Sick

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So, I ate something weird on Christmas Eve and got some sort of bug.  I blame the ranch dressing that my sister offered for the salad that expired in AUGUST.  My one attempt at semi-healthy eating was ultimately my undoing.  Just because my sister’s household does not consume ranch by the gallon weekly as does ours.  Yet.  Give her kids a few years.  Then, it will be a food group.  You know, one of the basic five kid food groups:  ranch/ketchup, chicken nuggets, mac n cheese, waffles/pancakes, and of course, dessert.

So one bite of bad ranch dressing and I got hit fairly hard later that evening with the vomit bug.    And no, sister, it couldn’t possibly be the insane amount of rich food that I had been consuming prior to that evening.   The one pound of caramel corn, chocolate covered everything snack mix I consumed at work like it was my job.  The crazy good meat and cheese tray.  The meatballs.  The kielbasa.  The truffles.  The cake.  The cookies.  The spinach dip.  And that was just lunch.

Anyways, Christmas morning I managed to slug my way to the couch to watch half-heartedly while my kids enjoyed their loot from “Santa.”  (Fat bastard.  Why does this guy get all the credit?   Mark was up until 2 a.m. wrapping, while I puked my guts out in the bathroom.  No fat man in sight.  Where were his elves when we plucked down hard earned cash amongst the other half-crazed, tired parents trying to stay on a Jelly-Of-The-Month club Christmas budget while delivering yet another Christmas of their dreams? Then having to play along about how awesome Santa is and answer all “How did he know I wanted this?” questions.    I know, I am a killjoy, and I should just enjoy it because the magic doesn’t last long, but I really hate that guy.  And really, my mom and dad should have hated him too, because he OUTDID himself in our day, and I figured my parents were lazy and cheap for only buying clothes.  Yeesh.  Mom and Dad, I am so sorry!  You guys totally rocked, and now in hindsight, Mom’s annual lock herself in the laundry room cryfest totally makes sense.   I totally get it Mom, and I’m sorry, YOU were awesome.  Not some non-union sweatshop guy in a red suit.   Crap.  Didn’t I start this with a parenthesis?  Sorry for tangent.  And I am ending……now).

Anyways, I digress.  I got to spend Christmas Day afternoon and evening all by myself, which normally for me would be awesome, but come on, even the most intense introverts crave a little family and friends on Christmas.  Therefore, I was bummed and feeling like crap.  So, I set up nauseous camp on the couch proceeded to watch Nativity documentaries on the History Channel, switched up with TBS’s A Christmas Story Marathon.  However, the best part was the in between, which brings me to my point.  Infomercials.

Being that I am mostly a Netflix and Hulu girl, I don’t see a lot of these anymore.  And They. Were. Awesome.  SO – here is my new revised Christmas list for 2013.  Forget the cleaning person and personal chef.  I NEED a Wax Vac!!

The Wax Vac

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Scene:  Enter idiot man ramming a Q-tip deep into his skull and then screaming in pain when he hits brain. And then looking at the Q-tip like it’s the enemy, not the idiot with opposable thumbs.  Enter the Wax Vac, a gentle vacuum that sucks the sticky wax magically out of your ear.  Awesome.

First off, maybe I have abnormal earwax, but how hard does this thing have to suck to get this pretty sticky substance off my ear?  I don’t want to vacuum my ear drum out, which defeats the purpose, and really doesn’t sound safer than sticking a stick in there.  Then, they say it’s easy clean.  Ever try to this stuff off your finger, let alone a machine?  Gross.

But, still I kinda want one.  It would be cool in the summer for water in the ears.  Wax Vac, I am open for endorsement talks if this intrigues you.

