Guess Who’s Back in the House!

1 10 2014

Well, I have been AWOL for a while, haven’t I? Lots happening.

(Technically AWOL means Absent Without Leave, but this is my blog, so who am supposed to ask for leave? Myself? Should I submit a request in writing?)

Anyway, today I came to talk about weight loss, via my own viewpoint.

I admit it. I got stuck. I lost forty pounds of the sixty four I wanted to and then-Cue tire screech. I don’t know if I was tired or frustrated or bored, but nothing was working.

So then I gave up. NOM NOM NOM FOOD.

I hate French fries because I love them. I avoided not excellent fries but damn, fresh cut fries with a hint of salt and ketchup. Awwwwwww yeah.

Fro-yo needs to stop pretending that it’s healthy. When half of the toppings in the topping bar are candy, STOP PRETENDING that you are anything but somewhat lower calorie ice cream. And you can get as much as you want. Ice cream is actually safer sometimes, at least with ice cream you get a set amount and you pay for it and you leave. Fro-yo is all OH HERE IS A CUP THAT WE PRETEND IS SMALL BUT FILL IT UP WITH TONS OF FROZEN YOGURT AND FRUIT AND RASPBERRY CHOCOLATE AND STRAWBERRY TAPIOCA PEARL THINGS AND THEN YOU HAVE OUNCES UPON OUNCES OF DELICIOUS COLD CALORIES. OF HEALTH LIES.

(Also, black sesame ice cream? SCREW YOU, YOU BASTARD I love you, call me xxx.)

Then, of course, the Frappuccino. Now, I get Mocha Light Frappuccinos. Skinny mocha sauce, non fat milk, the whole she-bang. But. But. What comes out of my mouth is ‘Venti skinny mocha Frappuccino. With whip. And two pumps of raspberry.’ The result? Twenty four ounces of icy chocolate pseudo coffee goodness topped with a crown of whipped cream and oh god it’s good but it’s so bad. It’s like wearing a conservative outfit buttoned up to the chin but then you’ve got a corset and lace semi see through crotch-less panties underneath and no one knows. Get on with your bad self.

So. Yeah. I, plus seven new pounds (grumble pudgy face), am trying to get back on track.

I am tracking on Weight Watchers and on My Fitness Pal (with custom goals), and holy hell am I all over the place.

One: I eat sooooo many carbs. My proportions are about 70% carbs to 13% fat to 17% protein. It’s a little ridiculous. I gotta give up the waffles. Breakfast should have protein! Maybe I’ll do a smoothie and eggs. Something.

Two: Night time? OMG I WANT CHIPS. ICE CREAM. HONEYCOMB CEREAL! At the moment I’m munching on the occasional apple and drinking tea. I also need to start doing origami again. Keeps your hands busy. I made a bird! And a little box. But man, cranes are hard.

Three: Man, I keep eating my feelings. Happy? TIME FOR ICE CREAM! Sad? *sob into food* Angry? Booze and chips! Bored: …whatever.

I should just use my elliptical more. It’s just so easy not to!

But, starting next week, there are going to be fitness classes in my life. (High intensity core, yoga and/or Zumba!) So I think that will help.

I just have to fit in exercise in between classes, studying, homework, writing, cooking, dog, boyfriend (I love you magpie!) and whatever else happens to fall on my head. Whatever. It’s past midnight, I’m supposed to be sleeping. And in the morning? I’m not making waffles!

I’m making ginger cookies instead.

Oh boy.


Starbucks Is Eating All My Money

23 06 2013

I have a Frappuccino addiction, and with someone at my income level it is devastating. I have very little money, and when I get money, do I save it? Nope. I justify that whatever piddly amount I have isn’t worth putting towards my student loans or savings and spend it like I have thousands just waiting to be spent. It’s not like I have rent or bills or anything, so who cares, goes the mentality. Oddly enough, once I have a steady paycheck, I’ll probably be a lot better with money and budgeting.

