, on the other hand, stayed in South Carolina, a foreign country unto itself, and learned to speak several dialects of boondocks. The FBI has already gotten a hold of me for my deep knowledge of high and low southern culture (seersucker vs. wife beater).
So here's to you, my dearest Madeleine, for being born today. Way to make it through that birth canal. Shout out to Mama Schnur for doing the pushing. I truly wouldn't be who I am today without you. And for everyone else who doesn't have a Madeleine to make them feel all warm and fuzzy inside, I give you puppy cam. Happy Madeleine's birthday, everyone!
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Ketchup
I'm sorry. I've been a teensy tiny bit slack with this blog. According to one reader, it's been 20 days since my last blarticle. But I'm back on track! Let me tell you what I've been up to since the spiders started to attack me at work.
I went to Isle of Palms (right outside of Charleston) with my mom and sister for Mother's Day. I haven't taken a full on family vacation since I was 11 so I was slightly nervous. I get along fine with my family, but whenever we get together I know that the one thing they want me to talk about is my plan for the future i.e. will I ever get a job in marketing or give that up completely and apply to law school. I always say no and no and leave it at that. Luckily, the what will you do with your life speech was only brought up once. Otherwise, it was a nice weekend. We went to the beach, I got sunburned on the front of my legs, went to the spa and got a hot seashell massage (the hot stone massage's cheaper cousin), watched "Girl With The Dragon Tattoo" and "The Vow", ate junk food, drank a lot of wine and the piece de resistance, played tennis. Watching my mom play any sort of sport is like watching a newborn horse trying to stand up. She is a great long distance runner, but she has absolutely no eye-hand coordination. To give you an idea, I toss the car keys to her and she just throws up her hands like they're attacking her or she just lets them fall to the ground. It's always a treat to watch her play any sport.
Besides my girls weekend, I've been spending a lot of time (and money) baking with my friend, Lauren. Funny thing is, neither of us like eating sweets that much but it's really fun and indulges her OCD and my dormant artistic side. Also, when you roll up anywhere with a plate of perfectly decorated baked goods, people treat you like a god. Eyes light up, people come to attention and stop what they're doing just to see if they can get their hands on whatever you've got. Mostly, we've been mastering the cake ball. If you're unfamiliar with them, they are exactly what they sound like. A ball of cake. You'd be surprised how many people could not deduce what a cake ball is based on the name. Anyhow, Bakerella re-popularized them over the past couple of years and she has, by far, the most creative and impeccable cake balls and cake pops. We aren't quite up to her level yet, but we have tried five different varieties and all have gotten great reviews. The problem is, they are deceptively easy. Bakerella's instructions are as simple as:
1. Bake a cake
2. Add frosting to the cake
3. Make cake into balls
4. Cover with chocolate
5. Enjoy!
After our first failed batch of cake balls I wanted to smack Bakerella across the face. I thought my first batch was going to look like this:
They actually turned out like this:
And we looked like this:
After an afternoon reading baking blog after baking blog, we finally got the right technique down and turned back into Dr. Bruce Banner. Lesson learned: if you ever say "easy enough, right?" before you start baking, it will probably result in disaster and Hulk-like transformation.
I went to Isle of Palms (right outside of Charleston) with my mom and sister for Mother's Day. I haven't taken a full on family vacation since I was 11 so I was slightly nervous. I get along fine with my family, but whenever we get together I know that the one thing they want me to talk about is my plan for the future i.e. will I ever get a job in marketing or give that up completely and apply to law school. I always say no and no and leave it at that. Luckily, the what will you do with your life speech was only brought up once. Otherwise, it was a nice weekend. We went to the beach, I got sunburned on the front of my legs, went to the spa and got a hot seashell massage (the hot stone massage's cheaper cousin), watched "Girl With The Dragon Tattoo" and "The Vow", ate junk food, drank a lot of wine and the piece de resistance, played tennis. Watching my mom play any sort of sport is like watching a newborn horse trying to stand up. She is a great long distance runner, but she has absolutely no eye-hand coordination. To give you an idea, I toss the car keys to her and she just throws up her hands like they're attacking her or she just lets them fall to the ground. It's always a treat to watch her play any sport.
Besides my girls weekend, I've been spending a lot of time (and money) baking with my friend, Lauren. Funny thing is, neither of us like eating sweets that much but it's really fun and indulges her OCD and my dormant artistic side. Also, when you roll up anywhere with a plate of perfectly decorated baked goods, people treat you like a god. Eyes light up, people come to attention and stop what they're doing just to see if they can get their hands on whatever you've got. Mostly, we've been mastering the cake ball. If you're unfamiliar with them, they are exactly what they sound like. A ball of cake. You'd be surprised how many people could not deduce what a cake ball is based on the name. Anyhow, Bakerella re-popularized them over the past couple of years and she has, by far, the most creative and impeccable cake balls and cake pops. We aren't quite up to her level yet, but we have tried five different varieties and all have gotten great reviews. The problem is, they are deceptively easy. Bakerella's instructions are as simple as:
1. Bake a cake
2. Add frosting to the cake
3. Make cake into balls
4. Cover with chocolate
5. Enjoy!
After our first failed batch of cake balls I wanted to smack Bakerella across the face. I thought my first batch was going to look like this:
They actually turned out like this:
Thursday, May 3, 2012
GREATEST FEAR COMING AT ME
Full disclosure, my greatest fear in the world is spiders. Let me save you the trouble of trying to rationalize the fear out of me. I have spent a lot of valuable time trying to trick myself into not being irrationally, terrifyingly scared of the boogeyspiders. I know they're smaller, most of them are non-poisonous and they actually help to kill things like flies and mosquitoes that are also part of the bratpack of disgusting creatures. None of this logic, which is generally comforting, helps me at all. The majority of my nightmares are about spiders or somehow involve spiders and my close friends know not to joke about them with me. I will burst into ugly tears if approached with a fake spider or even a picture of a spider.
So today, one of my supervisors, who knows that I'm terrified of spiders, tells me that her boyfriend killed a brown recluse the other day. For those of you who aren't aware, the brown recluse is the #2 most poisonous spider in the world. I would google it to verify that fact, but I know that thousands of pictures of it would show up SO you're just going to have to trust me on this. It's really fucking poisonous. Since I found that out, 40 minutes ago, I have been curled up in a ball in my chair periodically checking the ceiling and floor to make sure one of those fuckers don't sneak up on me. I FEEL LIKE IT'S ON ME.
Apparently the exterminator is coming in "a day or two". THIS IS NOT THE TIME FOR AMBIGUOUS ANSWERS. I need this guy to be here yesterday. Melodramatic? Possibly, but most of your fears can be easily avoided. When was the last time public speaking sneaked up on you in the shower? Or when has there been a documented case of the dark giving anyone a poisonous bite? Show me that documentation. Show me.
I leave in exactly 4 minutes. Until then, I will remain curled up in this very uncomfortable ball (safety over comfort). Then I will be driving to a church, temple (Muslim and Jewish) and a giant oak tree (for Buddhists) to pray to every deity who is out there not to die by spiders.
So today, one of my supervisors, who knows that I'm terrified of spiders, tells me that her boyfriend killed a brown recluse the other day. For those of you who aren't aware, the brown recluse is the #2 most poisonous spider in the world. I would google it to verify that fact, but I know that thousands of pictures of it would show up SO you're just going to have to trust me on this. It's really fucking poisonous. Since I found that out, 40 minutes ago, I have been curled up in a ball in my chair periodically checking the ceiling and floor to make sure one of those fuckers don't sneak up on me. I FEEL LIKE IT'S ON ME.
Apparently the exterminator is coming in "a day or two". THIS IS NOT THE TIME FOR AMBIGUOUS ANSWERS. I need this guy to be here yesterday. Melodramatic? Possibly, but most of your fears can be easily avoided. When was the last time public speaking sneaked up on you in the shower? Or when has there been a documented case of the dark giving anyone a poisonous bite? Show me that documentation. Show me.
I leave in exactly 4 minutes. Until then, I will remain curled up in this very uncomfortable ball (safety over comfort). Then I will be driving to a church, temple (Muslim and Jewish) and a giant oak tree (for Buddhists) to pray to every deity who is out there not to die by spiders.
Friday, April 27, 2012
Where Art Thou, Fairy Godmother?
