I miss my friend Sheyanne. She lives in LA now and is all fancy and has a beautiful niece. She nad I used to throw this jizam on and roll in my '89 LeBaron like the true gangstas we were... Ahhh, zee 90's.
What are you listening to?
Friday, August 27, 2010
Monday, August 23, 2010
Listless Mondays: TEN WAYS TO ENTERTAIN YOURSELF WHILST COUCH-BOUND WITH SPRAINED/FRACTURED FOOT
This past Thursday, I walked down our walkway while wearing flip flops and took a tumble down one of the steps that was broken (it's fixed, NOW). As a result, I sprained my ankle and suffered a hairline fracture on some weird foot bone, the one of oh so many with more than four syllables in its name that I cannot possibly be expected to remember. Needless to say, my weekend consisted of me sitting on my ass while soaking my foot in the iciest of ice water, then wrapping it in a heating pad.. Rinse. Repeat. It was pretty fucking boring, so I had to come up with clever ways to keep myself entertained.
10. Compile a list as to why the genius behind this piece of crap concept should be tarred and feathered. Seriously, that ALMOST killed me by way of shame by proxy. I wish unfunny people would stick to what they do best, being unfunny and over sharing about their children on their blogs. That was fucking embarrassing.
09. Break out your Lil'Honey's recording devices and prank call people (*67BIOTCHES), asking them if their refrigerator is running while doing your best Usher impression with the AutoTune feature. Don't forget to ask them if "they feelin' you".
08. Abuse the prescription painkillers your doctor prescribed you and try to write some poetry... You won't get past "there once was a man from Nantucket".
07. PORN.
06. Experiment with Kiss makeup.... It's definitely more fun to do all hopped up on painkillers, watching Detroit Rock City than being at a blogger convention all hopped up on vagina fumes and "LIVING YOUR BEST LIFE".
05. Don't watch the Runaways. Listening to Coraline trying to sing Cherie Curie will bruise your soul. It will. A piece of my misspent youth died watching that flaming bag of dog shit. Also, Robin Robins? Give me a fucking break! You cannot mesh the greatness of Micki Steele, Jackie Fox, Vickie Blue and co. into one amalgamated character! Also, who did Lita Ford piss off to be portrayed so viciously? She only wants to rock, y'all.
04. Watch Flashdance instead and sing along with Irene Cara at the top of your lungs.
03. Start writing your manifesto. Begin it with "There once was a man from Nantucket."
02. Paint the dog's toenails.
01. Text your friends during one of the best rock shows of the year at your favorite bar, telling them how lame that band is and watching your Dynasty DvD set is way cooler, and if they were truly your friends, they would leave the rock show event of the year, pick up some to-go sushi, and keep you company on the big comfy couch. Sigh uncontrollably when your friends text you back, laughing in your face.
10. Compile a list as to why the genius behind this piece of crap concept should be tarred and feathered. Seriously, that ALMOST killed me by way of shame by proxy. I wish unfunny people would stick to what they do best, being unfunny and over sharing about their children on their blogs. That was fucking embarrassing.
09. Break out your Lil'Honey's recording devices and prank call people (*67BIOTCHES), asking them if their refrigerator is running while doing your best Usher impression with the AutoTune feature. Don't forget to ask them if "they feelin' you".
08. Abuse the prescription painkillers your doctor prescribed you and try to write some poetry... You won't get past "there once was a man from Nantucket".
07. PORN.
06. Experiment with Kiss makeup.... It's definitely more fun to do all hopped up on painkillers, watching Detroit Rock City than being at a blogger convention all hopped up on vagina fumes and "LIVING YOUR BEST LIFE".
05. Don't watch the Runaways. Listening to Coraline trying to sing Cherie Curie will bruise your soul. It will. A piece of my misspent youth died watching that flaming bag of dog shit. Also, Robin Robins? Give me a fucking break! You cannot mesh the greatness of Micki Steele, Jackie Fox, Vickie Blue and co. into one amalgamated character! Also, who did Lita Ford piss off to be portrayed so viciously? She only wants to rock, y'all.
