Tuesday, November 29, 2011

You Know You Are From Anxiety-Ville When...


I can create drama out of anything.
I want a cool helmet and spear too.

You Know You Are From Anxiety-Ville When...

1. When you call your mother, then your father, then your sister, then your brother, and no one answers so you decide that they have all perished in separate but equally horrific accidents, or worse, collided in one giant fiery collision all together. Or, they could all be at the movies, gym, a restaurant, sleeping, etc. Or, a giant fiery crash.

2. When you see a smushed, sad little animal lying dead in the middle of the road and you start to get teary and say out loud, "I'm sorry, it isn't fair that humanity has intruded on your idyllic wilderness life, you beautiful, little...crumpled up paper bag." Oops.

3. When you decide to go on E-Harmony and instead of thinking that it is really exciting that there are more than 70 men emailing you, you think OMG I HAVE 70 MEN TO RESPOND TO! I don't have time to handle all of this, I will have to use a sick day, I need to stay up all night, I can't even stop to take a bathroom break, I have to get through all of my prospective matches or I may not get married oh my god just typing this has made me break out in a cold sweat. (this is totally hypothetical and has never happened. ever.)

I'm holding out for a dating site that caters to people who are undatable.
Let's be honest. Isn't EVERY dating site catering to the undatable?
If we were all datable, we'd be dating, not setting up dumbass profiles online.
Just saying.

4. When you lay in bed and start to say your usual evening prayer and wind up 20 minutes later crying because you miss your dead parents and then you realize that you were praying and then your crazy ass head started thinking and you wound up concocting a horrible story and lost 20 minutes of your actual life because you just had an imaginary funeral in your head and it was really traumatic and you need therapy.

5. When you think about how grateful you are that you are not schizophrenic, because that would be terrible. Besides, you don't hear voiceS, you just hear ONE voice. Your voice. Over and over and over and over, thinking up multiple scenarios and situations until you feel like you ARE schizophrenic but worse.
Funny Cry For Help Ecard: I'm not sure my meds are quite cutting the mustard.
Um. Yeah.
6. When you are lying in bed and you start to literally count the months until your eggs take their next drastic statistical drop in viability. (Eight, to save you the math.)

7. When you cannot, will not, drive your car without talking to someone on the phone for fear of getting lost...in your own head. Or conversely, when you arrive at your destination with no memory of how you drove there because you WERE lost in your own head.

8. When you really don't have an eighth example because you are tired of typing and realize you already sound like you should be committed to an asylum but you can't stop on an odd number because you do everything in evens so you had to type out an eighth example.


Rather than sticking with meditation, I'm sticking with chronic anxiety.
The End.

Thursday, November 24, 2011

Thanksgiving

So. It's Thanksgiving Eve. And, on this Eve of Thanks, I have so much to be thankful for--today, tomorrow, always; I truly do. I am blessed. But...you know it wouldn't be a blog entry unless I brought out some snark...oh, and let's get the standard "thank you for"s out of the way - obviously I am thankful for my family, friends, health and guacamole. But, I'm already developing carpal tunnel; brevity is queen. SO, without further ado, I present my random list of things I am thankful for, in no particular order.

1. I am thankful for coffee. I readily admit my addiction to caffeine but even if someone subbed out my "bold" (caffeinated) blend for a decaf, I would still relish the smell and taste of my coffee. I am just not awake until I've had a few cups. Ask my parents, exes, co-workers. I'm much more pleasant after my morning Joe.

2. I am thankful for TV. I know, TV is rotting my brain from the inside out, kind of like zombies, or meth maybe. But, I have never done meth and I don't know any zombies and frankly I really like TV. So suck it. But before you do, please add "I am thankful for my DVR" to your suck-it list.

3. I am thankful that when you get fat, some of the fat goes to your boobs. I think that might be self-explanatory. It is the one perk. Well, technically it is two perks.

4. I am thankful for my job, because, although it is really stressful and sometimes I want to vomit, I actually really like it there. Although, they food push. Which I don't like because it's "blood food," like "blood diamonds" but not diamonds-bagels-but you know it's really the same concept. Except not exactly. But kind of. Anyway, I am still thankful for my job. There are some coolio people that I work with and I am happy to be making friends there. Also I really enjoy paychecks.

5. I am thankful for granny panties. If you have ever worn a thong, then put on some big ole comfy soft granny panties, you know what I mean. If no one else knows what I mean, then maybe I just realized why I'm still single.

6. I'm thankful for toilet paper. Have you ever wiped your ass with leaves? Me either. Do you want to? Me either. The end.

7. I'm thankful for my iPhone. Apparently I existed before I joined the Apple ranks but I don't remember it. Now it is completely normal to be at a happy hour and be discussing prison and liquor and decide to pull up a recipe for Pruno. (Seriously, Google it. It's a real thing. Also, I never want to go to prison. Someone will eat me for dinner. On many levels.)

8. I'm thankful for my eyeballs. Frankly eyeballs scare me in their actual physicality BUT in the whole "I CAN SEE" realm, I will never, EVER, take sight for granted. I cannot remember a time when I could see without glasses or contacts. My entire life was cloudy - quite literally. Foam caps became sharks in the ocean. My shampoo looked like conditioner in the shower. My alarm clock had to be within inches of my face in order to make an impact. And then I had Lasik after 25+ years of blur. Thank you, Pop Pop, for funding that. It was a life-changing procedure. I can see 20-20 today. Some days I want to cry - even four years later - because a leaf or a night sky or a sign in the distance - is so crystal clear. Many people have poor vision. But until you experience life cloudy and clear, you'll never understand.

9. I'm thankful for Facebook. Sure, you COULD get depressed by reading how every other single solitary f'ing friend you have is pregnant/getting married/is married/is a millionaire/is going to be a millionaire/is about to be a mom/just got engaged/is at least having sex... BUT NO. Holla, Mark Z. I don't have kids and I'm not married. Yes, my status updates often include my cats and sometimes my mother. But, that is my life. It is what it is. I'm proud of it.