I just found out that my friend has an extra ticket to a super fancy gala at the Columbia Art Museum. Open bar, fancy finger foods, rich old folks and black tie NOT optional. I'm excited to go, don't get me wrong, but I have no dress or glass slippers. Let this blog post be my official wish to the Godmothers of America (copyright pending): I need a ballgown by 7pm pleeeeeze (these things are processed faster over the internet, right?) preferably in the form of a Vera Wang, Valentino, or Chanel Couture. I may be reaching for the stars by throwing in the word couture so close to the event, but how often do I go to black tie events? The answer is once. I have been to one black tie event. And I got about 24 hours notice. This time it was something like 8 hours. Also, if my Fairy Godmother could throw in some Manolos, that'd be greeaaat. I think glass slippers sound extremely uncomfortable.
Sidenote: I just had a nutter butter for the first time in a decade probably. I'm deeply disappointed in my childhood taste buds.
Off to let the birds and mice dress me before the ball! I'll fill you in on the magical evening later (read: when I'm done being hungover)
Sidenote: I just had a nutter butter for the first time in a decade probably. I'm deeply disappointed in my childhood taste buds.
Off to let the birds and mice dress me before the ball! I'll fill you in on the magical evening later (read: when I'm done being hungover)
Monday, April 23, 2012
Gilt Can Suck It
I love shopping. I love flash sales. The designer clothes at low prices, the small window of time to buy (I've been known to keep something in my shopping cart for weeks before buying something)... all things I love. Until today, Gilt was my favorite flash sale site. Now I hate it. You see, I bought a pair of sandals that I had passed on in it's first round of flash sales so I jumped at it this time. I thought, if I don't like them or they don't fit, I'll just pay the minimal charge to return them. Apparently my definition of minimal and Gilt's version of minimal are not the same. After seeing my "minimal return charge", I promptly sent them a very angry email, which I'm sure will get read by no one. This is what I wrote:
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Best Auntie Ever
One of my very best buddies just found out she is pregnant. I'm sworn to secrecy until the doc tells her the baby is totally healthy and doesn't have 11 toes. BUT I CAN'T HELP IT. I'M TOO EXCITED. I'M GOING TO BE THE BEST AUNTIE EVER.
I've never considered myself maternal, but I think you could call me aunternal. My aunts were never the aunts I wanted to have; they were a little cold and judgmental. And I always wanted them to take me shopping for pretty clothes my mom would deem too expensive or impractical. The closest I ever got to that was one of my aunts gave me a terrifying doll from Big Lots for my birthday one time. It was like a Chucky version of the American Girl dolls. I will NEVER buy my baby niece a possessed American Girl doll. It will be baby Missoni capes, baby Uggs and onesies with animal ears attached to the hoods. Like so ↑
Ok, I won't be so cruel as to dress baby niece/nephew as a turkey every single day (maybe once a week when the panda outfit is in the wash) but I just know that I will spoil that fat little ball of a human rotten. He/she will never appreciate my impeccable sense of baby fashion until he/she gathers photos for it's (I'm tired of writing he/she and realistically, it's the size of a grape right now, so chill out) high school graduation slide show and 75% of all the baby outfits are animal related or shrunken down high fashion trends. Baby crop top what up!!
And then when it can speak and start forming it's own opinions, I can only hope that I steer it in the right direction. I'm not talking about morals; that's boring parental stuff. I'm talking about not listening to the shitty nonsensical music (see: "I love you like a love song baby" by Selena Gomez) and the dumb TV shows that glorify teen pregnancy. Maybe my niece/nephew will be one of those cool precocious teens in movies that don't exist in real life. Move over Dakota Fanning! Niece/Nephew has arrived!
That's all way into the future though...right now, i'm just a grab bag of emotions. I think Jessie Spano can better express what I'm feeling right now.
I've never considered myself maternal, but I think you could call me aunternal. My aunts were never the aunts I wanted to have; they were a little cold and judgmental. And I always wanted them to take me shopping for pretty clothes my mom would deem too expensive or impractical. The closest I ever got to that was one of my aunts gave me a terrifying doll from Big Lots for my birthday one time. It was like a Chucky version of the American Girl dolls. I will NEVER buy my baby niece a possessed American Girl doll. It will be baby Missoni capes, baby Uggs and onesies with animal ears attached to the hoods. Like so ↑Ok, I won't be so cruel as to dress baby niece/nephew as a turkey every single day (maybe once a week when the panda outfit is in the wash) but I just know that I will spoil that fat little ball of a human rotten. He/she will never appreciate my impeccable sense of baby fashion until he/she gathers photos for it's (I'm tired of writing he/she and realistically, it's the size of a grape right now, so chill out) high school graduation slide show and 75% of all the baby outfits are animal related or shrunken down high fashion trends. Baby crop top what up!!
And then when it can speak and start forming it's own opinions, I can only hope that I steer it in the right direction. I'm not talking about morals; that's boring parental stuff. I'm talking about not listening to the shitty nonsensical music (see: "I love you like a love song baby" by Selena Gomez) and the dumb TV shows that glorify teen pregnancy. Maybe my niece/nephew will be one of those cool precocious teens in movies that don't exist in real life. Move over Dakota Fanning! Niece/Nephew has arrived!
That's all way into the future though...right now, i'm just a grab bag of emotions. I think Jessie Spano can better express what I'm feeling right now.
Saturday, April 21, 2012
How To Become Smarter
While perusing the New York Times, I stumbled upon this article on brain training. Naturally, as a college graduate who now remembers little to none of the Mandarin Chinese I minored in, I read it hoping to find out how to make myself "Pinky and the Brain" smart. I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say that Pinky is underrated. Yin and Yang, dawg. Yin and Yang. This is why I need this brain training desperately. I can't write a blog post on how to become smarter without going off on a tangent about 1990s cartoons.
SO. The gist of the theory is that through simple games, you can increase your fluid intelligence, which has always been thought to peak in your early 20s and continually decline until all that's up in your head is just silly putty. And there's just nothing silly about declining fluid intelligence.
Whether you know your IQ score and want to improve it, or if you're like me and just want to remember everything you needed to get at Target without saying "DOH!" on the drive home, play this game. It might work, it might not. But, it's a solid way to procrastinate and helps you rationalize your procrastination with self-betterment. Like watching "Jeopardy" before studying.
I've never been interested in finding out my IQ score, which is one of the ways the researchers in the article measured the changes in fluid intelligence. There are only a few ways this scenario can play out:
1. You take the test and find out that you're borderline mentally challenged. Self-esteem is as low as your IQ score. Lose.
2. You take the test and find out that you're just average. Self-fulfilling prophecy turns you into a sad, sad car salesman.
3. You take the test and find out that you're genius level. Head over-inflates to the size of a blimp. You become that douche who talks about Mensa chess meet-ups at parties. You in a year--->
You see? No one wins with IQ tests. I really do feel like assigning a number to your intelligence can only do more harm than good. The number would haunt you anytime you ever questioned your intelligence. I already have enough numbers to haunting me anyway. Between my SAT and GRE scores, GPA, bank account balance and the points on my drivers license, I have had just about enough with numbers.
SO. The gist of the theory is that through simple games, you can increase your fluid intelligence, which has always been thought to peak in your early 20s and continually decline until all that's up in your head is just silly putty. And there's just nothing silly about declining fluid intelligence.
Whether you know your IQ score and want to improve it, or if you're like me and just want to remember everything you needed to get at Target without saying "DOH!" on the drive home, play this game. It might work, it might not. But, it's a solid way to procrastinate and helps you rationalize your procrastination with self-betterment. Like watching "Jeopardy" before studying.
I've never been interested in finding out my IQ score, which is one of the ways the researchers in the article measured the changes in fluid intelligence. There are only a few ways this scenario can play out:
1. You take the test and find out that you're borderline mentally challenged. Self-esteem is as low as your IQ score. Lose.
2. You take the test and find out that you're just average. Self-fulfilling prophecy turns you into a sad, sad car salesman.
3. You take the test and find out that you're genius level. Head over-inflates to the size of a blimp. You become that douche who talks about Mensa chess meet-ups at parties. You in a year--->You see? No one wins with IQ tests. I really do feel like assigning a number to your intelligence can only do more harm than good. The number would haunt you anytime you ever questioned your intelligence. I already have enough numbers to haunting me anyway. Between my SAT and GRE scores, GPA, bank account balance and the points on my drivers license, I have had just about enough with numbers.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
The detox plan, the epilogue
I'm done! I'd like to say that all of my ultra-healthy detox habits stuck with me, but I'm actually sitting in my bed with a bag of Pirate's Booty. I wouldn't say I'm going on a bender, but man, I have missed carbs. It's kind of like exam week--you concentrate on studying non-stop and then after you're done, you just shut down for a little while. But after a week or so of doing nothing, you want to return to normalcy. So maybe I'm in a post-exam week bender, but I think I'll want to go back to normal after this week.
