i'm not ded

Oh, hai, peeps. Happy Easter! <--see what I did there?

I received a phone call yesterday, somewhat concerned that there've been no posts in here in six weeks. My caller wanted to make sure that a.) I wasn't ded and b.) if I were ded, she'd have been notified. I had to agree that to forestall that sort of speculation I really *should* have put up an On Vacation...On Sabbatical...On Hiatus...Going Out of Business Sale post. Here ya go!

Here's the thing, kids. I think this blog has reached the end of its natural lifespan. No one was reading and no one was commenting and it takes the amusement that I used to find in The Adventures away. I'm writing elsewhere. I put up a few posts a month on my fitness blog, though since that's real writing requiring actual subject matter and youtube videos and google image searching, even when I have a really good idea, sometimes it takes awhile for me to get around to it. Because, bitches, I'm lazy. I also have a journal on a weightlifting board I post on and there's a lot of cross-talk and joking around and moral support amongst my fellow journalers. And since we don't stay on topic and only post our workouts, I feel free to rant, post music videos, and occasionally discuss what I might or might not buy on there. So that fulfills my need to post daily minutiae and, y'know, have people tell me I'm cracking them the hell up. I will admit I stay far away from political or social issues on there and that every time I overhear an epic cell phone conversation, I still have to sit on my hands from posting that shit all up in here. Oh, well. One cannot have everything.

So, carry on, Adventurers! We'll always have the Prison Bus.

xoxo and some more xoxo

wow

Apparently the doc that saved my kid's life has been arrested for rape and assault and battery on his estranged wife. I would be remiss in not reporting to you all that the argument began over Red Sox tickets. Also, that the wife reports he's been verbally and physically abusive for the past few months and she attributes that to steroids he is taking for his ears.

Okay, now that all those tragic yet hilarious facts and/or allegations are out of the way, let's discuss my shock. I literally think of this man as The Guy Who Saved D's Life. He was the one who said let's stop messing around, trying this drug and that drug, and go to the clozapine. He was the one who kept him in when the insurance company wanted him released, because he knew he wasn't close to stable yet. And more than that, he was the guy I'd see on the ward on weekend afternoons in shorts and a tee shirt, who always, if he saw me in the hall, would pull me aside to talk, to ask for my input on how things were going and what I was observing, and then would actually pay attention to what I'd told him. He seemed like a smart doctor, but he also seemed like a good guy. The whole beating up a woman over bad Red Sox tickets and then allegedly raping her didn't seem like the kind of behavior I would expect from him.

I hope he's innocent!

xoxo

this is why men should have absolutely no say regarding women's reproductive health

This nonsense right here. Contraception is not just the purview of (what these dudes imagine as) slutty teenagers and college girls, the thoughts of whom they most likely beat off to every night. Nice married (OMG, church-going!) women depend on birth control pills, implants, IUDs, and so forth as well. Let's say, conservatively, that the average woman spends 30 years of her life both fertile and sexually active. Let's say that average woman has two children, both of whom she spent three months trying to conceive, and both of whom she nursed for 6 months (not that you're supposed to count that as contraception, I hasten to add.) Let's say neither she nor her spouse gets surgically taken care of post the second baby and they stay married to each other. Okay, maybe that's not average anymore, but stay with me. Let's say that before she enters into her long-lasting marriage the woman has a couple of dry spells in between relationships.

This woman will need some sort of birth control for 25 years.

Not to mention that many many many women are on hormonal birth control even if they're not sexually active or with fertile partners, just to regulate their hormones/menstrual periods. (Does the Pope oppose that, too?)

But, no, birth control pills just exist so loose skanks who don't know how to keep their legs closed don't get knocked up with 15 illegitimate children. Wait. Are we supposed to want loose skanks to have 15 illegitimate children? Yo, Republicans? Wouldn't that cost taxpayer dollars somehow somewhere?

In summary, if you do not now or have not ever possessed a uterus and a coupla ovaries, shut the fuck up about women's shit. Thank you.

Bastards.

xoxo

did I mention that i hate...

Pete Bouchard?

Last night D fell asleep watching TV in his room, so at eleven when I was going upstairs I went in to wake him up to tell him to take his bedtime pills. This unfortunately coincided with Mr Bouchard appearing on D's television, where he proceeded to tell me that there's a storm forming out by Las Vegas which will be here by Sunday and could be OMFG! a major nor'easter, as bad as the one in October which OMFG! caused all those power outages! Oh and btw? All the computer models are showing it going south of us. BUT MAYBE THAT WON'T HAPPEN AND YOU WILL DIE!!!!!!!!! I mean, the jet stream would have to totally change but OMG! OMFG! START WORRYING NOW!!!! Just in case.