The Cloud Pillow

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Developed by ancient Asians centuries ago, this has some sort of weird bubble like material that keeps your head and neck perfectly aligned and never goes flat.  Magic again.  This pillow improves sleep, sex lives, and sings lullabies in your ear until you fall into a deep and peaceful sleep.  This pillow will also reach out and smack any needy child or pet that wanders to your side of the bed in search of disturbing you from your peaceful slumber.   It creates an invisible barrier between you and your spouse from any “accidental” farting or bed/cover hogging.  It will gently hug your ears to stifle any snoring coming from the other side of the bed, which couldn’t possibly be you, because you my dear, are a lady.  Finally, the grand finale, this pillow will have SEX with your husband while you sleep peacefully.

Seriously again, I want this.  What if it works?  What if this is the reason I am a bitch?  Years of bad pillows.

The Orgreenic

Orgreenic

Ever cook eggs for over an hour and then wonder why it sticks impossibly to the pan?  Me too!  The ceramic pan is green and therefore totally organic and safe, because you know if you paint asbestos green, it’s totally safe too.

One question though…does it still not stick if you don’t actually use it?  Do you have to cook yourself or does it cook for you?  Because really, if it doesn’t come with my previously requested personal chef (one who doesn’t require sexual favors for cooking like my current one does), I am probably not going to be using this thing.

The Cushion for your Tushion.

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Need more motivation to stay sedentary?  Try the Forever Comfy Cushion!  I want this totally.  I want to be the crazy lady at work who has a cushion under my butt because getting up every hour to un-numb my butt is just too much of a chore.  Like I need any more reason NOT to get off my ass.   But, seriously, I would totally buy this.  My butt may have more cushion lately, but it still goes numb while typing endless letters and emails for my two-finger keyboard pecking agents for 9 hours a day.  And it tingles with disuse during the tens of minutes I sit here every few days writing this eloquent, thought-provoking, and inspiring blog.  Plus the excruciating 20 minute commute I make twice daily from work to home is a real cheek killer.

So there you have my new and updated list.  It can mostly be yours for $19.99, but if you call now, you can get a second one COMPLETELY FREE, plus $35.99 shipping and handling.

PS – Don’t let me forget to tell you the funny tampon story sometime soon.  HA!  Cliffhanger!  Leading you on by a string….ewww…. It’s not gross, it’s hilarious I promise.  And could only happen to me.

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Caved

All right.  I made it until 4 p.m.  I was STARVING and light headed.  No one can just eat fruit.  Fuck fruit.  Sorry, but it’s just a stupid crash diet.  BUT, in my defense, I haven’t eaten badly, just something other than simple carbohydrates.  I had a Greek yogurt and then a big salad for dinner.  Do I want the Little Caesar’s that my mother-in-law brought over for the kids?  You bet your ass I do, but I know the shame spiral that I will face after I eat that pizza.  Pizza that’s not even good.  Pizza you buy just because you don’t have to plan 15 minutes ahead.  Guess I won’t be getting any Little Caesar’s endorsements anytime soon.

Anyways, I am still trying.  I ate a freakin fruit plate at Star Diner this morning.  I turned down my favorite Mexican food and margaritas tonight.  I have to stay strong.  The new pants I ordered optimistically yesterday will not fit comfortably around this body.

Wish me luck… I’m going to need it.

Day 1

I am 7.5 hours in and I feel like Alex the Lion in Madagascar.

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Yep, this is how I see everyone right now.  I am just hungry, no matter how much fruit I freakin eat.  Can’t wait for my potato tomorrow morning.  That is going to be one delicious pat of butter.  Pat = Stick right?

This better be worth it.  If my Pastor can fast for a month for the good of mankind, I can certainly last 7 days to take some junk out of my trunk right?

GM Diet Plan

So I found this on Pinterest this week and became intrigued.

 

http://www.gmdietplan.com/

 

Basically, it’s a 7-day “cleanse,” which I am thinking is just another name for “Cranky, hungry and pooping my brains out,” but it’s basically 7 days of fruits, veggies, tanker trucks of water and some lean beef thrown in, so it’s not totally unhealthy or crazy.  I did about 10 minutes of googling opinions on it, and basically I got the feeling it wasn’t something you should do long-term, but it’s a good way to kick start a diet.  Right before the holidays.  I am a freakin genius I know.