I guess in retrospect, this week has been unusual for me. I've made pretty elaborate baked goods for my roommate and my other close friend whose birthdays happen to be back to back. Remember that insane cookie cake that I was dreaming about when I was deep into my detox? I made it! It was a hit! I also made better than sex cupcakes for my other friend's birthday who requested not just chocolate cake, but chocolate chocolate chocolate cake. She was either channeling the goose from "Charlotte's Web" or someone on cocaine. Either way, I listened to her request and found cupcakes with five different chocolate parts. What can I say? I've always been an overachiever (LIE). The only downside to making these delicious baked goods is all the leftover cake around the house. And let me be clear, these were not low-fat "healthy" cakes. The cookie cake has a total of I think six sticks of butter in it (It's a Paula Deen adaptation. I'm surprised it didn't have more). The better than sex cupcakes are equally terrible for your health. What I need to do is make delicious, showstopping baked goods and give them away. Except that's pretty costly. So I need to sell them. Eureka! New (and only) life plan!
I guess in retrospect, this week has been unusual for me. I've made pretty elaborate baked goods for my roommate and my other close friend whose birthdays happen to be back to back. Remember that insane cookie cake that I was dreaming about when I was deep into my detox? I made it! It was a hit! I also made better than sex cupcakes for my other friend's birthday who requested not just chocolate cake, but chocolate chocolate chocolate cake. She was either channeling the goose from "Charlotte's Web" or someone on cocaine. Either way, I listened to her request and found cupcakes with five different chocolate parts. What can I say? I've always been an overachiever (LIE). The only downside to making these delicious baked goods is all the leftover cake around the house. And let me be clear, these were not low-fat "healthy" cakes. The cookie cake has a total of I think six sticks of butter in it (It's a Paula Deen adaptation. I'm surprised it didn't have more). The better than sex cupcakes are equally terrible for your health. What I need to do is make delicious, showstopping baked goods and give them away. Except that's pretty costly. So I need to sell them. Eureka! New (and only) life plan!
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
The detox plan, day 16
Remember when I caved last week and had a Reese's cup? I'm proud to say that I had a frosty from Wendy's in my possession (a generous gift from a very sweet, well-meaning mom at the clinic) and did not eat it. I had to have a chat with my sponsor (shout out to Savannah!) who talked me out of falling off the wagon. My immediate thought was "IMMA EAT THAT SHIT UP" but then the scary monster in my head went away and the rational side came back. I'm pretty damn proud of myself for not caving though. Two weeks ago I could have easily rationalized myself into eating that frosty. It always starts with "no, you shouldn't eat that" and moves to "well, maybe if I eat the frosty I'll just have a light dinner" or "I'll work out extra hard at the gym tonight (HA!) " back to "What are you thinking? You had a giant burger for lunch. Obviously you can't have a frosty." The script varies but the result is usually the same. Frosty wins it all! Not today! In the battle of Frosty vs. Detox, Detox wins! Everyone loves an underdog story.
Monday, April 9, 2012
the detox plan, day 15
Ok, so I know I haven't been that diligent with my daily updates as of recently, but I have been diligent with the detox. I did realize that I could have been having organic soy all of week 2 but didn't because I thought that was week three. This week I get gluten free grains and eggs back. My body has been crying out for carby goodness so I had Vietnamese food tonight; vermicelli with pan-fried chili lemongrass tofu. DELICIOUS. That was pretty much the last on my list of cravings besides that cookie dough cake. Even most of my meat cravings have subsided despite seeing pictures of my friend's korean bbq feast on Facebook.
This past week has been very different from the first week for the obvious reason that I was not just eating just twigs and leaves. Beyond that, it reminded me that it's ok to be a little hungry. Despite being able to eat seafood and beans, I still got hungry between meals and instead of indulging every pang of hunger with something to eat, I let my stomach keep grumbling away. Eventually it would go away. If not, I'd eat some fruit or drink some water. It seems like such a simple concept, but it's one that has always eluded me. In all my forays into the dieting world, I always told myself I wouldn't be one of those people who starved themselves but I never fully distinguished the difference between starving yourself and going hungry. As someone who has always had a love/hate relationship with food, this feels like a pretty big milestone. So I head into week three ready to finish strong and hold on to the habits this detox has helped me develop. Now I wonder if the detox can also make me want to go to the gym...
This past week has been very different from the first week for the obvious reason that I was not just eating just twigs and leaves. Beyond that, it reminded me that it's ok to be a little hungry. Despite being able to eat seafood and beans, I still got hungry between meals and instead of indulging every pang of hunger with something to eat, I let my stomach keep grumbling away. Eventually it would go away. If not, I'd eat some fruit or drink some water. It seems like such a simple concept, but it's one that has always eluded me. In all my forays into the dieting world, I always told myself I wouldn't be one of those people who starved themselves but I never fully distinguished the difference between starving yourself and going hungry. As someone who has always had a love/hate relationship with food, this feels like a pretty big milestone. So I head into week three ready to finish strong and hold on to the habits this detox has helped me develop. Now I wonder if the detox can also make me want to go to the gym...
Thursday, April 5, 2012
the detox plan, day 10
I have a confession. I cheated. I've been having monster chocolate cravings lately and there was this bag of mini Reese's cups sitting at work unclaimed for days. Every time I walked past that room the only thing I would see was that blaze orange colored bag of chocolatey goodness. It was crying out to me "I'm so lonely! No one has claimed me for days. Just take one of us!" What was I supposed to do? I'm not heartless. I took pity on one of those orphaned Reese's cups and I do not regret it one bite bit. Presto! Chocolate cravings gone! Ahh. Confession is good for the soul.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
the detox plan, day 8 and 9
Yesterday was so much better than all of last week combined. I ate tuna and salmon and felt a million times better. And I had hummus! And then a foodgasm. I actually made a hmmmmm noise. At least this whole deprivation thing makes me appreciate the small allowances that this detox provides me. I spent all of last night looking up detox-friendly seafood recipes and came up with some good ones. I was pinterest-ing like a mad woman. I actually made a grocery list for all my recipes and planned my meals for the week! I feel like Liz Lemon when she buys all those nufood prepackaged meals. Respawn!
I woke up refreshed and ready to hit the grocery store. This is where working at a nice grocery store comes in handy. The one tiny downside is that every time I go in just to shop, I can't just shop, I have to talk to everyone. If I don't talk to people then I feel like a bitch. But it's rarely a "hey, how's it goin?" It's a conversation. With conversing. A few people at Earthfare know that I'm detoxing so they ask me how it's going, which is very sweet, but I end up repeating myself a lot. It takes me twice as long to get my shopping done than if I went to another grocery store where no one cared about me. I know, terrible problems. But sometimes I just want to pop in for one thing and not have to have a mini-coffee date with everyone I know. Or maybe I'm imagining it and no one would care if I walked around not talking to anyone. When all is said and done, I'd much rather have polite chit chat than eat pink slime. Excuse me, lean finely texturized beef.
I woke up refreshed and ready to hit the grocery store. This is where working at a nice grocery store comes in handy. The one tiny downside is that every time I go in just to shop, I can't just shop, I have to talk to everyone. If I don't talk to people then I feel like a bitch. But it's rarely a "hey, how's it goin?" It's a conversation. With conversing. A few people at Earthfare know that I'm detoxing so they ask me how it's going, which is very sweet, but I end up repeating myself a lot. It takes me twice as long to get my shopping done than if I went to another grocery store where no one cared about me. I know, terrible problems. But sometimes I just want to pop in for one thing and not have to have a mini-coffee date with everyone I know. Or maybe I'm imagining it and no one would care if I walked around not talking to anyone. When all is said and done, I'd much rather have polite chit chat than eat pink slime. Excuse me, lean finely texturized beef.
