Wednesday, December 31, 2008

schmerica, i hope you don't mind...

...but I just had to.

To everyone out's just one reason why my friend Schmerica (Erica) is one of my bestest friends ever.

This is the Nativity Scene she and her boyfriend created this year:

Best. Thing. Ever.

Tuesday, December 30, 2008

slothy...but you love it.

Yes, yes. I know. No updates in for-EVER. Look, with the holidays and whatnot, I've been busy. Forgive me?

Great, let's just move forward and put this all behind us.

Don't give me any of that lip. I know, I know. I've failed you. I've let you down. Now sit down, shut up, and open wide for a heaping helping of randonimity.

1.) My cell phone is suffering from a hefty case of dementia. How so, you ask? Well, first of all, it tells me it's charging...all the time. And it actually believes it's charging itself...without the use of a charger. No shit. It even goes so far as to show me that it's fully charged, before being sucked back into reality and proceeding to show me that in the real world it only has one battery bar left.

Hell, the damn thing doesn't even shut off anymore. Nope. It likes to pretend it's charging when the power is off. And, when the charger is plugged into the phone? Well, it doesn't charge.

It also doesn't like me to tell it what volume it should be set at, and has lost all use of it's motor skills, as it no longer vibrates. It's kind of like a volume lottery; I turn the phone on, and it randomly chooses how loud or soft it chooses to ring. Fun.

So, this prompted me to speed up the process of buying a new cell phone. And I have now officially entered the 21st century: I bought an iPhone.

I feel sort of bad. The first day my phone started showing symptoms of its circuit board deterioration, I said to it (literally), "You know, Phone, I always defended your simplicity. For 4 long years I stuck by you, regardless of how out-of-date you are. And now this? Could you please snap out of it?"

The phone was quiet for a few seconds, after which it replied, "Beep! Charging. Beep Beep! Not Charging. Beep! Charging. Beep Beep not charg-Beep! Charg-Beep beep! Not-Beep! Charging!"

I gave it a few days, after which I discovered I could no longer control its volume.

I became very introspective over the holiday. I realized that this would be my cell phone's last Christmas with me. I could not trust it alone, and I could no longer take care of it the way it needed to be taken care of.

So Sunday afternoon, I switched to AT&T and ordered my iPhone.

I still haven't broken the news to my old cell phone. I'm hoping that by the time my new phone arrives, Old Celly will have gone into full-blown amnesia and won't realize that when people dial my number, it's not her/him that rings, but the iPhone.

I plan to let him/her live out what's left of his/or her battery life until one day, well, one day I'll wake up and his/her screen will be forever dark.

It's sad, but it's for the best. You were a good friend to me you old hunk o' junk. You and your llama screen saver and your poorly made homemade ringtones. I'll miss the midi version of the Perfect Strangers theme song that you played as my alarm. I remember we won that one together...during a rousing game of Name That Tune- TV and Movie Edition back in December 2005. Ah...the memories.

Any how, the first app I plan to get for my iPhone is iFart. I think Old Celly would have enjoyed it.

2.) Christmas was pretty good, aside from the fact that I was PMSing like nobody's business. I swear, you could have seen this storm of irritation and destruction on a radar map. I was crabby as hell, and for no good reason.

Luckily, however, it quickly passed and left little damage. Which is good, because although celebrating Christmas with a hellfire attitude is pretty awful, starting the New Year with one is much, much worse.

3.) I've had a lot of time off of work due to the holidays (and this nasty chest and sinus cold). It makes me realize how much I love what I do and how great the company and the people I work for are. And how blessed and lucky I am to have what I have.

4.) Quitting smoking in March. Will keep you posted. Which reminds me, I need to track my cigarettes.

5.) Going to try and lose 30 pounds...again. To prepare, I've been stuffing my face with all things fattening...and drinking massive amounts of RC cola. Gotta get it while I can.

6.) Second City classes start in 2 weeks. Holy crap. I. Am. Stoked.

7.) Gonna learn to play guitar. That said, I'd like you to meet Otis:

I haven't yet purchased this glittery blue gem of a girly guitar (with a boy's name...after the great Otis of my musical heroes...), but I'm saving up. Then it's lessons at the Old Town School of Folk Music for me. Can't wait.

8.) I think that's it for now. And I will try really hard to update more often.

9.) Oh yes! There is other news. Part of my many New Year's Resolutions stems from the fact that I haven't seen enough movies. So, I will be resolving to watch at least one movie per week, and write what I learned from it. This also means there will be a new blog from me for you to be able to follow my progress and see what I discover: Cinematic Resolution

Feel free to take a sneak peek and bookmark it now. I plan to start promptly on January 1, 2009.

10.) Happy New Year to you all!

Thursday, December 18, 2008

one year ago today

So, I was trying to think why December 18th seemed to feel like it had some sort of meaning. And then it hit me: December 18th marks the one year anniversary of my college graduation.

It still seems weird to me, I mean, I spent so much time at Purdue. I worked super hard and I loved every minute of learning about all sorts of things...

...well, except for math...I avoided math by taking logic instead. And logic is just like math, but you're not solving number're solving all sorts of other cool problems. For example, our final group project was to use what we learned to come to a logical answer to the Kennedy assassination Magic Bullet Theory. Very interesting stuff.

But I digress, it's been an entire year since I ran through the halls of the Star Plaza theater...late to my own graduation, fearing that after all that time I wouldn't be able to walk or that I would have to be disruptive and try to sneak in and find my seat out of 500 graduates in the middle of the opening speeches.

I remembering running so fast that my little white collar thingy that the women had to wear, was falling off, blowing behind me, the sticky tabs holding it on getting stuck in my hair.

Luckily I found my place in line just in time. And as I sat there, waiting to finally get my degree, I remember thinking about Max, sitting there...likely bored out of his gourd, but the fact that he could experience this with me was incredible.

And afterwards, he handed me 2 dozen roses and his eyes just glittered with pride and excitement for me.

Then we went to one of those Japanese restaurants where they cook on your table and I got to try and flip and tap the spatulas on the cook top...which was hilarious.

I really can't believe that was a year ago.

Also, I guess this would be a good blog to let you all know that because I'm such a lover of learning things, I'm officially enrolled at the Second City training center Chicago! Woo!

My Level A classes begin Thursday, January 15th. So freaking excited.

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

i'm going to be blunt here...

I was driving today when "Magic Man" by Heart came on the radio. Now, the song itself---especially the lyrics--- is overtly sexual...there's no doubting that.

But there was something else I noticed while listening to the guitar solo...the guitar solo itself even sounds like sex. No really.

I was simply going to post that one song up here so you all could agree or disagree or come to your own conclusions about the guitar solo in "Magic Man," but as I looked for the song, I decided instead of creating a playlist with only one track, I should compile a list of sexy least sexy songs in my opinion.

So, if you're bored...take a listen to "Music is Sexy." They're songs I think are pretty darn hot-to-trot.

And at the very least, take a listen to "Magic Man" and just try to deny what I've said about the guitar in that song...

...I dare you.

Also, my bog layout hides the scroll bar on the if you need to scroll back up, just refresh my blog...sorry about that!

Monday, December 8, 2008

zig a zig---what?

Real quick, as I drove into work today I got stuck in a little construction traffic.