10. I'm thankful for all of my ex-boyfriends. As one of my very very VERY cute (and young- oh so young) co-workers said the other day, "Michelle, how many guys HAVE you dated?" I said, "Doll, I've got 10 years on you and I made the most of them." Winky Winky. Okay, I totally didn't answer like that. But, it's TRUE! I have dated. I have dated a lot. I have dated so much that I think there could be a http://www.didudatemichellenifsosignupheresoudontdoitagain.com/ Or you could buy that domain. Either way. I'm still thankful - GRATEFUL - to "all the (men) I've loved before." Why????? OMG. Because I am who I am today because of them. Dear God. I don't even know the girl who put up with the guy who belittled her regularly, even in front of friends. I don't know the poor child who dated a guy who moved her across country, just to drink himself into a stupor every weekend so she could spend her first 52 weekends in Colorado sitting alone in an apartment crying and clinging to Mr. Tonsils (he's a stuffed bear, don't judge.)
I don't know the girl who put up with countless moments in hopes that it would still lead to "her life as she imagined it." I can't believe how many years I wasted saying,"he is good enough," only to be devastated when he broke up with me later. Holy moly guacamole, I am SO THANKFUL  for my exes! No one until today would be the right man for me. I would have molded myself to fit his needs and that ain't right. So, thanks boyz! :)

And, for giggles, 10  more thanks-I'm-giving are...

11. Indian food
12. White Out - but the good stuff, not the liquid
13. Courage - damn, when did I get some of that??
14. Pads with Wings. Until you have a uterus and vagina and are feeling like you are about to bleed to death, you will never understand how damn happy some weird diaper with wing thingys can make you. Also see *Granny Panties*
15. Chicken McNuggets. I'm sorry! I love them. Too soon after the whole bleeding to death mention? Sorry.
16. Rocky the Cat
17. Gus the Cat
18. My credit score. Bitch, it is that high.
19. Moisturizer. Especially Burts Bees. It's da bomb. Have you noticed my wrinkles lately? Exactly.
20. HOPE. Because I have to have it.

Happy Thanksgiving, y'all! Kisses, Hugs and Smoochies.

Thursday, November 10, 2011

A Speculum-Tacular Morning

**Note - this post is about a trip to the gyno. If you are a male and would like to stop reading, feel free... This concludes your spoiler alert**

Any female can relate to the general indignities associated with her yearly trip to see the "lady" doctor. Of course, if you are old enough to read this, you're old enough to say the word gynecologist. Men included. Uh oh, I feel a tangent coming on...It's funny how men get all weird about "female" stuff. Like they squeal or wrinkle their noses if they hear the word "period" or "ovulate." Oooohhh. Buck up, lil man. I have to watch you adjust your junk-I mean PENIS-in public. You should be able to hear the word tampon without freaking out. End tangent.

So anyway back to my doctor's appointment. First of all, there is nothing like beginning your day with a gyno appointment. What's not to like? First you get to pee in a cup which is always a good time, especially leaving it in a little window for someone, probably the poor woman who just had to take my insurance card, to pick up. Gross. And, gross.

Then, it is time to be weighed. The nurse kindly informed me that they take off two pounds for clothes and shoes. I still took off my shoes. She still took off two pounds. I told her that I liked her a lot.

Next you get to undress and put on a gown that has been worn by more women than I'd like to think about and has been laundered within an inch of its life. Then you get to sit in a cold exam room completely naked, save for the gown, and wait for the doctor. Then after you wait, you wait some more. After a lot of waiting, which I have always thought could be done fully clothed in the waiting room, the doctor comes in.

Now, I must say, my new doctor is very nice. She was great. Very chatty. Perhaps a tad too chatty considering I prefer to be looking at people during conversations, not looking at the ceiling. Oh, yeah, I forgot the whole feet in the stirrups, ass off the table part. Also a good time.

After the medieval salad tongs have been inserted, the doctor does her thing. Then she squeezes your boobs a bit for good measure (admittedly the most action I've had in a while) and you are all done.

She took some information from me, standard stuff, and of course, one of the standard questions is "What is your method of birth control?" I answered "I live with my parents. It's very effective." We had a nice chuckle together; we're practically besties now.

All in all, the morning could have been a lot worse. I could have had a colonscopy or something.

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Vampires, Hospitals and Bears! Oh My!

Sorry I haven't posted in - Geez Louise - nine days! But, look. I have been busy.

Other than working (a lot), my main priority has been watching the entire 26-episode first season of The Vampire Diaries. (I never said I was busy doing anything worthwhile.)
It's a shame that such unattractive people were cast for this show.
Especially Damon, the "evil" vampire. Usually I have a rule against dating the undead,
but I'd totally make an exception for him.
Sigh. As if I needed another show to watch. But, alas. My boss wanted me to watch it so she could talk about it with me. It was practically an order, really. She brought in the dvd box set for me. I mean, I didn't want to get fired. I HAD to spend roughly 20 hours watching a show about hot vampire brothers who are both obsessed with the same woman. Now, I didn't have to immediately order the second season of the show off of Amazon.com so I could start watching that too. But, we are on the verge of another recession, folks. I need this job. And, bosses like initiative.

Other than vamping it up, I have been knitting a lot while watching the usual weekly favorites. I made a very fun cowl-neck wrap thing in a fabulous chunky yarn after seeing one on my coworker. It was basically a long scarf with the ends sewn together. You just loop it around your neck a couple of times and voila, you look all fall-ish and cute. I'd say something self-deprecating here about not looking cute, but remember, I'm working on that.

On a serious front, I spent last week worried about my stubborn-ass father, who spent several nights in the hospital with a terrible infection caused by diverticulitis. He hasn't been taking care of himself or eating well. ("Hello, kettle. You're black." I know...But HE has diverticulitis. I'm just fat.)

Thankfully, my dad is doing better; he now has strict dietary rules to follow - rules we will make sure he follows. But, obviously, having my dad in the hospital was very upsetting. I have led a very fortunate life and am grateful for the health of my family and friends. Many people close to me have lost loved ones too early. That has never been lost on me - I carry those losses with me as well. Scares such as last week's remind me yet again (people with anxiety don't really forget this tidbit) that life ends. For all of us. (Except the vampires.) No one likes to think about their mortality or, even worse, the mortality of their loved ones. I was so thankful that I could visit my dad in the hospital, that I could help my mom out and be there for her. This is why I moved home -- wow, just shy of a year ago (Oct. 30). I want to be there for my family. I want to spend time with them and create memories and enjoy their presence and, yes, of course there are times when we may bicker or argue, but we are family. That is precious and irreplaceable. That's why I moved home.

For some giggles after my whole "We All Die" downer...I bring you the following (courtesy of the lovely Kate Henson, who said she thought of me when she saw this!):


Thank you, Kate Henson! Smooches!

Tonight's entry is short but don't despair. I'll be back tomorrow...I haven't spewed nearly enough useless blog entries into cyberspace lately.

Monday, October 10, 2011

The Tell-Tale Clock

I have insomnia. It comes and goes. It strikes at inopportune times and it never makes an appointment. I have tried many things to get rid of the insomnia (herbal remedies, narcotics (duh, prescribed)) but nothing really works.