Monday, April 2, 2012
The detox plan, day 7
HALLELUJAH WEEK ONE IS OVER!!! One week hasn't seemed so long since I took exams or waited for the final "Harry Potter" movie to come out. This weekend I had some serious doubts about this detox. I was getting pretty grouchy, I mean Oscar level grouchy, and not really feeling the benefits of it. On top of my waves of fatigue, I had an allergy attack and couldn't breathe through my nose and was starting to cough a little. Luckily, I had all of yesterday off, which I spent in bed watching movies and blowing my nose and it paid off; I feel a lot better today. I don't think I will be nearly as tired or hungry this week because I'll get seafood and beans. I mean, it's still going to be a pain trying to resist ordering a bucket of chicken wings, but at least I won't be starving! I won't be starving for meat anymore (really though, nothing replaces a nice juicy steak), but I will not find a replacement for this:
I want this cake at my wedding (there's cookie dough balls INSIDE each of the layers). I will have dreams about this cake. And I'm guessing you'll also be dreaming about this cake too. Sweet dreams, readers!
Friday, March 30, 2012
The detox plan, day 5
So, it's a Friday night. What are you, gentle readers, doing on this fine evening? Dinner? Drinks? Sounds really fun. I can't really do those anymore, at least not for the next 16 days. In addition to feeling lightheaded, the fatigue, the faint grumbling noises from my stomach that I hear all the time, and only being able to eat rabbit food, I now realize I can't really hang out with my friends who are not on this detox diet, which leaves exactly two people that I can be around. It made me realize how much my social life revolves around eating and drinking. Oh hey, old friend! Long time, no see! Wanna grab a coffee and catch up? OH wait. I mean, wanna grab a hot water and lemon and catch up? Sounds appealing, right? Not that my entire social life is centered around food and alcohol, but it tends to show up in one way or another. Let's say I want to go see my friend's band, I want to have a drink. Just one to sip on. I can't even have a tonic water. Nope, it's tap all the way for me! Or hanging out at a friends house. Would you like a snack? I made all your favorite foods and Ryan Gosling will serve it to you shirtless. No? Really? None for you? Oh right, you're detoxing. My bad. The Gos will only be in town for the next 16 days exactly and all he wants to do is eat paninis and giant bowls of macaroni and cheese while watching "Gilmore Girls". It's ok, we'll totally catch up next time, The Gos.
If I was Queen of the Americas and I wanted to detox, I would make everyone detox with me. There would be no temptation anywhere. Movie theaters would start overcharging people for grapes and beet juice and all the Chick-fil-a's would just go on vacation for 21 days. The nation would be health crazy by law! Tomato paste is no longer a vegetable, people of the Americas! Sales of veggies and fruits would shoot up and the farmer would become big man on campus. Everyone wins! Except when there aren't enough fruit and veggies to go around and then children will battle in a televised post-apocalyptic fight to the death in order to feed their district. It shall be called, "The Hunger Games". Naahhh, that would never happen.
If I was Queen of the Americas and I wanted to detox, I would make everyone detox with me. There would be no temptation anywhere. Movie theaters would start overcharging people for grapes and beet juice and all the Chick-fil-a's would just go on vacation for 21 days. The nation would be health crazy by law! Tomato paste is no longer a vegetable, people of the Americas! Sales of veggies and fruits would shoot up and the farmer would become big man on campus. Everyone wins! Except when there aren't enough fruit and veggies to go around and then children will battle in a televised post-apocalyptic fight to the death in order to feed their district. It shall be called, "The Hunger Games". Naahhh, that would never happen.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
The detox plan, day 4
Day 4 started out well. I tried taking a sleeping pill last night around 10:30 so that instead of constantly thinking about spaghetti and meatballs, I would just sleep through the cravings, like a real addict. Well that didn't work. It took me over an hour to fall asleep but I did wake up pretty refreshed and energetic. I did the dishes AND laundry, which on a regular day is a lot of housework for me. But when I drove to work, BAM! My old friend fatigue showed up. I ate my lunch (an apple with a carrot/apple/beet/ginger juice) and felt a little better but once I started walking around a lot I got a little lightheaded. I think if I ever pursue my rap star dreams, my name will be Lil Lightheaded. My first single will be "NO JUDGEMENT" and I'll have my very own dance move where you just sway your head back and forth kind of drunkenly, while you body stays still. My album cover will feature a Bojangles french fry box fighting an apple. Other chart-topping hits include, "Sit Yo Ass Down", "Put Yo Head Between Yo Knees", and "Drink Dis Sassy Water". If you're unfamiliar, sassy water is lemon and cucumber water made popular by the "Skinny Girl" diet, or the "Sassy Girl" diet. Whatever.
Oh yeah, back to reality. Today, a co-worker had a meatball sub from Firehouse and my nose led me to it-on the other side of the building. In addition to being lightheaded, my sense of smell has been heightened to lead me to all the delicious food I cannot eat. These sweet potato fries will be my savior. I had them for dinner last night and breakfast this morning. Even though I want them for dinner, I will probably make this avocado, cherry tomato, bell pepper salad that has lemon, cayenne pepper, and cilantro in it. Who am I kidding? I'll probably still have the sweet potato fries. Lil Lightheaded out!
Oh yeah, back to reality. Today, a co-worker had a meatball sub from Firehouse and my nose led me to it-on the other side of the building. In addition to being lightheaded, my sense of smell has been heightened to lead me to all the delicious food I cannot eat. These sweet potato fries will be my savior. I had them for dinner last night and breakfast this morning. Even though I want them for dinner, I will probably make this avocado, cherry tomato, bell pepper salad that has lemon, cayenne pepper, and cilantro in it. Who am I kidding? I'll probably still have the sweet potato fries. Lil Lightheaded out!
The detox plan, day 3
I've pretty much made it through day 3 with no headache or junk food dreams but I'm still tired all the time. I had a carrot/apple/beet juice this morning and some popcorn. What? you never had pizza for breakfast? No judgement! The PMS bitchiness is my new symptom for the day. It's like getting a surprise you never asked for or wanted. The same kid who had Bojangles on Monday had it again and I almost snatched it out of his hand for throwing a french fry on the ground. HOW DARE YOU. There are starving people (in this room) who would love to have those fries.
In other news, I made a rubber band ball at work instead of doing actual work.
Also, I realized that I could kind of make sweet potato fries in the oven. They had chipotle on them. Nuff said. But I did cheat just a teensy tiny bit. I had ketchup. But it was organic! and only had a tiny bit of extra sugar in it! Didn't we already talk about no judgement?! Also, don't judge me for writing about day 3 of the detox on day 4. So, if you didn't already deduce what the theme of this post is, it's NO JUDGEMENT.
In other news, I made a rubber band ball at work instead of doing actual work.
Also, I realized that I could kind of make sweet potato fries in the oven. They had chipotle on them. Nuff said. But I did cheat just a teensy tiny bit. I had ketchup. But it was organic! and only had a tiny bit of extra sugar in it! Didn't we already talk about no judgement?! Also, don't judge me for writing about day 3 of the detox on day 4. So, if you didn't already deduce what the theme of this post is, it's NO JUDGEMENT.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
The detox plan, day 2
TOTALLY KILLIN THIS DETOX.
Psych. I'm not killing it. I have absolutely no energy for anything. Maybe I've just stumbled upon an alternative form of punishment for convicted felons. Just make them detox. They won't have any energy to gang rape anyone, shiv anyone or earn degrees through the mail.
I woke up early this morning hungry, but I was too weak to actually do anything about it. I stayed in bed and watched the season premier of "Mad Men" until my stomach started to make angry sounds at me. I went to the fridge to make a smoothie, but I was too tired and got another one of my carrot/grapefruit/apple/ginger juices. After my juice, a curious thing happened. I started to fall asleep while watching "Game of Thrones" (clearly, it was not a productive morning), but I felt like I was drunk and had the spins. Both fatigue and headache (check and check) are common detox symptoms but no one warned me that I would feel the bad parts of getting drunk. While I was in my hazy detrunk nap, I had a dream within a dream about eating massive classic Lay's potato chips. I woke up completely disoriented and headachey and in desperate need of comically large chips, preferably Doritos (even in my dreams I can't have the chips I want). I ate pistachios instead. I now hate pistachios. I also took a smoothie to work which had mixed berries, pineapple, apple juice and spirulina in it. "The fuck is that?" you ask? click the link. I'm too tired to explain it. I'm still getting the proportions of the smoothies and the juice down so I put way too much spirulina in it which prompted my co-worker to say, "what is that prune smell? are you drinking prune slushie?" Cool, the reception room now smells like a retirement home.
I did make a discovery last night though. I can make popcorn on the stove if I don't put butter or other shit on it. Hallelujah! Instead, I used vegetable oil and topped it with some seasoned salt, garlic powder and pepper. I'll probably have a salad tonight with some balsamic vinegar and oil and to finish it off, a lobotomy so I can forget that I'm doing this. "Whole Living" seems to think that by day 3 or 4, most of your fatigue and headache should be gone. I wonder if my junk food dreams will go away too. I hope not. It's all I have left to hold on to...ahhh memories.