I can't even. I said some very bad words in the direction of the TV.

Mr Indemnity forwarded me an article yesterday, as is his wont, under the email subject line "France socializes the vagina." He's very lucky the coffee I spewed did not end up on my laptop keyboard. All I'm sayin'. He then told me I ought to blog about this development. Um, the socialized vaginas, not the coffee spewage. However, we the management of The Adventures do not take requests. Sorry! Besides, I can only get worked up about one thing at a time and today is Mr Bouchard's turn. Again.

xoxo

more questions, comments, and general stuff

I know I'm just talking to myself, but, hey, if you cannot amuse yourself, whom can you amuse?

1.) Question! Do you ever see old people smoking and think, "Damn. Beat the odds."?

2.) Question! Do you ever read my writing and realize I have very little idea how to properly punctuate most shiz?

3.) Question! Be that as it may, do you ever follow that train of thought about the old people smoking and then think, "They must be really stupid. It's only been about 40 years since every single person in America has known smoking causes cancer and they haven't decided to quit yet?"

4.) Question! Do you then realize that since they've lived to be old and haven't succumbed to cancer yet, maybe they're having the last laugh?

5.) Question! Does the phrase "be that as it may" actually mean anything if you stop to think about it?

6.) Comment! I appear to be having my period again. Question! Does this mean I have successfully reversed my menopause and I can quit worrying about vaginal atrophy for a while?

7.) Comment! I had a rack pull PR (<--"personal record", keep up, would you?) last night in the gym and I would like to brag: 185x3. I think this means I am close to being able to deadlift any of you all. Well, maybe if you were more ergonomically shaped. I could probably drag you out of a burning building though, especially if my adrenaline kicked in! This is why you want to be my friend.

8.) Comment! I have spared all y'all all kinds of celeb news. If you don't know that Oprah is Beyonce and Jay-Z's baby's godmother or that Rihanna is ::sad face:: friends with (i.e. most likely fucking) Chris Brown again, it is probably my fault.

9.) Comment! An online acquaintance of mine from RI is doing "anti-gravity yoga" which basically involves being suspended from the ceiling by bungee cords. It looks *awesome*. Questions! Why don't we have that here? How can RI possibly be more advanced than Massachusetts in anything? It's the same damn place, just smaller.

10.) Rhetorical question! How much are the Red Sox gonna suck this year? Prediction: epic suckage! Epic!

11.) Well wishes! Happy Friday, kids!

xoxo

49 2/12ths

...and I did something an hour or so ago that I have never done before. I took completely naked pictures of myself.

Yeah, yeah, I know. Late to the party. Digital cameras have been around for, what?, 15 years? Plus, we
did have Polaroid back in the day. But here it is, 2012, and just now I am getting around to doing something every sexting 15 year old does before they finish freshman year.*** Should have done it years ago. It's very instructive. Here's what I learned.

1.) Naked pictures can look better than, say, underwear pictures because (in my case, anyway) the underwear just bisects one's fat and calls attention to it and makes it bulge in ways it wouldn't when it's set free. Free your adipose!

2.) Finding the side/camera angle which makes you look best is very pleasing. I kinda knew from all the underwear shots I've taken of myself in the bulking/dieting progress pictures what view of me looks "best", but naked? Boobs look best from that angle too! Win-fucking-win situation, kids. I cropped my face/head out of the two pictures I liked best and saved them on this laptop. I intend to look at themwhenever I feel old/fat/ugly/undesirable and delude myself into thinking I really look to other people the way I look in those shots. And should this computer ever get stolen, que sera sera. I defy anyone to prove they're me. None of my identifiable marks are showing and that could be anyone's bathroom door. The towels hanging on it came from Tarzhay. I'm fairly sure approximately 2.4 million other people have exactly the same ones.

3.) Taking naked shots of yourself from your bad side/angle and living to tell about it is also pleasing. Many of us female type people have spent years of our lives not wanting anyone to see us fully undressed, never mind documenting it. Looking at the non-good pics and realizing the world hasn't come to an end is another step to freeing yourself from body shame and self-hatred. It lessens the power that kind of thing can have.****

I think that's all I have to say about that.

xoxo

***I'm not sexting mine to anyone. Settle the fuck down.

****Tangent: I took a life drawing class once with nude models and I subsequently always wanted to be one of those models. A.) because I would be awesome at it--I can hold perfectly still for long periods of time no problem. B.) I realized that this was probably the most purely nonjudgmental situation in which anyone would ever look at me naked and that, mired in my occasional/frequent bodily self-loathing as I was at the time, that would be very therapeutic for me.

well, that was disappointing

But I prefer to think of it as a benign and loving Supreme Being saying, "Bitch, please. I gave you a body that people will pay you millions of dollars to stick lingerie on and then walk down a runway. Now you want your husband to win his football game too? Talk to me again when you're praying for world peace or something."