04. Watch Flashdance instead and sing along with Irene Cara at the top of your lungs.
03. Start writing your manifesto. Begin it with "There once was a man from Nantucket."
02. Paint the dog's toenails.
01. Text your friends during one of the best rock shows of the year at your favorite bar, telling them how lame that band is and watching your Dynasty DvD set is way cooler, and if they were truly your friends, they would leave the rock show event of the year, pick up some to-go sushi, and keep you company on the big comfy couch. Sigh uncontrollably when your friends text you back, laughing in your face.
Friday, August 20, 2010
THEME SONG FRIDAY!
So, IT'S FRIDAY!!!!! and I am not excited. Yesterday I was wearing flip flops and walking down our stairs on the walkway outside when I fell and twisted/sprained, fuck, I don't know because I haven't gone to doctor yet, BROKE my ankle/foot. I don't think it's broken, at most a stress fracture, but I am on crutches and mobility is pretty difficult. No walking, no EXERCISING, and most of all, no show tonight. Some old and former friends of mine are reuniting their band tonight, after two of them became rock stars, to play at a bar up the street from me. This is the bar where we all misspent our youths and they worked for. It's going to be chaotic. Too chaotic for crutches. BOOOO.
This is my song. I will not be running anytime soon.
What's yours?
This is my song. I will not be running anytime soon.
What's yours?
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Lines In the Sand.
When I started this blog in 2006, as The Confused Dildo, I had very little knowledge of the world of "blogging", other than reading Rock and Roll Confidential or Dooce. Little did I know of the vast network of bloggers, especially MommyBloggers, on these world wide webz. I don't know if it had to do with the fact that I am a step-parent, not a "MOMMY" and though I adore the children in my life, I really don't find them too interesting. They're my special snowflakes and I really don't think me violating their privacy with a parade of internet TMI is entertaining nor appropriate.
If I may, I will digress.
I hate that we live in a culture so dominated by advertising and marketing, that "they" have deemed the only real profitable blogs for women, as the ones with the "Mom" focus. It sticks in my craw that in this day and age, a woman's value is based on the fruit of her loins and laundry detergent decision making power. Motherhood is grand and all, but it really is not all that interesting. It can be funny sometimes, but I really don't want to read endless prose dedicated to children I don't know, and will never meet. A clever anecdote here and there? Sure, fine. However, the endless blathering about Braizeighton, how your life was meaningless until you birthed the ultimate love, and your deeper understanding of the universe now that your head is cloudy with baby powder and not bong smoke, is BORING. And offensive. Not everybody thinks procreating is the most important activity to engage in during their life time.
Some people find cures for polio: Science.
Other people have hoards of children they can't take care of: MIRACLES OF LIFE.
Back on track.
I was not only completely ignorant to the enormity of the blogosphere, but also the legions of bloggers who align together, against another group of bloggers, in a "socs v. greasers" kind of way; minus the sexy guys, madras plaid and switchblades. There are the A-list bloggers, the desperately needy Almost A's and Barely B's, not to mention the sexually active, geeky bloggers.... Okay, I'm just talking shit now. However, there are a group of people who are the first to head to their homepages, Twitter accounts, Facebooks, iPhones, what have you, to bellow the praises of the "community", "kinship", and "bravery" for taking finger to pad, and making the entire world a fly on their wall. You know what? Fine. More power to you. However, if you're going to leave your garbage on the sidewalk, don't be shocked when people start to dig through it. Yet, when the digging leads to questions and commentary, HOLD THE PHONE! The proverbial shit hits the fan!
How dare this nobody blogger question the ethics, favoritism, elitism, sizism, martyrdom, attention whoring, psychologically fucked-upedness of any of us? We are top tier bloggers! Our sites get over 10,000 hits a day!
God forbid.