Psych. I'm not killing it. I have absolutely no energy for anything. Maybe I've just stumbled upon an alternative form of punishment for convicted felons. Just make them detox. They won't have any energy to gang rape anyone, shiv anyone or earn degrees through the mail.
I woke up early this morning hungry, but I was too weak to actually do anything about it. I stayed in bed and watched the season premier of "Mad Men" until my stomach started to make angry sounds at me. I went to the fridge to make a smoothie, but I was too tired and got another one of my carrot/grapefruit/apple/ginger juices. After my juice, a curious thing happened. I started to fall asleep while watching "Game of Thrones" (clearly, it was not a productive morning), but I felt like I was drunk and had the spins. Both fatigue and headache (check and check) are common detox symptoms but no one warned me that I would feel the bad parts of getting drunk. While I was in my hazy detrunk nap, I had a dream within a dream about eating massive classic Lay's potato chips. I woke up completely disoriented and headachey and in desperate need of comically large chips, preferably Doritos (even in my dreams I can't have the chips I want). I ate pistachios instead. I now hate pistachios. I also took a smoothie to work which had mixed berries, pineapple, apple juice and spirulina in it. "The fuck is that?" you ask? click the link. I'm too tired to explain it. I'm still getting the proportions of the smoothies and the juice down so I put way too much spirulina in it which prompted my co-worker to say, "what is that prune smell? are you drinking prune slushie?" Cool, the reception room now smells like a retirement home.
I did make a discovery last night though. I can make popcorn on the stove if I don't put butter or other shit on it. Hallelujah! Instead, I used vegetable oil and topped it with some seasoned salt, garlic powder and pepper. I'll probably have a salad tonight with some balsamic vinegar and oil and to finish it off, a lobotomy so I can forget that I'm doing this. "Whole Living" seems to think that by day 3 or 4, most of your fatigue and headache should be gone. I wonder if my junk food dreams will go away too. I hope not. It's all I have left to hold on to...ahhh memories.
Monday, March 26, 2012
The detox plan, Day 1
This past weekend I drank and ate like a sailor on leave. Every meal seemed like my last. I fit in all my favorites: burgers, fries, pizza, alcohol, sushi, fasian food (fake asian, for those of you not in the know), and more alcohol. Then, D-Day arrived.
I started the morning with a carrot/grapefruit/apple/ginger juice, which was very tasty but a far reach from my usual cereal/banana combo that I usually eat. I had energy, went to the gym and was feeling good. I was feeling empowered. Look at me! Ignoring my cravings! Energized! Ready to work! A little stomach grumble? Nothing I can't handle! Then kids started filing into the clinic one by one holding bags of fast food. I became angrier with every whiff of delicious golden french fries. If I had been exposed to radiation, I would have Hulked right out of my stylish pants and stolen those kids' fries. After some surprisingly violent thoughts, I re-grouped and ate some pistachios and almonds. I returned to pre-Hulk consciousness and to work.
4:00 rolls around and somehow I fell asleep. At my desk. In the middle of data entry. Thank god I'm in the reception room by myself. I don't think "well, I'm doing a detox" will cut it if someone sees me asleep.
I have an hour until I go home, crawl into my bed and dream of ice cream and doritos. Until then, here's hoping that I don't assault a child for eating his/her meal. Happy detoxing!
I started the morning with a carrot/grapefruit/apple/ginger juice, which was very tasty but a far reach from my usual cereal/banana combo that I usually eat. I had energy, went to the gym and was feeling good. I was feeling empowered. Look at me! Ignoring my cravings! Energized! Ready to work! A little stomach grumble? Nothing I can't handle! Then kids started filing into the clinic one by one holding bags of fast food. I became angrier with every whiff of delicious golden french fries. If I had been exposed to radiation, I would have Hulked right out of my stylish pants and stolen those kids' fries. After some surprisingly violent thoughts, I re-grouped and ate some pistachios and almonds. I returned to pre-Hulk consciousness and to work.
4:00 rolls around and somehow I fell asleep. At my desk. In the middle of data entry. Thank god I'm in the reception room by myself. I don't think "well, I'm doing a detox" will cut it if someone sees me asleep.
I have an hour until I go home, crawl into my bed and dream of ice cream and doritos. Until then, here's hoping that I don't assault a child for eating his/her meal. Happy detoxing!
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
The detox plan, the preface
A few months ago, Whole Living magazine featured an entire detox plan to get you on the right track for the new year. Because I am chronically late, I am trying it now. I've recruited my roommate and my other friend for support (read: bitch about self-induced starvation to each other) during these trying times.
I know what you're thinking. You're going to live off of that disgusting water/lemon juice/cayenne/honey nonsense for weeks? Doesn't Dr. Oz warn against those cleanses? Won't you miss eating? Why? Just, why?
To answer your questions:
1. NO. That Master Cleanse bullshit is a hit or miss. Mostly miss because you are actually starving yourself. Also, if you were the loony that came up with this piss water concoction, how presumptuous is it to call your cleanse the "Master Cleanse"? Are there disciple cleanses? "Master" is reserved for ninjas and the season 1 Buffy villain.
2. Let's get this out of the way: Fuck Dr. Oz. He is medical fear journalism incarnate. Yes, we know that everything will give you cancer. But can't we just drink our apple juice in peace without having to ask if there is extra arsenic in it? And those dumb headlines: THE TOP TEN THINGS YOU DIDN'T KNOW WERE MAKING YOU FAT. Boy, if I had a nickle every time I heard one of those promos, I'd have enough to buy an apple juice factory and drink all the arsenic I want. End of Dr. Oz rant. Back on topic though, yeah he does warn against the cleanses, but we're talking the aforementioned bullshit Master Cleanse.
3. I will miss eating all the things that are horribly bad for my body but that's kind of the point. I'm checking myself into food rehab. Here's the breakdown of my cleanse...
For three weeks, I will cut out six things from my diet: Processed food or beverages, added sugar, dairy, gluten, caffeine, and alcohol. So far so good, right?
During week 1 I get : fruits, vegetables, and plant-based fats, including nuts, seeds, and oils
Adding back in Week 2: seafood, beans and lentils, and organic soy
Adding back in Week 3: gluten-free grains and eggs
Week one will kind of suck. I'm anticipating a lot of cranky, tired days and 8:00 bedtimes. But according to the cleanse, that's to be expected then by week 2, I should be feeling back to normal. By week 3, I should be feeling energetic, light, confident, and ready to conquer the world! You know, like the women in tampon commercials.
4. Why, you ask? Why not? But in all seriousness, to lose weight, to start cooking again, to stop myself from eating out all the time and to enjoy good, honest food.
I'm going to try to chronicle the detox day by day, or at least every other day. I start next Monday, so until then it's my last hurrah for bad foods. Entire tray of chick-fil-a nuggets, here I come! Just kidding, I'm sharing!
I know what you're thinking. You're going to live off of that disgusting water/lemon juice/cayenne/honey nonsense for weeks? Doesn't Dr. Oz warn against those cleanses? Won't you miss eating? Why? Just, why?
To answer your questions:
1. NO. That Master Cleanse bullshit is a hit or miss. Mostly miss because you are actually starving yourself. Also, if you were the loony that came up with this piss water concoction, how presumptuous is it to call your cleanse the "Master Cleanse"? Are there disciple cleanses? "Master" is reserved for ninjas and the season 1 Buffy villain.
2. Let's get this out of the way: Fuck Dr. Oz. He is medical fear journalism incarnate. Yes, we know that everything will give you cancer. But can't we just drink our apple juice in peace without having to ask if there is extra arsenic in it? And those dumb headlines: THE TOP TEN THINGS YOU DIDN'T KNOW WERE MAKING YOU FAT. Boy, if I had a nickle every time I heard one of those promos, I'd have enough to buy an apple juice factory and drink all the arsenic I want. End of Dr. Oz rant. Back on topic though, yeah he does warn against the cleanses, but we're talking the aforementioned bullshit Master Cleanse.
3. I will miss eating all the things that are horribly bad for my body but that's kind of the point. I'm checking myself into food rehab. Here's the breakdown of my cleanse...
For three weeks, I will cut out six things from my diet: Processed food or beverages, added sugar, dairy, gluten, caffeine, and alcohol. So far so good, right?