 

So just a fair warning, if you see me over the next 7 days, chances are I will not be the happiest person, as I tend to gain emotional satisfaction from food, and fruits and veggies just don’t calm me down quite like a brownie sundae might.  This old school skit from SNL will be pretty much constantly running through my head.

Wish me luck.

Cravings

Fat Guy in a Little Coat….

Just sitting here on a Saturday night, watching my husband play Modern Warfare with his geek virgin friends also gaming on a Saturday night.  I am trying to get him to change his avatar name to RPatz4eva, but he isn’t buying it, so I thought I’d write about my ongoing obsession with food.

Food.  I love food.  Unfortunately, I am surrounded by people who also have the same problem as me, and a husband who has no idea what healthy cooking is, and let’s face it, his way of cooking is delicious and irresistible.  Plus, when he cooks, I am not, and I hate cooking, no matter what my Pinterest page says.  He cooks bacon by the pound and thinks that if he tells me not to eat it, that will somehow stop me from punching him in his junk to get past him to the bacon….or the cupcakes…or ice cream….whatever.  The stuff just can not be in the house.  So that way when the time comes, like now at 10 p.m. at night and I am desperately rummaging through my cabinets in search of crap, I find none, and have to eat a Nutrigrain bar or worse, an apple.  But no, I have approximately 5 lbs. of Halloween candy that I totally pushed my kids to trudge up and down blocks and blocks of soggy wet, cold weather so I could eat it all when they go to bed.  And I don’t just have a piece, no, I eat until I am slightly nauseous.  The day after Halloween, I ate three pieces for breakfast.  Breakfast.  Seriously.

I have this really annoying guy at work, who’s all into working out and eating healthy, telling me on Friday that I should eat Chia seeds (yeah, like the Pet, which by the way, totally sells me on EATING them (sense the sarcasm), which are super healthy and delicious and he feels great all the time and has great energy.  This guy also doesn’t eat the donuts on Tuesdays and “splurges” on the bagels on Friday, and always frowns and gets all judgey when the rest of us are gorging ourselves on the free chocolates a vendor dropped off, or the awesome spinach artichoke dip our co-worker makes.  Grrr.  Insert eye roll here and sarcastic comment about the ability to put the seeds on a donut and I exit the conversation.  Healthy people are annoying.  People who don’t exist to eat annoy me.  Don’t talk to me about being healthy.  I know how to eat, what to eat and how much to be a healthy, energetic, happy, fit woman.  I know this.  I know that when I work out I feel better.  I know when I drink tons of water, I crave less sugary junk.  I know that de-sugaring gets easier after the first week, but I always fall back into it.  I love it.  I love food.  I am the fat kid with cake.  It’s like my crack, except at least you can give up crack and never see it again.  Food you need to live.  I should eat to live right?  No way, I come from a long line of living to eat.  Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday for God’s sake.  How fat is that???  Forget presents, family time, just give me Grandma’s homemade stuffing and some pumpkin pie and I am in heaven.

I want to be like you healthy people.  I don’t want to eat candy like it’s my job.  I don’t want to crave crap food like Chef Boyardee and Swiss Cake Rolls.  I don’t want to love regular Pepsi, which btw, is free at work.  They are accomplices with my husband in the conspiracy to kill me.  (To my credit, I have kicked this habit.  I still love me some pop, but at least I can tolerate Diet with the help of transitioning through Coke Zero.  God bless you sugar substitute, BUT, have I lost weight?  Negative.  Annoying.)  But, I still drink pop, at least 2 a day, and I hate water with a passion.  Yuck, so boring.  And apparently the aspartame in Crystal Light negates the water I am consuming (so says healthy work guy), so that’s not a good compromise.  No, it has to be the boring flavorless water, or nothing.