For approximately the last year, my insomnia has been a little different. It's very odd. Now, if you are reading this, 1) you probably already know me and 2) I think I have already explained that I have a smidge of anxiety. And, by a smidge, I mean a shitload. So, lying awake in my bed worrying about money or debt or my weight or world peace or debt or my weight or if Brangelina will adopt again is normal. But in the past year, my lying awake staring at the ceiling time has been different. I almost couldn't pinpoint what the f-ck was wrong. Something was wrong, or at least I imagined something was wrong. But, I couldn't have explained what was.

Then, holy crap. Out of the blue, just this week, it hit me. Edgar Allen Poe. No, old EAP is not what is wrong, persay. In fact, he's dead so he doesn't bother me at all. But, I finally determined the feeling, the sound, the "thing" that is keeping me awake. It's the Tell-Tale Heart. But, it isn't beating. It's TICKING.

Holy shit. I have my very own Tell-Tale Biological Clock living under my floorboards.

Lucky me. Of course I can't just have a Walmart brand digital biological clock. Oh, no. I have a full-blown, rife-with-literary-references biological clock. One that is so thud thud thud and bam bam bam that I can't even place the ticks. I didn't even realize it was a "clock" until it hit me driving to work the other day.

It's funny in a way. Put me in a room full of kids and I love it for a few minutes, maybe an hour. Then I start to think about all of the things I could be doing if I wasn't in a room full of kids - you know, watch more episodes of The Vampire Diaries, watch reruns of Jersey Shore, um...other things that don't involve bad television.

But, yet the heart beats. The clock ticks.

I cringe at baby shower games involving pastel-colored diaper pins or Snickers bars melted into diapers.

But, still the clock ticks.

Because when I pass onesies, especially ones with frogs or holiday themes, I want to buy them. In bulk.

Because when I smell a newborn baby, I am overcome with their scent that is a cross between talcum powder and fairy dust.

Because my fingers want to knit baby blankets and baby sized hats.

Because I can't think of anything better than having this minature-sized person asleep on my chest.

But, don't worry. I don't have baby fever or anything. Really. I just have baby-sometime-in-my-life fever. I am fine not being at mom at this exact second. I just want to know I will be.

This isn't all sad-sappy-poor-me blog post. I am not posting this for that reason. But, the reason I decided to start this blog is because I had "thoughts" in my head. And so I'm sharing them. One day I'd like to be a mom. Of course, I'd love to get married. But, knowing I could at least be a mom one day makes me smile. And, it helps me sleep. Kind of.

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Self-deprecate, much?

self-dep·re·cat·ing: adj - tending to undervalue oneself and one's abilities.

I have been told that I am self-deprecating. I would agree with that statement and, in fact, often characterize myself as such. I am not sure when I started it but I do know I tend towards self-deprecation in situations where I would like to make it clear that I already "know" of my shortcoming.

Say I'm about to go dancing with friends. I would automatically make a comment about my lack of rhythm. This is a self-deprecating statement. (It also happens to be the truth...dammit, there I go again.) But I say it because I want to be sure that the people who are about to witness my "dancing" know that I know that I suck at dancing. It seems better to offer up my shortcoming(s) than to not say anything and leave people wondering quietly if I know that I do indeed dance like Elaine from Seinfeld.
Elaine Benes' Dancing
This is from a Facebook page devoted to
Elaine's dancing. See, there IS someone who has
more time on their hands then me!

Here's the rub. The argument could be made that said friends would not notice that Elaine and I are long-lost dance partners after watching my booty shaking. Maybe some would even think I am not half bad. (This is a very poor example because honestly there is no getting around the fact that I am a terrible dancer.) BUT, say my friends were extremely near-sighted and they were not wearing corrective lenses. At that point, my blurry shimmy shake could possibly look somewhat appealing. If I hadn't make any self-deprecating comments about my dancing abilities, my half-blind friends would not know the difference and my dance skills would never be questioned.

A supermodel once said (no, not to me directly) that she never tells anyone her flaws because maybe no one has ever noticed that her third toe was wonky (or whatever other insignificant flaw she might have had), and she certainly wasn't going to point flaws out herself. That's a great attitude, especially if you are a supermodel. Since I put my supermodel career on hold to work in investment publishing and marketing, I don't really abide by her rule. In truth, I probably overcompensate. I know that I am self-deprecating, almost to a fault (which is pretty funny if you think about the fact that I'm self-deprecating about my acts of self-deprecation). Sigh. I suppose I do it to be funny (I like to think I'm funny. Well, my mom thinks I'm funny too. I'm pretty sure the cats do too, but they can't laugh. If they could laugh, though, I think they would.) Yet, I am starting to realize that it is probably less funny than it is uncomfortable to others. I don't do it to get compliments or anything like that. But, I think it might make people feel weird. And, I think that because someone whose name rhymes with Tom (and who gave birth to me) told me this. As I ponder this subject further, it probably does gets old when the same person is always down on themselves - I know others with this self-deprecation "affliction" and I don't like it when they constantly put themselves down because I think they are great and wish they would think that about themselves too (Meorge, if you are reading, Hi!!) My "it's all in the name of humor" probably only gets me so far. Especially since I'm not really that funny OH MY GOD I can't even stop TYPING in a self-deprecating manner. This is going to take more than one blog post to work through.

Anyway, I think I'll add to "Stop being so self-deprecating" to my rather lengthy list of things I want to work on. It will fit nicely before "Learn to dance." Bam!


P.S. I never made it to Michael's to buy a darning needle so you are just going to have to wait for the photos of my finished knitted creations, darnit!

P.P.S. I'm looooong overdue for another rambling diatribe about men and how weird some of them are. Men Are Crazy, Volume II, will be available for your reading pleasure soon. Volume I was very well-received so, ladies, get ready for another thrilling set of tales from the dating trenches.

P.P.P.S. If anyone has been wondering (and I know that you ALL have been!) about my work out and diet plan, let me confess. It hasn't been that easy over the past week. Work is intense and is only going to get more intense as the fourth quarter continues (OMG I sound SO grown up when I say things like that). That means stress-eating triggers and trouble working out at night due to um, collapsing onto the sofa as soon as my 10-11 hour workday concludes. Therefore, I am about to make another sweeping declaration a la Marshall (if you watch HIMYM, you will get that reference; if not, well that is just your loss).