No matter, really, as I had the radio to keep me company. Of course, when the radio started playing the Spice Girls, I found myself at a crossroads.

Do I leave it on or switch the station? And for some odd reason, I was just pulled into the song...seriously. I could not turn it off to save my life.

What the hell does that mean?

Monday, December 1, 2008

bye, bye pescatarianism...

So, yesterday morning I battled a four-hour long gall bladder attack. Combine that with the fact that my Thanksgiving meal consisted of only plain mashed potatoes, bread, plain noodles, and green bean casserole, and I have come to the conclusion that I no longer wish to remain meatless.

However, I lasted nearly half a year AND I learned a little self-control when it comes to meal choices.

So I will commence eating meat moderation.

Saturday, November 22, 2008

halloween...very belated

My apologies for not posting these pics sooner, but I've been busy/lazy/absent-minded since the average temperature has dropped WELL below 50 degrees (Yay, Winter! ...feh...).

Anyhow, here are pictures from Halloween Weekend 2008...and yes, I had two costumes. Why? Well, I worked my ass off on the first one:

The Hunter Becomes The Prey
(Moose takes Sarah Palin. Win!!!!!1111)

Now, keep in mind that the costume was well over 8ft. tall, and the antlers were about 3 ft. wide, so my decision to change the costume for the next night weighed partly on this fact.

The other part was that not a lot of people got it at FIRST glance...upon second look they realized what I was, though, and laughter ensued..yadda yadda yadda.

But I took the costume rigging, and the next day went shopping with Jeff to create the second costume:

Off with Her Head!

It took about an hour because the hardest part (the rigging) was already done, and I think it came out well. It was also a lot easier to get around in...and, yes, I did tilt my head to the side ALL NIGHT.

Jeff went as a ShamWow, which was incredibly brilliant.

Again, it was hard for him to get around, but he did an awesome job and he got a lot of great response. And he was just plain hilarious!

And finally, there was Max's costume.

Max the Mummy

I think he's pretty lucky to have two really creative parents. Last year I made his Nutcracker costume by hand, and this year his Dad did the honors creating an awesome (and creepy) mummy costume.

He got so many compliments---even some extra candy! The funny thing? It consisted of a $3 second-hand sheet, some fake blood, black grease paint, and dirt. I'm telling you, it's amazing what a little thriftiness and ingenuity can create!

Thursday, November 20, 2008

will power

So, I'm pretty proud of myself at this very moment.

You see, I have always wanted to take improv classes. It's not that I think I'll ever be famous or make a career out of it (although the latter would definitely be awesome...).

I guess it's that I honestly believe it will help me come out of my safety zone so to speak. And, hopefully, keep my wit sharp and quick...which is important for a writer. Actually, I think it's important for anyone.

But I'm digressing. See, I decided that I wanted to take classes starting in January (which is the next session), but to do it, I needed to really tighten the purse strings and follow a strict budget. And no lie, the budget I've set is pretty tight.

Basically, for the next two or three months, I'm not allowing myself any more than $25 per week "fun money." This means any going out, lunches, make-up, clothing, etc. that I want, must cost less than $25 per week in total. It's crazy. (And, as a smoker, I have also set aside a cigarette budget...which may prove to hasten the quitting process as the stipend is only $30 every TWO weeks...meaning that I either need to smoke less or smoke cheap...both of which are good things because they will eventually start to ween me off completely. So yay for that.)

This is the first week of the new budget, and so far, I still have $12 left until Monday for fun money. Not a whole lot, but I decided to take the Skyway twice, and Max lost a tooth, so there went about 10 bucks at the beginning of the week.

So why will power? Well, first of all, I haven't gone out to lunch all week, and today my budget-strength was truly tested. A large group of my coworkers were heading out to lunch.

Last week, pre-budget, I would have said, "Screw it...what's $20.00?"

But today? Today I looked at the menu check to see if there were any low-priced appetizers, soups, or salads. And when there weren't? I politely declined the offer.

I think about how much I want three very important things that this new budget will provide:
1.) The improv classes.
2.) A good Christmas for Max and everyone else that I care about.
3.) Financial freedom and responsibility for the first time in my life. If I can learn to not have to live paycheck to paycheck, it will only help me. Especially in this economy. The more I save, and the more I learn to live off of less, the better I will be in the future. The better my family will be as well.

So, there will be no going out to lunch for me today. And that's okay. I brought some clam chowder to work anyways.

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

as natural a delivery as possible...

Saw an ad for this on a Chicago bus the other day...

I guess gas delivery doesn't really get anymore natural, now does it?

Well, unless you count the times I consume those football size burritos from the Hidden Cove...those within a 4 mile radius can arrest to the unnaturalness of my gas delivery...

Thursday, November 6, 2008

accepting our oddities

I want to just put something completely random out there. (I mean, this blog is called Daily Randonimity...)

So, I've been thinking...every one of us has some sort of weird habit or routine or whatnot, that, more often than not, we keep to ourselves---only to be exposed to those who are extremely close to us. (And even then, it usually comes up by accident...)

Since turning 28, I've felt like really taking an inventory of my life---and owning up to every thing about myself: the good, the bad, and the downright odd. I think that's because I've discovered that I have a lot to well, discover about myself still. But the first step is to really look at the whole picture. I mean, sometimes I can absolutely loathe myself (typically about 3-5 days in a row, per month...) and other times I embrace myself. Not physically embrace, but you know, I think about what makes me like and unlike others and I try to appreciate it all.

But for the most part, I fall somewhere in the day I'm loving the way my butt looks in my favorite pair of jeans, or the way I took something overwhelming and turned it into something pretty darn good...while at the same time I'm hating my oily forehead and its never-ending crop of new pimples, or the way I stutter and trip over my words when I talk (which is, oddly enough, one of the reasons I adore the written word so very much).

But I'm digressing.

So, I've realized (and perhaps some of you have too...) I have this...well...I have a slight vocal tick. No really. It's like a little hum or vocal sigh that I don't typically notice. It's actually pretty funny (especially when I catch myself doing it).

Jeff calls it "beeping" which is a pretty good description of the sound. But it's something I can't really control. It just happens.

For the most part, nobody ever brings it up. I'm pretty sure it's because they don't want to hurt my feelings or have no idea how to approach it. But really? It's not a big deal. It's just a part of who I am---and it's there isn't much I could do about it anyway.

But anyways, after 28 years, I've decided to stop feeling self conscious about it, and instead I'm just going to accept it as a quirky Tiff-ism. Inner-randonimity if you will.

And I'll tell you's pretty darn freeing...


Monday, November 3, 2008

i know, i know...

I haven't posted in a while...a long while. Busy times around here. But there are many pictures and some stories to post soon. Don't give up on the Randonimity...'ll be back in full effect soon enough. :)

Thursday, October 23, 2008

excuse the bitchin', i can't complain

So....yesterday...I was a bit of a bit----....grump, shall we say? Last night I ended up going to Mother's with Jeff, singing karaoke and enjoying birthday toasts with him and Matty, and even seeing an old live band karaoke friend who I haven't seen in years.

Of course, I've also learned that at 28, my body can't tolerate 3 Tom Collins, a Jagerbomb, Chambord and pineapple shot, and a BJ shot. In other words, my liver be painin' today.