I don’t want to go into serious depression for the two months that Netty’s is closed to sell Christmas trees, even though I am lactose intolerant and spend most of the 2 a.m. hour cursing my medium swirl soft serve cone.  It’s totally worth the pain, and I will do it again and again.  But then, do I feel working out is worth the same pain?  Not enough to do it more than 3X in a row.   Just ask my sister, who when I told I was running in the mornings, laughed out loud because I had only done it twice so far, and she knew, just knew, it wouldn’t last much longer…and she was right.  I didn’t do it again.

So anyways, here I am fighting the good fight.  Problem is, my cholesterol is still sky-high and I keep gaining weight.  I have to do something soon or my husband will be raising my kids alone, which scares me because I see zip ties as Gracie’s ponytail holders and Will never being able to pursue dance like I totally know he wants.  So, therefore, I have to do SOMETHING.  Any ideas?  Mark has offered to punch me in the face when I open the fridge in a Pavlonian-dog type of training, but I think the outside world would frown on my  black eyes.  And really, if there is anything pumpkin in that fridge, I’ll take the black eye.  I’ve thought of hypnotism, but that hypnotist has be freakishly good at their job for my subconscious to out talk my conscious brain heading for a late night Ben & Jerry’s.

Well, writing this helped curb my current obsession with eating, maybe I should just post an ode to food every night I get these cravings?  …Wait, nevermind.  Just re-read and really want some Ben & Jerry’s.

Confessions…of a Parent

I am a bit of a lull after only two posts.  Awesome I know, but I have something I want to write that I can’t share here yet and it’s taking up all the brain matter that is not currently covered with melted chocolate, unpaid bills, and smutty books.  Mainly because it’s about sex, and only my family reads this so far, so it would just become awkward at family functions, so I’ll wait a bit.  But, I might submit it in secret somewhere and fingers crossed, just might get published writing embarrassing things about myself.  I’ll keep you posted, if there’s anything to post, which most likely there won’t, so you’ll all be saved the embarrassment of picturing me naked.  Shudder.  If you do, picture it 10 years and 40 pounds ago please.

Anywho,  I thought I’d give you some parenting confessions to entertain you and make you feel just a little bit better about your life.

At 2 years old, Will dropped the F-bomb completely in context.  He comes running up to me and says, “MOM!  Michael’s fuckin around.”  Like I should do something about it.  NOW.  Let’s just say I freaked the fuck out and made him repeat it at least five more times to verify he did in fact say what he said.  Then I got angry.  What horrible bastards are saying this shit around my kids???  The daycare?  My in-laws?  My sister?  WHO??  Then, I realized.  Shit, it was me.  Driving to daycare that morning, I realized I had yelled, with my children in the backseat, to the driver beside me who was slowly merging into traffic to “Quit fucking around already.”  Yep.  Pretty epic parenting fail.

BTW, I haven’t quite learned my lesson, as this Sunday at the breakfast table, I told Mark to “Quit being a douche,” which apparently is just as funny to them as it is to me, and no, I will not explain what a douche is, other than their father was being one at the moment.

Likewise, my kids recently “made” up a word that they think it hilarious.  The word?  Twat.  Yep, now, I admit, I tend to swear like a sailor at times, but frankly, this just isn’t a word I choose to use on a regular basis.  They seriously put the constants and vowel together and made up what they thought was a funny word and then proceeded to sing-song it all the way down the aisle at Target.

I worry that Gracie might be a stripper.  She really likes to dance and take her clothes off.  Scares the bejeesus out of me.

I am secretly overjoyed that Will and Gracie both know the Single Ladies dance by Beyonce.  Honestly, it’s adorable.  Next up, vogueing.

This is a confession from Mark.  I know you hide in the bathroom to play video games.  No one can poop that much in one day.  Seriously.  I’m on to you honey.