Sweeping Declaration: I am going to start working out in the morning. That is the ONLY solution I can come up with. I simply cannot work 9 a.m. - 7 p.m. or 8 p.m., non-stop with no breaks, drive home 30 minutes and then work out immediately. It is not in me. Eating dessert in lieu of dinner is in me. Putting my pjs on and watching shitty TV saved in my DVR is in me. Writing a meaningless, pointless and relatively unread blog post is in me. BUT, working out after a long day at the office is not in me. So, that leaves me with only one option: Stay fat - I mean, get up in the morning and work out. I'm going to try tomorrow. I'll keep you posted. Because, duh, I have a blog and by golly, I'm going to use it.

Saturday, October 1, 2011

I Wish...

When You Wish Upon A Star...

Do you make wishes? I'm sure you do. Everyone does. Except for one co-worker who once told me this horrible story about how his older sister ruined his third birthday and every wish moment thereafter by telling him that wishes don't come true after three-year-old co-worker proclaimed his wish of goggles for his birthday gift. He doesn't make wishes anymore...sniff.

Anyway. Wishes. I make them. Upon a star, on an eyelash, when the clock turns 1:11, or 4:44 (because four is my favorite number). When I find a stray eyelash on my cheek, I always wish for health. Always have. And, I wish and hope and pray for world peace, and an end to world hunger and an end to the continual degradation of our planet. But, those are things that, you know, not really something I think I can wish away on an eyelash unfortunately. So, this post is about other random shit I wish for - in no particular order...

Wish 1: I don't claim to know what it feels like to be married. I don't know how it feels to be fully committed to someone and all the good and bad things that may come with that. In the same regard, if you haven't been 34 and single, don't act like you know what it feels like to be me. Or any other single person over 30. It's weird out here in Singleville. And, it is sometimes lonely. So, I WISH that some people would stop being Judge Judy McJudgey about anything I do and go back to The Land of Married. K?

Single Woman Holding a Rose clipart
Being single sucks the most when you have the flu
and there is no one to bring you ginger ale in bed. There are other things I miss too...
but my mother reads this blog.

Wish 2: I WISH that my bangs looked as cute as Zooey Deschanel's bangs do. I also WISH that Zooey Deschanel's name wasn't so f-ing hard to spell.
Zooey...I want your hair
Zooey, be my friend?
Wish 3: I WISH that wine was calorie- and hangover-free. I miss wine. I WISH I had some wine right now. I shall make do with wHine.

Wish 4: I WISH that that Primetime TV started at 7 p.m. on the east coast. I don't like to stay up until 11 p.m. to watch TV. I know this is a lame and whiny wish - but see Wish #3 and wHine. Oh and don't just say to DVR it. I have to keep up with the shows or the shows have babies while they are in the DVR and by the weekend there are lots of shows that I need to watch, thereby eliminating any hope for productivity on the weekend. So I accept my fate as an east coast resident and stay up. I'm a real trooper.

Wish 5: I WISH that people were more tolerant, loving and accepting. I'm still kind of confused as to why people fight over religion or "in the name of" religion,  (Hi! Let's blow each other up because we believe in different gods, who coincidentally want us to be peaceful and love each other - hey wait a second, something sounded flawed in my argument just then...) and why some people care who other people marry. From where I stand (well, currently I'm sitting with my ankle elevated because I rolled it sliding into second base in last night's softball game) there isn't much to discuss. I get to marry who I want (which at THIS POINT would be anyone. No I'm not desperate, geez.) and you can marry who you want and we can all have some nice calorie-free wine together. Bam. I should be like president or something. I am a problem-solver.

Wish 6: I WISH Snooki wouldn't wear those white fuzzy boots. It looks like she is wearing two white Pomeranians on her feet.
 Call the ASPCA. Or PETA. Or the Fashion Police.

Wish 7: I WISH that I enjoyed cooking. Frankly, I hate to cook. I only enjoy eating which is why I let Whole Foods cook for me. Or Jenny Craig. Or Marie Calendar. Or Amy - what is Amy's last name? Anyway, they are all nice ladies who make me frozen dinners.

Wish 8: I'm not going to WISH that I lose the rest of my weight because I can't wish it away, I have sweat it off my ass. But, here is what I do wish. I WISH that I keep my boobs when I do lose the weight because boobs are the only bonus to getting fat.

Wish 9: I WISH I was a mother. Hopefully all of my eggs haven't evaporated already...cuz I know that my kids would be super cute and very well dressed. And, I need some small humans to buy stickers and school supplies and glitter barrettes for because it is hard to pull off stickers when you are 34.

Wish 10: I WISH that I didn't have cankles. And I do. Have cankles. They aren't fat. My ankle bones are huge. And, until last night I thought that the bonus to having ginormous German cankles was that they were unbreakable, invincible really - and then I slid in a softball game after not sliding for 17 years and, well, it turns out that giant German bones can be twisted after all. So, now there really IS NO reason to be okay with The Cankles.
Proof that The Internet has clip art for every situation.
So, there you have it. Ten excellent wishes that you can feel free to borrow if you are short on wishes. If you wouldn't mind wishing about the cankles, I'd appreciate it. I've always wanted to wear ankle strap heels and frankly it is not a good idea at the moment (see above diagram).

Tomorrow, I'm going to Michael's to buy a -- wait for it -- darning needle. Because I am that exciting and because... I want to finish these cool knitted cowl neck things that I've made and I need a darning needle which someone got misplaced somewhere between Denver and Damascus. Probably some bitch in Nebraska is using my darning needle right now. Anyway, point is, I'm going to finish up my projects and post them so you can exalt in my crafting skills. Don't get so excited that you hold your breath until tomorrow!!

xoxo

Thursday, September 29, 2011

i have no witty title for this blog post




I'm tired tonight so this entry is probably going to be hard to follow. If you want to stop reading now, I understand.

Why am I tired? Well, last night I enjoyed an entertaining evening of Hooters Trivia. I enjoyed the experience for a few reasons. #1 - I discovered that Hooters serves cheap ass beer. Which is great for me since I enjoy cheap ass beer. #2 - Trivia questions at Hooters are really, really easy. I actually think they were adapted from "Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader?" It's also amusing answering questions asked by girls wearing sexy school girl costumes.
Hooters of America
Sexy Schoolgirl Hooters Girl: "What does af...af...af (covers mic, "How do you pronounce this word?) affluent mean?"
That was one of the questions last night. So awesome.

Okay, so we've established I'm tired. But, I woke up this morning all cheerful and you know why? Because I discovered Warm Cinnamon Sugar Cookie coffee creamer. And it's delicious. I know it is filled with trans fat that is hidden amongst other ingredients and it has horrible fake sweeteners in it. But, you know what? My skin lotion, hair products, makeup, nail polish and just about anything I put on my body is paraben and toxin-free. The Sugar Cookie creamer is LIMITED EDITION. So, I am going to go right ahead and wake up every freaking morning and drink my coffee with the delicious yet poisonous creamer. And I am going to enjoy it.
 