However the snacks and drinks were good at my house and I did enjoy the car commercial with the vampire tailgate party!




And it's February 6. Look out your window. Is there snow on the freakin' ground? Life is good. I rest my case.

xoxo

questions and comments

Question #1: is it wrong to leave the gym and go directly across the street for a beer? What if you have beer *and* a salad with chicken on it? Shut up, I'm pre-gaming for the Superbowl.

Comment: speaking of the Superbowl, remember how in 2010 I said that if they kept up the trend in half-time musical performers, pretty soon they's have to feature someone/some band that was actually, y'know, *dead*? Well, last year they backslid and had someone non-geriatric (if sucky) but this year we are back to Madonna. Now, Madonna is not The Who, but she also has to wear half-gloves to cover her old lady hands. All I'm sayin'.

Question #2: isn't Wachusett Blueberry good? <--related to question #1. Keep the fuck up, wouldya.

Comment: I saw something really sad when I was entering work yesterday. A woman on her cell, half-sobbing, on a bench outside the hospital, dressed in a t-shirt, shorts, a leather jacket, and boots. Evidently she came to the ED in the middle of the night with someone, dressed in what she was sleeping in + the first shoes and coat that came to hand. It was heartbreaking. Especially since the part of her phone conversation I could hear as I passed was, "...I've got no one else to talk to..."

Question #3: I've worked in healthcare my entire working life--when am I gonna harden the fuck up to shit like that?

Question #4 and comment: how hipster *is* downtown Salem these days? I give you as evidence: Gulu Gulu and Coven on the same block, two chichi pet boutiques within a stone's throw of each other, and (as came to my attention yesterday, though it may be old news) two bike shops on the same street. I have no problem with any of this. I do have a problem, however, with the fact that since Coven is closed for vacay, there is apparently a shortage of places with coffee + WiFi. I tried to get coffee and a snack after the gym yesterday, but at 4pm on a Saturday I could not get a seat at Gulu, Starbucks, or the Front Street Cafe (which I'm not even sure has WiFi because I never go there). Who the fuck are these hipsters and why are they all drinking coffee on a Saturday afternoon?

Comment: uh, go Pats! Brady, I still hate you and your supermodel wife, but I gotta pull for my hometown team outta civic pride.

xoxo

no brown-clad babies for me

I am out of love with my UPS driver. Well, actually, I must have a new one and he's the one on my bad list.

Through the miracle of online tracking, I knew my package from bodybuilding.com was due to be delivered yesterday. Somewhere around 6:30pm, I thought, hmmm, I better go check outside my front door, because perhaps I didn't hear the doorbell while I was upstairs. (My UPS driver's usual motus operandi is to come somewhere in late afternoon, give my bell one ring so I know he's been there, and drop my box in front of the door. Usually I get to the door in time to wave at him and say "thanks!" as he's getting back into his truck.)

There was no package. I go online and track. Oh! According to them it was delivered to me at 2:43pm and *left at my front door*. I (of course) panic and freak out. I go outside and recheck the area outside the door, not that I could possibly have missed a small-to-medium sized box there or anything. I navigate the UPS website to find a contact number. I call said number. Their phone tree gives me a.) absolutely no option to talk to a actual person--there's no "...or stay on the line and an associate will assist you." and b.) no option to report a lost package. I navigate the website some more.There's sorta kinda a place to report a lost package but it needs to be from the sender.

I say many bad words. Then I go on the bodybuilding.com site and find their customer service email. I write them a note, explaining my problem and the fact that I live on a cul-de-sac and there's absolutely no traffic past my front door, so I am pretty damn sure no one stole my supplements. (Plus, as I said to my weightlifting buddies, who would steal a box from bodybuilding.com if they don't go to the gym? It's not like it would have looked like it contained electronics or something.) Bodybuilding.com, in a display of stellar customer service, emails me back almost immediately. My representative "Matt" asks me to confirm my address (correct) and suggests that I check with the neighbors to make sure none of them has my package. If they do not, he will file a claim with UPS.

Well, I am pretty sure that if my package was left on any of the neighbors front doors, they would have walked it back down the hill. They may primarily be a bunch of douchebags, but face it, they don't want my creatine either. However, I figure I will take a little walk and see if there's a package outside anyone's door that has not been found yet. I have no luck, but as I am walking back down the hill, and thus approaching my house from an entirely different angle, I see my box. It was not left at my "front door." It was placed inside the base of the basketball hoop in my driveway. The UPS man, apparently new and not knowing my neighbors are not larcenous, had apparently hidden my box from being seen from the street. He did such a fabulous job, he hid it from me as well. Goddamn it.

