Saturday, February 28, 2009


So, since I've started my improv classes, I've felt a lot more confident about myself. However, for some reason, over these past two weeks or so, I've felt like the most awkward, unfunny, overweight, aging pile of doo-doo on the planet.

Odd thing is, I don't really know why. Part of me wants to blame the weather. I mean, seriously, could spring just get here already? For real.

But part of me thinks that I'm being too critical of myself. To self-aware for my own good. I know that when I don't give a toot about what other people think, I end up having a much better time, whether I'm out doing some karaoke, or grocery shopping.

It's when I pull apart everything I do or say in terms of how I imagine others are interpreting those things, that I start to feel unfunny or unlikable.

I just wish there could be a 70 degree day, sun shining, people out walking, where I could feel a little taste of spring to get me out of this funk.

I also need to buckle down and eat right like I've promised myself. Perhaps if I stop making the goal to "be skinny" and make the goal to "be healthy" I'll have more success.

Who knows.

Sunday, February 22, 2009

sunday, sunday, sunday

So, I'm in one of those moods where I just don't know what to do with myself. All weekend it's been like this. I cleaned a little, took a bubble bath, created a new station on Pandora that I adore. Watched a movie. But I feel restless. I think it's because I desperately want spring to get here.

Not just because of the warm weather, but I'll also be quitting smoking. Most people don't look forward to this, but I kind of am. My hair and clothes will smell prettier, I won't wake up feeling like I slept face down in a chimney all night. And, unless I've already done too much damage, I'll be able to sing without getting scratchy or losing lung capacity.

To ensure that I don't break my rule and smoke within the first 3 weeks of my quit date, I'm scheduling a wisdom tooth extraction. (Not for this purpose alone, of course. It needs to be pulled. Fucking extra teeth that nobody needs...) Can't smoke for 2 weeks after an extraction, so I figured it was perfect timing.

That and I more scared about getting the tooth pulled than completely altering a lifestyle I've known since I was 17 (on and off).

So, in the weeks after March 20th, you may notice that I'm cranky...and that I have gauze in my mouth...

...juts try to ignore it. It'll all be worth it later on. :)

Was going to rant about how old I'm feeling lately...but after typing it out, I realized that I'm an idiot.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Let's see...

Ah yes...I'm trying to lose 30 pounds.


No really.

Totally blows...but, I refuse to buy bigger pants. Absolutely refuse. I also refuse to buy bigger shirts because it's not my boobs that are the problem, but my tummy. Oh for petesake, what the hell.

Been doing 10 or 20 minute workouts in the mornings. I think I need to order a hoop for work that I can keep at the office...of course, not sure where I could hoop for 10 minutes. When it's warm I'll happily go outside. Hmmm....I should look into this.

Because really, I have fun hooping.

And, that's all for now. I know, how incredibly sodding exciting!

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

Betty freaking McCrocker

I know it's Betty Crocker...but I'll never forget the time at Indiana State when a bunch of us tried to make those cut and bake Pillsbury cookies and burned them to shit.

One of my good friends from that year was a bit baked herself, and when we laughed at her for burning the cookies, she replied with a slightly slurred, "What? I'm not Betty freaking McCrocker."

What followed was a perfectly placed bit of silence that turned into a fit of laughter.

Anyhow, that's all beside the point. Tonight, I bake. In the Betty McCrocker way...not the Cheech and Chong way.

Unless Cheech and Chong make Valentine's Day cookies.

And when I say bake...I mean bake. From-scratch sugar cookies with from-scratch icing.

It's gonna be nuts.

I may just capture this fiasco on video.

You know, thinking about my first attempt at college just brought up another memory about baked goods.

You know those Little Debbie brownies? The fudgy ones with the nuts in them? Well, I had bought some for my dorm room one time and it happened to be just before our RA called our floor to a meeting on our bathroom etiquette.

Apparently some of the girls had a hard time cleaning up after themselves...leaving things in the toilet...or dropping shredded pieces of t.p. all over the ground. Pretty disgusting.

What irritated me and my friends was the fact that we were getting scolded for other people's nastiness.

After the meeting we met up to discuss, and in turn hatched a plan.

We took a few of those brownies, warmed them up in our hands, and molded them like clay into, well, into a giant turd. It was brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.

We snuck to the bathroom, where we appropriately placed the brownie-turd on a toilet seat, and a little in the bowl.

Then we waited.

And waited.

And waited.

My friend's dorm was right outside the bathroom, so between snickers and laughter, we would just listen.

And then...the payoff.

The loudest, most disgusted shriek flew from the bathroom. There were even a few gags. Then a rush of people down the hall.

And finally, above all the commotion was the voice of our RA, "You guys! Come on. We JUST talked about this!"

She. Was. Pissed.

We were still in the room laughing our sneaky little asses off. They actually thought someone had shit on the toilet seat.


So...yes, tomorrow morning, if you work with me, expect cookies.

And I promise, no mushed up, turd-shaped brownies on any of the toilet seats.

Saturday, February 7, 2009


Fear not, I'm still around.

After talking to Ryan yesterday...I realized that I should the very least...update the Randonimity on a weekly basis.

I mean, people are kind enough to subscribe (usually after my throwing a tantrum and stomping my feet on the ground. Usually...but not always.)

So, it's been some time. A lot has changed, and it's still early in 2009.

Second City has been a God-send. No, really. I don't know if any of you have noticed, but I'm far more likely to make a complete ass out of myself...without feeling bad about it. It's really a good thing, actually. Instead of being afraid to let myself out, I just do it...if it works, great. If not? Well, that's okay too.

Still loving my job and the company in general. It's a great experience and I'm learning quite a bit. Still as excited to walk through those doors now as I was on the day of my very first interview.

Also, I like Palmer's fudgy hearts.

Speaking of which: Valentine's Day. *pfft* I've never really liked it, but being single again, I realize how much it's EVERYWHERE. I think my disdain stems from that year in elementary school when no one gave me a Valentine in my Valentine shoe box. (Which, by the way, I spent the WHOLE NIGHT BEFORE decorating with enormous amounts of iridescent glitter and doilies.)

Shit like that can scar a kid for life. There I what? 8? 9? With an empty shoe box, while the rest of the class...even the kid who picked his nose and ate it...had at least one.

I think that if I got a shoe box full of Valentines some year, I might think differently of the holiday. *Might* being the operative word.

Of course, I'm long past the days of decorated shoe boxes and paper Valentines. So I don't think that's going to happen anytime soon. Ha!

Anyhow, until next week!

P.S. Check the link list. New blog/podcast added (second link down). It's the project of a friend of mine and it's good. So check it out or I will eat your face. Thanks.