Though I've played around with Adsense and other advertising opportunities for this place, I've never even considered this blog a means to make any income what-so-ever, which is a good thing considering that I'm unknown and suck at writing..... However, what I really suck at is kissing ass and not voicing my opinions when I witness acts of random, hypocritical douche-assery. It seems that if one is to piss some people off on this internet, that one will go old and gray waiting for their invitation to the big ball. Luckily, I eat hate like love and am comfortable dancing with myself.
What I find disturbing is not the kinship in the Mommyblogging Community, it is the antipathy that raises its ugly head if anyone looks at a member of the Community of Specialness and Bravery, sideways. God forbid you voice your opinion about a person blogging about extramarital affairs, vaginaplasties, excessive drinking, the fact your boyfriend left his family to move in with you at Christmas time, the vileness and laziness of "fattys", the cruelness of a successful author not wanting to help you secure a book deal because she's a "fatty" and doesn't appreciate your vitriol against she and her compatriots, or even the ethics of an organization violating their own rules in order to assist a charity run by an A-List blogger.
J'Accuse Hating-est of the Haters!
Then in the distance, faint sound turns into a blaring boom as the Twitter Army of the Community of Specialness and Bravery march towards their Twitter posts, rocks and switchblades in hand, to combat the dirty, greasy, and not nearly as widely successful hate bloggers who only "hate" because they want what the COSB have: corvairs and the heart of Cherry Valance.
Many of these soldiers don't even know what they are fighting, erm, TWEETING against; yet they run to their posts in droves to hash tag the Hatingest of Haters. Did you know if someone is really nice in person, that means they're not really an asshole on the internet...They just play asshole there. These soldiers are savvy to the fact that if they align themselves closely enough with the upper echelon of the blogosphere, that success may just trickle their way. It might, though it is all very Republican and we can all look around our society right now and see just how well "trickle-down" has faired for most of us. So, armed with Twitter and a dream of blog stardom, these gangs begin a campaign to overwhelm perceived dissenters in an effort to quell any contrary message that may be out there.
That'll fix 'em.
I'm not saying that there is not a lot of completely cruel and reprehensible vitriol that is thrown at those in the Community of Specialness and Bravery. There is too much, if you ask me. Some of the hate mail received by these writers, I would have a hard time sending to Sadam Hussein, it's so ugly. You know what? That's not okay. However, it seems to be the trend that if you don't lap dog it up with these people and agree with every single step and action they take, you are automatically labeled "TROLL, HATER, MEAN, FAT, UGLY", what have you, without even a blink of an eye; or more importantly, a finishing of a paragraph.
I think it is important to constantly question people, especially those who thrust themselves into the public eye. Do I think these people are all evil assholes? Nope. Not at all. However, I think many of them are incredibly contradictory and biased. Neither of those attributes are a crime, however, when someone calls those attributes to attention, maybe it's time to step back and process what that person is saying for the sake of healthy debate and learning, instead of sending the "OFF WITH THEIR HEADS!" command to your Twitter Army?
Stay gold, Ponyboy.
If I may, I will digress.
I hate that we live in a culture so dominated by advertising and marketing, that "they" have deemed the only real profitable blogs for women, as the ones with the "Mom" focus. It sticks in my craw that in this day and age, a woman's value is based on the fruit of her loins and laundry detergent decision making power. Motherhood is grand and all, but it really is not all that interesting. It can be funny sometimes, but I really don't want to read endless prose dedicated to children I don't know, and will never meet. A clever anecdote here and there? Sure, fine. However, the endless blathering about Braizeighton, how your life was meaningless until you birthed the ultimate love, and your deeper understanding of the universe now that your head is cloudy with baby powder and not bong smoke, is BORING. And offensive. Not everybody thinks procreating is the most important activity to engage in during their life time.
Some people find cures for polio: Science.
Other people have hoards of children they can't take care of: MIRACLES OF LIFE.
Back on track.