Also, any of the Light Frappuccinos at Starbucks don’t automatically come with Skinny syrup. They are made with skim milk and I think the base is different, but the syrup isn’t, you have to ask for that separately. It doesn’t change the price, but you would think that the low calorie version would have sugar free syrup, or at least the versions that  would use the sugar free syrups that they already carry. Yes? No?

Other things I hate about Starbucks:

1. Baristas who get pissed when you tell them they messed up your drink. I’ve done that job, I know once a drink is done you want to forget about it. But I never got an attitude about it.

2. People who don’t know what they want. ‘I want something with chocolate. No, I don’t know what it’s called. I WANT CHOCOLATE.’

3. The ‘real’ Starbucks are inconsistent as hell when they make my Frappuccinos. Too thick, ice chunks, funny taste. I have a favorite barista in the frickin’ Barnes and Noble Starbucks. She makes it perfectly. I need her to make a tutorial or something.

Now there is a break, because I had to take a Benedryl and I’m too sleepy to type properly.


Bobbi Brown wrote this makeup manual, and the girly part of me that doesn’t care about practicality or sense or anything that isn’t soft and pink and glittery is all OMG I MUST HAVE ALL OF THESE PRODUCTS WHEE. The rest of me is all ‘…who the hell has the time or money or inclination to buy and use of these things? There’s twenty different brushes and sponges and what?’ Maybe I’m just bitter because I can never find a makeup that covers but doesn’t give me zits and doesn’t feel like thin cake batter on my face. …or maybe I don’t want to spend twenty minutes every day fixing my face and blending foundation and penciling my eyebrows.

…maybe I should get a makeup consultation or something. Or read the rest of the book. When I have money to buy it and take it home and put different things on my face.

Okay, now I’m going to talk about Active Link, Weight Watcher’s activity tracker thingy. I am now obsessed with it. I feel badly about myself if I don’t get 100% activity goal every day. It’ll be ten thirty at night and I’m doing jumping jacks like a mad woman going ‘I’M ONLY 98%, I HAVE TO MAKE 100% ARGH I AM OBSESSED.

No, really, I keep poking the jiggly areas of my body in frustration and then I go into plank. And then I eat baby carrots and pita chips and hummus. Mmm. So crunchy.

And I really really really want to like yogurt. And I don’t unless it’s really sweetened, which totally defeats the purpose of yogurt. So I want a smoothie, but then it tastes too much like yogurt and I don’t like it unless I put Crystal Light in it and ARGH HEALTHY FILLING EATING IS HARD. Sometimes I just want a cheeseburger with bacon and fries. And a milkshake. A chocolate milkshake. Sigh.

But I’m having a turkey burger with grilled potatoes, possibly with steamed broccoli. And that’s pretty good too.

Sincerely yours,


After a long absence.

21 06 2013

I got an internship! YAY! Now so long as my various psychological problems don’t interfere, I should be fine. …oh boy. Got lots to talk about in therapy.

I think tonight is going to be a pondering post.

1. Why are people still debating about abortion? It’s the same points over and over, this 20-weeks thing is unconstitutional, and it seems no one is ever going to come to an agreement on it. I personally am very happy that no one can tell me to have a baby I don’t want, and the first person to tell me that if I don’t want a baby I should stop having sex is going to get kicked in the rear. Everyone should have access to contraception, use it, and the government can shut it about what’s going on in my uterus.

2. According to a lot of the comments on judgybitch, (I’m not linking to her, look it up if you want), if I want to get a man and not be a slut who will eventually have nothing to offer, I should wash his clothes, cater to his every need, make him sandwiches, and put him before myself in every respect, and then he’ll take care of me. My response to this was: Huh? What happened to marriage being a partnership?  I always thought marriage should be more of a ‘Hey, you wash the clothes and mow the lawn, I’ll cook dinner and clean the floors, and then we’ll sit down with the kids and eat and put the kids to bed and have some good sex and go to sleep’ sort of deal. I want to lean on someone, sure, but I want them to lean on me too. Equals. See?