Also, after waking up this morning I had:

  • About 10 calls from Max wishing me a happy birthday.
  • An inbox full of happy Birthday emails.
  • A card from Brynn on my chair at work
  • Said card had a button on it that reads," Another Year Sexier!" which I plan to wear all day.
  • A birthday work email, informing everyone that I also share my birthday with "Weird" Al Yankovic, among others...

    And, as I was getting ready, I was listening to the radio when Poison's "Nothing but a Good Time" came on.
First of all, that's just a great song to hear on your birthday (or any day) in general, but second, and most important, that was my dear friend Lewis's jam. We all sang it at his Live Band Karaoke memorial right after he passed. And when I heard it this morning, it was like he was sending me his birthday wish. Maybe that's mushy, but it meant a lot to me, and it made me realize that it's not about the parties or the celebrations---it's about the people you care about and who care about you.

And apparently, I'm fortunate enough to have a shit-ton of them. Love you guys!

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

for future reference...

Please, if I ever...EVER...discuss my birthday again, in terms of plans, parties, celebrations, etc., remind me to stop. Also remind me to not plan or get excited for said birthday because it tends to only blow up in my aging face and upset me for no reason, ruining an otherwise normal, yet decent day, and turning it into a day of self-pity and overall upsettedness.

I was doing so well, too. I guess I could measure some small amount of success in the fact that I didn't give a damn about my birthday until 3 days before. Usually I'm excited and planning for weeks. Unfortunately, I decided last minute to cram that excitement in anyhow, and, I am, questioning myself, pitying myself, and just feeling plain old.

But as it draws nearer (like, 12:22am tomorrow---which is almost still like a part of today...), it just gets worse and worse and I don't know whether to laugh or to cry. Last night I, of course, chose the latter.

Hell, I won't even be celebrating my usual Pioneer Tap birthday party. I won't even be going to the Tap tonight. Nope, I will be sitting on my almost-28-year-old ass, alone, watching TV, watching the clock strike 12:22am (that is, unless, I have fallen asleep as has been the case over the past few months), thinking, "It's my birthday. Whooptie-freakin-do. No one cares. I wish there was a damned new episode of Rock of Love Charm School on right now...but that's not til Sunday. Gosh, Tiff, you are getting old. 28? 28?! Really? Where the fuck did that time go? Holy shit. Old and sitting alone on a couch. On your birthday."

Who knows, maybe at that moment I'll let out a hilarious fart or something to shake me from the thoughts that will have, at that point, no doubt invaded my 2-years-away-from-30-sitting-alone-on-a-freaking-couch-on-my-birthday mind.

Let's see, a little under 7 hours to go.

(And that doesn't even count my birthday "party" on Friday...which at this point consists of 3 of them being myself. But I guess that's my fault for delaying the inevitable by trying to avoid celebrating my birthday in the first place and sending the invite only 3 days before the party. I can't freaking win, can I?)

Tuesday, October 21, 2008


Aw, fartknocker, dick hammer, douche bag, Muesli, banana nut bread, fermented olive loaf, monkey tail, whale taint, bunyon muffin, cracked egg, jelly skunk, rat fluffer, pudding wrench, starfish, pucker face, bicycle peddle, toot horn, frog nuts, spunk monkey, tractor breath, oat bran, fish Walter, funk drawer, butt rocket, crotch gun, mint nose, pineapple papaya, Dirk Diggler, poo poo beard, potty head, poot face, swamp sock, dick feed, jerky beefer, rank moldy toaster, Boxcar children, fruity tart, lacy poop, urine luck, potty cake potty cake bake this in your freakin' pan!!!!!! Argh.

...yes, I'm a little distressed at the moment.

Saturday, October 18, 2008

got mah' hair cutted

Fringe-y bangs---which work wonders for masking forehead breakouts...and lots of layers---keeping my length while cutting off a majority of my crunchy ends.

I love it. Tricoci does an amazing job with my hair every time, and the stylist I see charges a reasonable price, especially for the caliber of work she does. Not once have I ever walked out of that place disappointed when she's cut my hair. And I'm pretty picky about my coif. (Hey when your mom accidentally gives you a mullet your sophomore year in high school? Well, you become a little gun shy with your hair after that. Talk about traumatic...)

It was a little blustery out last night though, so I ended up hailing a cab right after I walked out of 900 N. Michigan. Usually I sit in front of the 4th Presbyterian Church (or, as I call it, "my pretty church") and watch people walking by. I'm not Presbyterian...heck, I'm not even what you'd consider religious, but there is something so beautiful and peaceful about that church that when I go to that neck of the woods, I feel I must sit and absorb it all in.

I guess I'm I'm a little sad I didn't get to do that this time.

However, I think the cab driver thinks that I work as a stripper. I left my car at work and caught a cab downtown to Tricoci. So, on the way back the cab driver asked where I needed to go. I told him the address, and he said, "Oh, you live by the horse barn."

I told him, "No, I don't live there, it's actually right next to where I work."

Then he got silent.

Then it hit me.

Next door to the horse barn is V.I.P.'s strip club. This is, of course, not where I work. But in that cabbie's mind? I'm sure it is.

Friday, October 17, 2008


So, Facebook is kind of a weird thing, right? I mean, you find people that you haven't seen/heard from/talked to in ages, add them to your list of friends, and then after a few small opening pleasantries, you don't really talk to them any more than you did before you found them on Facebook.

It's like you're keeping them in your back pocket, just in case you want to say hi, or see what's going on in their lives.

Of course, this isn't the only use of Facebook. I have plenty of friends that I do see on a regular basis that are also Facebook friends...and there's Word Twist. (Which, by the way, needs some sort of 12-step program add-on app.)

But back to that first see, I was checking my Facebook, as I so often do, when I saw that my good friend in high school and her husband (a guy I had dated for about 2 weeks back in high school), just had a baby boy. I am incredibly happy for them. Absolutely so.

However, it was also kind of weird. Probably because I've technically lost touch with them. But also because I'm beginning to feel how much time has passed since I was a teenager and we just talked about these kinds of things in our futures. Now, those things are actually happening.

Well, sort of. I mean, yes, I have a son. (An 8-year-old son...holy cat turds...eight?! Wow.) And yes, I was married...once...a long time ago...for a short time. But those things happened in my life when my friends were still just predicting those things in their futures.

I kind of feel like I'm in this odd place. Here I am, a pretty seasoned parenting least in terms of baby and toddlerhood...those teenager years scare the shit out of me more and more as they draw nearer...

but I have no close friends getting married, already married, with kids, expecting kids. Heck, I don't even understand that crazy mom-talk when I attend a party with other moms who've been leading, say, a more traditional life. It's like, I'm one half mommy and one half cosmopolitan. And I actually like that. You will never find me huddled in the kitchen with the other hens, talking about curtains, casseroles, or cat litter.

But at the same time, I guess I have this curiosity about what it's like to have friends my age with families. I mean, I have great friends and I love all of them. And this is not some sort of strange plea for them to all get hitched and pop out a couple of loin-fruits A.S.A.P.

Not at all. But when I see an old high school friend and her husband taking that next step in their lives, I find myself one part choked up, one part happy for them, and one part completely confused and weirded out.

Also, have I mentioned that I turn 28 next week? I feel like this could be the root of this particular issue..., am I where I'm supposed to be at 2 years til 30?

I guess so, because if not, then I'd be somewhere else...right?