I was not only completely ignorant to the enormity of the blogosphere, but also the legions of bloggers who align together, against another group of bloggers, in a "socs v. greasers" kind of way; minus the sexy guys, madras plaid and switchblades. There are the A-list bloggers, the desperately needy Almost A's and Barely B's, not to mention the sexually active, geeky bloggers.... Okay, I'm just talking shit now. However, there are a group of people who are the first to head to their homepages, Twitter accounts, Facebooks, iPhones, what have you, to bellow the praises of the "community", "kinship", and "bravery" for taking finger to pad, and making the entire world a fly on their wall. You know what? Fine. More power to you. However, if you're going to leave your garbage on the sidewalk, don't be shocked when people start to dig through it. Yet, when the digging leads to questions and commentary, HOLD THE PHONE! The proverbial shit hits the fan!
How dare this nobody blogger question the ethics, favoritism, elitism, sizism, martyrdom, attention whoring, psychologically fucked-upedness of any of us? We are top tier bloggers! Our sites get over 10,000 hits a day!
God forbid.
Though I've played around with Adsense and other advertising opportunities for this place, I've never even considered this blog a means to make any income what-so-ever, which is a good thing considering that I'm unknown and suck at writing..... However, what I really suck at is kissing ass and not voicing my opinions when I witness acts of random, hypocritical douche-assery. It seems that if one is to piss some people off on this internet, that one will go old and gray waiting for their invitation to the big ball. Luckily, I eat hate like love and am comfortable dancing with myself.
What I find disturbing is not the kinship in the Mommyblogging Community, it is the antipathy that raises its ugly head if anyone looks at a member of the Community of Specialness and Bravery, sideways. God forbid you voice your opinion about a person blogging about extramarital affairs, vaginaplasties, excessive drinking, the fact your boyfriend left his family to move in with you at Christmas time, the vileness and laziness of "fattys", the cruelness of a successful author not wanting to help you secure a book deal because she's a "fatty" and doesn't appreciate your vitriol against she and her compatriots, or even the ethics of an organization violating their own rules in order to assist a charity run by an A-List blogger.
J'Accuse Hating-est of the Haters!
Then in the distance, faint sound turns into a blaring boom as the Twitter Army of the Community of Specialness and Bravery march towards their Twitter posts, rocks and switchblades in hand, to combat the dirty, greasy, and not nearly as widely successful hate bloggers who only "hate" because they want what the COSB have: corvairs and the heart of Cherry Valance.
Many of these soldiers don't even know what they are fighting, erm, TWEETING against; yet they run to their posts in droves to hash tag the Hatingest of Haters. Did you know if someone is really nice in person, that means they're not really an asshole on the internet...They just play asshole there. These soldiers are savvy to the fact that if they align themselves closely enough with the upper echelon of the blogosphere, that success may just trickle their way. It might, though it is all very Republican and we can all look around our society right now and see just how well "trickle-down" has faired for most of us. So, armed with Twitter and a dream of blog stardom, these gangs begin a campaign to overwhelm perceived dissenters in an effort to quell any contrary message that may be out there.
That'll fix 'em.
I'm not saying that there is not a lot of completely cruel and reprehensible vitriol that is thrown at those in the Community of Specialness and Bravery. There is too much, if you ask me. Some of the hate mail received by these writers, I would have a hard time sending to Sadam Hussein, it's so ugly. You know what? That's not okay. However, it seems to be the trend that if you don't lap dog it up with these people and agree with every single step and action they take, you are automatically labeled "TROLL, HATER, MEAN, FAT, UGLY", what have you, without even a blink of an eye; or more importantly, a finishing of a paragraph.
I think it is important to constantly question people, especially those who thrust themselves into the public eye. Do I think these people are all evil assholes? Nope. Not at all. However, I think many of them are incredibly contradictory and biased. Neither of those attributes are a crime, however, when someone calls those attributes to attention, maybe it's time to step back and process what that person is saying for the sake of healthy debate and learning, instead of sending the "OFF WITH THEIR HEADS!" command to your Twitter Army?
Stay gold, Ponyboy.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Ways to Make Everything Sufficiently Awkward at a Russian Orthodox Wedding.