During week 1 I get : fruits, vegetables, and plant-based fats, including nuts, seeds, and oils
Adding back in Week 2: seafood, beans and lentils, and organic soy
Adding back in Week 3: gluten-free grains and eggs
Week one will kind of suck. I'm anticipating a lot of cranky, tired days and 8:00 bedtimes. But according to the cleanse, that's to be expected then by week 2, I should be feeling back to normal. By week 3, I should be feeling energetic, light, confident, and ready to conquer the world! You know, like the women in tampon commercials.
4. Why, you ask? Why not? But in all seriousness, to lose weight, to start cooking again, to stop myself from eating out all the time and to enjoy good, honest food.
I'm going to try to chronicle the detox day by day, or at least every other day. I start next Monday, so until then it's my last hurrah for bad foods. Entire tray of chick-fil-a nuggets, here I come! Just kidding, I'm sharing!
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Sandwich, Child, Potato, Potatoe
Today on my drive home from work, I had half of a curry chicken salad sandwich in one of those plastic containers rolling around my front seat. I was playing with my iPod like an irresponsible young adult and had to stop short at the stoplight. So what was my first instinct? To do the "mommy hold" on my sandwich. In my twisted mind, my sandwich is equivalent to that of a child in danger of being run into by a car. I've never done the "mommy hold" on anything in my life. You know what? That sandwich was the most precious thing in my car. Have you ever had a really good curry chicken salad? Priceless.
My sister, on the other hand, will do the "mommy hold" on me when she barely stops short. She's just one of those people whose destiny is to be a mom because she's got the protective instinct. I guess I kind of have the protective instinct. But only for delicious sandwiches. I think I'd do it for some kind of pasta dish too. Or pie. But only those three things!
My sister, on the other hand, will do the "mommy hold" on me when she barely stops short. She's just one of those people whose destiny is to be a mom because she's got the protective instinct. I guess I kind of have the protective instinct. But only for delicious sandwiches. I think I'd do it for some kind of pasta dish too. Or pie. But only those three things!
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Musings on Valentine's Day.
-I wish it was customary to bring bags of Doritos as Valentine's Day snacks, instead of conversation hearts. conversation hearts are the worst.
-The internet has made this holiday, once bearable when I had AOL 4.0 and it took real effort to get on-line, disgusting. I can't escape it. Even the menu page on my Roku Box was infested with little red and pink hearts this morning and for the last two effin weeks. We get it. Valentines Day. Thanks, Roku. Just let me watch Downton Abbey now.
-Someone at work today used the term "non-traditional couple" today when I asked if she had any big plans with her fiance (I was baited). WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?
-I refuse to sit around eating bon-bons (don't know what these are) and drinking white wine while watching "Bridget Jones' Diary" because I am single. Renee Zellwegger is the worst. So is the spelling of her last name.
-It is Valentine's Day.
-I will OBLITERATE Facebook with my mind powers if I read another status that features a stuffed animal or actual animal as someone's Valentine.
-Congratulations, Hallmark.
-I got to talk to my old roommate of four years for the first time in 6+ months. Best Valentines Day present ever.
-Also, this would be the best Valentines Day present:
-The internet has made this holiday, once bearable when I had AOL 4.0 and it took real effort to get on-line, disgusting. I can't escape it. Even the menu page on my Roku Box was infested with little red and pink hearts this morning and for the last two effin weeks. We get it. Valentines Day. Thanks, Roku. Just let me watch Downton Abbey now.
-Someone at work today used the term "non-traditional couple" today when I asked if she had any big plans with her fiance (I was baited). WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?
-I refuse to sit around eating bon-bons (don't know what these are) and drinking white wine while watching "Bridget Jones' Diary" because I am single. Renee Zellwegger is the worst. So is the spelling of her last name.
-It is Valentine's Day.
-I will OBLITERATE Facebook with my mind powers if I read another status that features a stuffed animal or actual animal as someone's Valentine.
-Congratulations, Hallmark.
-I got to talk to my old roommate of four years for the first time in 6+ months. Best Valentines Day present ever.
-Also, this would be the best Valentines Day present:
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Mantras
Working at an autism clinic means you have to be able to cope with certain unsavory things...boogers, coughing, germs, sticky hands (kids seem to always have sticky hands), poops, and other general bodily fluids. I'm not very comfortable with the poops or the boogers to begin with, but there is something that trumps all of that: screaming. A sustained exposure to a child screaming/crying can cause hearing loss. At 90 decibels, OSHA requires that a factory provide hearing protection. A baby screaming is at 110 decibels. OSHA would shut this place down. Then Erin Brockovich will form a class action suit around us and all the people who work with children will be provided with free hearing aids, which we will all need at the ripe age of 42.
Anywho, on this particular day, one child was having a screaming/crying/yelling/throwing about to shit himself fit. It's an occupational hazard, but most fits last 5-10 mins. His lasted close to an hour. I'm surprised his vocal chords didn't give out. Or he didn't pass out from lack of oxygen. His mantra became, "NOOOOOOOOO JUST LET ME GOOOOOOOO I JUST WANT TO GO HOOOOOOOMMMEEE. GET AWAY FROM MEEEEEE I HATE YOU!!!!!" in that order. With that many Os. To be honest, sometimes I want to scream that when someone hands me a 5 inch binder full of billing papers and I am literally boob-high in paperwork but that's not "socially acceptable". After 20 minutes of the same phrases being screamed at the same ear piercing, OSHA-will-fine you level, I started to go a little crazy. I started to hear just sounds, not words, like if you say "fork" over and over again. It starts to sound funny. This kid started to sound like Chewbacca. Thank god I'm in my own separate room away from it all because I started making my own Chewbacca noises and laughing and well, it would not have been "socially acceptable" yet again. My own mantras became "be nice to children" and "no mocking children with Chewbacca noises." I think I'll write those on post-it notes and put them up on my mirror so I am reminded of that every day before I go to work. And a note to find an herbal supplement that will make me more compassionate. Maybe an antioxidant...Whatever I'll just drink more green tea.
Anywho, on this particular day, one child was having a screaming/crying/yelling/throwing about to shit himself fit. It's an occupational hazard, but most fits last 5-10 mins. His lasted close to an hour. I'm surprised his vocal chords didn't give out. Or he didn't pass out from lack of oxygen. His mantra became, "NOOOOOOOOO JUST LET ME GOOOOOOOO I JUST WANT TO GO HOOOOOOOMMMEEE. GET AWAY FROM MEEEEEE I HATE YOU!!!!!" in that order. With that many Os. To be honest, sometimes I want to scream that when someone hands me a 5 inch binder full of billing papers and I am literally boob-high in paperwork but that's not "socially acceptable". After 20 minutes of the same phrases being screamed at the same ear piercing, OSHA-will-fine you level, I started to go a little crazy. I started to hear just sounds, not words, like if you say "fork" over and over again. It starts to sound funny. This kid started to sound like Chewbacca. Thank god I'm in my own separate room away from it all because I started making my own Chewbacca noises and laughing and well, it would not have been "socially acceptable" yet again. My own mantras became "be nice to children" and "no mocking children with Chewbacca noises." I think I'll write those on post-it notes and put them up on my mirror so I am reminded of that every day before I go to work. And a note to find an herbal supplement that will make me more compassionate. Maybe an antioxidant...Whatever I'll just drink more green tea.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Please only refer to me as Dinky Bubble Pants Rawr Rawr
Here's a real laugh/cry moment, folks. Remember when we were kids and we read books and played outside for fun? Now tweens have the internet and make up quizzes about what your stripper name will be or if you would survive as a dragon (both real, sadly). Here are my names if I was anything but a real human being living in this reality:
Blues: Texas Killer Bailey
Stripper: Isis Glitter-Ridge
Lord of the Rings: Svelvan of the Afterborn
Spirit: Brittnia (just. what?)
Cartoon Character: Dinky Bubble Pants
Unicorn: Rawr Rawr (unicorns have gotten more fierce, apparently. At least this unicorn is. OH SNAP)
My bored friend's names were far more horrendous than mine. In the same order:
Blind Bones Davis
Cinnamon Leather-Hiney (omg so gross)
Nongwen Orc-Death
Crystal
Squeezeit Apple Chunks
Bluebell Blue Nostrils
If I was the parent of a teen now, I would never let my kid have a computer or tv in their room. Jesus, look what they spend their time doing. All they do is make up non-educational quizzes and to add insult to injury, they have the WORST grammar. The U.S. public school system has FAILED. Miserably. Best case scenario, this is poorly made computer program. Case in point:
"A wounded dragon on the edge of death is in your cave, what would you do!?"