I email "Matt" back to tell him all is well and I praise his quick response to my problem. He writes back and thanks me for my "awesome" email. No lie.

And can I just say, this all could have been avoided by the UPS tracking saying that my package was delivered *to my driveway*, not to my front door. Then I would have searched the yard first before panicking.

So, yes, not happy with UPS anymore and I hope my regular driver is just on vacation or something. But at least I will be sure to check the bushes n' shit the next time I'm expecting anything.

xoxo

going all ebert on your asses

In the last week, I have seen three movies, totally because I realized that I'd seen absolutely nothing that was nominated for anything and because these three movies were playing at the (slightly) cheap(er) and very convenient theater. Plus, did I mention? My bank balance was looking satisfactory.

Movie #1: The Descendants

I don't think this is a spoiler, because it's all in the friggin' trailer to the movie, but this is a film in which George Clooney becomes a Better Man and a Good Dad when he finds out his comatose and soon-to-be-taken-off-life-support wife had been cheating on him. I have three things to say about this film.

First thing: the beginning twenty minutes or so of it are so freaking slow and boring that had I not been sitting in the middle of a row, I might seriously have thought about getting up and leaving, which is something I never, ever do. After that, however, it picks up and I ended up quite enjoying it. I'm not sure Clooney is a great actor, but he does hold your attention on the screen. Second thing: this is exactly the kind of movie that always gets nominated for an Oscar. It's supposed to instruct us or illuminate for us the human condition, blah blah blah. I read an interview recently--I think it was Brad Pitt talking about why he chose to star in Moneyball, even though he's not a baseball fan--and the point was made that somewhere in the 80s or 90s, it became mandatory for the characters in a film to Grow and Change by the end of the film, and Moneyball was more of a throwback to the 70s kind of movie, where the character stays the same but maybe the world around him/her just shifts a little, and that was the appeal. Well, Brad's friend George's movie is a stunning example of the Grow and Change cliche. I mean, there's absolutely no surprise to the ending. (slight spoiler) Do we really think his little family is *not* gonna pull together and become closer and more functional? Do we really think he's *not* gonna make the noble business decision that's good for the people of his state, rather than the one that'll net him a huge amount of easy money? The only interesting twist to that is that the noble business decision also screws the guy who was screwing his wife, so at least there's a little depth there. Third thing: if I had known this movie was by the guy who did Sideways, I'd have never have gone to it, because that, along with Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, is one of my top two acclaimed movies of recent years that I hate with the fiery passion of a million suns. So, yeah, it's a good thing I didn't realize! Final Grade: B.

Movie #2: Incredibly Loud and Extremely Close

Another movie that is exactly the kind that always gets nominated for an Oscar, this one because it's supposed to be terribly touching and sad and uplifting and blah blah blah. It didn't touch me at all, yo. I could not have cared less about the kid in it and his healing from his beloved father's death in 9/11. The kid was obnoxious and unsympathetic. And I say this as someone who sobs every time she watches The Sixth Sense*** which it pinged for me slightly, even though there's no similarity between them other than being about a weird fatherless boy in pain. I am really over people with mental differences (this kid is supposed to be maybe Aspergers, maybe not) as protagonists just because their weirdness allows the film-maker or author to then do things with the plot that they couldn't if the character was "normal." (Know what other film I fucking despise? Forrest Gump. Yeah.) I also realized when watching this movie that there's probably never been a Tom Hanks movie that I've seen that I actually liked, though I will admit I've managed to avoid some of his most popular movies. This is not due to any dislike of Mr Hanks per se, not as a person or as an actor. I think I just don't like his taste in scripts! Finally, and this is probably a spoiler, but I have a plot question. When the kid meets The Renter, is that a set-up by his mother/grandmother so he'll have someone to watch over him on his search, and I'm supposed to infer that when his mother later reveals that she knew what was going on all along? Because otherwise, it makes no sense that his grandmother was out in the middle of the night. I mean elderly Jewish ladies from the Old Country are not known for being party animals. I mean, as far as *I* know. Also, the fact that The Renter was mute was another example of a ridiculous plot contrivance. I realize that's the fault of the author of the book, and not the filmmaker, but whatev. Final grade: C-.