This weekend I had the honor of serving one of my very best friends as her Maid of Honor during her wedding. She and her husband are Eastern Russian Orthodox, in fact, he is about to be ordained as a Priest in the Church. So, this wedding wasn't your typical, "show up hungover and do cute, choreographed dances down the aisle". They take their ceremonies very seriously and thoughtfully.
A PERFECT PLACE FOR A SOUL-LESS ASSHOLE LIKE MYSELF! What could go wrong? I was actually not the rotten apple of the bunch, which, small miracles, you know? However, as with any wedding, hijinks did ensue.
Ways to Make Everything Sufficiently Awkward at a Russian Orthodox Wedding.
10. Cuss.
09. Start to exclaim "JESUS CHRIST" only to choke out "JESIMINEY CRICKETS!"
08. Ask who that little man in the arms of that giant woman is.
07. Sing along with the priest, adding harmony, random "A-MENS!" and "SPEAK IT!"
06. Trip down the aisle, so everyone gets a good look at your BVDs.
05. Because you're holding a bouquet and a candle, the only way to keep your hair from falling into your eyes is by blowing it.... But when you do that, it's loud. And awkward.
04. Mess up the cake on the drive to the wedding.
03. Try to convince the bride that the cake doesn't look "that bad."
02. Open the door to the bride's dressing room without knocking, because you know what the bride wants more on her wedding day? For a bunch of Russian Orthodox Church people seeing her in her skivvies.
01. Begin a toast to the bride and groom by mentioning how jealous the groom's ex is! (I DID NOT DO THIS!)
A PERFECT PLACE FOR A SOUL-LESS ASSHOLE LIKE MYSELF! What could go wrong? I was actually not the rotten apple of the bunch, which, small miracles, you know? However, as with any wedding, hijinks did ensue.
Ways to Make Everything Sufficiently Awkward at a Russian Orthodox Wedding.
10. Cuss.
09. Start to exclaim "JESUS CHRIST" only to choke out "JESIMINEY CRICKETS!"
08. Ask who that little man in the arms of that giant woman is.
07. Sing along with the priest, adding harmony, random "A-MENS!" and "SPEAK IT!"
06. Trip down the aisle, so everyone gets a good look at your BVDs.
05. Because you're holding a bouquet and a candle, the only way to keep your hair from falling into your eyes is by blowing it.... But when you do that, it's loud. And awkward.
04. Mess up the cake on the drive to the wedding.
03. Try to convince the bride that the cake doesn't look "that bad."
02. Open the door to the bride's dressing room without knocking, because you know what the bride wants more on her wedding day? For a bunch of Russian Orthodox Church people seeing her in her skivvies.
01. Begin a toast to the bride and groom by mentioning how jealous the groom's ex is! (I DID NOT DO THIS!)
Friday, August 13, 2010
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Theme Song Friday PREVIEW!
I forgot about this song! Club Haus flashbacks, for sure! I see a bunch of really drunk punk rockers puking over the side of a river boat with this playing in the background. I miss 1989.
I would like to dedicate this song to all of the half-wit popular culture writers, stopping by for a peep at someone who thinks they're a bunch of vapid, cum-dumpsters.
Eat all of the dicks! Unicorn dicks, that is!
I would like to dedicate this song to all of the half-wit popular culture writers, stopping by for a peep at someone who thinks they're a bunch of vapid, cum-dumpsters.
Eat all of the dicks! Unicorn dicks, that is!
Only the Strong Will Survive...........This Video Post.
Some are claiming that this may be the worst video ever put on the internet.... I disagree... It may have to do with the fact that I am an insane, perverted, Trekkie, but I think this may be the best thing ever. It's not NSFW, but your co-workers may think very, very differently of you if they catch you watching it.
TOBACCO - Super Gum from TOBACCO on Vimeo.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Listing the List for Monday. I'm Glad I Don't Do Blogher.
This past weekend the infamous Blogher conference took place in New York City. I didn't go and I'm glad.