I used to hate the grocery store.  Now, if alone, I will stay there for hours.  Pick the longest line to wait in.  Watch the fish like some crazy lady by myself.  Walk the organization aisles like I am actually going to organize my house one day. Maybe read a chapter of my book in the car before I even go in.   The longer the better.

I know I am not the only one who does this, but I hide the good food from my kids.  Oreos?  Mine. Good ice cream?  Mine.  Brownies?  Hidden until they fall asleep.  Sometimes, when I can’t wait for them to go to sleep, I hide in the corner of the kitchen with the lights off and shovel Oreos into my mouth at what I am sure is a world record pace.  Wait, that sounds sad.  Nevermind.  I don’t do that.

Mark and I play this game with a vengeance.  It’s called pretend you’re sleeping until the other person gets tired of hearing the kid scream and gets up.  Oh don’t get all judgy, you all do it.  Not the blood curdling, something’s wrong scream…the scream that says, I peed/pooped/threw up all over the room and need you to clean it up, or I want to play at 3 a.m.  with no intention of going back to sleep for the rest of the day scream.  I’d say we are equally good at it.

OK – enough confessions for today.  Got any to make me feel better?  Please don’t call Child Services.   I do love my kids and they are well fed, not neglected and honestly turning into pretty decent human beings.  I promise.

 

Death by Chocolate and Brownies and Cool Whip

I am pretty sure my husband’s trying to kill me.  Last March, I went to the doctor to see why I had suddenly gained so much weight and why I couldn’t seem to drop it after giving up cookies for a few days, which by the way, is how my dad has always done it, and wonders why the rest of us fatasses can’t follow suit.  So after giving up all sweets for over a month and only managing to lose a few pounds, I went to the doctor hoping for some sort of thyroid or tapeworm issue that could be fixed with some pills, which would make the weight slide off without exercise and healthy eating.  Needless to say, he ordered bloodwork to establish a “baseline,” since I was so young and healthy, so when things went astray, we’d know what my “normal” was.  Well, I messed that up.  At 32, my cholesterol was 265, which to explain to normal 30 somethings who have no idea what I’m talking about, anything over 200 is bad news.  I basically have the cholesterol of a 50 to 60 year old, who’s lived a Ron Swanson lifestyle of turkey legs wrapped in bacon and fried snickers bars.  I used to wonder what the big deal was about a Ho-Ho and Pepsi for breakfast, so really, I had this coming.   A cholesterol level of 265 at an older age would put me straight on medication, but because I have a few years to tinker with, we were going to try diet and exercise first.  Anyways, that was March.  I haven’t been back for a follow up since, because I keep dropping the ball and playing mind games with myself that tomorrow I will get back on track and show the doctor that I am super dedicated and be one of those smug, I can do it so can you, type people.  But right now, there are slutty brownies that I must try.   To give me an ounce of credit,  I did really really good for about  a month, but only lost like 3 freakin pounds, so I got discouraged and slid a bit every day.  And slutty brownies are really freakin good (see below).

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Back to my homicidal husband.   Mark moved back into our lives a little over a month ago, and God bless him, has taken over the cooking (which for me and the kids means something other than PB&J 4 out of 5 nights a week).  Since then, we have had a steady diet of brinner (breakfast for dinner), complete with tons of eggs (made up mostly of cheese) and bacon.  Lots and lots of glorious bacon.  And trips to Gino’s Pizza, and Saturday breakfasts at McDonalds and Sunday brunch at IHOP.  I am pretty sure I am married to Buddy the Elf, except he likes the meat and potatoes and I am putting syrup on my spaghetti  noodles. Image

Hence why I think he’s trying to kill me.  He knows I could keel over at any moment, but yet, he continues to waive these glorious foods under my nose every hour of the day.  So, if do keel over before 35, you know who to blame.  But just stay quiet so the poor guy can quit looking for another miserable job and live off the life insurance for a while.

PS – You know you want the Slutty Brownie recipe now that I mentioned it.  It truly is worth dying for.

Slutty Brownies