Thursday, October 16, 2008

report cards and a head in the clouds

(Sorry I couldn't find a better version of this classic clip! Keep in mind, his teacher isn't like this lady. But listen to the part when John Candy responds to her calling his niece a "dreamer" and a "sillyheart." Also, I love, "I'm Buck Melanoma, Moley Russell's Wart." Ha! Ha!)

So, Max's dad calls me this morning to let me know that Max got his first report card for the third grade. It's also his first report card with actual grades on it. In other words? Pretty exciting times for all.

The basic run down was all A's, with a B in English and a B+ in Art. What's more? The kid made the freaking Honor Roll. Dude, I didn't make the Honor Roll until 5th grade, and here's my flesh and blood doing it on the first try. Amazing.

But it's not all fun and games at the House of Randonimity. You see, Max's teacher made a few comments on Max's overall behavior, attitude, performance, etc., over the first quarter.

He got high accolades for his behavior, but then she went on to write, "Maxwell needs to stop his constant daydreaming and forgetfulness. Does he have a regular bed time?"

Time the heck out. He made the freaking Honor Roll. He received A's and B's. And I'll have you know, he's not forgetful. He just tends to be a little like me when it comes to recalling things. It's not that he forgets something, he just doesn't feel like getting into it at the moment. So, his common response to most questions about his day or whatnot is, "I don't remember." He's freaking 8. And when he's ready, he'll be happy to talk about whatever you asked about.

But what gets my goat more is the daydreaming bit. Again...he's 8! He's got a head full of whimsical things. He's got ideas. He's got dreams. And guess what? Sometimes he gets lost in them. And he STILL gets A's and B's...even when his mind is up in the clouds.

I think his daydreaming is a good thing, and I'm not about to tell him to stop. In a world like this, sometimes all you have are your daydreams to keep you sane, and to keep you from falling into a rut. I'm proud that he knows that he can get lost in his thoughts when he feels the need to do so and take care of the important things---at the same time. That's not a boon to his education. It's a lesson in multitasking, dammit.

So, I say keep dreamin', little man. And keep doing what you're doing in your classes.

Also, he does have a set bedtime. But, again, he's 8. There are, of course, plenty of nights when he comes downstairs for his umpteenth glass of water, or an extra hug, or a re-do on the tucking in.

Thinking that an 8-year-old just falls asleep as soon as you tuck him in---every single night?

All I have to say is....who's the dreamer now, Teach?

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

quick bloggy about non-existent accents

I just got off the phone with my cousin Melissa and something occurred to me: for the past, oh, I don't know fifteen years or so, when talking to each other, we tend to talk with this strange made-up accent.

I can't really explain it. It sounds like we come from some conglomerate made up of places in Eastern Europe, Asia, Mexico, and Jupiter. It's kind of E.T.-like, but it has that definite ESOL touch. It's weird.

What's even weirder?

I don't think we realize we do it. I mean, until now that is. But I wonder how many times we've been somewhere when the other one calls, only to answer the phone like, "Heeeeello. Howwww are youuuuuuuuuu. Oh no no. Dat's okaey. Okaey. Byeeee-byeee." (As you can tell, it's really hard to type a made-up accent and make it fly.)

Perhaps I'll record a sample and let you guys be the judge on where this accent is possibly from.

Either that or just come up to me and ask me to do it for you. Because I totally will. Even if it means making a complete ass of myself...

...especially if it means making a complete ass of myself.

Tuesday, October 14, 2008


Finally busted out my hoop last night. It's been way too long, and I'm a little rusty, but it felt good. It's amazing the workout you get with 20 to 30 minutes of hooping.

Sorry about the abundance of video effects, it's been a while since I've played with any editing software as well. I went a little overboard.

I especially like when the room looks like it's turned into the set of an 80's music video (back when there were still music videos...played on a regular basis...uninterrupted by episodes of My Super Sweet Sixteen and Next), almost like Dire Straits "Money for Nothing." (It's at about :47.)

And don't mind the was a workout...I have the right to look slobulous.

Sunday, October 12, 2008


...spent over an hour creating this?

Yours truly.

Hey, gotta represent, right?


Here are all of the pumpkins Max and I carved today. (And by we, I mean, I did the dirty work and Max carved out a single pumpkin eye. But he had fun, and really, I did too.)

What's more? As I sat on my porch enjoying this unseasonable weather, some neighbors walked by, commenting and complimenting my pumpkins...before they even realized I was sitting out there.

Then their dog started to crap on my lawn.

Which is totally fine.

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

sixteen days til my 28th birthday...

These are going on the wishlist...self-designed and cute as heck:

I'm just sayin...

Sunday, October 5, 2008

hangin' tough

Just got back from the New Kids show/Pioneer Tap after-party.

What a night.

Pictures and proper blogging will commence soon.

Right now, I need some sleep. (Also, I think the 40,000 or whatever, screaming females blew out my left ear drum. Small price to pay for some smokin' hot [and all grown up, I might add] New Kids.)

Tuesday, September 30, 2008

i'll admit it: i think farts are funny

Okay, so I'm a firm believer that flatulence is funny. Gross, yes...but hilarious nonetheless.

This past summer, Max was drawing with his side walk chalk and came up with about five different versions of the little guy in the picture up there.

Me: What are you drawing?

Max: It's a fart.

Me: A wha? A fart?!

Max: Yes.

Me: Why is he wearing a hat?

Max: All farts wear hats. But different farts wear different hats.

Me: Oh really? Explain.

Max: Well, mean farts wear top hats, because they're bald. Mean farts also have fangs...just two fangs. No other teeth. Nice farts also wear top hats, but they have hair. And they don't have two fangs...just two regular square teeth. And silly farts, they wear beanies. They don't have hair or teeth, but they don't mind...because they're silly.

Me: A-ha. What else? Is that fart riding a unicycle?!

Max: Yes. Silly farts ride unicycles. (Note: Silly fart depicted above.)

Me: Just silly farts?

Max: Yes, other farts walk, or jump. But they all carry canes.

Me: All farts carry a cane?

Max: Yes. And a briefcase.

Me: Where...what...uh...well, what's in their briefcases?

Max: Duh. A banana.

Me: *silence* Bursting into a fit of laughter.

Max: Now he's laughing, too.

So, to sum it all up:

  • All farts wear hats; types of hats are determined by the type of fart. (Unfortunately, I can't help but picture the type of fart associated with a swimcap...ew.)
  • All farts carry canes and briefcases with a banana inside. (Purpose of banana remains undetermined...but one can only imagine. I'm just glad Max didn't choose to stick corn in there...)
  • Farts are rather active; some walk, some jump, some walk AND jump, and some ride unicycles. (I wouldn't be surprised if a fart appeared on and episode of So You Think You Can Dance...and won.)
  • Farts have varying styles and degrees of teeth, based on the farts' varying degrees of temperament. (So, some farts have higher dental costs than others. Although, I'm assuming all have halitosis.)
  • My son has a wild imagination and an awesome sense of humor. And his penchant for creating sidewalk chalk masterpieces astounds me. (But what can I say? That's 50% of my DNA in there...*insert my best Don-Knotts-as-a-proud-Barney-Fife impersonation here.)

Monday, September 29, 2008

$25 for 3 shrimp and 1 tbsp. of (mediocre) crab dip

So, my 10-year high school reunion was this past Saturday. I didn't post a picture because, well I didn't actually take any.