10. I don't like people.
09. My dancing skills are so great that I would feel badly about out-dancing those so desperate to dance at the dancy-dance parties. I'm seriously fantastic.
08. I've been to several conventions for several different reasons and still wonder why the fuck I went. What a colossal waste of time.
07. I have a stapler phobia.
06. My Honey would totally make fun of me for going.
05. I'm trying to be more positive. Blogher would have sent me into a tailspin of negativity.
04. I'm opposed to wearing take out bags from fast food restaurants on my head. The thought of doing so makes me want stick a nail in my eye.
03. I would rather be cabrewin', so I was.
02. I'm too punk for partyin'.
01. I would not have been able to choose which socially repressed, ironic theme party to attend and the thought of having to choose would have sent me into an anxiety-induced coma.
10. I don't like people.
09. My dancing skills are so great that I would feel badly about out-dancing those so desperate to dance at the dancy-dance parties. I'm seriously fantastic.
08. I've been to several conventions for several different reasons and still wonder why the fuck I went. What a colossal waste of time.
07. I have a stapler phobia.
06. My Honey would totally make fun of me for going.
05. I'm trying to be more positive. Blogher would have sent me into a tailspin of negativity.
04. I'm opposed to wearing take out bags from fast food restaurants on my head. The thought of doing so makes me want stick a nail in my eye.
03. I would rather be cabrewin', so I was.
02. I'm too punk for partyin'.
01. I would not have been able to choose which socially repressed, ironic theme party to attend and the thought of having to choose would have sent me into an anxiety-induced coma.
Friday, August 6, 2010
THEME SONG FRIDAY!
I think this one is pretty self explanatory.
Also, I'm pretty stoked that it is not only Friday, but that Simon is TEN! and the humidity is gone.
Happy weekend, y'all! What's your song today?
Also, I'm pretty stoked that it is not only Friday, but that Simon is TEN! and the humidity is gone.
Happy weekend, y'all! What's your song today?
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Ohm.
Last night, I gathered a couple of candles, a hand-me-down-but-very-dear altar of Mary, and my best attitude and embarked on meditating.
***sidebar: Someone mentioned a new movie out where Julia Roberts starts doing this shit, too. I need to state that I have never, will never, never never never NEVER, be inspired by Julia Roberts. EVER. This experiment is the result of beers with my friend who swears by this. I trust him, so I am trying.
Back on topic.
I lit my candles, turned off the lights and began to concentrate on my breath. I almost said "breasts", which I guess I could trance out thinking about those as well. As I sat there, I actually started to feel anxious, like I was wasting time and could be doing something more productive, like watching South Park. As the anxiety started to infiltrate my Zen, I started thinking about my "lists", my mental compartmentalization of all the shit I need to do: Design Ads, Save the Dates, Call a million people, Follow ups, Birthday Cakes, weddings, JAKE, Gus the cat who began to sing and make biscuits on my back while I was trying to meditate..... RACING BRAIN.
So, I stopped, regrouped and tried again... This time chanting "I am so fucking awesome" over and over again.... Okay, so I wasn't chanting that, but I'm not telling the internet what I chanted. Somethings are just fucking personal. I also found my fundamental frequency and "OHM'd" my ass off.
Wouldn't you know it? Twenty five minutes passed that I was totally not cognizant of. I don't know if I experienced anything "transcendental" and I certainly didn't morph into a Tibetan Monk, but I did feel very relaxed and light. I know that twenty five minutes is not a lot of time, but for this ADD fidgeter, it was pretty substantial.
I felt liberated and fucking spiritual, yo! I felt like I could walk in the Dharma Center and be down with program and find a new circle of friends! I sat there and contemplated my spiritual awakening and celebrated with a cup of blueberry tea, which is fucking delicious, and then embarked on going to sleep.