Warm Cinnamon Sugar Cookie (liquid)
I'm chock full of trans fats! And, I'm delicious!
On to the next thing that I currently excited about. It's FALL so that means caramel apples in the stores!! Here's the really exciting part... this is my first fall back in MD (fully) and I can enjoy caramel apples dipped in crushed peanuts! In CO, they only sell caramel apples dipped in... rice krispies. They are called Daffy Apples and they are disgusting. Eww. So I am super excited about the whole peanuts on the caramel apple thing and partake in this fall tradition which I have missed so.

Yes, a new season is upon us and it just makes me happy. I love seasons and all the seasonally fun stuff you can do! Football! (well, Tailgating!) Knitting! Pumpkin picking! Sweaters! Fun socks! I'm giddy on the possibilities! You enjoy this fall weekend, y'all! OMG I am so tired I'm giddy and overusing exclamation points. It's time for bed. (!!!!!!!!)

The arrival of sweater season has coincided perfectly with my new habit of eating every carb I can possibly wedge inside my body.

Monday, September 26, 2011

I am The Biggest Loser


I am The Biggest Loser. Yup. The biggest.

Don't worry, I'm not sliding back into a puddle of self-loathing. I actually AM my office's Biggest Loser! I won the contest! $740 smackers!

Funny Workplace Ecard: It's the small victories that prevent me from jumping out the window.
Isn't that just sooooo exciting? Aren't you just jumping up and down in sheer joy for me? You aren't? Geez, what kind of blog follower ARE YOU? It's okay. I forgive you. I can't afford to lose any blog followers at this point.

All it took to win was 16.5 pounds lost, primarily from my ass cheeks and face. If I had to guess, I'd say 10 pounds off the ass and about 6.5 pounds off my pumpkin head. I think I saw a cheekbone the other day so we're making some progress. But, I hadn't eaten or drank any water for about 12 hours at that point, so the cheekbone could have been a delusion, a mirage of some kind.

 After I weighed in, I promptly guzzled about 20 oz of water because I was about to dry up and blow away from dehydration, then launched right into what can once again be called... BAGEL WEDNESDAY! Woot Woot.

I fess up...after the contest was over, I did have a few days of off-plan eating. Really off-plan eating. For instance, tator tots and ranch dressing are not diet-friendly." However, it is Michelle-friendly. Yum. And, yum.

But, after a few days of some indulging, I woke up this morning ready to get right back on track with eating right and exercising. It's back to a more moderate routine (which is good because by last Wednesday at 9:55 a.m. I was ready to murder someone/eat packing peanuts/eat packing peanuts while murdering someone.)

So, with the world/scores of loyal readers/my cats as my witness, here is what I am commiting to:

1200 calories a day
2x a week strength training - Barre 3 workout
3x a week cardio - 30-45 minutes
Plan for any splurges with an extra workout.

With those committments stated, I'm signing off. So many new tv shows, so little time. Don't worry, I'll do squats while I watch.

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Raindrops On Roses and Whiskers on Kittens

I thought it might be fun to do a post on some of my favorite things. Because I know you, my dear readers, are interested. Well probably not, but whatever. Coming up with blog topics isn't as easy as you might think. 

So, while Julie Andrews may have the market cornered on bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens, these are a few of MY favorite things… 

Almay Intense eye liner in Black Pearl -  this stuff is the bomb. It goes on smoothly, even though it is a pencil, and it stays put. I love it. You should love it too. 

intense i-color eyeliner

Clinique lip gloss in Air Kiss and Black Honey – I love Clinique’s lip products. The almost-lipstick and the lip gloss are fantastic. They stay put but aren’t crazy in your face bright or shiny. Just perfect for a natural beauty such as myself. 
Clinique Black Honey
Chacos flip-flops – these babies are orthopedically correct and feel better than walking in slippers. I wear them every day. They are like $60 but totally worth it. 
Flip Ecotread
Danskos Mary Janes – I love these shoes because a)my heel spurs don’t hurt when I wear them and b) the Mary Jane style is still a little cute, and you can see cute socks through the cut-outs.
Danskos!
Lion Brand Wool-Ease Chunk yarn – this yarn knits up so quickly, you can knock out a scarf/hat/whatever in no time flat. Plus it is not too spendy so its great for holiday gifts.
Alba and Burt’s Bees and St. Ives beauty products – I love these products because they are non-toxic -- paraben-free AND cruelty free. They offer great products for a variety of needs and they aren’t going to poison you. I use Alba moisturizer, Burt’s Bees anti-aging creams and serums, and St. Ives body wash and Apricot scrub.
Burt's Bees

Pinterest.com – If you are a true fan of this blog, you will have already read about my obsession with Pinterest.com. I blame my sister in law for this. She introduced me to it. But this website is so cool. It is a great place to house ideas and products you adore, plus gather and save new ideas. Heart it. 

NCIS is the best show ever broadcast in the whole wide world. Primarily because it stars Mark Harmon, who play Jethro Gibbs, who is my imaginary tv character husband. Secondly, it stars Michael Weatherly, who plays Anthony DiNozzo, whom I will marry after my first husband kicks it because he's a lot older than me. Also, Abby and Ziva? Bad ass chicks.
Mark Harmon
Pam Dawber who? I LOVE Plumpty Dumpty Bloggesses.


One of my favorite bands right now is The Avett Brothers. Their songs make me happy and sad at the same time. Also, the lead singer is so hot; if you know anyone that that looks like him and has a fondness for plumpty-dumpty brunettes, you just pass along this here blog web address.
Avett Brothers
I am a brother Avett and I look hot in my hippie folk guy outfit.
 My favorite flower...peonies are so beautiful.
peonies
There is nothing clever to say about me.

I am not a big fan of protein bars; they either taste like crap or they taste great but they are not great for you. That's why I am so happy that some nice lady named Lara created Larabars. They are totally natural bars - fruit and nuts. They taste yum and they are good for you - yay! My favorites are Cashew Cookie and Chocolate Chip Peanut Butter.

I taste extra special good when you have biked for hours and are super duper hungry
and I am stashed in your bike jersey.
My favorite food in the whole entire world (other than cream of crab soup, eggplant parmesan, saag paneer (Indian creamed spinach), chicken tikka masala and um, a bunch of other things) is GUACAMOLE! And the best kind you can buy is Whole Foods' housemade. So utterly delicious.


Hi. I'm Delicious.


