That's right. No pictures of my 10-year reunion. Why?

Well, although the effort was there, and I did have a nice conversation with one girl in my class, in all, the gig was lame. L-A-M-E.

Put it this way: Instead of wanting to find out how we all spent this past decade, the cliques of high-school past returned, successfully clustering together and not talking to anyone else.

It was brilliant. But I didn't feel bad. Quite the contrary, really. I was willing and eager to talk to everyone. I mean, 10 years is a long time, and it would have been nice to see what everyone's been up to. I said hello to everyone, tried to engage in small talk. Smiled. Laughed. Etc.

And when the responses weren't returned, I just sat back and watched the room. I didn't feel like I was the bigger person, or that I had matured more. What I did realize was that I have reached a point in my life where I know that I can't control the behavior of others, and that I can't hold it against them either. They are who they are. I am who I am. (That's very Popeye-esque, am I right?)

I left at a little after 10PM and headed elsewhere.

And, by the way, can I just say? The gas station attendant at the BP where I stopped to get a Red Bull was taken aback by the fact that I was attending my 10-year reunion.

"You're kidding me, he said. "Let me see your I.D."

I obliged.

"Wow. You look too young to be 10 years out of high school," he said.

"That's awesome of you to say that," I replied.

"It's awesome of you to look so young," he said.

(Okay, so I realize that last response was more awkward than flattering...but I digress.)

Regardless of the perviness factor in the attendant's amazement, it was nice to think that after 10 years I'm not showing my age.

Not so nice to think that I might have left the guy with a boner.

Hey, I'm just sayin'...

Friday, September 26, 2008


I took this picture 3 years ago in Green Bay, Wisconsin on a road trip with Angela. I could go into all the gory details, but I won't. In short, it was quite the "break out of the mold and find yourself" summer.

I was 24, single for the first time in a long time, and I was pretty darned fearless actually.

I was also really skinny...but I digress.

I guess I'm just feeling a little nostalgic as of late. I think it's because I'm still adjusting to things in my life. I'm also coming up on 28, which still seems weird to me.

Sometimes I feel much older. Sometimes I feel much younger. But usually, I feel like I don't know what I'm supposed to feel like at 28. Does that even make sense? I guess it's a matter of coming to grips with the way you imagined your life, and the way it's actually turned out.

And actually? I wouldn't change a thing.

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

cooked carrots

I'm probably gonna get some slack for writing this. I mean, I know the past is the past...yadda yadda yadda. Whatever.

But look, I feel like I should note this realization about myself...because it's least to me anyways.

I hate cooked carrots.

Seems like a non sequitur, I know. But really, that fact sparked the basis of my realization yesterday. I will keep this short.

I dated this guy for 2 years. Without going into details, it was bad news and he was completely wrong for me. Completely wrong.

He once cooked me dinner, and as a side dish he guessed it: cooked freaking carrots.

To make matters worse, he cooked them in *gag* orange freaking juice.

My hatred of cooked carrots can be blamed on the odd sweetness the possess once they've been heated, combined with their semi-mushiness. Crap. I'm making myself ill just writing about it.

Add orange juice and you've successfully tripled the effect. So, in essence, you are now eating semi-sweet, orange flavored pieces of, well, if I may be blunt, poop.

It was disgusting. But what's more disgusting...

...I lied and told him they were fabulous. I even suffered through 2 helpings. Why?

Because I didn't want to admit to him, or worse, to myself, that this guy wasn't right for me. I was so concerned about making something impossible actually work, that I completely disregarded my own needs and feelings.

And I did it for two full years after that moment.

I heated up a Lean Cuisine meal yesterday. It contained cooked carrots. I did not know this and took a hefty bite...filling my mouth with those putrid buggers. The rest of my lunch, I managed to eat around them...but as I pushed them out of the way I thought about those carrots cooked in orange juice and I realized how far I'd come.

And I just wanted to put this out there:

A.B., your stupid orange juice carrots sucked...horribly. They were not yummy. I would not eat them in a box. I would not eat them with a fox.

Monday, September 22, 2008

whiting, indiana is like living in a gas chamber

I've been a lifelong resident of Whiting, IN. With all the factories within and near the city, it's hard to escape the stinky air. Sometimes it smells like sulfur, sometimes it smells like soap, sometimes is smells like burning corn, and in the past, it smelled like roofing asphalt (a scent I've now come to associate with fond memories of my childhood).

And sometimes? Sometimes it smelled like a combination of all of the above.

Fact is, there is a lot of pollution in Whiting. Now, I know we've all been assured that any release of chemicals into the air meets the standards of the EPA (at least that's what we're told), but after last night, I'm not convinced.

It used to be a running joke that the brother of an old high school friend of mine was the only one in his troop able to make it through a tear gas test during his basic training. Well, after the foulness I experienced sitting at home, windows open, enjoying a breezy late summer night, I think I might be able to pass that test as well.

It was about 7:30pm, my family and I were watching a movie on the television, when all of a sudden the air just felt thick. It smelled a little like gasoline, chlorine, and that roofing asphalt that I mentioned earlier. Except it wasn't just a smell. About 20 minutes after it started, my nose was stinging and my eyes were burning.

My family started complaining about the pollutant as well, talking about the same symptoms.

About an hour or so later, it was so bad that I could actually TASTE the noxious fumes. My mouth became slightly pasty, and my eyes seemed to have trouble focusing. And still, my nose and eyes were burning.

I felt like I couldn't breathe. It took over four hours for the fumes to dissipate, but unfortunately, whatever they were had already done their damage.

I went to bed with a foul taste in my mouth, sensitive eyes, having trouble breathing.

I woke up the next day (today) lightheaded, queasy, and having a plethora of stomach issues. It is now 3:35pm and I am still feeling very off-kilter.

What I want to know is, what the heck have they been releasing into the air in Whiting, and how can something that has physically made me and my family ill, be acceptable to pump out into the air?

I've dealt with the Whiting pollution for years now, and never have I experienced anything close to this. Never.

I honestly believe that someone should be looking into this. This cannot be healthy. Anything that causes the eyes and nose to burn and then causes illness the next day cannot be a good thing to breathe in, and just shouldn't be allowed to be released that way.

friday, the mustache fairy...sunday, the tooth fairy.

First and foremost, I'd like to acknowledge my friend Evan who so kindly linked this blog to his blog. Just so you all know, I highly recommend his site/blog at Evan Jacover (dot com!). So check it out.

On a completely different note, Max lost his second tooth in less than 2 weeks. He had saved it to put under his pillow at my house, and unfortunately actually lost the lost tooth somewhere between our garage and the kitchen.

Worried that the Tooth Fairy might not come if the tooth wasn't under his pillow last night, I plotted in true parent fashion.

About 20 minutes after tucking him in, I waltzed into Max's room, cell phone in hand:

Me: So...I couldn't find your tooth.

Max: Are you sure? Where did it go?

Me: I don't know...but...I made a few calls, and I got the Tooth Fairy's voicemail. Left her a message, ya know, letting her know the whole story. I mean, this stuff happens.

Max: Yeah, I'm sure kids lose their lost teeth all the time.

Me: Exactly. So, like I said, I left her a message. She didn't answer...probably out collecting teeth already.

Max: *laughing* You're silly, mom.