A. Kill them!!
B. Sit by their side and watch them die with symphony in your eyes.
C. Get some cob webs and water to help their wounds. Te=hen fetch then some food and try to make friends with them.
Well, clearly cob webs and water to help with their wounds. And when that doesn't work BECAUSE THAT'S NOT ANYTHING, watch them die with symphony in your eyes. P.S. the name of the quiz is "Would you survive as a dragon?" YOU.
I fully acknowledge that by taking these quizzes that I am both wasting moments of my life that I will never get back and giving these websites more hits and therefore validation of their existence, but I am an adult with a fully formed brain. 12 year-old kids still got a ways to go. They are so vulnerable to the YouTube/reality show age of "It's so funny because it's dumb!" excuse for reading this shit and watching that shit. What I'm saying is, just go read a book (that isn't Twilight). Seriously. Why are you still reading this blog? Go!
Blues: Texas Killer Bailey
Stripper: Isis Glitter-Ridge
Lord of the Rings: Svelvan of the Afterborn
Spirit: Brittnia (just. what?)
Cartoon Character: Dinky Bubble Pants
Unicorn: Rawr Rawr (unicorns have gotten more fierce, apparently. At least this unicorn is. OH SNAP)
My bored friend's names were far more horrendous than mine. In the same order:
Blind Bones Davis
Cinnamon Leather-Hiney (omg so gross)
Nongwen Orc-Death
Crystal
Squeezeit Apple Chunks
Bluebell Blue Nostrils
If I was the parent of a teen now, I would never let my kid have a computer or tv in their room. Jesus, look what they spend their time doing. All they do is make up non-educational quizzes and to add insult to injury, they have the WORST grammar. The U.S. public school system has FAILED. Miserably. Best case scenario, this is poorly made computer program. Case in point:
"A wounded dragon on the edge of death is in your cave, what would you do!?"
A. Kill them!!
B. Sit by their side and watch them die with symphony in your eyes.
C. Get some cob webs and water to help their wounds. Te=hen fetch then some food and try to make friends with them.
Well, clearly cob webs and water to help with their wounds. And when that doesn't work BECAUSE THAT'S NOT ANYTHING, watch them die with symphony in your eyes. P.S. the name of the quiz is "Would you survive as a dragon?" YOU.
I fully acknowledge that by taking these quizzes that I am both wasting moments of my life that I will never get back and giving these websites more hits and therefore validation of their existence, but I am an adult with a fully formed brain. 12 year-old kids still got a ways to go. They are so vulnerable to the YouTube/reality show age of "It's so funny because it's dumb!" excuse for reading this shit and watching that shit. What I'm saying is, just go read a book (that isn't Twilight). Seriously. Why are you still reading this blog? Go!
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Best. Dinner. Party. Ever.
Last night on Jimmy Fallon's show, Tina Fey was on promoting her new season of "30 Rock" (could not be more psyched. Psychedness levels are off the charts.) so obviously, I watched the clips of her interview on Hulu. There was this segment where Tina, Jimmy, and two randos from the audience play speed celebrity. This is probably one of the best games ever and a godsend for people like me who are very pop culturally aware and suck at pictionary.
Anyway, Jimmy and Tina were champs and the two randos were ok, but I'm pretty sure I would have gotten it when Tina points to her arms like a body builder and then waves in a very stately, graceful manner. "MICHELLE OBAMA!," I would scream. And then she'd give me one of those we're-totally-on-the-same-wavelength looks. And when Jimmy stood still and looked like a catatonic patient at a mental ward and then gave the same stately, graceful wave I would have shouted "MITT ROMNEY!!" because we're buds who think alike. This is all happening at my dream dinner party, of course. Maybe some people want to have the Dalai Lama and Einstein at their dream dinner party, but I wanna have some good clean fun. You know that Einstein did some crazy shit in his day.
Potential (and on-going) list of invites to the best dinner party ever:
1. Tina Fey
2. Jimmy Fallon
3. Amy Poehler
4. Kristen Wiig
5. Will Ferrell
6. Jon Stewart
7. Stephen Colbert
8. Ron Swanson
9. Jack Donaghy
10. Tobias Funke
11. Steve Carell
12. John Krasinski
13. Zooey Deschanel
14. Paula Deen (I'm not cooking. Also I think she can give me tips on how to glue on fake eyelashes)
15. Michael Kors (for bitchy comments only)
16. The Muppets. All of them. But especially the crotchity old guys who comment from the balcony.
17. Borat
18. David Sedaris
19. Seth Meyers
20. Anderson Cooper
21. Emma Stone
22. God (This is the best dinner party ever. I'm gonna snub God?)
So this is how it's gonna go down: Everyone arrives in a party bus so no one is awkwardly early or rudely late. Some amuse bouches on my back porch overlooking the Mediterranean ocean, then onto the main event inside my large, but cozy house. The table is set by the home decor buyer for Anthropologie. (S)he has created a special table for me that mixes people's seats up without physically moving at 20 minute intervals so everyone gets to talk to everyone. The iPod shuffle for dinner parties. Paula Deen has made a 5 course dinner of deep fried goodness (but she's taken out all the calories for me). For dessert, an ice cream bar served by the butler in "Home Alone 2: Lost in New York". Two scoops? Make it three, I'm not driving. After dinner, we will all feel comfortably full and adjourn to the living room for the other main event, Celebrity. Maybe we break out into song during our rowdy game of Celebrity (I'm looking at you, Zooey Deschanel). Candid polaroids will be taken throughout the night. And then a group shot at the end of the night (to be posted on Facebook the next morning). Goody bags will include a picture frame with the group shot in it and decorated with each of their names in puffy paint. Also a genie lamp that grants them one wish (but honestly they already got the picture frame decorated with puffy paint so what else is there?). Everyone heads back on the party bus exhausted but exhilarated.
END OF BEST DINNER PARTY EVER.
Anyway, Jimmy and Tina were champs and the two randos were ok, but I'm pretty sure I would have gotten it when Tina points to her arms like a body builder and then waves in a very stately, graceful manner. "MICHELLE OBAMA!," I would scream. And then she'd give me one of those we're-totally-on-the-same-wavelength looks. And when Jimmy stood still and looked like a catatonic patient at a mental ward and then gave the same stately, graceful wave I would have shouted "MITT ROMNEY!!" because we're buds who think alike. This is all happening at my dream dinner party, of course. Maybe some people want to have the Dalai Lama and Einstein at their dream dinner party, but I wanna have some good clean fun. You know that Einstein did some crazy shit in his day.
Potential (and on-going) list of invites to the best dinner party ever:
1. Tina Fey
2. Jimmy Fallon
3. Amy Poehler
4. Kristen Wiig
5. Will Ferrell
6. Jon Stewart
7. Stephen Colbert
8. Ron Swanson
9. Jack Donaghy
10. Tobias Funke
11. Steve Carell
12. John Krasinski
13. Zooey Deschanel
14. Paula Deen (I'm not cooking. Also I think she can give me tips on how to glue on fake eyelashes)
15. Michael Kors (for bitchy comments only)
16. The Muppets. All of them. But especially the crotchity old guys who comment from the balcony.
17. Borat
18. David Sedaris
19. Seth Meyers
20. Anderson Cooper
21. Emma Stone
22. God (This is the best dinner party ever. I'm gonna snub God?)
So this is how it's gonna go down: Everyone arrives in a party bus so no one is awkwardly early or rudely late. Some amuse bouches on my back porch overlooking the Mediterranean ocean, then onto the main event inside my large, but cozy house. The table is set by the home decor buyer for Anthropologie. (S)he has created a special table for me that mixes people's seats up without physically moving at 20 minute intervals so everyone gets to talk to everyone. The iPod shuffle for dinner parties. Paula Deen has made a 5 course dinner of deep fried goodness (but she's taken out all the calories for me). For dessert, an ice cream bar served by the butler in "Home Alone 2: Lost in New York". Two scoops? Make it three, I'm not driving. After dinner, we will all feel comfortably full and adjourn to the living room for the other main event, Celebrity. Maybe we break out into song during our rowdy game of Celebrity (I'm looking at you, Zooey Deschanel). Candid polaroids will be taken throughout the night. And then a group shot at the end of the night (to be posted on Facebook the next morning). Goody bags will include a picture frame with the group shot in it and decorated with each of their names in puffy paint. Also a genie lamp that grants them one wish (but honestly they already got the picture frame decorated with puffy paint so what else is there?). Everyone heads back on the party bus exhausted but exhilarated.