Sooo... that's all for now. I am having a hard time blogging about food when I am in starvation mode until 10 a.m. tomorrow. Cheerio! Dammit. Even my goodbye is a food reference.

What's one of your favorite things? Leave me a comment!

Monday, September 19, 2011

If I Could Eat This Blog, I Would

 
 
Today, I am about as crabby and bitchy as I could be. Like, if PMS mated with a crazy zombie and had a crazy PMS-enraged zombie baby, that’s how bitchy I am right now. I barely made it through the work day without inflicting bodily harm on anyone. Why so bitchy, you ask? Well, I have been barely eating for the last few days and limiting my fluid intake, while upping my cardio, in order to shed as much water weight as possible in order to win the Biggest Loser contest on Wednesday. I have 1.5 days left. **Warning** If I do not win this contest at my office, I may possibly get violent with the jackass guy whose plan all along was to dehydrate himself drastically in the days before and beat me at the end through total water weight alone. He’s already done this once in another session of this stupid contest before I worked here. So, if he does this again and comes from behind to beat me after I’ve head the lead almost the whole time AND after I current have a 9% lead on him, I am going to go Kung-Fu Panda on his ass. I don’t even know what that means because I never saw that movie, but if that 300-pound beast thinks I can’t inflict pain on him, he is seriously underestimating the power and determination of a hungry, bitchy woman.  


Before anyone tells me that my strategy isn’t a good one, and that water weight doesn’t stay off, let me assure you – I know this. I have lost just shy of 15 pounds at this point; anything over that I know will be water weight. However, if the guys are going to play that game to win $740, then I am too. So, I just have to tough it out. But that doesn’t mean that I have to like it.   

To distract myself from the gnawing (I HATE words with silent Gs; silent Gs are so stupid) hunger and thirst and burning pain in my quads from doing more cardio this week than I enjoy doing in a year, I am spending the evening blogging and watching season premieres on TV. I’m looking forward to How I Met Your Mother (but I swear are they EVER going to get to the WHERE HE ACTUALLY MEETS HEIR MOTHER??) and Castle, even though Beckett was shot in the finale and we are led to believe she’s going to die. To the writers I say, really? The television viewing public is not THAT stupid. I highly doubt the hot female lead that every plot revolves around will get killed off. So, although I am looking forward to the show because I have no life and I am bitchy and need to be distracted, I haven’t been losing sleep about old Kate Beckett’s demise on the show. 

I’m also trying to find a good Halloween costume online. I am going to a Halloween party this year with a friend (a fundraiser that is held every year and supposedly a blast) and I want to have a good costume. The problem is that I enjoy costumes with a little substance. I don’t to be one of 10 “sexy cops” or 100 “sexy [insert ANYTHING here]. Not to mention that after looking online at the costume offerings, those “sexy” costumes look like they’d barely cover my ass, which we’ve already established as NOT SMALL. (Although I did look at the measurement guide and according to that I could fit into the costumes. I’m just not sure if I want to.)  At the moment, though, I am drawing a blank on ideas, probably because my brain is slowly atrophying from the lack of nutrients. Any suggestions? I don’t like scary or ugly. Help me. I beg of you.

Funny Halloween Ecard: If you dress like Snooki for Halloween, I'm going to punch you in the face.

Friday, September 16, 2011

A Reason for Everything



I have several random thoughts I'd like to get out of the way first, and then we are going to tackle something I think about often. No, not George Clooney and I being the last two people on Earth and having to mate or else risk extinction of the human race. Although, that crosses my mind occasionally. No, what I'd like to ruminate on is that there is a purpose, a reason, for everything that happens in life.

But first things first.

1. To anyone who didn't experience the bootie (booty?) shoe (boot?) trend in the mid-90's, I'd like to just take a  moment and explain why you should pass on this footwear option in 2011. As someone who owned not one, but three pairs of these "booties" in high school, the big issue here is that they don't really satisfy any category, thereby leaving you wanting more. They are more than a shoe but leave a lot to be desired in the boot department. I feel like I need to impart my wisdom and fashion sense on someone and the cats don't wear shoes often, so I'm telling you - YOU - instead. Buy some boots.
Or, purchase some shoes. Pass on the booties. Earthies - Halley

2. Why is there a show called Wipeout First Date Edition? Is dating not hard enough, cruel television executives? Why must you add wet suits, helmets and obstacles coated in strange and probably toxic foam cushioning to the mix? Why? Because after seeing me in a wet suit and helmet getting my ass knocked into a pool after slipping off a weird turning machine, some guy is going to want to then go out with me again? See, I just don't think anyone put a lot of thought into this one. Why am I not consulted on stuff like this? I have a blog. I have SIX followers. I know stuff. Consult me!

3. Um, I think that's all I really wanted to rant about. On to "Everything Has a Reason" otherwise titled...
Everything Better F-ing Happen For a Reason or I Am Going to Be Really Pissed In The End

Haha. That was joke. I really do think everything happens for a reason. It has taken me a LONG time to realize and accept this but I do now. For instance, I do a lot of bitching on this here bloggy blog. I complain about my weight, about living in cowtown, about living with my parental units, about being single (geez, I DO complain a lot - why is anyone reading this shit?) But, really I am mocking life situations in a self-deprecating manner. That's totally different than complaining. Because I'm actually not complaining. My life is pretty good. Of course I want to change some things, but what's great is I can identify these things and make those changes happen. I am ready to move ahead. I feel good. I embrace all of my life experiences because it has made me into the person I am today. A bitter, self-deprecating cat lady, you ask? NO! A grateful and humble person who appreciates the everyday beauty in life, who has amazing friends and family, who wants to be healthy inside and outside for the right reasons -- a person who is embracing all of the potential and possibilities of the future.

It was not always so.

I spent years 16 - 30something living my life for the men I dated. I didn't realize it at the time, although I know my mother did. (Because my mother knows everything, blah blah blah.) I didn't develop my own sense of self, cultivate my strengths or most importantly, embrace my weaknesses. I thought that my boyfriend would complete me. We'd get married, we'd have kids, I'd make Jello Jigglers as a PTA mom and - welll, that is about as far as I got in my life scenario.

Since I'm single and the only thing jiggling in my life are my thighs, you have probably figured out that the above life plan did not come to fruition for me. Blame it on whatever you want - I have terrible taste in men (I usually pick 'em needy and helpless), I messed up things when they were good, I just didn't meet the right person. Regardless, I am still single.

The common fundamental problem in all my relationships has been me.
This can't be true? Can it?