Wouldn't you know it, I could not sleep for shit last night. I tossed. I turned. The dog paced. The cat was too close to my face. It was hot upstairs. Chris got into bed late and woke me up. The dog KEPT PACING. PACING. PACING. PANTING. PANTING. PACING. I finally went downstairs and made him lay on the vent to feel the AC and popped half a Xanax to knock my shit out, which kind of worked, until 4:30 when Chris decided he couldn't sleep and it was time to wake up and make coffee. LOUDLY.
However, I blame the solar tsunami and the oppressive heat for my insomnia.... AND JAKE. I still love him, though.
I will be meditating again today.
Next on the list: Read a self help book.
***sidebar: Someone mentioned a new movie out where Julia Roberts starts doing this shit, too. I need to state that I have never, will never, never never never NEVER, be inspired by Julia Roberts. EVER. This experiment is the result of beers with my friend who swears by this. I trust him, so I am trying.
Back on topic.
I lit my candles, turned off the lights and began to concentrate on my breath. I almost said "breasts", which I guess I could trance out thinking about those as well. As I sat there, I actually started to feel anxious, like I was wasting time and could be doing something more productive, like watching South Park. As the anxiety started to infiltrate my Zen, I started thinking about my "lists", my mental compartmentalization of all the shit I need to do: Design Ads, Save the Dates, Call a million people, Follow ups, Birthday Cakes, weddings, JAKE, Gus the cat who began to sing and make biscuits on my back while I was trying to meditate..... RACING BRAIN.
So, I stopped, regrouped and tried again... This time chanting "I am so fucking awesome" over and over again.... Okay, so I wasn't chanting that, but I'm not telling the internet what I chanted. Somethings are just fucking personal. I also found my fundamental frequency and "OHM'd" my ass off.
Wouldn't you know it? Twenty five minutes passed that I was totally not cognizant of. I don't know if I experienced anything "transcendental" and I certainly didn't morph into a Tibetan Monk, but I did feel very relaxed and light. I know that twenty five minutes is not a lot of time, but for this ADD fidgeter, it was pretty substantial.
I felt liberated and fucking spiritual, yo! I felt like I could walk in the Dharma Center and be down with program and find a new circle of friends! I sat there and contemplated my spiritual awakening and celebrated with a cup of blueberry tea, which is fucking delicious, and then embarked on going to sleep.
Wouldn't you know it, I could not sleep for shit last night. I tossed. I turned. The dog paced. The cat was too close to my face. It was hot upstairs. Chris got into bed late and woke me up. The dog KEPT PACING. PACING. PACING. PANTING. PANTING. PACING. I finally went downstairs and made him lay on the vent to feel the AC and popped half a Xanax to knock my shit out, which kind of worked, until 4:30 when Chris decided he couldn't sleep and it was time to wake up and make coffee. LOUDLY.
However, I blame the solar tsunami and the oppressive heat for my insomnia.... AND JAKE. I still love him, though.
I will be meditating again today.
Next on the list: Read a self help book.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Salty
I'm eating too much salt.
I'm also a little too salty.
I've always been more on the grumpy/sarcastic/foul mouth side of the personality spectrum.... I've referred to myself as PPO, or permanently pissed off. I don't trust people who become overly excited about anything or who are too cheery. I can't stand when people are too sentimental or sensitive, yet, when the rubber meets the road, I'm pretty sensitive myself. I just hide it well.
I have a strong dislike for histrionics and hyperbole, unless someone is talking about bodily functions, or making fun of local bands. Young people annoy me.
The crappy graffiti is on the bathroom stall: I AM A FUCKING GRUMP.
So, as of now, I am going to try to be more positive and I am cutting the salt in my diet by half.
Sweet Jesus, fucking help us all.
My plan is to blog everyday about something that I would normally "pish posh", make fun of, or get fucking annoyed about.
Today, I am going to attempt to meditate.
YEP.
I will sit for 30 minutes and I will not mentally review my grocery list, my work itinerary, wonder what LiLo is up to in Rehab, think about my toenails, chocolate cake or how much I hate Ayn Rand.
I will think only of positive, happy, foo-foo thoughts.
I will post a status report tomorrow.
I'm also a little too salty.