Me: It's true. Anyhow, check your pillow in the morning just in case she gets the message tonight. If not, I'm sure she'll get it by tomorrow.

Max: Okay.

We said our second round of goodnights and I love yous, and I tucked him in to bed. (Of course, 20 minutes later he was downstairs prancing around in his Spiderman underwear, asking for another glass of water...)

I waited a few hours before traipsing to my mom's scrapbooking room where I proceeded to cut out a tooth made of light blue paper. And then I wrote this note (disguising my handwriting):

Dear Max,

I got the message your mom left about your lost lost tooth! Don't worry, these things happen. If you find it, just give it to your mom and I will pick it up. Here's two dollars just for you!

The Tooth Fairy.

I tied a blue ribbon and then taped the $2.00 onto the tooth, and slipped it under his pillow.

When he woke up this morning, I reminded him to check...just in case. I waited for him in the bathroom, about 5 minutes later he came walking into the room with a giddy little, "I have something to show you!" face.

Me: Did the Tooth Fairy come last night?

Max: Yeeeeeessssss.

Me: Oh good then! She got the message! Hey, what's that?

Max handed me the note. And of course, I went into making a huge deal out of it. Max stood there slightly embarrassed, I think. But a little proud too.

And as I watched him, I wondered if, at 8 years old, I had still managed to fool him...or, if he knew that it was actually me trying to hold on to his childhood a little longer, and I was the one with the wool pulled over my eyes.

And even if that is the case? Well, God bless him for being so sweet.

Friday, September 19, 2008

moustache day

Today was Mustache Day at work.

This was what I brought to the table.

Of course, this was before my work logo, a set of keys, and Jimmy Hoffa found their way inside the 'stache.

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

wrong way hole

Whatever you do...

...don't put it in the Wrong Way Hole.
(At least not without permission...)

Now that's priceless advice. Right?


Monday, September 15, 2008

stupid mcafee siteadvisor

So apparently there's a glitch with McAfee SiteAdvisor and Blogger---meaning if you have SiteAdvisor on and you try to visit a site? Well, you get a scary, red, phishing warning.

So I wrote them:

Unfortunately, today every single Blogger account is coming back as a phishing hazard through SiteAdviser...including my OWN blog.

Can somebody tell me what's going on here? I like that SiteAdvisor warns me about phishing issues, unfortunately it's gone a little overboard. I'm not going to add EVERY SINGLE BLOGGER url to my Do Not Warn list. It's annoying, and I'm sure my readers have stopped going to my blog now that your software has sufficiently scared them into thinking that my simple blog is some type of phishing threat. I hope that if this is a glitch, you'll be fixing it soon and I hope you'll go on the record and let people know not to worry about all those blogs that they think they can't read now.

If you've had this problem, realize I am not phishing for your info. *lol*

*le sigh*

weird menu items: part one

Jeff and I go to a lot of family restaurants which has lead me to notice something about family restaurant menus: They contain some pretty entertaining typos and meal choices. Take the above for example. "Sophie's Choice."


Now, I have never actually seen the movie or read the book Sophie's Choice, however, I know what it's about. If you don't, I welcome you to read the synopsis here (but keep in mind, it will spoil the movie for you): Sophie's Choice Synopsis

If you don't want to ruin the movie for yourself, here's the drift:

Concentration Camps
A mother and two children in an impossible situation

(That's a REALLY watered down list of things involved in the movie.)

So naming a menu item Sophie's Choice? Darkly funny and quite unappetizing. Brilliant.

Sunday, September 14, 2008

singin' in the rain

It's been raining since during a break from Max teaching me how to play Guitar Hero (and royally handing me my ass), I did a little karaoke.

sitemeter is annoying me today

So, for the past month or so, my statistics tracking site, Sitemeter, has been touting a new look and new features...the whole nine yards.

They informed us that they'd be offline on Saturday, September 13th as they moved their site and data. So all weekend so far, I have been waiting with bated breath to check my site stats.

Unfortunately, so many people are suffering Sitemeter withdrawals that it's blocking up the "Migration" login site (for those of us who already had accounts and are switching them to the new sitemeter.) In other words, it's too busy to get in and I'm ready to pull my hair out!

I'll keep trying I guess. And, I'll also come up with a more interesting post later on today...I promise.

Thursday, September 11, 2008

google strikes again!

I've learned three things over the past two days:

1.) This blog is getting more popular in terms of Google searches. This morning I checked my Sitemeter to find that someone from Jonesboro, Georgia had found my blog by searching Google for "dunkin donuts vanilla chai".

If you search about 4 or 7 entries down you'll find my entry on my first week at JV.
(It changes. One time Daily Randonimity was 4th, then is was 6th or 7th...but whatever.)

2.) People search for a lot of random things; and typically it's those random things that lead them to my blog. You would think they'd find it by searching for my name, or where I work, or even the blog title itself. But no. They find it completely at random...which means that I've aptly named my blog. Woo hoo!

3.) Even though Dunkin Donuts is a pretty darned popular establishment, more websites use some combination of the words "how to make your hair look like George Washington in the pool" as keywords, than "dunkin donuts vanilla chai." (Although upon a check just now, Daily Randonimity was the last listing on the first search page. Success! Note: This is only because I put that exact phrase in my post yesterday. It links to yesterday's post...not the actual post on George Washington pool hair...but still.)

See? Web analytics can be fun.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

this blog is a google keyword search result

About a month ago, I posted a blog highlighting a late-night, post Pierogifest Pool party.

Today Sitemeter informed me that someone from Brooklyn, NY found my blog by searching for "how to make your hair look like George Washington in the pool."

At 8:30 this morning, this blog was still the #1 result.

Unfortunately, that's not the case anymore. Pity.

I'll keep you posted on this very important discovery.

Sunday, September 7, 2008

sometimes they write themselves...

Saw this while driving into work last week.

Now, I realize that there are a million jokes here; however, I will leave the captions and wisecracks to you.

But I will say this: I'm sorry for the raindrops in the picture. Although I think it's sort of funny how it almost seems as though the environment is censoring the picture.

Saturday, September 6, 2008

oh mr. coffee...

A few months ago, our old coffee maker decided to spaz out on us at work. I had noticed that we had Mrs. Tea sitting on the shelf in a very lonely condition, so I suggested that we replace our broken coffee maker (which was not a Mr. Coffee...) with a Mr. Coffee.

I felt that the previous situation was mildly adulterous.

So, our office manager went out and, upon my suggestion, picked up our new coffee maker: a genuine Mr. Coffee.

Unfortunately, though the thing makes a nice cup of java, the carafe is prone to spills. Doesn't matter how you hold the thing, or how slowly you pour; inevitably, while preparing a cup of coffee or filling up the machine, you will create a large puddle on the counter top.

I recently went in the kitchen to find that my coworker, Chris, had aptly renamed and relabeled the machine: Mr. Spilly.

I should add that shortly after we brought in Mr. Spilly, we threw out Mrs. Tea. This could be the reason for his unsavory behavior...but I digress.

Thursday, September 4, 2008

skinny jeans!

So, last night I decided to go balls out and try on my skinny jeans. It was a pivotal decision. I mean, did I run the risk of feeling good about the fact that 5 pounds have released themselves from my ass, only to find that my skinny jeans would refuse to be pulled up over my calves?