…I’ve been reading up on it, and everyone seems to have an opinion and rules on love, and I don’t think anyone really knows. I’m just going to wing it.

You know what I think? Eighty percent of the world’s problems would be solved if everyone minded their own goddamn business about things that weren’t any of their business. If no one is being hurt or taken advantage of,  shut up about it.

OH NO THOSE PEOPLE OVER THERE ARE HAVING SEX THAT I DON’T APPROVE OF! …are they making you have sex? No? Shut up about it. OH NO THOSE PEOPLE ARE PRACTICING A RELIGION I DON’T APPROVE OF! …are they making you practice the religion? No? Shut up about it. OH NO THOSE PEOPLE ARE BEING RIDICULOUS AND I DON’T APPROVE! Are they making you act ridiculous? No? Shut up about it. (I need to follow that last one.)

With that stuff out of the way, we can focus on curing disease and ending world hunger and discovering cold fusion. And maybe play some Angry Birds in our down time. (Also, how weird is it that I’m totally broke, but still have an iPhone? This country is weird. And privileged. I occasionally remind myself that despite all the crap that I’ve been through, my life isn’t that bad. I have a place to sleep and privacy and air conditioning and I’m not starving and working three jobs to pay the rent on a one bedroom fifth floor walk up that I share with three other people. And that’s only bad by American standards.)

After a certain man ran off to Hong Kong, my brother was all OMG CAMERAS IN THE WALLS. Paranoia scares me, especially when it defies logic. There are millions of people in this country, too many for a small number to sit around and watch all day and night. This isn’t 1984. There is potential to be observed, and I object to that for the sake of our civil liberties, but practically speaking, I’m pretty sure the government isn’t listening to my phone calls.

Any sort of unquestioning belief bothers me. I just question everything. Except for gravity. I like believing in gravity, it makes it easier to get to the store.

Sincerely yours,


Cloudy Nights and Champagne

25 05 2013

This is how I first pronounced the word champagne: SHAM-pag-neh. I had only ever seen it written and I was probably about twelve at the time. Funny.

In case it comes across later, I have imbibed a small bottle of champagne and I have the alcohol tolerance of a weasel.

If I ever go to China, all I will be able to say in Chinese is ‘Hello’ (nihao) ‘moon’ (yue) and TV (dian shi). Two of those words I learned from fortune cookies and the other I learned from Cardcaptor Sakura. Awesome. Aces. Whatever.

Pretty Woman is a stupid movie. I love it.

I hate Facebook. Everyone uses it to communicate and it makes me feel socially awkward and superior because 96% of Facebook is INANE BULLSHIT.

You know what else is bullshit? That there are SIX Fast and Furious movies. SIX. All of which consist of half naked women and vehicles exploding. I tried watching Tokyo Drift once and there was so little plot I decided to watch Teen Mom instead!

Yet when I want to watch a movie, I get overruled in favor of one of those movies? American cinema depresses me.

I know nothing about Star Trek except Patrick Stewart says ‘make it so’. I want to see Into Darkness because Benedict Cumberbatch is in it and because he’s the new Sherlock Holmes that rocks my socks off. Is it weird that my ideal man is a fictional arrogant dysfunctional  borderline sociopathic asexual who shoots holes in the wall when he’s  bored? I mean, I doubt he would make a good husband or father, but good god if I met a man like that I just might follow him to the ends of the earth.


Ooh, new topic. I have a few neuroses. One of these is that I am very unnerved by anyone entering my space. If I come back to my room and anything is disturbed, it freaks me out. Even if it’s been cleaned. I’m still like ‘OMG SPACE INVADED ARGH’. Thanks for violating my spirit and body further, abuser! /sarcasm

My family is aware of this. However, it seems my idiot brother doesn’t get it. I came home today, and my bed was remade incorrectly. Boom, alarm bells. I pull the sheet back, and my fitted sheet is gone, replaced by some other one. And he admits he was in my bed. I want to smack him in the mouth. He has no reason to be in my bed, and I can’t handle having my bed touched, I don’t like anyone sleeping in my bed unless I’m sleeping with them. Period. And I’ve told him this.