END OF BEST DINNER PARTY EVER.
Thursday, January 5, 2012
It's been three days since I wrote about New Years resolutions. How's it going you ask? Terribly. I went to the gym, ate reasonably (except for that giant bag of honey mustard pretzels which was a hunger monster impulse purchase at the grocery store), haven't used any of my money in an irresponsible manner, and haven't been slutty. Oh well, I guess it's to be expected. How many people actually stick with their New Years resolutions? Show of hands? Nobody? Yeah, that's what I thought. So here's my beef with New Years resolutions:
1. They tend to be massive unattainable goals. When I was younger, I resolved to not procrastinate every year. On anything. Ever. Clearly, that's not a realistic goal. I took a 4 month break from this very blog for fuck's sake. a blog. But I'm back on track and it's not because it's a new calendar year.
2. After you set these unattainable goals, you inevitably fail. You feel guilty about not sticking to your goal, and maybe you gorge on raw brownie batter for not going to the gym twice a day every day like you promised yourself or something... You feel down on yourself and disappointed that you couldn't achieve what you set out to do. Set the bar low. Or, if it's a limbo bar, very high. Shaq high.
3. You can never have just one (not talking about pringles, folks but yeah those too). Most people have more than one thing they'd like to fix in their lives so of course they pile them on and hope they go down one by one like dominoes. It is for this same reason that I don't trust politicians. OH, you're going to fix the economy, education, stop war, AND cure cancer? sure.
4. Shouldn't resolutions start on your birthday? That's your new year after all.
5. Mainly I resent the fact that tradition pushes people to reflect on themselves with the express goal of finding something wrong to fix. And maybe the goal was already there, but New Years puts a ticking time bomb on it. The most common New Years goals are open ended goals like losing weight, quitting smoking, reducing debt, spending more time with family etc. but I think in those cases the motivation has to come from strong self-determination, some sort of epiphany or an outside deadline. New Years just isn't enough.
6. Remember when New Years was just a fun time when you got to stay up after midnight and drink sparkling cider from a fancy glass like a grown-up? Now it's yet another holiday that has a ton of expectations attached to it. Let's just enjoy the fact that we get the day off work and get to hang with our friends and family.
Tangent: I have never made a resolution on Chinese New Year, but I wonder if Jewish people make resolutions on Rosh Hashanah or Muslims on umm... Islamic New Year (call me culturally unaware. whatever). Is that a thing? Anyone know?
I do have my own grand goals, but they have nothing to do with New Years. I hope I will achieve them one day but I can guarantee you I will never look back and think "wow, I'm so glad I resolved to do that thing that one New Years." Cheers to setting that limbo bar Shaq high.
1. They tend to be massive unattainable goals. When I was younger, I resolved to not procrastinate every year. On anything. Ever. Clearly, that's not a realistic goal. I took a 4 month break from this very blog for fuck's sake. a blog. But I'm back on track and it's not because it's a new calendar year.
2. After you set these unattainable goals, you inevitably fail. You feel guilty about not sticking to your goal, and maybe you gorge on raw brownie batter for not going to the gym twice a day every day like you promised yourself or something... You feel down on yourself and disappointed that you couldn't achieve what you set out to do. Set the bar low. Or, if it's a limbo bar, very high. Shaq high.
3. You can never have just one (not talking about pringles, folks but yeah those too). Most people have more than one thing they'd like to fix in their lives so of course they pile them on and hope they go down one by one like dominoes. It is for this same reason that I don't trust politicians. OH, you're going to fix the economy, education, stop war, AND cure cancer? sure.
4. Shouldn't resolutions start on your birthday? That's your new year after all.
5. Mainly I resent the fact that tradition pushes people to reflect on themselves with the express goal of finding something wrong to fix. And maybe the goal was already there, but New Years puts a ticking time bomb on it. The most common New Years goals are open ended goals like losing weight, quitting smoking, reducing debt, spending more time with family etc. but I think in those cases the motivation has to come from strong self-determination, some sort of epiphany or an outside deadline. New Years just isn't enough.
6. Remember when New Years was just a fun time when you got to stay up after midnight and drink sparkling cider from a fancy glass like a grown-up? Now it's yet another holiday that has a ton of expectations attached to it. Let's just enjoy the fact that we get the day off work and get to hang with our friends and family.
Tangent: I have never made a resolution on Chinese New Year, but I wonder if Jewish people make resolutions on Rosh Hashanah or Muslims on umm... Islamic New Year (call me culturally unaware. whatever). Is that a thing? Anyone know?
I do have my own grand goals, but they have nothing to do with New Years. I hope I will achieve them one day but I can guarantee you I will never look back and think "wow, I'm so glad I resolved to do that thing that one New Years." Cheers to setting that limbo bar Shaq high.
Monday, January 2, 2012
Here's to 2012!
Hey ya'll 2012 has arrived! You know what that means right? APOCALYPSE NOW!! Seeing as the arrival of the end of the world is imminent, don't even bother with resolutions. Resolutions are kind of bogus anyway, but if you absolutely feel the need to resolute out of some weird habit, I propose you make them as hedonistic as possible. You're not gonna have to deal with the consequences next year anyhow. Here are mine:
1. Blow up like a balloon. I saw an infomercial for a furniture support that when put underneath couch cushions can hold up to 1000 lbs. The brilliant ad guys hired two sumo wrestlers, one weighing in at 400 lbs and the other at 600 lbs (that equals 1000 in case you were wondering) and had them sit on the couch to demonstrate the strength of these furniture supports. Then they high-fived each other for weighing a collective 1000 lbs and not breaking this couch. I strive to be one of these sumo wrestlers who also moonlights as a couch tester/actor (?). I feel like this is an attainable goal, unlike the Jenny Craig-ers and the Weight Watchers of the world. Tangent: if Sumo wrestlers couldn't sit on couches side by side before this product was made, how did sumo parties work? Just a whole lot of standing around or everyone sitting on the floor with no furniture at all?
2 and 3. Spend all my money and when that runs out (shortly), spend other people's money. I'll buy everything I always deemed too irresponsible to buy like Giselle and Tom Brady's mansion. I saw it, loved it, but was like nawww it's kind of out of my price range. Not anymore! It's also the perfect venue for my bitchin end of the world rager. So really, it's a good value. And right before the bank comes to repo the mansion, I plan on forming an all-star band of thieves a la "Ocean's 11" and stealing some of that Vegas money that I've been hearing about. Two things checked off my bucket list.
4. Mack on a whole bunch of guys. This one is for reals.
Eh, that's it. I don't want to over-commit myself. But if any opportunity arises that seems really inappropriate or immoral, I'm gonna jump on it. Basically anything that gets written into a Showtime show. Anything to add to my list of resolutions, loyal readers?
1. Blow up like a balloon. I saw an infomercial for a furniture support that when put underneath couch cushions can hold up to 1000 lbs. The brilliant ad guys hired two sumo wrestlers, one weighing in at 400 lbs and the other at 600 lbs (that equals 1000 in case you were wondering) and had them sit on the couch to demonstrate the strength of these furniture supports. Then they high-fived each other for weighing a collective 1000 lbs and not breaking this couch. I strive to be one of these sumo wrestlers who also moonlights as a couch tester/actor (?). I feel like this is an attainable goal, unlike the Jenny Craig-ers and the Weight Watchers of the world. Tangent: if Sumo wrestlers couldn't sit on couches side by side before this product was made, how did sumo parties work? Just a whole lot of standing around or everyone sitting on the floor with no furniture at all?
2 and 3. Spend all my money and when that runs out (shortly), spend other people's money. I'll buy everything I always deemed too irresponsible to buy like Giselle and Tom Brady's mansion. I saw it, loved it, but was like nawww it's kind of out of my price range. Not anymore! It's also the perfect venue for my bitchin end of the world rager. So really, it's a good value. And right before the bank comes to repo the mansion, I plan on forming an all-star band of thieves a la "Ocean's 11" and stealing some of that Vegas money that I've been hearing about. Two things checked off my bucket list.
4. Mack on a whole bunch of guys. This one is for reals.
Eh, that's it. I don't want to over-commit myself. But if any opportunity arises that seems really inappropriate or immoral, I'm gonna jump on it. Basically anything that gets written into a Showtime show. Anything to add to my list of resolutions, loyal readers?
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