I've always been more on the grumpy/sarcastic/foul mouth side of the personality spectrum.... I've referred to myself as PPO, or permanently pissed off. I don't trust people who become overly excited about anything or who are too cheery. I can't stand when people are too sentimental or sensitive, yet, when the rubber meets the road, I'm pretty sensitive myself. I just hide it well.
I have a strong dislike for histrionics and hyperbole, unless someone is talking about bodily functions, or making fun of local bands. Young people annoy me.
The crappy graffiti is on the bathroom stall: I AM A FUCKING GRUMP.
So, as of now, I am going to try to be more positive and I am cutting the salt in my diet by half.
Sweet Jesus, fucking help us all.
My plan is to blog everyday about something that I would normally "pish posh", make fun of, or get fucking annoyed about.
Today, I am going to attempt to meditate.
YEP.
I will sit for 30 minutes and I will not mentally review my grocery list, my work itinerary, wonder what LiLo is up to in Rehab, think about my toenails, chocolate cake or how much I hate Ayn Rand.
I will think only of positive, happy, foo-foo thoughts.
I will post a status report tomorrow.
Monday, August 2, 2010
Monday's List: Ways To Get Back On Course When You Have Eaten WAY TOO MUCH Over The Weekend.
This weekend was a banner weekend for eating and drinking. Friday I ate a giant hot dog, covered in kim-chi and spare ribs, split some duck fat fries and had a glass of sauvignon blanc. WOAH. Later that evening, I ate an ice cream cone, soft serve, dipped in chocolate. ACK!
Saturday, I ate some fruit for breakfast. That evening, I dined on beef tenderloin, cucumber salad, red potato salad, salad, Baked Alaska and COPIUS amounts of red wine.
Sunday, I went to a family reunion and ate a hot dog, cheesy potatoes, taco salad, and a brownie. That night, we had people over for dinner and dined on Kobe-Havarti Cheeseburgers on Ciabatta, corn on the cob and pasta salad. For desert, Chocolate cake.
IT HAS BEEN A FUCKING RIDICULOUS WEEKEND!
I had to roll myself into work today, wishing I had suits with elastic waistbands.
I need to get back on track. Here's how:
10. Prayer
09. Take some vacation time and spend the week on the treadmill. Have the Lil'Honey take a week off so he can whip me while on the treadmill.
08. This week, eat only pretend meals.
07. Sneak into the gym after closing and sleep in the sauna.
06. Use "TEH SECRET" and manifest myself to my pre-weekend weight.
05. Hire a group of young ruffians to chase me wherever I go this week.
04. Take this every where with me: https://shakeweight.com/flare/next, ignore all jack off comments.
03. Spontaneous sit ups.
02. Cocaine
01. Bring back the Botticelli and have another hot dog.
Saturday, I ate some fruit for breakfast. That evening, I dined on beef tenderloin, cucumber salad, red potato salad, salad, Baked Alaska and COPIUS amounts of red wine.
Sunday, I went to a family reunion and ate a hot dog, cheesy potatoes, taco salad, and a brownie. That night, we had people over for dinner and dined on Kobe-Havarti Cheeseburgers on Ciabatta, corn on the cob and pasta salad. For desert, Chocolate cake.
IT HAS BEEN A FUCKING RIDICULOUS WEEKEND!
I had to roll myself into work today, wishing I had suits with elastic waistbands.
I need to get back on track. Here's how:
10. Prayer
09. Take some vacation time and spend the week on the treadmill. Have the Lil'Honey take a week off so he can whip me while on the treadmill.
08. This week, eat only pretend meals.
07. Sneak into the gym after closing and sleep in the sauna.
06. Use "TEH SECRET" and manifest myself to my pre-weekend weight.
05. Hire a group of young ruffians to chase me wherever I go this week.
04. Take this every where with me: https://shakeweight.com/flare/next, ignore all jack off comments.
03. Spontaneous sit ups.
02. Cocaine
01. Bring back the Botticelli and have another hot dog.
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