It’s disrespectful, and he doesn’t care. Should my mother not set him straight, I’m going to say, to his face, ‘Your daddy liked to come into my room at night and creep into my bed, so now I DON’T LIKE IT WHEN OTHER PEOPLE DO THAT.’ Maybe that will get his attention. Good god.

Another new topic!

My godmother’s daughter (who I think of as a younger cousin) had her bridal shower today. It was lovely. We got her a cocktail shaker and a bottle opener, both shaped like sperm whales. She loved them. Which was good, because someone else got her the same thing. She and her husband-to-be like their drinks, so they’ll get use out of them, at least. Bridal showers are fun. It was a little sad because my godmother really should have been there, but she’s been dead for almost a year, so instead we all got to tear up when one of the gifts was a drawing in a glass frame of the bride and her mother. My mother cried. Then we had cake.

…and that’s about it, and my buzz is pretty much worn off, so now I can sleep. I hope everyone is having a good weekend. And I’m back again!

Sincerely yours,


Writing In Barnes and Noble

7 02 2013

I wanted to write in Starbucks today, but I went to three and all of them were unbearably crowded, so I ended up in a big Barnes and Noble instead. Which is fine, since my usual reaction to B&N is YAY BOOKS OMG I LOVE BOOKS AND OVERPRICED STARBUCKS COFFEE OH BABY.

But first off, there are too many people doing the ‘I didn’t actually buy coffee and therefore have no right to a cafe table’ thing. I know you want to sit and read, but there are chairs in the store for that exact purpose. Go and sit there so that laptop people (such as myself) have somewhere to sit! There’s two girls at a table and one of them isn’t even writing or reading, she’s playing some game on her iPad. Go sit on the floor! (I also desire an iPad.)

It’s not as cold as outside, but someone needs to jack up the heat. I’m cold. I told someone, but I doubt that they actually raised the heat.

Side note: I have seventeen followers. I know in the numbers of the internet that is minuscule, but to me? AWESOME. ::waves to the followers:: (I misspelled minuscule three times and the spell check gave me ‘leguminous’ as a suggestion. What?)

I also think the barista (a girl) might have been flirting with me, but since I have no game, I don’t have the nerve to go over there and flirt back, especially since it would be tres awkward to come back here and see her again. She’s not that cute. She’s cute, but not ‘risk getting a homophobic flame in front of half the cafe’ cute. Very few people are that cute. Also, I am a chicken. BUWAK. ….is that a chicken noise? In my head it does, but on the page it looks like a congested cow.

I also have to pee, but if I get up this seat will not be here when I get back. And I have no idea where the restrooms are.

…maybe this post should have been called ‘Bitching about attempting to write in Barnes and Noble’ instead. Also, it’s supposed to snow, but I haven’t seen so much as a flurry, so whatever. And BB lives, sending me notes about writer’s block. He’s so cute. Sigh.

It’s dark out, my laptop battery is dying, and now I really need to pee so I guess I will see all seventeen of you later. (Tee hee.)

Plugged in again to make two notes. One: the bathroom in Barnes and Noble has a sign about flushing with the word ‘flush’ in quotation marks. …is flush a euphemism for something that I don’t want to know about?

Two: This Barnes and Noble kicks the one in my neighborhood’s ass. Four floors, bigger cafe. But one thing the one in my neighborhood does better? More places to sit down, and they let you sit on the floor. This one has signs everywhere forbidding that.

Glee’s on in ten minutes, which means it is almost time for my weekly nonsensical poppy music fest!

Sincerely yours,