Movie #3: My Week With Marilyn

I liked this one the best. No "message" but it was charming and touching and the acting was very good. I think they did a good job of showing just how fucked up Marilyn was while still making her sympathetic. And it was short. And the makeup/clothes/scenery were cool. And I would definitely read the book this one was based on. Maybe it was just more my type of film than the other two, but I enjoyed it. Final grade: A-

That's it, kids!

xoxo

***I was writing this review in my head the other night on my way home and I could not think of the title of this movie. It was on the tip of my brain and driving me insane and I couldn't wait to actually get home and look it up. So I texted Mr Indemnity "Dude! Help! What's the name of the movie about the kid who sees ghosts and Bruce Willis is his dead shrink?" But because I was trying to text with my gloves on, I accidentally texted it to M2 first. Twelve hours later when she finally checked her texts, she wrote back "Dude! It's the sixth sense. The ONLY good movie by m night shyamalan." Which frankly was hilarious. I will also say Mr Indemnity did *not* make his usual dig about how if I had an iPhone I could have looked it up myself. He's slipping!

life is just a series of small victories

I had a pleasant surprise when I checked my bank balance this weekend before mailing the city my big ol' whopping property tax check. There was more money in there than I was afraid there was going to be, which means my recent mega-economizing has worked. I have not been going out hardly at all. <--[that's a very badly constructed and grammatically incorrect sentence right there but I don't love all y'all enough to fix it and you know what I mean, even with the double negative.] I have been bringing food to work almost every day and not buying lunch. (Both the not-going-out and the bringing-my-sad-little-lunch were undertaken not just for economical reasons, but because I was on a diet for the month of January. And can I just say? thank god tomorrow's February. Dieting sucks, but dieting when you're not actually fat sucks more.) The thermostat in my house remains at 66 or under. Usually under. And I have held off on most discretionary purchases.

Extremely happy that I could pay my taxes and not be broke, I figured I could now buy some stuff which is not essential to life, but is damn close, and that I have been holding out on. I bought four different DaVinci syrups and the protein bars I like but have not had for months from netrition.com. I bought creatine and non-ghetto whey (chocolate peanut butter flavor--it better be good) from bodybuilding.com. I bought eye liner and primer (aka face spackle) from Sephora. And I bought a Buffy bar from Lush. And then I felt complete.

Oh shut up. Not really. But it felt good that scrimping here and there meant I could then buy some things I really wanted without guilt or worry. Or, y'know, debt. And that's even after losing five bucks last week! [insert winky face here]

I'm almost tempted to blow some money on a pedi too. You should see my feet. Not pretty. But I'll probably scrimp some more before that. I'm sure my new eye liner and face spackle will keep people looking at my beauteous visage and not my sad toenails! Ahem.

Happy final day of January in which there is no snow on the ground (unless it's snowing now, yo), bitches. Did I mention I'm loving this winter?

xoxo

life is just a series of minor irritations

I was gonna tell you the whole long story about how I came to have a $5 bill in my jacket pocket last night that isn't there this morning, but then I figured, dude! you are being one of those minor irritations. No one cares. So let's skip ahead to the fact that somehow, somewhere, on my way home last night I lost $5, and I hope whoever finds it a.) is a little kid or b.) really needs it. Nevertheless, losing five bucks pissed me off greatly this morning, mainly because I know it is my own stupid fault for putting money in my jacket pocket during the winter when I am also always shoving my gloves into my pocket so that I can do things like get my keys out or add money to my CharlieCard.

In my effort to not be so irritated by this, I have told myself two things. #1, that this balanced out all those times when I have put on a jacket or pair of pants I haven't worn in six months and found cash in the pocket I didn't know was there. #2, $5 is a trip to Starbucks if you tip, which I usually do, so I can just tell myself that I went to Starbucks last night on my way home and I've developed amnesia about it. So that five bucks, while still wasted, was wasted on caffeine, not just wasted on nothing.

Whatever.

Put your cash directly into your wallets, kids, and learn from my stupidity.

xoxo

on your television tonight

Okay, on my television tonight. Tomato, tomahto, cucumber.

I realize I am going to type all this out and it will amuse no one but me--and it's already amused me so very very much--because most of the joke would need to be explained if you aren't me. Nevertheless, onward we plow.

First up, new episode of Hoarders. One of the stories is a lady who has had no plumbing in her house for three years. With predictable results. Well, predictable if you've ever watched Hoarders. Think a house chock full of bottles o' pee and piles of human poop. (No, that's not the funny part.) The woman is very glib in being able to attribute her dysfunction to all the trauma in her life, including being raped twelve times. Or maybe it was seventeen. (No, that's not the funny part either, but it does make my bullshit antenna go up.***) The part which made.me.die. is the little reveal at the end where the crew has made a new room for her to meditate in and she is shown chanting at her new altar. Remember when M2 took me to the Buddhist chanting and I found it a wee bit cult-like and not for me? Um, yeah. That's exactly the chanting poop lady was doing. I cannot wait till M2 sees this episode. She will.also.die.