When I was 25, I moved to Colorado to begin a new chapter in my life with someone that I thought was "The One." I thought we'd get married. I thought this because he told me that we would, so I didn't just dream this shit up. I was as wrong about that as I was about wearing those booty shoes in 1992. We broke up after three years.

But, guess what? I am so happy I moved to Colorado. I am so happy that we broke up. If we hadn't broken up, I'd be divorced right now. If I hadn't moved to Colorado, many things wouldn't have occurred that have made me the person I am today.

I wouldn't have meet amazing people who will remain lifelong friends. These people were and are my lifelines. These are women and men who helped me move, brought me Gatorade when I was sick, invited me to holidays, let me be godmom to their kids, spent hours talking, laughing, drinking, knitting, et al, with me. I am forever changed for the better by the friends I made in Colorado and I would have never met these wonderful humans if I hadn't dated Mr. Colorado. Going a step further - what wonderful and awesome people have I met and reconnected with since moving back? And, who is still out there just waiting to be my friend?? :)

I wouldn't have Rocky and Gus Gus if I hadn't moved to Colorado. These two furry munchkins are my little buddies. They keep me company when I am alone, lay next to me when I am sad, and greet me when I come home. Say what you will about me finding other cats that I'd love just as much, but these two cats are my babies and I can't imagine having any other animal children.

I would not have my current job if I hadn't moved to Colorado. The skill set I developed and the confidence I gained while working for the bank in Denver in community relations and marketing, not to mention my networking skills that I picked up there, helped me land this job. (Holy Run-On Sentence, Batman.) Not only that, but taking the There Is A Reason For Everything theme to another level, if I hadn't worked as a brokerage assistant briefly before moving to Colorado, I wouldn't have known my former boss, who hired me to edit his book when I returned back to MD last year. If I hadn't been editing the book, I wouldn't have met my collaborator, who runs an investment publishing company and who decided he liked me and hired me as a marketing manager. And, I love my job now. I feel confident and fulfilled in my job. There is room for growth. There are challenges. I feel motivated. All because I worked for the bank. In Colorado.

If I had not dated Misters A, M, R, T, R (again), L, P, E, A2, Mr. Colorado, M, and M2... I would not be the person I am today. Every single person I have had a relationship with has taught me a lesson. Mr. P taught me how to make a killer eggplant parmesan. He also taught me that I will never again accept being verbally abused. Several of the intellectually-challenged ones taught me that I need a partner who is smart. Someone that keeps me engaged. From Mr. Colorado I learned that I need someone social, who likes to be out and about, who wants to meet and hang out with my friends. I realized that I needed someone with a sense of humor after dating Mr.T who was hot, but who didn't make me laugh. And, ALL of them taught me that I don't need to change myself to fit their definition of what they wanted in a woman. The last guy, Mr. M, didn't understand why I ended things immediately after he said that my hair length was a mutual decision between me and him, and why I was bothered when he kept asking me to change certain parts of myself just a smidge. And, I'm not talking about him wanting me to stop smoking crack in an alley. Cuz I don't. Smoke crack. In an alley, at least. (KIDDING...)

But, after YEARS of on-the-job experience, I finally have learned that I do not need to change for anyone. I am good enough, just as I am.

I guess my point of this rather wordy post is that, all jokes and kidding aside about my cat-hair infested life in my parents' basement, I am okay. I am worthy. I am happy. I am working on getting happier. It is not too late for anything. One day, someone is going to love me for me, for all of me. That person will love me for my tendency to over-share, for my love of sparkles and glitter, for my sometimes witty, sometimes annoying, banter. I will be loved for my over-sensitivity, for my bleeding heart, and for my tendency to talk to animals and inanimate objects, as well as for my stubborn streak, my distaste for early mornings, and the fact that I turn into a grump when I am tired. Someone is going to want to go out for my favorite meal (brunch), will want to spend Sundays reading the paper and drinking coffee with me, and will accept that I only like sports when there is beer involved. 

If we were snow monkeys, I'd pick dead skin and insects off your fur even if I wasn't looking to mate.
There is a man out there who will love me so much that he will indeed say this. True story.
 

I'm thankful everything has happened in my life exactly the way it has because all of the experiences, all of those pieces of my heart that I gave out and never got back, all of the days when I didn't feel good enough or the years when I didn't know what I wanted to do for my career --- those were all teaching me to love myself as I am and have confidence in my abilities. It took me awhile but I finally get it. Before I could be loved by anyone else, I needed to learn to love myself. 
 I am enough.
There IS a reason for everything. We just have to embrace it.

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Mid-Week Mashup

  


**NOTE: I know it is hard to believe, what with my very technologically advanced blog here, but I am actually not very good with tech-ish stuff. So, no, I don't know why my margins are screwed up and no,  I don't know why my cool graphics (which I JUST figured out how to do) aren't all centered like I politely asked them to be. Just be happy you have pictures to look at, okay? End Note.**

It's Wednesday. Which I used to call Bagel Wednesday because my company likes to food push and as such, they provide delicious, fresh, bagels and cream cheese to employees every Wednesday morning. But, since refined carbs are the enemy, today has been reduced to merely "Wednesday." Other food pushing examples from my office include: Recognition Pizza Day (once a month), Chocolate Day (once a year), Fourth of July Pie Day (hopefully you'll understand that this too is only once a year), Tailgating Cook-out (which is once a year and happens to be tomorrow) and Ice Cream Truck Thursdays.

But, I digress. My brain is fried from lack of bagels and too much worky worky, and I can't think of a good post topic. So I am going to post train-of-thought and you can just try to keep up.

Good news on the Fat Ass Front - I am down another 2.5 pounds, bringing the grand total of pounds lost to 12.5 pounds, or Mary-Kate Olsen. There is only one week left in my office Biggest Loser contest and I am currently in the lead. Besides bragging rights, the real bonus is a $740 cash prize. That would buy me a lot of bagels. Or, wine. 
 
 
    I weigh less than Michelle's ass!
So, I need to be super good. I passed up on a work happy hour tonight AND Bubbas softball trivia tonight in order to eat plain grilled chicken and steamed green beans. (Thanks, Pops!) Now I am blogging. With all the extra workouts I'm getting in on the keyboard, I am really starting to see the definition in my fingers. I gave myself a break on cardio tonight (other than a walk) because my knee is killing me from all the workouts I've added in. I'm not whining (okay, I am totally whining) but extra weight puts extra strain on your joints. My poor fat knees needed a break.


I hope months of starvation, obsessive exercise, and painful grooming will get boys to notice the inner me.