Or did I hold out another week or so, in the hopes that by then they would fit?

After weighing my options, I decided to try them on---for shits and giggles.

Lo and behold, they not only came up over my butt with *minor* issue, but they actually buttoned and zipped. I mean, sure, they're snug, but they fit much better than they have in almost a year. A YEAR.

As I looked myself over in the mirror, it was like a new wave of confidence came over me. Suddenly, more clothes in my closet looked appealing. I mean, even though the skinny jeans still give me a *slight* muffin top, it was like I was a new person.

I found myself packing tops in my overnight bag that just a week ago I had written off forever. Surely when paired with these skinny jeans, these jeans that have faded to just the right color and hug my butt in a way that shows her off in all of her glory, those tops that I wouldn't have dreamed of wearing would now not only be acceptable, but flattering.

I mean, we'll have to see about that of course, but I did wear my skinny jeans to work today. And yes, they're more snug than my usual variety, but I can breathe and digest without issue. Also, I've noticed that their current state of tightness is just right for holding every jiggly part up and in, making walking around (or movement in general) a much more pleasant experience.

I don't think it's the fact that I'm thinner when I can fit into these jeans. I think it's more the fact that these jeans and I have formed a bond. And for a while, that bond was broken.

But now? Now I'm even more motivated to continue my quest for a trimmer figure and a healthy lifestyle.

So, in hindsight, risking the the loss of my motivation was ultimately the right choice.

(Of course, had they not fit, it might be a different story...)

Also, took an interesting picture on the way to work today. Will post it very soon.

Tuesday, September 2, 2008

leetle tiny blog...

I must admit: I have nothing witty, smart, interesting, or even boring to report today.

I'm sitting here at Jeff's, drinking wine and relaxing, excited for him to get home so we can catch up on Season One of Mad Men and begin Season Two.

That show is fantastic. And...I think I've found my doppelganger...sort of.

Well, you be the judge:

Elizabeth Moss (AKA "Peggy" on Mad Men) :

And me (AKA,

(I'm on the left, in the gold...) this is not the best picture of me. As a matter of fact, it's pretty awful...just check my pit stain. Hot.

But I'll tell you this much: When I took this picture? It was 2005...and I was wearing my skinny jeans...

Monday, September 1, 2008

and you're telling me i don't have enough experience?!

Back in my job hunt days, my lack of experience in copywriting made it difficult for me to even get a response. Sure, my writing skills in terms of the advertising world weren't polished, but I don't think that makes me any less of a writer.

Luckily, I found a job that I adore and that tests me every day. One that helps me prove to myself that what I bring to the table is pretty darn delicious.

Even so, there are times when I have to roll my eyes at my past experiences looking for writing jobs.

I present to you, Exhibit A:

If I had been writing this ad, I would have made it perfectly clear that they got married...and now they have 5 kids. As opposed to writing it in a way that suggests that these two lovely folks have tied the knot,and now you must procreate 5 times.

I'm just sayin'.

Friday, August 29, 2008

baggy jeans

I couldn't bear to not write an entry for more than a day. I've been supremely busy this week, but I just wanted to give you something---anything---to update you until I have time to write (and podcast) a proper blog:

The jeans I'm wearing today (which just so happen to be borderline "too tight" most days), are officially baggy.

Now, I'm well aware that the bagginess is one part eating better and exercising (sort of...) and one part haven't washed said jeans in a day or so and have been in them for over eight hours...

...but that second part? Yeah, it's a lot smaller:

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

the plan

Here's the plan for tonight:

1.) Leave work by 10pm

2.) Drive home--remember to enjoy Lake Shore Drive at'll make the drive feel shorter.

3.) Arrive home, check for spiders near the front door, struggle with key---all the while fearing that a face-eating spider is slowly creeping up behind you, next to you, above you (cripes! They're EVERYWHERE!).

4.) Frustratedly open the door. Let out a huff. Probably say "Jeebus Chrisssssse..." under breath (but loud enough to really express discontent).

5.) Fumble through the dark to find the light switch, any light switch, all the while carefully avoiding glass coffee table.

6.) Flip on dining room light, although actually wanting to flip on the kitchen light. Remind self of which switch is which. Forget which switch is which in about 5 minutes.

7.) Plop purse on counter/chair/table/floor---whichever's closest.

8.) Pee. This is inevitable after the amount of water and coffee consumed today.

9.) Come up with ways to justify that the pizza you ate for dinner (Hey. It was free Lou Mal's...), does not count as cheating on your diet. Remember that you only had one piece...even though you thought you wanted two.

10.) Turn on radio. Probably something AM. Remember how fast 30 is approaching.

11.) Walk into kitchen. Pour a glass of wine, wait, no, have a beer. Wait. A margarita. Go to computer, check which option will be less detrimental to your diet. Choose that one, all the while knowing you'll still have a margarita, too.

12. Fill up bath tub. Use Jeff's shampoo to make bubbles.

13. Top off wine glass.

14. Soak in a nice, relaxing bath.

15. Towel off, put on pj's, have a cigarette on the back porch. (There are no spiders out there. Well, none that I can see, at least.)

16. If Jeff's home, give him a big kiss. If he's not; try to stay awake just a little bit longer.

17. Get some much-needed (and well-deserved) sleep...

...start all over in the morning.

(Podcast coming shortly.)

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

crazy day

So, my wisdom tooth cracked. This caused my tongue to swell up and my jaw to feel like a cow had just kicked me in the face.

Not fun.

And wouldn't you figure it happened during one of the busiest times of my life to date.

So I took a trip to the oral surgeon this morning and found out that in addition to needing the sucker yanked out, I also have an infection.


Of course, the initial plan was to get a consultation, and then drive into work. That didn't happen. Figuring that the effects of an infection in my jaw would not be good, I thought it best to stop into Walgreens to pick up my prescription and be on my way.

I should have known by the percentage of slow drivers and oblivious pedestrians on the way to the pharmacy that the rest of my day wasn't going to go as smoothly as planned. After waiting for what seemed like 10 minutes for a driver to get a "primo spot" in the Walgreens parking lot (for chrissakes, it's Walgreens...the farthest you'll have to walk is 10 goddamned feet...), I wrestled my way through the door.

It smelled like a goddamned fart in there.

I hurried through the noxious cloud of ass puff, only to be told that my prescription would take 40 minutes.

I had 2 options.

1. Go to Chicago and turn back around to pick up my prescription before 10pm, and then head back into Chicago.

or 2. Call work, see if I could work from home until my prescription was ready and head into work.

After calling, we all decided that 2 would be my best option. I mean, I don't think anybody wants my jaw to explode right now.

I went home, did some work and headed off to Walgreens to pick up my prescription, nervously wondering if the place would still smell like a public restroom at an IBS convention.

Click here to listen to the Podcast of this entry!

Monday, August 25, 2008

oh skinny jeans. why hast thou decievest me?

So, I'm dieting again.

Not really, dieting, per say...but watching what I eat and investing in a shitload of 100 Calorie Snack packs and meat that really isn't meat.

Why? Because 30 pounds ago I felt fit. But now? Now, more often than not, I feel bloated and unstylish. When you can't fit into 70% of your wardrobe, usually that means that you've resorted to wearing worn out t-shirts and unflattering jeans.

This is true in my case. So true, in fact, that my last pair of hip jeans are officially too small.