Then Intervention comes on. I don't watch Intervention ever, but since it's not time for me to take my clothes out of the dryer, I catch the first few minutes. The apparent subject is showing off a room in her house to the camera crew. "This is our wine room," she says slurrily, pointing to some mostly empty racks. "As you can see, there's not much wine in it. I drank it all." Oh, the lulz. Oh, the fucking lulz. Then my clothes were done.

In totally non-television-related news, I've been hearing this loud beep in my house on and off for like 3 days and I thought I was going insane because I couldn't figure out what it is. Until now. It's my FIOS setup in the garage, telling me the battery in the battery backup needs to be replaced. Damn you, Verizon.

xoxo

***When Our Lil MILF came by a couple months ago and was telling us stories about her new job with the Commonwealth, one of them concerned one of her clients calling to tell her that her landlord had raped her. Understandably concerned but also puzzled why the woman was calling her, not, say, THE POLICE, she ran it by a co-worker. Co-worker rolled her eyes. "Again? She gets raped every three months. Ask her how many months behind in the rent she is." Answer: a few. But it's totally justified because the light is out in her hallway!

cause and effect

That's right, isn't it? I never know when to use "affect" other than psychiatrically. It is, along with lay vs lie, my grammatical nemesis.

So, my water bill is $20 less this quarter and I wonder if that is due to my water heater dying for those two weeks or so. Did lack of bathing and extremely quick showers for two weeks really save me $20? Should I just start showering at the Y every day and use the proceeds to go on vacation?!?? Doesn't sound possible. My water bill is one of those things where I have no idea whether I am getting screwed or not. Sometimes it's higher and sometimes it's lower and I just can't understand why, in either direction. Hell, it probably should have been HIGHER this quarter due to those times I left the faucet running in the sink in my menopausal brain fog. Just imagine how much water that wasted! I am probably entirely responsible for the impending collapse of our ecosystem. On the other hand? Guess who has never watered her lawn EVAH?



I read an interesting discussion the other day about new appliances and how their being energy efficient is what causes them to break in 5 years rather than last 20 or 30 like they used to. I'm not quite sure I'm buying that. I think they're purposefully built to only last five years because the manufacturers have figured out that's how they make more money. Who is going to buy a new refrigerator if their old refrigerator is still keeping the food cold? (And their shelves aren't held together with duct tape. Ahem.) I mean, besides the stupid consumers who buy into "oh, it has to be x color because y color is out of style" or "ooo, look! it has a computer in the door!" I mean, you can always count on some people being a.) sheep or b.) distracted by shiny nonsense, but you can count on *more* people not wanting $100 worth of meat in their freezer to go bad.

I think I've tangented. Oh well. Happy Monday, all y'all.

xoxo

linguistic news

I have a new favorite (cranky) saying: "You/they can just suck my non-existent dick."

Feel free to borrow it if you'd like. It works better if you're a girl, though.

Also, in light of recent revelations that Newt asked wife #2 for an open marriage, I would be remiss in not reminding you that when presidents get laid, YOU get paid. /important political discourse

Um, happy Friday, bitches. Carry on.

xoxo

it occurs to me

...that I totally blew the joke on that last post.

The line should have been "...take a nice long vacation to somewhere you've never been in the company of family or friends that you actually like. If none of them are available, you could always take me!"

I miss my own obvious setup? See. I do need a vacation.

xoxo

P.S. Shutting up now!

the benefits of being out of the office

My boss just returned from three weeks in Cambodia and Vietnam. Well, actually 2 1/2 weeks strictly speaking, because when you are going to the complete opposite side of the world, there is much time wasted in traveling. Anyway, we were expecting him back in the office today, but as of early this morning his office door was open, but he wasn't in there. As the staff trickled in, everyone was like, "Is he back? Is he back? Where is he?" (In case it is not clear, we look forward to his return.) I went over to the ATM to get twenty bucks so I could buy breakfast (broke on Tuesday, that's sad) and ran into him. He'd gone to grand rounds on us.

I cannot even tell you how much better he looked. Smiling. Relaxed. Rested. Non-gray (a good color for gowns and hoodies, I maintain, but not complexions.) I remarked on this and he said that he wasn't in fact rested, that they'd been on the go the entire trip, walking, hiking, climbing. And I pointed out that that is *totally* different than being here, swamped with work and aggravation. Seriously, he looks five years younger.