Anyway, even though I didn't go this time, I'm super duper happy that I got invited to a work happy hour. Cuz like, you know, I like happy hours. And, friends. Yay! Friends! That don't live in the basement and have four paws. Yay!

What else? Oh yeah, I'm due for a crafting update. Actually, it is probably a crafting introduction. Um. I like to craft. Mainly I knit and felt (for anyone who is not a crafting geek, felting is when you shrink wool down into a felt-like fabric. You can make all sorts of fun stuff out of it. There's needle felting too - which involves a barbed needle and is a great stress reliever.) I am trying to branch out into other crafts, such as this coaster project I want to complete and some other nifty craft ideas that I found on Pinterest.com. Tangent alert ---- Pinterest is like THE coolest website in the Land of Websites. Check it out - you can follow me on there too if you really have no life.

Okay, pulling myself back to topic... so, yes, I love to craft. The funny thing is that my favorite medium is woolen yarn and I am actually very allergic to wool. When I knit with it I have to take breaks because my hands start to itch so much. But, it is so versatile, I still insist on using it. Why? Because...
Image of Knitting Takes Balls T-Shirt (Women's)

I think that might be enough random subjects to tackle in just one little bitty post. Plus, the Kate + 8 series finale just came on the TV and I am retching involuntarily so I have to stop typing to change the channel. Until next time, dear readers.

P.S. I'd like to give a shout out to my fellow bloggess and friend, The Swim Diva! She has a super fabulous blog and knows how to do fancy things like make pictures appear and such. Thank you for introducing me to someecards!

Peace out, peeps.




Monday, September 12, 2011

When I'm Walkin', I Strut My Stuff

Today one of my favorite songs came on the radio as I drove home from the office. Blister in the Sun by Violent Femmes. I cranked up the radio and sang along and reminisced about my college years - that song takes me back to 1997 and CVP in Towson, MD. (RIP CVP)


Now, I don't want to be in college again. I wouldn't mind looking like I did when I was 21, but I definitely appreciate the maturity that has come with 13 more years of living. (Insert joke about my lack of maturity here.) But, I do miss some things about college. It was a fun-filled four years; what isn't to miss? And, since my fans (Hi, Kamiar and Leah!) were just begging for another post, here's a little comparison of my college memories and my mid-thirties reality. 


Then & Now


In college, I stayed up all night partying at the bars and still got to class on time the next morning. I actually even had an 8 a.m. accounting class. In my mid-thirties,I stay up all night watching bad reality TV or writing a blog that four people read, and barely drag myself out of bed in time to get to the office where I have to drink three cups of coffee before I will speak to a co-worker.


In college, I don't remember paying for a drink; I just always had one in my hand. It helped that I dated a bartender. (Smart, right?) In my mid-thirties, I most definitely pay for my own drinks and then also pay for them the next day with a headache.


In college, if Blister in the Sun came on at the bar, we would all sing and dance along like nuts. Especially when the really quiet part starts and you got really low to the ground and then danced your way back up to jumping up and down and screaming! That was fun, yeah? In my mid-thirties, I don't think I could get back up if I tried to dance that close to the ground.


In college, we would get ready to go out to the bars around 10 p.m. and we'd dance on our beds, singing to the Forrest Gump soundtrack and pre-gaming. In my mid-thirties, the only thing I am getting ready to do at 10 p.m. is go to sleep.


In college, I thought nothing of cramming seven teenagers into my 1990 Isuzu Impulse hatchback and heading downtown for the night. In my mid-thirties, I just posted a rant on Facebook about bratty teenagers who tailgate. (In my defensive, I didn't tailgate - even as a teenager...)


In college, it made perfect sense to wear tiny t-shirts and cute but painful heels, even in the winter, even in the snow. You didn't want to ruin your outfit with a coat, for goodness sake! In my mid-thirties, I just purchased orthopedically correct shoes as a Fall "splurge" (they are actually cute, really!) and am a big fan of dressing appropriately for the weather.


In college, I was really good at beer pong. In my mid-thirties- well, actually, I am still really good at beer pong.


In college, a hangover could be thwarted by eating preventative pizza at 4 a.m., sleeping until 3 p.m. and then going back out the next night. In my mid-thirties, a hangover involves several days of misery and cold sweats. Pizza consumption has been discontinued as the only thing it prevents now is me fitting into my pants.


In college, my favorite part of Thursday nights was $0.25 beer and pizza slice night at the Italian place across from TSU. In my mid-thirties, I pay $9.00 for a glass of pinot grigio, and my favorite part of Thursday nights is Jersey Shore.


Before you think all I did in college was party, I would like to note that I graduated magna cum laude. So, I did study! Although I don't really know HOW after re-reading the above... 

Friday, September 9, 2011

Estrogen Lair

After leaving Chez Cat Hair in Denver last fall, I moved back in with the 'rents (for details, see Blog Post #1). They were sweet enough and thoughtful enough to refinish the basement for me. It is lovely. Upon moving in, I christened it The Estrogen Lair and Rocky, Gus Gus and I settled right in.


In the Estrogen Lair, everything is served with a side of cat hair. In the Estrogen Lair, everyone knows your name, and your name is Meow.


In the Lair, the DVR is a sacred object. I love my DVR. If you said, choose Gus Gus the Cat or your DVR, I would choose my DVR. (Okay, I probably wouldn't, BUT it would be a tough choice.) Anyway, the best thing about my DVR is that it facilitates my polygamist lifestyle. Yes, I am a make-believe, TV-character polygamist. Sue me. You see, I have several husbands - and they visit every week, usually during Prime Time.


Tuesdays are reserved for Mark Harmon and Michael Weatherly, aka Jethro Gibbs and Tony Dinozzo on NCIS. It gets a little tricky at times juggling both of them, but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.


Wednesdays, oh ... they are reserved for Shemar Moore. AKA the finest specimen in existence. If you aren't obsessed with crime dramas and actually HAVE a life and don't know who Shemar Moore is, he plays Derek Morgan on Criminal Minds. And, oh what a mind. I love the way his mind looks in those tight t-shirts he wears to solve gruesome and misogynistic crimes every week.


I could go on... there are other crime dramas and there are other men. But, I will spare you. And before you call Shephard Pratt - I know these are fictional characters. Don't have me committed yet. (But, seriously, have you SEEN Shemar Moore's arms in those t-shirts?? I was distraught when he was promoted and had to wear a suit.)


I think I shall devote one entire future post to Mark Harmon, the original Silver Fox. Or maybe Chris Noth on The Good Wife. Or Josh Whats-His-Name on the same show (lucky Alicia!) Or, Simon Baker on The Mentalist. But, for now, I really should get back to lint rolling my sweaters.