This is unheard of.

I mean, my skinny jeans and I have had a love-hate relationship for about 2 years now. But there was always that one pair of jeans that, even if my gut, ass, and hips had outgrown my skinny jeans, well, that other pair of cute jeans still fit.

And I'll be damned if I tried to try them on over the weekend and I couldn't get them over my knees.

So, I've decided to lose the weight. 30 pounds. This is kind of a big deal, because in addition to a slimmer waistline, I will also be losing my butt and *gasp* my boobs.

But it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make, because honestly? I don't want a new wardrobe. I have plenty of clothes...they just don't fit. Or, if I do manage to squeeze them on, they cut off all circulation below the waist AND make digesting food near impossible do to their restrictive nature on my intestines.

So that's the scoop. But you know what's great? I actually eat MORE when I'm dieting than when I'm not. Why? Because to keep your metabolism working, you need to eat more frequent (albeit smaller) meals throughout the day.

I've eaten 3 times already and I still have 2 snacks and a meal to go. Woo hoo!

Also, I'm going to start exercising.

Today, I set my alarm for 6am in order to do a free workout on Comcast On Demand. Unfortunately, I couldn't pull my sleepy ass out of bed.

The good news? The biceps on my right arm are going to be bulging from hitting the snooze button for the better part of an hour.

Hey...'s a start.

One more thing: I am going to start a podcast of this blog very soon. I realize that sometimes, well, you just don't feel like reading. But more on that later.

I have a snack to eat.

Click here to listen to the Podcast of this entry!

Saturday, August 23, 2008

150 million bucks...and all i have to do is what?

So, checked my email this morning and found one of those "My client in Somalia needs you to invest 456 gabajillion dollars on his behalf" emails.

It's from Barrister Paul "Paulie" (I like to call him Paulie) Graham and it reads:

Barrister Paul Graham
Law Practice UK


Pardon my invading your privacy. I am Barrister Paul Graham (Managing Partner) Barrister, advocate, Solicitor of LLP Law Practice UK, located in Glasgow Scotland. Born January 2, 1960; admitted, 1984. Education: LL.B, Phd. 1979. Practice Areas: Business Law Company; Commercial; Employment; Family Law; Intellectual Property; Real Estate; Wills, Trusts and Tax. I have a legitimate business offer for you. I want to know if you will like to help my client invest in your country and get rewarded financially without leaving or neccessarily affecting your present job.

I represent Mrs. Ljiljana Zelen Karadzic, wife of Radovan Karadzic, former Serbian leader, who has just been extradited to face genocide and war crime charges in the Hague, the Netherlands, herein after shall be referred to as my client and it is on her instruction that I am doing all that I am doing now. She is looking for a foreign individual or a corporate body that can profitably invest $150,000,000.00 (One Hundred and Fifty Million US Dollars) on Real Estates outside Serbia.

Most importantly, you will be required to invest these funds on real estates preferably in your country of residence outside of Serbia. Mrs. Ljiljana Zelen Karadzic, herein after shall be referred to as my client, is willing to reward you with 30% for your partnership role. Trust me; this is once in a life time opportunity and I bet you can't afford to miss this. The said funds,$150,000,000{One Hundred and Fifty Million USD} is presently kept in a safe vault in a Private Finance Company in Serbia, and needs to be re-profiled for immediate transfer. Hence you will be expected to liase with the finance company as regard the release of the funds to you and subsequently invest in Real Estate and Property for her in your country on her behalf.

If you prefer to be re-contacted for more express information, Write back promptly at: At the receipt of your interest to partner this project with me and my client, I will send you a detail email as regards the procedures to be followed to achieve this objective.

I am looking forward to your reply correspondence as my response with more information on this profiting offer will be swift back to you.


Barrister Paul Graham
LLP Law Practice UK

Well holy cow. 150 million US DOLLARS? I decided to write back...I mean, the real estate market has been iffy this year...I thought it best to give him a few better suggestions. And the fact that he was only 19 when he got his PhD? Man, this guy must be a genius! I mean, really. Eat it Doogie Howser!

Here is my reply. (I can't wait until he writes me back so we can get this ball rolling!) :

Dearest Barrister Paul Graham:

I am so happy that you contacted me! January 2nd was your birthday, eh? Well happy freakin' belated birthday my man! I should buy you a beer next time I'm in Glasgow! You know, hang at the pub, meet some sexy kittens, have a real swingin' time! But I'm digressing. I mean, this is serious business.

So your client, Ljiljana, needs my help, is that right? Well, let me give her my first piece of advice: nobody needs 2 useless "J"s in the spelling of her name. No, hear me out for a minute. I mean, look, it's obvious her name is pronounced "Lilliana" so why go through the hassle of inserting useless consonants? For christ sakes, her hubby's on trial for freakin' genocide. I'm sure the last thing she really wants to deal with are jerkwads mispronouncing her name. Am I right? AM I RIGHT?!

I'm right.

As for her wanting to invest in "Real Estates" outside of Serbia, Look Paulie (can I call you Paulie? Great). So look, Paulie, I'm going to be frank with you here...the real estate market in the states these days? Not so good my friend. I mean, I could take that money and buy a few trailer parks, maybe a nice crack house or two, but I'm telling you...the return on your investments (which herein after shall be referred to as ROI) is gonna be for shit. No really.

So allow me to make a suggestion or two.

Suggestion 1: Invest in meats on sticks. Hear me out, Paulie. I mean, you're probably saying, "Is this American woman crazy?!" But look, we crazy Americans love to eat meats on sticks. It's portable, affordable, and just damn cool. Could you imagine what 150 million dollars could do for the meat on a stick industry??? Foot-long corn dogs??? Think out of the box, Paulie! How about Yard-stick corn dogs! On ACTUAL YARDSTICKS! Christ, I'm drooling already! And your ROI? Ho-ly shit. People pay at least 3 bucks for a nice kabob these days. A yard-stick of meat? Our out-of-pocket might be----MIGHT BE---4 or 5 bucks. We charge a flat $12 per stick and these people could feed the whole family---twice. And then, when they're done, they could measure things. I am actually blowing my own mind right now, Paulie. Hoo-wee, you have contacted the right girl.

Suggestion 2: Squirrel Farming. We set up custom traps, and our squirrels are basically free. Take them back to the ranch and it's all the squirrel milk you could ever want. And squirrel milk is projected to be a hot commodity in the next 2 to 3 years.

Suggestion 3: Beta Max video tapes. VHS has nothing on Beta. Trust me.

Suggestion 4: Clowns. Need I say more, Paulie? Eh? EH?! Christ, the transportation costs ALONE would be so cheap. I mean, one Smart Car for every 45 clowns? Brilliantly ridiculous.

So those are my suggestions to Lejiliajjajjanijaji about investing that stack of cash she's got stored in a vault. Which, by the way, can I just say, is not a good idea? She'd be much better off cataloging shoe boxes or re-stuffing her mattress with those bones. Vaults are highly overrated.

I really want you to be "swift back to" me on my ideas. Let me know if they work for you so we can work together on this matter.

Also, "neccessarily" is only spelled with one "C", my man: necessarily. You should talk to your college or University or mail-order degree program about that. They really did you wrong.

Thanks Paulie Graham Cracker! I look forward to more details!!!

Swanky B. Parsnips