It made me wonder whether, if I could take three weeks away from my normal life (yeah, right), the huge circles and bags under my eyes would disappear and my complexion would regain some of its youthful healthy flush. Barring some kind of miracle, I'm never gonna find out, but it's nice to think about! My advice to you: screw the groupon plastic surgeons and dermatologists and, if you can afford it, take a nice long vacation to somewhere you've never been in the company of family or friends that you actually like. Don't check your email very much while you do. Beauty treatment, yo!

xoxo

and in more celeb news

I needed something to read on the kindle while doing cardio. Y'know, something to distract me, at least until the endorphins kick in. And so, having enjoyed Keith Richard's autobiography immensely last year, I thought I would take a chance on the reminiscences of another drugged-out rock star, and I downloaded Steven Tyler's book.

Well. All I can say is, where was the editor? Was there an editor? Did the editor make the editorial decision that Mr Tyler's charm would be, like on American Idol, in his nonsensical and out-of-context babbling? Because, if so, wrong decision. What works as comic relief on a TV talent show doesn't hold up as, y'know, literature. I am only 7% through and we are still in Steven's childhood. Except not really in chronological order. Now Steven's 14! Now he's nine again! It's as if every time a train of thought led him to another memory, he just threw it in there. I am not sure I am going to be able to finish this. I may just have to skip ahead to the drugs, groupies, and dramatic fights with Joe Perry. (Speaking of which, Steven's already mentioned that later he would meet Joe as the best fry cook in NH and Joe would be at his fryolater with his glasses mended with tape. Much like Keith with Mick, I suppose there's no sense in writing a rock n' roll autobiography without taking the opportunity to make subtle, or not so subtle, digs at your bandmates.)

The only other thing I have unread on my kindle at the moment is an anthology of Lovecraft-inspired short stories, and I've already read the one by Neil Gaiman. So I am sure it's all downhill from there. Anyone read anything good lately? Gimme a rec, please.

xoxo

this

...is a very pretty old woman.

This



...is apparently a woman who started drinking early. There's been a lot of internet and other media opinion that this dress is ugly, in particular the color. Is it wrong that I myself would think it were awesome if it wasn't completely see-through? If I were invited to a major awards show, I might wear a gray gown. Gray! It's the color of hoodies!

This



...is a woman who is rumored to be wearing fingerless gloves in all her recent appearances because she's trying to hide her old lady hands. If I were invited to a major awards show, I might need to do the same. Naaahhhhh. Madonna, we all know how old you are. We can google it. Your silly gloves are silly.

I'm too tired to do more.

xoxo

here's today's questions

I got a groupon this morning offering me 67% off liposuction. I've in the past also seen them for laser eye surgery, spider vein treatment, and...I dunno, other medical treatments of the elective variety. Would it disturb you if your MD was resorting to groupon? I admit, it would me. Also, if they can afford to discount it that much, what is the markup on the original price?

Secondly, I clicked on it (yeah, yeah, I know) and it's actually a "noninvasive, FDA-approved Exilis radiofrequency system", not traditional liposuction per se. They blast your fat cells with radio frequencies. Is it me, or does this sound like a scam? Also, the fine print tells me that while I *may* see improvement after two sessions, a series of four is recommended. Oh! So that's how they can afford to discount it so much--they just suck you into buying another package. Does "FDA-approved" mean it isn't a complete scam or does that just mean it ain't gonna kill you?

I guess hope springs eternal. Everyone wants the magic bullet that's gonna make them thin without them doing any actual, y'know, work. Five people have bought this discount the last time I checked. I wish them and their cellulite the best of luck. I might just hold my thighs close to the microwave when I'm nuking a sweet potato for ten minutes. I'm sure that will do the same thing!

xoxo

things we must discuss

I feel awfully behind. I have too much writing to do and not enough mental energy/concentration to do it. I blame that on the fact that I am back on a diet for the month of January. My body and brain function better with FOOD. LOTS of food. However as soon as February rolls around, I'ma go back to bulking and I'm bulking for the rest of the year, bitches. You will probably not be able to shut me up then. Anyway, amongst the emails I owe people and the journals and blogs I mean to comment in but haven't and the fact that I have a half-written (okay, quarter-) post waiting for me to finish on the other blog, there's also the fact that I want to discuss some shit with you all. We'll do that...now! Go!

1.) Unless you've been living under a rock/haven't seen any media the past couple days, you'll know by now that my favorite celeb couple, Jay-Z and Beyonce, finally had that baby of theirs. Her name is Blue Ivy. Ivy Blue would have sounded better, but no one asked for my imput. Hmmph. There's also a kurfluffle about them supposedly renting a whole hospital floor for a million bucks to deliver in, which the hospital denies, and also other maternity patients of the hospital bitching that all the extra security and so forth made their own hospital experience less than stellar. The Carter-Knowleses should just shut those whiners up with a ten thousand dollar college scholarship for each of their babies, nomsayin'? Also, in the song Hova wrote about his daughter's birth he confirmed that they did have a prior miscarriage. I'm glad to know that I figured that one out correctly.

2.) What's the deal about Ron Paul? Could someone please explain this to me? I saw this fluff piece on CNN over the weekend where they went to various bars in NH and asked the drinkers what beer they were having and whom they were voting for in the primary, and all the people drinking hipster beers like PBR were voting for Ron Paul. Also, there's this girl on one of my boards who's like 20, apparently a feminist, is planning on going to grad school for literature and becoming a college professor, and who is--how shall I put this?--um, not white, who has had a Ron Paul for President sig line for months, which I always was confused by and wondered if it was some kind of ironic thing I didn't get. But now I presume it isn't. Why do all these college kids and hipsters apparently like this Libertarian guy un-ironically? Can someone clue me in here. (I shoulda hooked up with that off-the-grid NH gun lover when I had the chance; I'm sure he could have filled me in on this shite.)

3.) I keep making streetlights go out when I walk underneath them. Seriously, I went out of a walk last night because I didn't make it to the gym, and it happened three times in 45 minutes. And it's been happening for weeks. Do you think I am developing super powers? Did a radioactive spider bite me when I was unaware? Oh! I forgot to tell you (I think). I woke up last weekone day with a bruise over the vein leading to my right thumb. It looked *exactly* like I had had an IV inserted there. I posited that blackmarket organ thieves broke into my house while I was sleeping and took a kidney but I couldn't find an incision. So then I went with my second theory, alien abduction. So this streetlight thing must be a side effect of my theoretical anal probing or whatever they did to me. See? I cleared that one up without your help. Still tells me nothing about Ron Paul though.

4.) I've wanted to say this for like three weeks but I've been afraid to jinx it. But now that we had a little snow flurry/dusting overnight it's safe. So: Guys! Isn't it awesome that it's the middle of winter and we have no snow and/or ice on the ground and that we've only had a few real cold days interspersed with a bunch of nice lovely warm ones???!?? This is a winter I can get behind, yo.

Okay. That's it for now.

xoxo

silver service

Did you all know that those of us with mental illness and other associated brain problems have our own ribbon now? We do! It's silver. I learned this fact here.

Have I mentioned The Bloggess in here before? An online friend, someone with whom I discuss weightlifting and our past (and occasionally present) body image problems and our difficulties with getting the tradespeople we hire to actually come do work in our homes and the complexities of having male children--in other words, someone who really doesn't much know me at all, turned me on to this blog last summer, saying, "I think you'll like her. She writes just like you, so funny and witty." (Actually, since The Bloggess is fairly well-known and makes a living from her writing, the proper phrasing of that sentence is that *I* write just like her, but friends are friends, y'know?) I can't say that I am surprised that a writer who is funny and witty and smart and profane, someone who writes "just like me", turns out to struggle with severe depression, severe enough that she self-harms.

It calls to mind when M2 turned me on to David Foster Wallace, whose writing I had never to that point read. Mr Foster Wallace (Mr Wallace? I dunno if Foster is a middle or last name, mea culpa), in case you don't know, committed suicide a couple years ago or so. In that conversation M2 told me that his voice reminded her of me: really smart, really funny, but with a dark place.

It makes me wonder about the correlation between a certain kind of humor and the crazee. Obviously, it's a defense mechanism. I know I can tell all y'all a story about things my son did and said when he was psychotic in a way that is both hilarious and heartbreaking. But why the humor? Because it keeps the heart from actually breaking. "You gotta laugh or you'll cry." I grew up hearing that and I know the truth of it. Unfortunately in some cases--David Foster Wallace's suicide, The Bloggess's self-harm--it doesn't protect enough. Me, I'm still laughing more than I'm crying most of the time.

So, yeah. Silver ribbon. I'ma hold my breath till they start making silver mental illness awareness toasters and cosmetic bags and shoelaces. And when I turn blue, please apply mouth-to-mouth. I ain't lost my will to live yet.

xoxo

random things i like

Happy New Year and namaste, bitches. Here are some pictures I have saved recently, most of which don't fit together stylistically in any kind of vision. But I really want that second light. There's got to be somewhere in this house it would go.

Yeah, yeah, I know this is what pinterest is for, and I really was gonna sign up for that, but they make you link it to a facebook account which, bite me, facebook.











xoxo

PS. I really should have had a tag for all my design posts, but I never made one and it's way too late now.